Canaries In The Mines

Chapter Two

By: Jondy Macmillan

-Justin-

Eight hours of the fashion channel. Eight hours. It was pretty much the longest form of self imposed torture Justin had ever put himself through.

Growing up, his little sister had laughed whenever she saw a runway show. According to her best friend, Harper, the waif thin models were exemplary of the ridiculous standards the fashion world tried to impose on young girls who already had enough body issues as it was. According to Alex, the models just needed to eat a goddamned sandwich.

After eight hours of watching hipless, breastless models trot down catwalks made of various materials, Justin was inclined to agree. Some of these poor girls looked like Auschwitz survivors, and the worst part was, he couldn't find it in his heart to be angry about it. The only thing Justin could do was search the crowd, searching for a single glimpse of Alex's glossy hair.

They hadn't spoken for a month.

"Russo," Tripp murmured, "I think its official. Your sister did not flee the country for the couture shows in Milan."

Listlessly, Justin replied, "You think? I don't see Izzy up there either."

Tripp's mouth formed a thin line and he said, "I wasn't looking for Izzy."

"Oh really?"

"I just really like-" Tripp glanced at the screen, "Marchesa."

They were pathetic, the pair of them.

"I for one think you'd look a-mazing in that dress, Campbell," arms folded across Justin's chest, a face nuzzling into his neck like an overenthusiastic dog. Tripp turned a scathing glare up at their owner. Joe, from the sound of it. And the flashy timepiece digging into his neck. And the overwhelming scent of designer cologne.

Plus Justin could hear Kendall banging around in the kitchen, attempting to figure out how to do something that would probably end up giving all of them food poisoning. He was a terrible cook.

"Could you- get off?" Justin demanded, his voice sounding strangled. If anything, Joe's grip tightened.

He was exactly like a puppy; hyperactive, constantly bouncing around and touching everything and making noise just to grab attention. Justin had absolutely no idea how Joe's brothers had put up with him for years and years of touring.

If he ever got trapped in an enclosed space with Joe Lucas, he thought suicide might begin looking like an attractive option. Except that was a lie, because he kind of didn't really mind. In a way, Joe reminded him of his younger brother Max.

Justin missed him. Justin missed his entire fucking family. Which was ridiculous, when they were just a subway ride away.

Everyone except for Alex.

"C'mon, losers," Joe chirped, finally releasing Justin's neck, "Pasta's ready."

Tripp began, "Did Kendall-"

"I didn't touch it!" the blond yelled irritably from the kitchen, "Goddamn asshole."

"Okay, you know what? I just have a healthy appreciation for life, and eating your cooking isn't exactly good for longevity."

Behind the couch, Joe was fussing with their extensive CD collection, rearranging everything so that it was in alphabetical order. He did that a lot, which was weird, considering Joe was one of the least organized people Justin knew. What he suspected, but never voiced, was that it was a habit Joe had gotten from his brother. But Justin tried never to talk about Nick, and in return, Joe rarely mentioned Alex. It was how they stayed sane.

"If you keep talking, I'm going to cut your longevity right here and now," Kendall threatened, brandishing a whisk towards Tripp's face. Justin sighed.

His roommates were idiots.

Right before he ventured over to the counter, he fumbled for the remote and turned off the fashion channel.

It was that or throw the damned thing right through the TV.

Normally, dinner was kind of a casual affair, because living together didn't automatically imply spending a whole lot of time with each other. Of course, they all did spend way too much time cooped up in the apartment, usually with one another, because venturing outside was kind of like venturing into a mine field.

Not so much for Justin; the worst thing he had to deal with was his sister's name painted across the city on different size billboards. But it wasn't like he had to hear her voice drifting over crackly radios from falafel stands or he had to see her actual image up on those billboards. It was just her name, familiar to him as his own. Which was…well, Justin didn't like to think much about it. Any of it.

Point was, if they had dinner together at all, it was usually gathered around the overly large televisions with slices of pizza precariously balanced in one hand and wildly swinging wii remotes in the other. It was truly rare for them to all gather around the dining room table Joe had picked out for the sake of propriety, even though the rest of them didn't even give a fuck about what kind of 'image' they were giving to guests. Who usually included strings of intoxicated girls and boys, and the occasional friend. The only parents who ever swung by were Joe's, which was probably why he'd been the one so concerned with the stupid table.

No one ever asked why Justin's parents never visited, even though they lived in the same goddamned city.

Anyway, eating at the table was unusual, and that's probably why it was such a big deal when right as they'd all settled down at the table, not even paying attention to the niceties and all grabbing for the bowl containing Joe's fantastic pasta, the doorbell rang.

"Not it," Joe declared, reclaiming the bowl for his own. He even went so far as to cradle it in his arms.

"Are we expecting anybody?" Tripp asked.

"Maybe Oliver locked himself out again. I think he went to go try to hang himself in Central Park," Joe suggested, already digging his fork into the bowl without even bothering to throw it on a paper plate. Rockstars could do that, Justin supposed.

Everyone looked to Kendall who crossed his arms, and eyed the noodles Joe was sucking down, "Dude, I'm not getting the door."

Which meant everyone's gazes swiveled to Justin, who frowned, "No."

Kendall whipped out the whisk he'd been threatening Tripp with earlier and smacked him across the knuckles. Which was kind of why Justin knew better than to sit next to Kendall Knight for dinner, but there hadn't been any other free seats, "Go."

"Dude," Justin tried to wrestle the whisk away from him, which only earned him another smack on the knuckles. Power hungry jerk.

Zeke was at the door. Zeke was at the door holding his cell phone out towards Justin like it was diseased and accusing, "It's your dad. He says you haven't been picking up."

Justin sighed. Of course he hadn't been picking up. He hadn't wanted to talk. That was kind of the point. Reluctantly, he took the cell from Zeke, who proceeded to glare and inform him that he could not be getting eighty thousand calls a day from Mr. Russo, because he had finals coming up an actual job and he wasn't Justin's secretary thank you very much.

Which Justin knew perfectly well; he'd barely spoken to Zeke in years, except on occasions like this, when his family couldn't seem to grasp how not okay this was.

"Hello?" he barked into the phone, irritated.

"Justin!" Jerry cried, exuberant as ever, "I've been trying to get in touch with you all day. You- are coming to dinner this Friday."

"No. I'm not."

"Yes, you are," his father replied patiently, seemingly unaware that Zeke was trying to burn a very large hole in Justin's chest with his eyes, "I promised your mother."

"Yeah, but you didn't consult me first, and I'm busy."

"Busy doing what, exactly?"

Well, damn.

"I promised I'd help Tripp out with something."

"Is Tripp the one with the hair?"

"They've all got hair, dad."

"Yeah, but I mean the one with heavy metal hair. The one who used to be in Iron Weasel."

"Yes, dad. That's Tripp. And I've got to help him with-"

"Stop lying to your father, Russo!" the boy in question yelled from the dining room. Fucker.

"Apparently, I'm free," Justin said after a beat where his father was obviously trying to pretend he hadn't heard a thing, "But I'm still not coming."

"Alex will be there."

"I don't think you get it, dad, I'm not- wait, what?"

"I said, your sister is coming all the way from Timbuktu or wherever she's off to this week, and your mother and I would appreciate it a whole hell of a lot if you sucked it up and came to one family dinner."

"I- uh. Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, I said okay. One dinner can't hurt."

"Thanks, Justin. At least now I can get your mother off my back."

Quietly, Justin hung up and handed the phone back to Zeke. He wanted to thank his friend for dragging himself all the way over from NYU, but he couldn't quite find the words. Zeke gave him a disgusted lurk and hurried down the stairs, away. That's how most of Justin's friendships had been going of late, outside of his roommates. People only had to talk to him for a few minutes to see that he wasn't- right. He wondered sometimes if it was branded on his forehead now. 'Sinner' in big block letters.

"Hurry your ass up or you're not getting any pasta," Joe yelled from the other room, laughing, banging his fork and knife against the wooden table so that the sound echoed across the room. Tripp and Kendall joined in, and soon the three of them were creating their very own symphony with a cutlery orchestra.

Despite himself, Justin smiled.

He hadn't always been in love with his little sister.

Alex was many things, not least of all charming, and she had a way of getting under his skin in seconds, like he had no defenses at all. At first, he'd thought it was a sibling thing, that because they were related, because he loved her so much, he was susceptible to her particular brand of insanity.

She was spoiled and obnoxious, and she could burp louder than Max and Justin combined, but it was all part of the terrain. It was all part of Alex, and Justin had known her almost his entire life. She was also, Justin realized while they were pulling off one scheme or another, breathtakingly beautiful. But he pretended it was okay to think that, because hey, he thought his mother was beautiful too.

His mother didn't give him a boner, but he tried to be optimistic anyway. He was a teenage boy, and having these kinds of…problems…pop up at random was natural. He just tried not to sit too close to Alex when they were watching TV, was all.

Later, in high school, someone- Zeke, maybe- mentioned that Alex had an uncanny knack for getting Justin into trouble, which was true. He told himself it was because he was a loyal brother, and he had to make sure she didn't get hurt. Except, the more she conned him into doing stupider and stupider things, the more Justin began to think that maybe he was trying to impress her. Which wasn't- right. He tried to distance himself, just a little. He tried to join extracurriculars, especially after Alex began bounding around the house in her tiny ass cheerleading outfit. It didn't help. Nothing helped. Eventually, Justin resolved that he had to get some distance.

He applied to UCLA for college.

Only, Alex found the application. Alex found the application and she nearly cried, and she begged him not to send it out.

So he didn't.

When Justin started NYU in the fall, Alex began to practically live at his dorm. Sometimes, she would stay the night. She would crawl into his bed when his heater was out, claiming all his body warmth for her own.

And that's when Justin's suspicions solidified, when his sister was warm, pressed up against the lines of his body, all soft curves and sweet smelling hair.

The next morning he kicked her out and told her not to come back. She was interrupting his studies.

Only, it might not have been her, because by the end of his junior year Justin had lost his scholarship. He dropped out, telling his parents he was taking a year off for mental health. By then, Alex had already started up her own line with a few friends from FIT. They took the nation by storm. His sister was famous.

They hadn't stopped talking, not completely. Even though Alex had discontinued parading around his room in boy shorts and a camisole, it wasn't like they'd cut off all communication. But, she was busy. He was avoiding her. Eventually, phone tag stopped being a game and began to get annoying.

Now it was like this. He hadn't talked to her in a month. He hadn't seen her in six, since her last local show.

Justin surfed the fashion channel for hours, trying to get a glimpse of Alex, and none of it mattered. He was a sick fuck. He alienated his family, he'd given up on his education, and he was basically bereft.

All because of his sister, the whirlwind. The girl he loved.

The girl he was going to see on Friday night.

He was so screwed.

A/N: Short chapter, but for a reason. And wow, guys! I'm actually kind of shocked I got any reviews on this at all, much less alerts, so I want to thank you! Soooo, next chapter will be either Kendall or Tripp. Not sure yet. Please review!