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“You’ll tell me if you’re gonna puke, right?” Justin asked.
Tanner made a noise somewhere between a sob and a hiccup, but nodded. “M’not gonna puke,” he mumbled against Justin’s thigh. One of his damp cheeks was pressed to the leg of Justin’s very expensive jeans from Chez Pépé, soaking the denim right down to his skin. Tanner swiped ineffectually at the other cheek, brushing away the tears even as fresh ones welled in his eyes.
Justin sighed. Seeing Tanner like this made his stomach hurt. It wasn’t like the guy never cried – he’d cried coming out to the team in seventh grade, and when they’d won State, and a bunch of other times in between that Justin could remember.
This was different, though. Tanner had been crying in Justin’s lap on-and-off for two hours, just sniffling quietly most of the time, but dissolving into sobs again anytime Justin tried to get him to talk about it. The star quarterback of the Overland Park High Grizzlies cried like his heart was breaking, like it’d never be whole again.
And all because of fucking Than.
Justin hadn’t really gotten the full story yet, seeing as Tanner was too upset to do more than babble incoherently before bursting into fresh floods of tears, but he was pretty sure that that shirtless douchebag was the one at fault here. Part of him wanted to go pin Than to a wall and threaten him until he admitted to whatever shitty awful thing he’d done, and then, if need be, Justin would kick his ass. But Tanner came first. He was miserable, and his snivelling in the green room had been getting on Mackenzie’s last nerve, so Justin had offered to take him back to his room while the rest of Team USA went for dinner.
There was no doubt that Tanner needed a friend. He probably needed Matthew in particular (or, failing that, Blaine. He wasn't the best with advice, but he gave good hugs). But somehow, Justin had wound up being the shoulder to cry on, and it was an opportunity that didn't come to third-best-friends very often. Dinner would just have to wait.
At least, that was what he'd thought two hours ago. Justin was starting to get crazy hungry now. He’d hoped Matthew or Blaine would at least bring them something from the bistro when they inevitably came to relieve him of his caretaker duties, but so far there was no sign of either of them. He couldn’t just leave Tanner alone to go get food, either – Justin was actually a little worried he might throw himself off the balcony in a fit of heartbreak – which left only one option.
“Tan? Do you wanna order room service?”
“Not hungry,” Tanner snuffled.
“Not even for mac n’ cheese?” Justin hedged. Tanner made a sound like he was choking on his own snot, and shook his head. Justin sighed again. “Dude, you need to eat. Or at least have some water, you’re still pretty hungover.”
“I don’t deserve f-food.”
As much as Justin loved his friend, this was starting to get ridiculous. The gentle approach didn’t seem to be working – no, what Tanner needed now was tough love. “Well, I’m ordering us some grub anyway,” Justin asserted, shifting Tanner’s head out of his lap. The QB reluctantly sat up, wiping his nose on the cuff of his very expensive designer jacket. Justin cringed. “And you’re going to get into your pyjamas. Because, y’know, I’m pretty sure we can’t give these clothes back with snot stains all over them.”
“I guess,” Tanner conceded, shrugging off the jacket. It was the most he’d moved since crawling into Justin's lap two hours ago, and Justin felt a flicker of relief. He’d been starting to think they were going to spend the rest of their natural born lives on that hotel bed, with Tanner crying and Justin wishing he had a sandwich.
“That’s the spirit,” Justin said, springing up from the bed and swiping the room service menu from the coffee table. “Now go get cleaned up, I’ll order us some comfort food, and we’re gonna get through this together.”