He remembers the first time, still, in Chris' apartment, before Germany. He'd come over after a rehearsal, and maybe said "please" a few times, gasped in Chris' ear, breathily, and they'd done it, Justin curled over the edge of the futon. They crawled in between the sheets, afterward, and Chris had slipped an arm around Justin's waist, pressed a finger to Justin's lips.
"You can't tell anybody, seriously," Chris said, and kissed him.
There have been enough times between the first and now, but Justin knows it's been falling apart, knows there's nothing he can do. Doesn't think, maybe, it's worth it, but he lets Chris pull him inside, anyway.
He lets Chris push him down, press his back into the rough hotel blanket, tug his shirt off. He kisses Chris, then, fumbling with his pants, and manages to kick them off. He pulls at the hem of Chris' shirt, and Chris smiles against Justin's mouth, breaks the kiss. He strips off his clothes, climbs on top of Justin. He licks at Justin's jaw, and Justin arches into him, and it occurs to Justin that it could be the last time he'll ever get to do this.
It occurs to him, then, when Chris threads a leg between his thighs, that it really is the last. He doesn't really see any of it happening again, because it feels mysteriously like an ending.
"I love you," he mumbles, and he clenches his eyes shut, throwing his leg over Chris' shoulder. He clings to the small of Chris' back, grinds his hips against Chris. If he can remember the first, he wants to remember the last.
"I know," Chris says, and covers Justin's mouth with his own, sliding his hands down Justin's thighs to spread his ass. Justin's not sure if he's writhing in anticipation, or apprehension, but he still hooks his other leg around Chris' waist and threads his fingers in Chris' hair.
Chris slips inside him, and he gasps, even though he's used to it.
"Justin," Chris says, suddenly, unexpectedly, because he doesn't talk. "I, this," and he thrusts roughly, "is right, right?"
"Yes," Justin gasps, because he's got nothing better to say, no more arguments to give. Chris runs his hands along Justin's spine, and he doesn't ever want to give this up, but he has to. It's not right, but they're right, they have to be. They wouldn't be doing it, otherwise.
"Just, love you so much," Chris says, harshly, and buries his head in Justin's neck, bumping against his chin. "Don't want us to be wrong."
"This," Justin says, arches, scrabbles at Chris' back, "is wrong. Not," he inhales sharply, "us."
"Not any more," Chris says, but it comes out more as a choked sob, and Justin clings more tightly to him, wanting more, deeper. He wants the last time to be the best; he wants no regrets.
He's not sure he can handle it.
Justin shudders as he comes, and he can feel hot tears slipping down his cheeks. When Chris curls into him, he's shaking, barely, and his breathing is shallow and gasping against Justin's collar bone. He hugs Chris to himself, and kisses him, sweetly, a little desperately.
"Shh," he mumbles.
"It's okay," Chris says, softly.
"It's better this way," Justin says. He runs a finger along Chris' jaw, follows the line, because it's safer than looking at him.
He falls asleep under Chris, with Chris' mouth on his neck and their fingers laced together. In the morning, Chris has rolled away from him, trapping Justin's hand under his hip. Chris has been awake a while, Justin thinks, but he's not looking at Justin, not really looking at anything. Justin grunts a little, and Chris lifts his hip, letting Justin release his hand, but Chris is still holding it.
Justin looks at how their fingers connect, or don't, and he seems to remember they fit better, before. He gazes up along Chris' wrist, forearm, bicep, shoulder. Looks at Chris, and now Chris is looking at him, expression between a smile and a frown, brow furrowed a little.
Justin knows that if Chris says something, asks if they can try again, if they're so sure they're right, he'll give in. But Chris doesn't: just expels a ragged breath, unhooks his hand from Justin's, and climbs out of bed.
Justin knows, too, that Chris will never come back.