TITLE: Scared
AUTHOR: Alicia Edwards
FEEDBACK: [email protected]
SUMMARY: JC’s scared. Lance tries to help.
Notes: This is what happens at 2 am...
SCARED
There was a knock on the door. Lance was about to call out “come in” when he remembered that he was in a hotel, and hotel doors these days automatically locked. So he flipped open the blankets, got out of bed, and pulled the door open.
“Hey,” JC said, standing there in a pair of windpants and a t-shirt, feet bare.
“Hey,” Lance said, blinking at JC.
“Were you sleeping?” JC peered around Lance into the dark room.
“Nah, watchin’ TV,” Lance said, stepping aside to allow JC to see the still-illuminated set in the corner.
JC nodded. “Good. Didn’t want to wake you.” He rocked back on his heels. He didn’t look like he’d been sleeping, either, even at this late hour. His hair was mussed, but he didn’t have that “sleepy JC” look about him. He looked like maybe he’d been raking his fingers through his hair, or something, which is the thing that kept Lance from telling JC he’d see him in the morning and climbing back into that warm bed to finish watching the I Love Lucy rerun he’d been engrossed in until just a second ago.
Lance blinked at JC again. He scratched his head, wondering if JC realized this whole scene was a little bit strange. He waited for JC to say something, or do something, or maybe just go back to bed. That might be nice.
“Can I… uh… come in for a minute?” JC asked, clearing his throat.
“Yeah, sure.” Lance stepped back to let JC in. He let the door fall closed and flipped on the light, blinking in the sudden brightness. JC didn’t seem to mind. Probably because the hallway had been pretty darn bright. Lance switched the television off with one last longing glance at his program, and sat cross-legged on the bed he’d vacated moments earlier.
JC lowered himself onto the other bed, folding one leg underneath him.
“So… what’s up?” Lance asked when JC didn’t say anything.
JC looked at his hands. Studied them for so long that Lance began to wonder if JC’d heard him at all.
Then JC looked at him, blue eyes all wide and full of pain or fear or sorrow. “Are you… do you ever get scared?” he asked, finally.
Lance was a little surprised. He’d been expecting JC to tell him he needed to work on the choreography for tomorrow’s performance, or something. He hoped his surprise didn’t show, though. “What do you mean?” he asked, slowly.
“I mean… I dunno. You probably don’t. Why would you? You’ve got it the most together of all of us.” JC laughed, but his eyes didn’t crinkle up like they usually did.
“Yeah, I get scared,” Lance said, struggling to understand. “I get worried that I’m gonna mess up and stuff—”
“No, not that kind of scared.” JC’s eyes were burning into Lance’s, like he was trying to see into Lance’s soul. Like maybe if he looked hard enough, he’d get his answer without having to finish the conversation. The conversation that wasn’t making a whole lot of sense to Lance, anyhow.
“What kind, then?” Lance raised his eyebrows questioningly, wishing that JC wasn’t so hard to read sometimes. He wished he could beam himself onto JC’s wavelength, jump onto his train of thought. Anything that would let him understand what was bothering JC so much.
“Like… do you ever think about what will happen when all of this is over?” JC chewed his lip and kicked the foot that wasn’t currently tucked under his bottom.
“Yeah,” Lance said honestly, wincing a little. JC seemed the most comfortable with everything out of all of them. He was easy to please. He always seemed to take whatever came his way with a smile, shrug off the bad stuff, and just get on with life. He seemed to take the whole fame thing the least seriously, and yet take himself the most seriously. Like whatever happened, he’d be okay. He’d have fun with it for the time being, enjoy himself, but he’d be alright afterward, too. So Lance was a little taken aback by the worried expression that was splashed across JC’s face at the moment.
“I mean, you’re okay. You’ve got FreeLance and Happy Place and stuff. You’re all businessy-smart.” He was studying his hands again. Turning them over and examining them.
Lance opened his mouth to say something – anything – but JC beat him to it.
“Like, Chris is okay because he went to college. And when we started, he was old enough, ya know? He knows people from before. And, of course, he has FuMan. And Joey’s got stuff all figured out. Who knew he’d be the first to… yeah. He’s got it all together there. And Justin—he’s still young enough. If this all ended tomorrow, he could go to college. He could still have a life, ya know? But I’m twenty-five. I don’t have anything outside of this. I didn’t go to college. All I know is this. All I have is this group.” He dropped his hands into his lap and looked up when Lance started talking.
“That’s not true. You have music. That’s more than the group. You’re one of the most talented songwriters and producers I know.”
JC continued as if Lance hadn’t said anything, “and, like… I know this sounds corny, but I wanna find love, ya know? I mean… Justin, Joey… you… I dunno, man. I know the reason I stayed with her so long is because I was scared I’d never find anyone else. What if I don’t?”
JC was picking at the skin next to his fingernail.
“JC…”
“Yeah?” He looked up, his blue eyes full of hope.
“You’ll find her.”
JC nodded. Like he already knew, but he needed to hear someone else say it. Out loud
“JC?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re one of the greatest guys I know. You’re one of the most talented and most successful guys I know, and not just because you’re one-fifth of *NSYNC. When all of this is over, you’re going to be okay. We’re all going to be okay. But you, especially.” JC’s eyes softened a little and he smiled. It was a small smile, but it crinkled his eyes the tiniest bit in the corners, and Lance knew that was a sign that JC was, indeed, going to be alright. “Now let me get to bed,” he said with a grin.
JC stood and nodded, his smile widening into a grin to match Lance's. “Thanks, man.” He left, turning out the light as he slipped through the door. Lance watched the sliver of light from the hallway disappear as the door slid closed, engulfing him in darkness. He switched on the TV in time to catch the last few minutes of his show.
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