My body felt weird, tight, like my skin didn't fit properly. There was a sudden itch on my neck. I didn't want to scratch it because it would show how fucked up I was, but I couldn't help it. I scratched it suddenly and violently. JC tightened his arms around me.

"Justin."

"Yeah," I said. "Yeah." We lay in bed, him behind me, in a spooning position if either of us were in the mood to fuck. Vomit rose in my stomach. My teeth started to chatter.

"Justin," JC said. "Take a sip of water."

"Yeah." It seemed like the only word I could form. I lifted my head, which made the room spin out of control, and took a sip of the ice water JC had put by my bed. When I lay back down I could feel the cold water rest in my throat, halfway down, creating a big chilly lump there. Everything about my body was so vivid that it scared me. Every brain cell tingled. Every nerve wanted to move, and yet if I tried to move I might throw up.

"Sip of water," I said. "I got a sip of water." I was still waiting for my surroundings to stop moving and settle back into place.

"Good boy." JC talked to me like a child, probably knowing I couldn't properly defend myself. But it was okay. It made me feel warm. My dad was always a bastard anyway. JC was my new dad.

"You're my new dad," I said. I know to him, that statement probably came from nowhere.

"I know," he said calmly. "Just rest. You need rest."

He was right. It had been about three days since I'd slept. It was probably Tuesday, maybe even Monday. I knew once I slept I'd be down for 20 hours or so, but there was nothing to do tomorrow. Great opportunity. JC said he would stay wrapped tightly around me until I slept. His warm arms were sanctuary.

"I love you," I said for the first time ever. My teeth felt like ice cubes.

"Say that tomorrow," JC said quietly.

"I don't have to," I said. "I love you. Unconditionally. Everyone else are fuckers."

"Thanks," JC said, the sleep creeping into his voice. You know he just wanted to sleep but he was afraid I'd get up. My teeth felt like they'd shatter in my mouth if they kept chattering, so I tried to focus on stopping it. It should have been so easy. My jaw was part of my body, and I had control of my own body, right? Stop moving. Stop moving. I ground my teeth, forcing my mouth closed, but it only lasted a minute.

"I love you," I said, tears coming to my eyes.

"I know." JC held me tighter, his elbow pressing into the inside of my arm, his hand resting on my chest. Then it dug even harder into my chest, an incredible weight that made my stomach turn. I felt vomit rise in my throat. I tried to stop it but it was like the teeth chattering.

"Move," I mumbled. JC let go immediately, pulling back before I leaned over the bed and threw up on the carpet. My last thought was "Not on the sheets." Normally, getting sick wrenched my gut and took a round out of my entire body, but I didn't feel a thing, like I watched it rather than felt it.

JC waited patiently until I was done and got up to get something to clean it up. I grabbed his arm, digging in with my fingers. "Don't go."

"I'm just getting something to clean it up."

"Come back," I said. "Come back right away."

"Okay."

"Yeah."

I closed my eyes to make the spinning stop. The sound of JC getting some towels came from a far off land. The more I closed my eyes, the more the room seemed to spin, but I knew if I went to sleep I would wake up straight.

Too high, I thought. I am too high. It brought to mind the first time I took acid. I was 13 or 14, right after the Mickey Mouse Club days. The colors bled down the walls, and when I tried to focus on people's eyes, their heads swelled. Inanimate objects took on a life of their own, tables waving in front of me and the patterns on the wallpaper weaving and racing. I sat on the toilet in the men's room with my head in my hands, squeezing my eyes shut. I prayed to God then. Please, God, if you bring me down from this, I will never do it again. It was the last time I took acid.

I heard JC cleaning up the mess, dabbing the towels against the carpet silently. Wordlessly. He could use this opportunity to preach to me, but he didn't.

"I love you," I mumbled.

"Justin, I know."

"I do." Now the tears came in earnest, hot enough to scald my skin. I tried to wipe them away but more came. I imagined them burning into my skin, leaving wet red streaks down my nose and dripping on the bed, burning a tiny hole in the comforter. My stomach jerked, but it was empty now, all of its former contents husked out, and I actually felt myself losing weight.

"God," I said.

"I know."

His response made no sense, but my comment made no sense either. He took the towel into the bathroom. He had cleaned up my mess. Everything I felt - the sickness, the paranoia - was replaced then with just a pure, violent love that made my heart crack in two. The words "I love you" didn't really cut it. They would have to invent new words to describe what I felt.

"Britney told me off," I said. He was in the bathroom and couldn't hear me, but I was sort of talking to myself, anyway. I had gotten this way once with Britney, after a hard night of clubbing, and she told me to get my act together. I called her a name, I don't remember which name, and she told me to fuck off and left. I woke up with the pillow soaked.

JC came back and all I wanted was for him to hold me again. Thankfully, he resumed his position behind me with his arms around me. He held me tightly like it would stop the shaking, and I put one of my trembling hands on his. His thumb rubbed against mine, every cell coming alive under his touch and it was just like making love.

"I love you," I said.

"Justin, I know, okay? You don't have to keep saying it."

A sob came from nowhere, deep inside my body. Deep inside my body was nowhere. I don't know why I was crying, but the harder I cried, the harder he held me. "Do you love me?"

There was a long silence, a moment of fear like the split second between when you lose control of your car and when it crashes.

"I love you so much," he said.

The sobs came harder, punishing my poor stomach, the tears boiling against my skin.

"I've loved you since I was a kid," JC said. "I have loved you every second that I've known you. Every morning I get up and I start my day knowing that I'm going to see you."

"I know," I sobbed. He was letting loose now, probably thinking I wouldn't remember it anyway, like telling this to a mirror.

"I love you so much that every new girl I see you with, every new singer or supermodel or whatever, I want to kill them just for touching you."

I wiped my eyes quickly. "I'm sorry I keep getting sick on you."

"I don't care," JC said quietly. "I love you so much that I don't care."

Mountains of cocaine. The Star said I did mountains of cocaine. It was a blind item but everyone knew it was me. And JC didn't say a word.

"Don't leave," I said, pressing back into his body, melting from the warmth.

"I won't," he said. I believed him.