It isn’t that he didn’t talk to Lance on the phone almost every week since Lance left, but he just… missed him. Somehow the sheer distance made things a whole lot worse and JC just couldn’t handle it. All of the guys were so far away, but Lance the farthest of all. He missed them all, but Lance the most, simply because he hadn’t seen Lance in person for the longest. JC missed Lance’s quirky grin and easy laugh and stupid jokes and JC even missed the damn ferret, even though Chris was watching after him while Lance was gone.

But now Lance is back.

And JC opens his door and sees Lance standing there, hands in his pockets and smiling that lopsided grin of his, and JC thinks he might be fighting back tears.

“God,” he says into the woodsy cologne on Lance’s neck. The spikes of Lance’s gelled hair tickle his nose. “Don’t go off to Russia, ever again.”

Lance hugs him back, laughing in that pleasant rumble of his, as he holds JC tight.

When they break apart, JC puts his hands on Lance’s shoulders and narrows his eyes. For some reason, Lance looks both more solid and more transparent. He’s more muscular, but thinner, a lot thinner, and there’s hollowness to his cheeks that wasn’t there before. The area under his green eyes is dark, making those eyes seem even brighter than usual. “You feeling okay?” he asks, unable to switch off the automatic “father” mode.

“Great,” Lance says. He smiles, which abruptly makes him look like the Lance that JC remembers, and that makes JC feel better. “How have you been?”

“Bored,” says JC. With a little laugh, he remembers his manners in time to pull Lance inside, out of the brisk November night. “C’mon, tell me about your adventures.”

With a little sort of half-shrug, Lance smiles and says, “Not much to tell, man.”

That doesn’t feel right to JC for some reason… the response just doesn’t sit right. He raises an eyebrow at his friend. “You leave for months on end and then when you come back, you have absolutely nothing to say?”

Shaking his head, Lance grins and his smile is so bright but it seems so… sad. Like his mouth is lying, because the rest of his face isn’t really smiling, not at all.

“You’re not telling me something,” JC says, narrowing his eyes. Of all the guys… JC seems to be on the same wavelength with Lance the most. Well, with Lance and with Justin. Which is odd because Lance and Justin are never of the same mind about anything. It’s like JC is a conduit between the two. Strange, but just the way it has always been.

Lance blinks quickly, which makes his eyelashes flutter like butterfly wings. “It’s nothing, C.” He says, and his voice is higher than normal. “Really.”

“It’s gotta be something,” says JC. This is about as close as Lance ever gets to being upset because Lance never loses his cool – never. So this is definitely not “nothing.” JC reaches over, brushing his fingers through Lance’s hair and straightening the errant blonde spikes. “You can’t keep it all in forever.”

They’re standing closer now. Lance’s soft chuckle makes cool breath ghost over JC’s skin and he shakes his head. He pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut, but is careful not to dislodge JC’s hand. “I guess…” he says. He inhales slowly. “I guess it just wasn’t what I expected it to be. And then… when I realized that… it was too late to turn back. I had… I had to.”

“Oh…” JC pulls Lance into a gentle hug and is alarmed at how thin Lance feels, compared to what JC remembers. “Oh… Lance. It’s okay. It is.”

Lance is laughing bitterly against him. Bitter, but at the same time, relieved. “God, C,” he mumbles into JC’s shoulder. “You think you can make someone feel better just by saying that? Just by being there?”

JC blinks but doesn’t let go. He’s used to this. Lance has always been surprisingly cynical. “But… It will be okay,” JC says, a little confused at how it could not be.

“Geez, JC, I missed you so much.” When Lance laughs this time, it’s for real. JC is happy to hear that laugh.

And when Lance kisses him, JC is happy to feel it, to remember something… even though JC has never experienced it before, except maybe in another life.

And when Lance’s hands find him in the night, JC is happy to feel them. JC arches into them, remembering an ache from another place and time.

* * *

Too many people are trying to talk to him.

After a few months of not having to really talk to people unless he wanted to, JC feels like he’s being reintroduced to society. It has only been a few months. And he has been dealing with people – lots of people – for most of his life. But JC liked the quiet.

Now he’s stuck in a swirl of bodies, sounds, voices, laughing… too many people at once. He feels like he’s being dragged out of a coma, waking up after being hopped up on Valium. True, he’s been to a few parties and clubs over the break… but deejays and reporters and fans are different. They’re too… exhausting. Too overwhelming.

So JC stuffs his face with the leftover Halloween candy the deejay offers him and hopes for the best.

During the interview, JC tries not to look uncomfortable and doesn’t really succeed.

While he’s working out the double negatives in that thought, Joey takes the opportunity to offer him a bright smile. “JC, man, it’s like I haven’t seen you in ages. What have you been up to? Finding ugly hats?”

Before JC can stop himself, he says, “Hey, I like this hat.” He tugs it lower on his head. He’s just waiting for Joey to say something about the rainbow on his vest.

Joey’s grin is big and wonderful. “I seriously missed you.”

Somehow, Joey being here makes it okay. If Joey weren’t here, JC would’ve probably run out of the radio studio… about two hours ago. But Joey’s here, and JC has missed Joey an awful lot, and so JC stays.

“Have you talked to Justin lately?”

JC blinks, looking up from the candy, and realizes that’s Joey’s voice asking him the question. The deejay is off-air, waiting for the O-town song to finish playing, and the studio is kinda quiet. Kinda.

“Yeah… I was at the party that other night.”

“He’s been okay, right?” Joey asks. “I mean…”

Again, JC blinks. “Yeah, of course he is. Why wouldn’t he be?”

For some reason, Joey gives JC an odd look. It’s just… odd. Something is wrong in those happy brown eyes. They kinda narrow, just a little, and JC wonders for a second what he has done wrong. But then the moment passes and Joey is normal again. The guy can never stay angry or depressed or anything else except… happy for very long. JC loves that about him.

“Nothing,” says Joey. He shakes his head and smiles again. “Forget about it. Wanna go do something after the show? And stop eating the moldy candy, I’ll take you out to eat later if you’re that hungry.”

JC grins and forgets why he was worried.

* * *

“Hello?”

“Who actually says ‘hello’ anymore, dorkus?”

JC grins into the phone. “Hey, Chris.”

“What’s up, man?”

“Nothing much. You?”

“I hear you’ve been jumping Bass’ bones.”

Chris is never one for subtleties. And of course Chris would have found out by now. He always knew about what was going on with everyone.

“So… what about it?” JC’s fingers play with the curly-cues in the telephone chord. It’s weird that Chris calls him on his home phone for once, instead of his cell.

“What is this, JC? It’s too clichéd to be ‘friends with benefits.’ Don’t tell me you’re just fuck buddies either, because if you were, you’d have done it a long time ago.”

“I… I don’t know.” And JC hates himself for that.

“Thought so.” How does Chris manage to be so annoying, even over the phone?

JC sits on his couch, frowning. “Well, shit, Chris. What do you want me to say?”

“You’re not in love with Lance.” It wasn’t a question.

Frowning some more, JC says, “I love Lance!”

“But you’re not in love with him.”

“There isn’t much of a difference.”

“You bet your fucking pink beret there is,” says Chris. He doesn’t sound angry or anything. He just sounds like he saying something true. “You’re not in love with him.”

JC pinches the bridge of his nose, with his free hand. “No,” he whispers into the receiver. “But… he knows that.”

“It’s not really fair to you, or to him, then, is it?” asks Chris reasonably.

JC shakes his head, forgetting that Chris isn’t there to see it, and just settles for a deep sigh instead. He wonders who put Chris up to doing this. Unless it’s Chris’ own idea, which JC won’t doubt. “I… it’s… no, it isn’t,” JC finally says.

“I knew you’d see it my way,” says Chris. He practically cackles.

“Child of Satan,” JC mutters.

He can hear Chris’ grin, even though he can’t see it. “How dare you accuse my mother of such a thing?”

“I love you, Chris,” says JC, smiling into the phone.

“Everyone loves Satan’s spawn,” says Chris, before hanging up.

And JC knows that means, “I love you too,” in Chris’ own way.

* * *

“Lance?”

He turns from his keyboard, eyes amazingly bright behind his glasses. “Yeah?”

JC sits down beside Lance at the table, unsure of how to say it. He crosses his legs and scratches his ankle. “I… uh… I…”

Gently, Lance takes his hand and lifts it to his mouth, kissing it softly on the knuckles.

JC’s pretending that mouth and those eyes aren’t making his heart race, just a little.

“I know, C,” he says. Lance releases JC’s hand, again gently, and turns to his laptop.

Blinking, JC says, “You know?”

“I do.” Lance is smiling sardonically.

For a moment, JC crosses his arms and narrows his eyes, thinking. “What… exactly are we talking about, Lance?”

“You’re not in love with me.”

The way Lance says it sounds eerily like the way that Chris said it, over the phone. Lance wasn’t angry, wasn’t hurt… he was just saying the truth.

Biting his lip, JC says, “But I do love you, Lance. I do.”

Lance laughs and it’s bright and beautiful. “I know, dork. You’re not married to your work, you’re married to the four of us. You love all of us. You just… do.” Lance shrugs, but he’s still smiling. “It’d only be a matter of time before the lines got a little blurred. I’m just surprised it didn’t happen earlier.”

“I…” JC doesn’t know what to say to that, because it’s true. He just says, “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” Lance smiles and shakes his head, even though he has returned to his laptop screen now.

They sit in silence for a few moments and even though no one says anything and they don’t even look at each other, JC knows they have come to an understanding, of sorts. And it feels like his heart and Lance’s are a little closer now than before, if that’s possible.

“Hey, C.”

Startled out of the quiet, JC asks, “Yeah?”

“I took a chance. It’s your turn now.”

“It’s my…?” JC pauses. He nods and Lance smiles in return.

* * *

“Hey.”

Justin turns around, drink in one hand, stopping in the middle of his conversation with a pretty model to say, “Whoa, hey!”

“Don’t sound so surprised. You’re the one who invited me.” JC smiles and it almost feels like he means it. “I came to the other one the other week, didn’t I?”

For a moment, Justin grins huge and goofy. He looks all of fifteen again. JC thinks that grin comes too seldom, nowadays. It disappears quickly, replaced by a sexy smirk and low laughter. “Dude, I didn’t expect you to actually come again. C’mon, have a drink.”

“J… I…” But JC can’t really say anything, not with Justin smiling like that and shoving a glass into his hand. Wine. Classy. JC remembers a time when Justin greeted him with a huge hug, instead of alcohol. He resists the urge to wrap his arms around Justin. They didn’t do that much, not anymore. Instead, JC just settles for another smile and says, “Congratulations. Your album rocks. It’s just… awesome.”

Justin blinks, as if he’s surprised to hear this. As if he hasn’t been hearing it all day, all night, for the past two weeks. “Wow, C… I… Thanks. Your opinion means a lot to me.”

And all of a sudden, the words wan to fly out of JC’s throat and he wants to say them and he’s so damn close to saying them. But he doesn’t even know what they are. It seems like Justin knows, though, because he’s leaning closer to hear JC over the din of the crowd and the music even though JC hasn’t said anything. Not yet.

Then another girl appears out of nowhere, glitter in her hair and stars in her eyes and she’s tugging at Justin’s arm, asking for a dance. Justin glances from her to JC and back a couple of times, momentarily confused.

Saving Justin the trouble, JC just waves in the direction of the dance floor encouragingly, drink still in hand. “Go… have fun.”

“C. I…” Justin is still facing JC, walking backwards slowly even as he was being dragged away. Abruptly, he asks, “How has Lance been?”

It seems like time stops in the heartbeat that follows that question. JC’s throat is dry. Shit. He knows he knows he knows he – JC’s voice is almost a whisper as he asks, “How’d you find out?”

“He told Joey and Joey called Chris and Chris called me…” Justin is still walking backward. He bites his lip and the drink sloshes in his hand as he resists the force of the persistent girl. Justin’s mouth turns downward, in the slightest, smallest frown. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Those damn blue eyes could pierce guilt through your soul, like bleeding arrows.

Before JC could think of a way to explain, to apologize, to say anything at all – “It’s not like that” or “It was a mistake” – or anything, Justin disappears into the crowd of dancers.

When JC finally finds him again, much later into the night, Justin’s smiling too widely and laughing too loudly, JC doesn’t think Justin remembers what they had been talking about in the first place.

* * *

The party is over and all of the guests are basically gone.

JC thinks, Thank God, because, although he doesn’t mind parties in moderation, there has just been too much going on. And he’s had it to about here with all these damn girls asking him how he likes Justin’s new album.

So JC is about to leave, heading out the back door to get his car, parked down the road. The night is pitch dark but not dark enough that JC doesn’t notice Justin’s shadowy figure. Justin is standing by himself, in the middle of the backyard.

“Shouldn’t you be playing host and telling your guests good-bye?” JC asks, stepping over a lawn ornament and walking on the soft grass towards Justin’s figure.

Justin doesn’t respond and JC wonders if Justin might be too drunk to be coherent.

“Hey, you listening?”

But Justin is looking up at the sky. The lights of the city make the sky a little too bright to see all the stars, but there are still a lot. Hundreds and hundreds, in the dark blue expanse. Besides the pale sliver of a moon and a stray cloud or two, nothing blocks the view of the sky. It’s huge, massive, impossible to even conceive… but it’s up there.

A small breeze blows, dusting the air with a hint of frigid winter.

Justin shoves his hands deep into his pockets, chin still tilted upwards as he stares up at the heavens. “Lance wanted to go up there,” is all he says. Justin’s not even slurring. All his drunkenness before seems to have disappeared.

“Yeah.” JC wants to move closer to Justin, to feel the heat of his body. He settles for putting his own hands into his pockets, instead. He should’ve brought a jacket with him to the party, but it was in his car.

“I don’t understand why.”

JC turns, but Justin still isn’t looking at him. His head is still tilted back, looking upwards. The smooth yet angular features of Justin’s profile are bathed in the milky blue moonlight.

“You should ask Lance then,” says JC.

Justin nods at this, but he still doesn’t look at JC. Instead, he asks, “Why do you think he wanted to go?”

“Maybe…” JC hesitates. “Maybe he saw something out there that he had hope in. He… he wanted to reach something he couldn’t before. To try to touch the stars.”

For a long time, Justin says nothing more. JC wonders why they’re standing out here in the cold, after this stupid album release party, one of dozens. The people are all gone. Used cups and party favors litter the crisp, damp lawn. JC wants to go home.

But then Justin speaks again. His lips move imperceptibly, and he’s speaking so softly that JC has to strain to hear against the rushing of the winter breeze. “Nothing is forever,” says Justin. “New stars are born everyday and stars burn out everyday.”

JC blinks and he reaches out to touch Justin’s shoulder. He remembers himself in time and pulls back, but not before his fingers brush against the soft denim of Justin’s jacket. “J…” he says, but doesn’t know what else to say after that.

“Nothing’s forever, C,” whispers Justin. He turns now, and looks at JC for the first time since JC came out into the backyard. “Nothing, you know that? Not even the stars.”

JC sees the blurry redness in Justin’s eyes and his heart skips a couple of hundred beats. He wants to hug, to comfort, to say something helpful, but all he can do is say, “But that’s okay, Justin. It’s… okay…”

And suddenly, he’s got an armful of Justin, hugging him, fierce and tight. JC can’t breathe, but it’s the most wonderful feeling in the world. Ever. He could die like this, and it’d be okay. He can smell Justin’s spicy cologne and his nose is in Justin’s hair. Both of their clothes reek of smoke and alcohol. JC just holds on tight and foolishly hopes in eternity, because he doesn’t think he can ever let go.

“You can’t be with Lance,” Justin mumbles into his shoulder. His voice is so low that JC thinks he must be hearing things.

“I… what…?”

Justin just shakes his head, hard. The movement makes JC’s nose itch, from the swishing of Justin’s hair against his skin. “You can’t…” is all Justin whispers, over and over. “You can’t, you can’t, you can’t…”

At least, that’s what JC thinks he hears, but his heart is jackhammering too fast for him to really be sure. He touches Justin’s head, which is still resting on his shoulder, and strokes Justin’s choppy hair until Justin stops shaking his head. “Justin… we’re not… we don’t… Me and Lance… We’re not together.”

When the sentence finally comes out, Justin stills, but his arms are still clamped around JC’s torso and JC can feel the racing of Justin’s heart. It matches his own.

“Why not?” Justin asks. His voice is even softer than before.

JC smiles sadly into Justin’s hair. Feels the smooth strength in Justin’s back, warm and alive under his hands. “We’re not in love with each other,” JC finally says.

“Then who are you in love with?”

“Just, you don’t have to ask.” JC feels like his chest is being ripped apart.

Justin blinks hard. Once. Twice. “You’re supposed to say ‘no one.’”

Swallowing, JC says, “I can’t lie to you.”

They’re still hugging each other, arms looped around each other’s bodies and Justin’s head tucked beneath JC’s chin. But Justin suddenly stills even more and it’s like he’s a thousand miles away. Even though he’s right here, in JC’s arms.

“J?”

Then Justin lifts his head, straightening to his normal height, but he doesn’t move out of their embrace. JC is looking up into blue blue eyes. “Tell me you love me,” says Justin, and the words are almost lost in the wintry wind.

“I love you, Justin.” JC thinks he’ll say this a hundred times a day, every day of his life, if it’ll always make Justin’s eyes light up like this. JC smiles, and it’s for real this time. “I’ve always been in love with you.”

And Justin’s kissing him. Hard and hungry and chapped lips and fast breath and… utterly, completely perfect.

It doesn’t seem fair because it feels like JC had to finagle and cheat his way to get this, but… God. It’s okay, though… because he has finally gotten here. That’s the important part. This is what he’s been missing, all along. JC sighs and opens his mouth, opens his heart, to this.

Because some things are forever.

The End