AN: Cause Lance is a natural brunette...



********************************** Short Blonde Hair ********************************* 


*Hey I think this is
 getting to me...
 First class living
 In a goldfish bowl*


Lance was neurotic.  Not as neurotic as Chris or JC, but more neurotic than Joey or Justin 
who saved his tone nail clippings because he was afraid someone would try to clone him.  
Unfortunately, that said a lot about Lance.

His neurosis was growing worse though, or so he thought.  The fact that he hadn't left his 
house in three weeks was a pretty good clue.  And he was wearing a tuxedo.  He wasn't sure 
why.  It just felt right and so little felt right anymore that he went with it whenever 
something did.  

Lance was tired of being a celebrity.  
 

*Just when I think
 I have driven my life
 Where I wanted it to be*


It was sad, really, that all his life he'd grown up thinking that if he was rich and famous then 
good things would come and he'd be happy.  He wanted so desperately to be happy.  

And now he was rich and famous and wearing a three week old tuxedo from last fall.  He had 
forgotten to shave too.  Lance tugged at his beard and tried not to cry.  
 

*It takes me to a place
 That I do not want to go*


He tried to forget Lou, and the screaming, and Chris, older than them all but still almost 
a kid, trying to protect them the best he could, his hair in braids and braces on his teeth.  
He tried not to remember being sick and Justin's pale, worried face and the tears in his huge 
eyes that he didn't want anyone to see.  The Justin Timberlake of today barely seemed like the 
same person, all muscles and smooth dancing.  

Sometimes Lance missed that frightened little boy.  It didn't make him seem quite so alone.    


*All I ever wanted to do
 Was to learn how to break
 This world in two*


He'd survived, they'd survived, as a group, as brothers.  Sometimes he wondered if they'd 
survive without him.  He knew they would.  

Sometimes it seemed like Lance was the weakest person he knew.  And that seemed so wrong to 
him somehow, considering all that he'd been through, failed space missions and all.


*To teach it all the tricks
 I wanted it to learn
 To teach it how to do
 What I want it to do*


He sighed and moved to his deck, stretching and still scratching his chin.  Lance wasn't used 
to being anything but clean shaven.  He usually tired of a beard after a few days and he missed 
the smoothness of his cheeks but he couldn't find the motivation to get a razor and shave.

Wasn't quite sure that holding a razor was the best idea at the moment.  

He watched the sun set and shuddered. 


*No one really understands
 Just how simple and plain
 And predictable I am*


He was presentable for an awards show three days later, clean shaven, showered, and dressed in 
all black.  Joey joked about the nick on his throat and Lance tried not to remember how his 
hands shaking when he shaved.

He skipped the after party but brought a big eyed model home.  They had sex but he slept alone 
after calling her a cab.  She whispered of money and fame as she moved under him.  It had 
ruined the moment.


*Because all I ever wanted to do
 Was to play guitar
 In a rock and roll band
 Now I'm just losing my hair
 and I'm
 Learning how to smile
 Like I just don't care*


He parted with his hair the next morning.  Went to their overpaid stylists and sat in an 
overstuffed chair and ordered them to cut it all off.  

Lance watched with unmoving eyed as his spikes spiraled to the pristine floor and remembered 
the first time he and Justin had bleached their hair at Lou's insistence.  Justin had cried 
then too.  

He smiled and cried as the scissors clipped and trimmed with unnering precision.  His long 
fingers tapped an unwritten melody out as he rolled words around his tangled mind.


*No, I just don't care
 (I hear them
 under their breath)
 (what they say...when they
 think that I can't hear them)
 I see them point and
 I see them stare
 There goes that stupid guy
 With the short blonde hair*


Chris howled when he saw Lance.  Joey shook his head, Justin high fived him, and JC cried.  
Their publicist through a fit.  Lance told her to "go to hell".  

He left the house more often, a swagger in the glide of his step.  He bought every tabloid and 
newspaper that featured his new style and felt alive for the first time in months.  His melody 
put him to sleep at night as he hummed it under his breath.  


*Yeah, I think this is getting to me...
 First class living
 In a goldfish bowl*


Lance started wearing clothes that made JC cringe.  He laughed as his band mates swore, the 
label complained, and fans threw digital temper tantrums across the realms of cyber space.  
Late at night when he still couldn't sleep he stayed awake and haunted chat rooms.  

He decided that he was more neurotic than Chris and JC.  The thought should have frightened 
him.

It didn't.


*Just when I think
 I have driven my life
 Where I wanted it to be*


Lance, never much of a songwriter, tried to commit his melody to paper.  

It eluded him but continued to put him to sleep at night.  

JC started humming it after a couple of weeks too.  


*It takes me to a place
 That I don't want to go*


He hated it when his melody failed him.  Some nights it didn't matter what song he sang- he 
still remembered and that panic, so old, clutched his chest and made him sit up in his silk 
sheets, gasping for breath.  On those nights he often crept to the floor where he curled into 
a ball on the floor, head buried in his arms, as he wished for his melody to return.  

Lance was very good at thinking about things while not thinking at all about certain things.  
The things he tried to forget were cruel unless he soothed them.  

He could hardly stand it when his song deserted him.  The cruel things hurt so very bad unless 
he made them go away.

Lance still cried those nights.


*All I ever wanted to do
 Was to learn how to break
 This world in two*


He hated dreamers and optimists and their sunshine and good cheer.  He felt betrayed by them but 
was quiet in his dislike, as quiet as Chris was in his hatred for those with wealth.  

Lance worried about Chris sometimes because he was afraid he hated himself.  Chris was many 
things, but never a hypocrite.  But Chris rarely shaved so Lance didn't worry too much.


*Teach it all the tricks
 I wanted it to learn
 Teach it how to do
 What I want it to do*


When Joey started humming his melody weeks later, he laughed until he cried.  


*No one really understands
 Just how simple and plain
 And predictable I am*


Lance, despite objections, kept his hair short.  After a couple of months he dyed it platinum 
blonde.  

He was quickly surpassing Chris in his neurosis.


*Because all I ever wanted
 real bad
 Was to play guitar
 In a rock and roll band
 Now I'm just losing my hair and
 learning how to smile*


Justin grew his curls back in mute protest.  Lance couldn't find it in himself to care.  

His foot started to tap the melody that couldn't be penned down.  He caught Chris drumming it 
one day and smiled.  Chris rolled his eyes but humored him.  Lance was the neurotic one after 
all.


*No, I just don't care
 (I hear them
 under their breath)
 No, I just don't care
 (what they say...when they
 think that I can't hear them)
 I see them point and
 I see them stare
 There goes that stupid guy
 With the short blonde hair*


Lance was still a celebrity, he just didn't act like it anymore.  He wore house slippers to 
radio interviews and skipped when he was having a good day.  He painted his nails blue cause he 
liked the color.  

And the world humored him.  Cause he was the neurotic one.  The stupid guy with the short 
blonde hair.  Lance never grew it back and hummed whenever he wasn't singing.  

His melody never left him again and he always, always shaved with steady hands.  


*Say la de da de da de da*