A/N: hey! :) Sorry for the delay…

Thanks to Lupin111, once again. I think I'll always need a betta-reader from now on.

No thought control.

Justin was having that weird feeling you get when you are in between sleep and consciousness, just before you wake up. But he didn't want to wake up; he wanted to keep dreaming forever.

Brian's hands were scalding hot against his cold skin. They were exploring his body, like having just discovered a new found land.

He could feel the other boy's breath against his neck, his lips carving unrecognizable words there like a tattoo. A series of moans escaped Justin's lips.

"Justin…"

He found Brian's lips, pouring everything that was in his being into that single kiss.

"Justin"

He touched the base of Brian's neck, feeling goosebumps crawling, every single hair on his own body standing on end.

"Justin wake up."

He opened his eyes to find Adam poking his shoulder annoyed.

"You are talking in your sleep again." Adam informed him with a yawn.

"Sorry…" Justin whispered. "Go back to sleep."

Adam mumbled something before putting his head back down. He was snoring a couple of minutes later.

Justin stumbled out of the tent. The sun was rising in the horizon, and he could smell the ashes of the fire that had been burning last night, along with the freshness of the morning. Jake was sitting in the middle of their hastily made camp, his hands hugging himself, trying to keep warm. Justin sat next to him on the ground.

"Up so early?" he asked.

Jake answered with a series of coughs. "I haven't slept all night." His voice sounded harsh. "I've been coughing nonstop. I think I have a fever."

Justin touched his forehead, to check Jake's temperature. "Yeah, probably. When we go to town, I'll get you something for that."

Jake smiled. "We have to get going soon. By the way, have you seen Steve? He didn't come to our tent."

"I saw him out cold last night. He looked high as they come. He's probably still there."

"Oh." Justin had the feeling Jake had had experiences with Steve's highs before, because he didn't seem surprised in the least. "Well, we better go get him."

They found Steve exactly where Justin and Adam had seen him the night before.

"Steve..." Jake woke him up gently.

Steve looked around alarmed, like he wasn't sure where he was. His expression changed instantly, once he spotted Jake hovering over him.

"It is morning." Jake informed him. "Can you stand?"

Steve nodded and started rising to his feet, but stumbled halfway through. Jake caught him before he fell on his face, and pulled Steve's arm over his shoulders.

Justin watched, not commenting. It all seemed like one of those bad educational films about drugs they used to show them at school.

"A little help?" Jake suggested.

Justin moved closer, and took Steve's other arm. They carried his dead weight to the car, and laid him down in the back. Jake got out of his jacket and placed it on Steve's body like a blanket.

"Shit. Again?" Liam looked like he had been having a hard night himself.

Jake nodded absentmindedly and went to his duffel bag to find something warm to wear himself.

"Shit." Liam repeated, summarizing quite eloquently the whole fucked up situation.

Two hours later, Justin was driving, while Jake kept coughing at his side. Adam, Liam and the still unconscious Steve were hurdled in the back, amongst equipment. Justin tried to pay attention to the road, but his mind kept flying back to Steve. The man had looked pale as a ghost, and completely out of it.

"Is he going to be ok?"

"Steve? Yeah… he'll be fine… He's always fine." Jake replied.

Justin broke the silence half an hour later. "He needs help."

"Probably…" Jake sighed. "But he says it isn't a problem, so… there's not much I can do."

Justin carefully took a turn. He was afraid if he drove too fast, they would hear the drums clattering away on the asphalt, the guys along with it.

"Steve has always been there for me." Jake continued, even though Justin hadn't asked for further explanation. "Plus he is an excellent drummer. We have a deal: as long as his… whatever the fuck it is… doesn't interfere with the band and the gigs, we don't talk about it."

Justin kept his eyes on the road. In his opinion Steve's addiction was interfering with the band already.

"Justin…please" Jake whined.

"I'm not ready. I'll fuck it up."

"But you know I can't sing tonight. My voice is on strike." The coarseness his voice held was sufficient confirmation.

"But…"

"But?" Steve, who had been keeping quiet all through Jake's seemingly endless pleading, found it a great time to break his silent vow. "But what?"

"I can't do it."

"You are a singer aren't you?"

Justin always had that uneasy feeling around Steve, the one that told him they were never really going to like each other. He had also noticed that Steve's aggressiveness had increased tenfold as soon as he had realized that Jake hadn't found him in that field all by himself.

Justin's presence there had been most certainly not welcome. Steve now treated him like an intruder. Even when they were helping Steve to the car, Justin had felt like he had been interrupting some kind of ritual, a ceremony of recovery that was to be known only by Jake and Steve himself.

"Of course I am a singer…" Justin started, glaring at the man, but Steve interrupted him once more.

"Then you are going to sing. This is an important gig, we are going to get good money for it, money we need pretty fucking much, and I'm not ready to see them down the drain because of some kid's "insecurities""

"Whoa. Calm down." Jake lifted his hands in the air between the other two, as if he was afraid they'd have a fight. "If Justin can't do it then no one will force him to."

"This isn't your little protégé's choice anymore" Steve shot back at him. "It is a band decision. So. Liam? Adam?"

Liam looked apologetically at Justin before answering "I have to side with Steven here mate… I mean you are a fucking singer anyway, you were going to do it eventually, and you might bloody well start now." Adam was nodding silently from somewhere in the background.

Steve grinned like a satisfied well-fed cat. "It's settled then."

"It is not settled!" Jake answered. "I will do the gig myself. I am per…" he had to stop midsentence to cough his lungs out "perfectly fine." He finished lamely.

"It's ok Jake… I'll do the vocals." Justin resigned finally.

Justin could feel his heart in his throat, beating rapidly. His legs were going weak, and he was pretty sure he must look as pale as a ghost. Whatever encouragement Jake had tried to give him was going out the window, and could not help him get past the fact that he was about to sing in front of dozens of people, at what was possibly their biggest, most important gig to date.

As Liam and Steve went on stage to take their respective positions, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Justin" Adam spoke to him in a rushed voice "You don't have to be nervous. It's what we've been waiting for all those years."

"I have no idea what to do."

"You just have to sing, you don't need to think. Come on, you are going to be a success as always. Joke around a bit. And… I don't know, do something crazy to get their attention. That always works."

Justin took a big breath and started walking to his imminent doom.

"Oh and…" Adam went on "don't smash any guitars or amplifiers. We can't afford new ones ok?"

When Justin came to stand in front of the microphone, the spotlight on him, blinding him, all he could think of was hazel eyes.

Brian, wherever he was, was still with him. And Justin would be damned if he let the brunette hold him back from fulfilling his dream once more. Brian had doubted him, but Justin, albeit nervous as hell, was going to prove him wrong.

"Where is Jake?" someone from the crowd yelled, before they even had a chance to play a single note.

"Jake thought it was a good idea to jump head first into freezing water and get himself pneumonia." Justin spoke into the microphone. Some people, probably fans that knew of Jake's recklessness laughed at that. "So, you are going to have to bear with me for now."

He felt more than heard Steve starting to beat on the drums, giving them the beat, and he started playing his guitar. The guitar was easy, familiar in his hands, a friend he could always trust.

When the time came that he had to start singing, Justin could hear Brian's voice in his ear

"That's your big dream? You do know there must be a thousand wanna-be bands out there right?"

He ignored it, focusing instead on the memory of Brian saying "ifanyone in this city can do it, it's you" and the way his face had looked at that single moment, his eyes glinting with mischief, lips forming a grin, his body warm next to Justin's own.

"Do something crazy to get their attention." was what stood out more than anything else, but it wasn't Adam that was saying that to him. It was Brian.

Do something crazy.

Justin grabbed the microphone and did the one thing that came to mind.

He screamed.

Half an hour and more than ten songs later, the Goths and metalheads and punks and all around every single person in the audience could agree on one thing: Trip had found its new singer. And he was fucking crazy.

As the show ended, Adam rushed to the front and jumped on Justin, hugging him.

"Didn't I tell you? Didn't I?" he cried out.

They moved, still hugging, toward what had served as their dressing rooms for the day- but looked like it used to be a janitor's cupboard.

Jake had a shit-eating grin from ear to ear plastered on his face, but before Justin had the chance to go to him, Liam pushed him in a tight bear-hug. "You fucking killed it kiddo!"

"Good job man." Steve agreed, and it was the first time Justin could have sworn the drummer actually smiled at him.

"Good job? It was bloody awesome!" Liam exclaimed, ready to piss his pants with excitement, finally letting go of Justin.

"Wait, what is going on out there?" Adam shushed them, straining his ears to listen. The crowd was still clapping furiously, demanding an encore.

"An encore? A bloody encore?" Liam exclaimed. "5 fucking years I've been performing, and no one's ever asked for an encore. Come on!" He pulled Steve's arm, Adam following them close by, jumping more than walking.

Justin stared at their retreating backs, too mesmerized by the weirdness, the greatness of it all, to even move.

"Hey." Jake finally came to stand in front of him, his smile still firmly in place. "You are going to put me out of a job."

"What did you think?" Justin asked, a bit of nervousness returning. "Was I any good?"

"Good?" Jake let out an incredulous laugh. "You were phenomenal! Now get your ass out there already!"

As Justin walked back in front of the audience, he realized that even if all the jocks and cheerleaders from school, along with his father, all joined in on a chorus of "freak!", he'd just give them the bird and keep singing.

Brian walked down the school corridor with a lot of reserve. The day had been pretty uneventful so far, but Brian knew not to haste into conclusions. The small giggles from his school-mates were more than usual, and Brian was getting nervous.

The confirmation to his suspicions came soon enough though. As soon as his locker entered his line of vision, he noticed a massive crowd of people standing there, laughing and talking wildly. He pushed his way through them, and came to an abrupt halt once he reached his destination.

The locker-once a sickly yellow color- now had writing on it. Someone had written in bright red:

FAGS GET AIDS AND DIE

"Like our little bit of social commentary there Kinney?" he heard from somewhere amongst the ever growing group of students. Turning around he came face to face with a pack of jocks, some of whom had declared him their hero just a week ago.

"Fuck off!"

"The truth hurts, doesn't it?"

"Hey Kinney. Wanna suck my cock?" Matt, a bear-sized quarterback said, gaining a round of laughs from the people around him.

"You actually have one?" Brian replied, raising an eyebrow in challenge. "I must've missed it."

"What is going on?" Mr. Dawson made his way through the crowd. He took one look at the locker, and then started looking around for explanation. "Who did this?"

None seemed eager to answer, Matt and his buddies in particular.

"Brian? Do you know?"

The brunette gave one last long scalding stare at the jocks. "No. It was like this when I came here."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." He'd be damned if he let a teacher just wave his magic wand and make everything disappear. This was his problem, his alone.

Mr. Dawson sighed. "Follow me."

The principal's office had to be the most disturbingly impersonal space inhabited by a human being for more than 5 hours a day, that ever existed. The only thing that gave away there actually was a person working in there, was a faded family photo of two kids and an ugly woman in her 40s. But that too was barely visible among the huge stacks of paper that occupied all and any available surface.

The principal himself lived up to his surroundings. Nothing in his appearance could be called interesting in the least, from his blunt clothes to his well- groomed brown hair and moustache that covered half of his expressionless face. Brian figured if the man should die right at this moment, it would take a few days before anyone actually noticed.

"So, Mr. Kinney." The principal started, his voice low and his mouth barely moving, as if he was too bored to actually form well rounded sounds with his mouth. His speech was what had gained him the title of "Boss Bored" anyway. "It has reached my ears that certain students have been giving you trouble."

Brian scoffed.

"I hope it doesn't have anything to do with Coach Garibaldi, who by the way, between you and me" the principal leaned in over the desk "will not be returning next year."

"He won't?" Brian asked surprised.

"The allegations you made against him did not go by unnoticed. I do not tolerate such behavior from the faculty. Mr. Garibaldi will have to answer in court for his actions. Now tell me. What seems to be the problem? In a nutshell."

Brian stared back, lost for words. What was the problem? Was this guy for real? Hell had broke loose over his beloved school in the past days, two students had left it for good a month before the ending of the school year, others thought lockers were a nice place to exercise their painting skills on and nothing had "reached his ears"?

At Brian's unresponsiveness, the principal found it suiting to take off his glasses, give them a little cleaning, put them back on and look at Brian seriously once again.

"If it has to do with this moronic rumor that's been going around school, I wouldn't trouble my mind over it, if I were you."

"I don't really care." Brian shrugged. God this room was choking him. He had to get out.

"Good. I've been working with teenagers half my life. They can be the cruelest of people." He went on. Brian was getting annoyed at his parental tone. "You never know what other ridiculous thing they are going to come up with next. A homosexual! That is ludicrous indeed." He let out a small, almost inaudible laugh, his lips barely moving. "I want you to know, that I am doing my best to revoke your suspension from the team."

"How come?"

"But… Brian… you are the star of the team!" the principal actually showed a bit of emotion this time, a tad of color reaching his shriveled cheeks. "We can't just let you go like that. You have a bright future ahead of you young man."

"What about the bullying? Do you have a solution for that?"

"Bullying? What bullying? I thought we were on the same page here." He replied baffled, his right hand reaching up to pull at the knot of his tie. "You just said you did not care about your classmates'… childish games."

The motherfucker sure as hell has a way with words, Brian thought. Childish games….

"I don't. But I am not the only one in this school that goes through these things." He thought back to the myriads of times students were randomly called queer and fag by the "elite". The times that Justin had to be subjected to people calling him names at corridors and taking the piss at him. And Brian had done nothing about it, just stood back and watched. Well, no more.

"I beg of you, don't preoccupy yourself with such issues. They are only harmless banter."

"Harmless?" Brian shot back at him. "Are you not aware of the fact that Justin and Adam left the school?"

The principal cleared his throat uneasy. "Mr. Taylor's and Mr. White's departure is very saddening. Nevertheless, I don't see any connection between it and the supposed "bullying" you are speaking of."

Big important man and his big, big words. Brian could not think of anything more ridiculous than this pitiful person sitting comfortably in his comfortable chair and behind his big wooden office desk.

"It has a lot to do with it. It might not have been what drove them away, but it surely added to the list don't you think?"

"These students you are referring to had chosen to isolate themselves from the student body."

"They did not choose it, anymore than any other kid in this school that gets called a cocksucker does!"

"Mr. Kinney!" the principal cried out indignantly. "No such language shall be used inside the confines of this office!"

"It is being used in the rest of the school, I don't see why I can't say it in here."

The principal cleared his throat once more. "I would refrain from these words if I were you. I know you must be frustrated and bitter right now, so I will forgive you" he added smiling at his own graciousness. "Anyhow, Brian, we are not here to discuss neither Mr. Taylor, nor Mr. White."

"What are we here to discuss then?" Brian replied, his voice ice cold.

"I just wanted to let you know that I am on your side." He leaned closer to Brian, this time barely being able to contain his enthusiasm. "You will make us all proud one day. I will have a meeting with the students' parents to put a stop to this – this bullying as you call it- that has been committed against you."

Just then, Brian realized something. This meeting was all about the principal's expectations that Brian would bring glory to the school, by becoming a basketball star. He was pretty sure the principal was already working on the little speech he would be giving in front of the cameras a few years later. Brian Kinney? Oh yes, an excellent student, excellent indeed. I always knew he'd make it. We, as a faculty and a school make sure to provide the students with the environment necessary to thrive in the respective field of their choice…

"You will have a meeting just for me? I am flattered." Brian commented, feeling the bile rising in his throat. This school, this city… it was nauseating.

"Yes! We will prove them wrong!" the principle waved his fist in the air in an unusual indication of emotion on his part. "They will not have the guts to call you those things again!" Brian noticed how the more excited the principal got, the more he forgot about the dictionary.

"No they won't! They won't dare!" Brian fueled him on.

"You are damn right they won't!" the principal replied, his voice rising in volume.

"When I join the NBA, they'll be waiting on a line to kiss the bottom of my shoes!" Brian went on.

The principal actually laughed this time. "And no one in their right minds will say anything bad about you."

"God forbid anyone should call me a fag then!" Brian added.

"A fag?" the principal snorted. "As if a fag could actually score like you on the field my boy!"

Brian felt his face turn frigid in a matter of seconds. "It sure as hell helps sucking on a nice cock and getting it up the ass before a game though."

Brian could have sworn the principal was having a heart attack.

"Brian… Why are you home so early?" Joan asked.

"A professor got sick…" he tossed behind his back cryptically, making the way up the stairs to his room.

When the principle had regained his ability to speak again he had ushered Brian out the door. Still shocked, he had added that Brian had his permission to miss the rest of the day in school if he wanted to.

Brian couldn't have wished for anything better- given the circumstances of course. He had rushed back home, a plan forming on his mind. Well, not so much a plan as a stupid act of self-assuredness and fulfillment.

Teenage angst is a bitch, especially when it returns full force mere weeks before the end of your final year in high school.

He moved determined to the closet, opening it. He searched frantically through it, pulling out all the jerseys and team uniforms that he owned and throwing them in a pile behind his back. He didn't know what he'd do with them exactly. Probably burn them. Possibly tear them to pieces. A good idea would be to feed them to Chris Hobbs and his former "friends". But he certainly was not keeping them. He didn't want to own anything that connected him to those buffoons.

His hands stopped when he touched the red jersey. He recognized it immediately. He had bought it a few years back, when he had watched that basketball game in the big city with Hobbs. It even had the autographs from all the players on it.

It was also the jersey Justin had been wearing all those days ago. His mind went numb for a second. Justin… He was positive Justin still had it.

Then how had it got back in his closet?

He brought the jersey in front of his eyes, and hungrily looked at it as if it held the answers to all the burning questions of the universe.

Everything seemed in place, except… There was a scribbling there; Brian did not have a memory of seeing it before.

He took the jersey with him near the window, squinting his eyes to make out the small writing.

I am going on a trip- with TRIP

A/N: Thank you to anyone who has added this on their alerts and/or favorites list, and to the people who take the time to review.

Title is from Pink Floyd's amazing all time classic Another Brick in the Wall.

Thanks for reading and/or reviewing. ;)