His entire body ached. 

 

His back hurt, his arms hurt, his head hurt, his stomach hurt but most of all his eyes hurt.  He hadn’t got more than two hours of sleep the night before.  He couldn’t sleep.  He was too scared to sleep.  She’d come back for him and haunt him some more, and he knew that when that happened he’d be gone.

 

He was terrified that she had taken him over completely.

 

It was pathetic and stupid, but he was so scared of her at this point.  He didn’t want to dream of her anymore.  The obsession he once had had turned into paranoia, and he wondered if he was at the point where he needed some serious help. 

 

He was hoping for a moment of peace and quiet while he ate his dinner in the perfectly titled “quiet room”, but he knew they were coming after him.  He saw it in their eyes while he was at Kraft services slopping on a helping of mashed potatoes that were nothing like his Aunt Sarah’s.  He knew what they’d want to talk about, but it was the last thing he wanted to even think about.

 

And sure enough, half way through his meal they barged in, trying to hard to act non-chalant. 

 

“Hey man!” Joey said as he tossed a foam football at Chris and plopped down in a recliner across from where Justin was sitting on the couch. 

 

He looked up at them with his fork in the air.  “What?”

 

“How’s the food?” Chris asked, propped up against a table.

 

“Gross as usual.”

 

“Hey, it’s not bad.  I kind of like the shit they serve.”

 

“You would, fatty,” Chris said, throwing the football with a sharp spiral at his band mate.

 

Joey caught it and huffed, “Right.  Like you can talk.”

 

Justin sighed and dropped his fork on the coffee table in front of him. He rubbed his temples and asked in an annoyed voice, “What do you want, guys?  I kinda wanna be alone.”

 

“What’s up with you?”

 

“Yeah, lately you haven’t really seemed like yourself.”

 

He shrugged and rolled his eyes at them.  They were annoying the hell out of him.  Couldn’t they see that he didn’t want to be bothered? “Sorry.”

 

“Everything ok?”

 

“Perfect.”

 

“Ya know, last night was-“

 

He thought back on the embarrassment.  He always messed up at shows.  Every show each one of them did something wrong, but last night was horrible.  He blanked out and stopped moving and singing.  He could see the crowd looking at him weird and didn’t realize where he was until Lance nudged him a bit and he snapped back into reality.  He was so tired that he couldn’t even stand up anymore.  “Can we not talk about it?”

 

“Man, it’s just…It’s not like you to forget words and dance moves like that.”

 

“Would you drop it?” he snapped at Joey.

 

“Ok, what’s going on?  You were the one that was dying to get this tour started and now you’re crazy.  You’re being more moody than I’ve ever seen.  What’s happened?”

 

“Nothing!”

 

Chris cocked his head to the side and caught the football that was starting to give Justin a migraine.  “Is it you and Britney?”

 

“Shut up!”

 

“What happened?”

 

Justin stood up and walked over to the trash can, throwing his paper plate into the trash.  There was no way he’d be able to enjoy his food now.  Plus he hadn’t really had an appetite all day.  “Nothing, ok?”

 

“We aren’t leaving you alone until you tell us.”  Joey crossed his arms over his chest and Justin walked back over to the couch and laid down on it, slinging an arm over his eyes.

 

“I just.  She and I have been fighting a lot, and I’ve been having trouble getting in touch with her.”

 

“Maybe that dream thing still bothers her.”

 

He stopped breathing for a movement.  How did Chris know about that?  No one was supposed to know.  If they figured out he wasn’t sleeping because of her, they’d ship him off.  He knew they would.  “Wh- what?”

 

“Yeah, B told me.”

 

Joey looked clueless.  He darted his eyes back and forth between Chris throwing the football straight up in the air and catching it and Justin staring at Chris wide-eyed. “What dream thing?”

 

The football stopped in his hands with a smack.  “Oh, Justin had a sex dream about some girl other than Britney.”

 

Joey smiled and Justin had the urge to punch him hard enough to make his eye black. “Ooo who?”

 

He couldn’t take it and started to pull at his hair.  “I don’t know!  Would you guys shut up and leave!”

 

“So, she’s not over it?”

 

He groaned in frustration and hit the couch with his fist.  “Look.  I don’t know!  She hasn’t said anything about it, but she’s been really distant, and I haven’t been sleeping at all, and I think I’m getting the flu so if you’d let me be, maybe I wouldn’t be so fucking moody all the time! Ok?”

 

It was quiet for a moment and finally the recliner creaked under Joey’s movements, and he stood up and started walking towards the door.  “Well, I think I’m gonna go see if I can just- yeah, I’m gonna go.”

 

“Thank you!”

 

He closed his eyes.  He knew Chris wouldn’t let it go that easily, and sure enough a few seconds later he looked up to see Chris standing over him with his hand on his hip and his other holding the stupid football he wanted to burn.  “What the fuck is your problem?  You know Britney is just missing you.  It’s like this whenever you are both on tour.  Why’s it so horrible this time?”

 

Justin sighed as Chris sat down on the coffee table.  “I can’t sleep Chris.  I just feel worn down.”

 

“Get some sleeping pills or something.”

 

“They don’t work. Nothing’s worked.”

 

“We’re all worried man.  This isn’t like you.” He tried not to let the sincerity and worry in Chris’s voice get to him, but it did.  Tour was supposed to be fun time, guy time, the time when they cut loose and played pranks and acted like five year olds.  Everyone else seemed to be having a wonderful time.  They knew this was their last bit of time together for a while and they were savoring it.  Except for Justin.  He knew he was being a hermit and was being a pain to deal with but he couldn’t help it.  His nerves were shot and his body was weak.  He didn’t have the energy or the desire to be a five year old. 

 

“Please, please Chris.  Just leave me alone,” he said in a quiet voice. 

 

“Alright.  Give Brit a call.  Talk things out.  It’ll make you feel better.”

 

Chris left and he lay there, silent, scared and deathly tired.  He took Chris’s advice and tried calling Britney, but she didn’t answer and he didn’t bother leaving a voice mail.  Then tried calling Wade to see if he knew where she was, but the phone just rang.  Finally he called Trace, who of course wasn’t there either, but he left a voice mail for him to call him back anyway. 

 

He wished things were so much different.  He wished he wasn’t on tour.  He wished he was with his girlfriend.  He wished that he had never had that damn nightmare and he wished that he had never seen or heard of dreamed of his mystery girl, ever.  He was tired of it.  He was tired of being tired.  She hadn’t come to him in any dream since his nightmare and that was mainly because he had hardly slept since then.  But he still got scared every time he put his head on a pillow and closed his eyes. 

 

He knew everyone was worrying about him.  He had had a cold for about a week.  On tour they usually doped you up for a day and you were feeling perfect the next day.  But even after all the meds and the special treatments, he still was sick and kept being sick for the next few days. 

 

But that had been a couple weeks earlier and now, he felt it coming back.  His head felt like it was constantly too heavy for his body and he slumped his shoulders and bowed his head as he walked, wherever he walked.  He felt dead and felt pathetic.

 

He wanted to call his mom, but he knew she’d flip out and he’d end up telling her everything and she’d, like everyone else, send him off to rehab or a mental institution.

 

He was almost ready to send himself. 

 

-----

 

Somehow a miracle happened.  He didn’t know how but about two hours later he woke up with Betty leaning over him with a smirk on her face.  He hadn’t had a dream and had slept hard and good.  He felt refreshed and wished he could go back to sleep.

 

“What time is it?”

 

She laughed and looked at a watch on her wrist.  “Time for you to get your cute ass on stage, sleepy head.”

 

“What?”

 

He sat up and watched as she walked around the coffee table to a portable rack of clothes that had his outfits for the first part of the concert on it.  She walked over to it and did a look over on the outfits.  Betty was the head wardrobe assistant and a doll.  Justin hated that he had to be woken up but he was glad that it was her doing the waking.  She was 15 years his senior and he felt like she was his older sister at times.  “Yeah.  They were gonna make me wake you up and take you to wardrobe but the guys told me to let you sleep until the last minute.  So I brought your clothes here.  And by the way, it’s the last minute so you better get this shit on fast.”  She held out a hanger with a shirt on it and another one with a pair of jeans.  He took them from her, and then she reached down to the coffee table and handed him a mug with a napkin under it.    “And here’s some tea.  Yes it’s caffeinated and yes it’s warm but not too hot.”

 

He laid the clothes beside him and took the tea with a smile before taking a long sip.   “Thanks Betty.  You’re the best.”

 

The warm honeyed liquid felt good on his scratchy throat and he breathed in the aroma.  It was a good way to wake up.  “A smile!?  Whoa, that’s a first.”

 

He laughed and nodded.  “I really needed that nap.”

 

“I know.  You alright?”  Her head tilted to the side and she had a look of pure concern.

 

He winked at her.  “Better now.”

 

She smiled and then took a deep breath, pointing to him and then to the door.  “Ok, I’m going to run down real quick and make sure the other girls are ok and that no fiasco has happened with any of Lance’s pants since our walkie talkies seem to not work here in this damn arena.  And ya know, I never knew a guy that had a bigger ass than Lance.”

 

“Mmm, Lance’s ass.”  He laughed and took another sip. 

 

“You boys are frightening.  I’ll be back.  I’ll knock 4 times so you’ll know it’s me.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

She rolled her eyes and opened the door to the room.  “I know you don’t want anyone seeing you in your little briefs.”

 

“Shut it.”  She stuck her nose in the air and closed the door behind her after she huffed at him.

 

He just shook his head and finished his tea.  Betty came back shortly and helped him get into his outfit.  Minutes later he was praying with the guys and the crew and then he was being escorted back into the back stage area.  The lights had already gone out and the band had already started to play the intro.  The music and the dim lights and the screams started getting him really pumped up and soon he was jumping up and down trying to get rid of a little energy before he exploded.  He hadn’t been this pumped up for a show since the last tour.  He and Chris walked in on the same side of the stage, and he stood there beside his friend as his friend eyed him carefully.

 

“You feeling better?” he asked with a smirk. 

 

Justin nodded and rolled his head around a bit, getting the kinks out of his neck.  “Yeah, thanks for letting me sleep.”

 

“No messing up tonight.  I got my eyes on you.”

 

Justin gave Chris a playful flirty look and wiggled his fingers at him.  “Don’t turn me on before we go on stage.”

 

Chris started to make barfing noises and stepped a good two feet away from him. “Gag me, asshole.”

 

He sometimes did this, pretended to act a little homosexual.  He knew sometimes it annoyed the guys, especially Chris, but most of the other guys would play along like it was no big deal.  He thought it was funny to get a rise out of Chris.  “Oh believe me, I will.”

 

Mike, their tour manager, walked towards them quickly and passed them, charging towards the other side of the stage. “Boys, settle down and get ready to get on stage.”

 

“Wanna join?” Chris asked with a chuckle.

 

Mike glanced behind him and then flipped them off, saying, “Faggots.”

 

They both laughed for a moment and then got serious about the show ahead of them.  “I’m glad you’re better.”

 

Justin wiggled out his arms, getting the cue from one of the crew guys.  He smiled to himself, ready to run out there.  “I’m just ready to get on stage.”

 

Once on stage he felt alive.  He nailed it, every move, every note, every line, every joke, everything.  The show was awesome, and when he went back stage for the first wardrobe change the whole place seemed to have a better aura.  The guys were cutting up with him and he felt like he was part of the team again.  He had forgotten all about this troubles for a moment.  He knew he needed more sleep, but he wasn’t afraid to get it anymore.

 

He changed quickly, this time waiting with Lance and Joey before they ran out.  He was the first to get out there and once he did, he pulled up a stool that was sitting there and sat down.  The rest of the guys joined him and they started the next song.

 

But then everything changed. 

 

His eyes looked out into the blur of faces and screams and for some reason, he latched on to a particular face, sitting in the 4^th row.  It was her, or either her clone or twin.  She looked a little different.  Her hair was pulled back which it was normally flowing down her back and she was standing with a man a good foot taller than her but looked to be about her age, maybe a little older.  Her smile was the same.  And her eyes were the same.  The face was perfectly identical.

 

It was her.

 

He stopped thinking, moving, singing, hell, probably breathing.  He stared at her and she stared back.  She smiled and sang and danced in her seat, and he just looked at her mesmerized.  He didn’t realize that he was causing a scene until JC nudged him, and when he looked over he saw Chris eyeing him suspiciously and the other guys pretending like nothing was going on.

 

He had fucked up again. 

 

He turned back to the crowd to see if he could find her, but she had disappeared.  He searched, his eyes wandering over the first 10 rows and looking at each face.  But she wasn’t there.

 

He gulped and closed his eyes. 

 

Now he was imagining things.

 

His stomach started to ache and he felt the urge to throw up.  But he managed to hold it in and half ass the show until the last song was over.  He got off stage first and walked quickly through the maze of hallways to the bus.  Sometimes they’d hang around the arena for a while but that night they had to get on the road to be in the next town by morning.  He knew he was supposed to go directly to the bus, wait for Chris, and then they’d head on out.

 

But when he got to the bus he did the worst thing he could probably ever do.  “Hey Ray,” he said walking onto the bus.  Tiny stayed outside and waited for them to pull away before he went on his own bus. 

 

“Hey, Chris close behind?”

 

Justin stopped halfway to his bunk and turned slowly, feeling bad that he was going to lie while Ray looked him in the eyes in the rear view mirror.  “Oh, um, actually Chris is riding with Lance and JC for some reason.”

 

Ray shrugged and closed the doors to the bus.  “Oh ok.  Ready to make a move?”

 

Justin nodded and headed back to his bunk.  “Let’s go.”

 

The engine was already roaring and he stumbled a bit when Ray made a sharp turn to get them out of their parked position.  He finally jumped up into his bunk and lay there, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

It finally hit him what had happened.  He saw her.  Whether it was a mirage, a twin, or actually her, he saw her.  His eyes made her out in the crowd.  Normally he could find his mother or a relative and tried to look in their direction if he knew they were on stage.  But there had even been times when his family had surprised him and he hadn’t noticed them.  He had a hard time locking on to faces in the crowd since he had such a problem with eye contact.

 

But not with her. 

 

“Holy shit,” he breathed out.

 

I’m goin’ nuts.

 

He decided he needed to call someone.  He didn’t care who but he needed to talk.  Even if it was Britney he needed to tell her everything.  He paused while he was curling out of his bunk.  Telling her everything would be a colossal mistake. She’d cry and think it was her fault and probably yell at him.  He needed Trace.

 

“Ray, did Mel get my bag?”

 

“Yeah, she put it in the back.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

He went into the back room and sat down on the couch while he searched his backpack for his phone.  He found it and amazingly it vibrated as soon as it hit his hand.  He looked at the number, sighed and flipped it open.

 

“I was just about to call you.”

 

Trace didn’t miss a beat.  “You sound bad. What is it?

 

Justin took a deep breath, leaned over his knees and put his head in his hand. “I saw her.”

 

“Who?”

 

He groaned, knowing this was going to sound bad.  “Her. Dream girl.  In the audience.”

 

“Fucking shit, Justin.”

 

“You’re tellin’ me.”

 

“You need help, bro.”

 

That was the last thing he wanted to hear.  “No, no I don’t.”

 

“Well you need to stop dreaming about her.  This is sick man.”

 

He scoffed, feeling the tears come to his eyes.  He wouldn’t cry about this, though.  He wouldn’t cry about something that wasn’t real.  “I try!”

 

“When I use to get nightmares as a kid I would always have to say to myself in my dream, ‘T, you’re just dreaming, wake up.’ And it would always work.”

 

“Shit man!  Most of the time I don’t even realize I’m dreaming.  And I haven’t dreamt about her in about a month.  Of course I haven’t slept in about a month either.””

 

“That’s cause you’re obsessed man.  You really need some help.  I can’t handle getting these phone calls in the middle of the night just because you need someone to talk to because you’re terrified to go to sleep.  You’re scaring me. “

 

He sighed and said his best friends name quietly.  He didn’t know what else to say.  “Trace…”

 

“And if you don’t figure a way to stop them, I’ll call your mom and I know she’ll find a way to stop them.”

 

His eyes widened.  He couldn’t have her freaking out, and he knew she’d flip, twice.  “Dude, if you call my mom I swear I’ll...I’ll…”

 

A threat seemed childish but it was the only thing he could think of.  His mind wasn’t working.  He kept picturing her, smiling, singing, looking breathtaking.  Breathtaking wasn’t what he had been thinking about her lately.  Lately he had hated her.  And now, now he had to wonder: were they really just dreams? 

 

He was seriously fucked up in the head. 

 

Trace laughed, but it was an awkward laugh.  “What?  If you punch me I really don’t care!  It might be worth it if it gets you better.  I just…  Man, this shit is serious! You’re…”

 

“What?”

 

“You’re not the same anymore.  Ya know, Britney’s been calling me.”

 

“Really?  I can’t seem to ever get her on the phone and when I do she doesn’t say anything.”

 

“She’s worried sick about you. And so am I.”

 

He felt the knot come back into his stomach and he started to get nauseous again.  Ray seemed to go over a pothole at the exact time and he lay down and held on to his belly.  “Great, ya know you always know exactly what to say to make me feel fucking perfect.”

 

“Look, I’m not trying to make you feel bad.  You just…”  Trace seemed to be at a lost of words.  “Man, this is weird!”

 

He closed his eyes, squeezing back the tears.  It wasn’t supposed to be like this.  Nothing was.  The tour, his relationship with Britney, his friendship with trace, his dreams and his sleeping habits.  His whole life had been put into this crazy downward spiral and he hated it.  “Ya know, I should never have told you anything.”

 

“Justin…”

 

He was tired of talking to anyone and that included Trace.  So he spoke bitterly into the phone, “Don’t call me back.  I’m not gonna answer.”

 

He flipped the phone closed and hung up, and just as he suspected the phone rang again.  But this time it wasn’t Trace’s number in the caller id.  It was Chris’s.  He had forgotten all about him and knew that he was going to be in trouble.  So instead he just turned his phone off completely and moved to get back into his bunk.

 

But as soon as he was in there, he heard Ray.

 

“Justin…”

 

He groaned, “What?”

 

“Come here.”

 

He sighed and rolled out of bed, making sure it looked like it took all his energy to get out of bed just to make Ray feel bad.  “What is it?  I’m trying to sleep.”

 

Ray kept one hand on the wheel but moved his other to extend to him the cordless, two-way radio that let the drivers keep up with each other and the progress of the other buses.  “For you.”

 

“The radio?”

 

As soon as he took it he heard through the other end.  “Asshole, pick up.”

 

It was Chris’s voice and he slumped his shoulders and tilted his head back.  He didn’t need this right now.  “Shit…”

 

“Justin!  Answer the DAMN radio, dickface!”

 

He pressed the button and held it down while he spoke into the radio.  “What Chris?”

 

He let it go.  He didn’t know why, he didn’t want to hear what Chris had to say, but for some reason with Ray there he couldn’t just leave it alone.  It was then when he realized that Ray must have figured it out that he lied.  “I’m fucking going to kill you.  When we make it to Cleveland you better not go anywhere!”

 

The only thing he could think of to say was, “Shut up Chris.”

 

Chris laughed on the other end.  “You’re such a child.  Have a wonderful fucking ride.  I know that you think you are all that matter to this world, but do NOT think I’ll let this slide like I’ve let all your other shit slide this tour!”

 

Justin handed the radio back to Ray and said in a pitiful voice, “I don’t wanna talk to him anymore.”

 

“Yeah.” Ray nodded with an annoyed smile. 

 

Justin realized Ray was probably pissed as hell with him and rubbed his hands over his face before shifting the weight on his legs and saying, “Look Ray I’m-“

 

But Ray cut him off with his voice and a hand in the air.  “I’m not getting into it.  I’d just appreciate it if you don’t lie to me next time.  I don’t want my ass to be on the line for your problems.”

 

He felt like shit.  He had managed to piss off everyone he knew and all because he was seeing things.

 

He hated it. 

 

He tried going back to sleep, but all he could think about was her.  When he did finally fall asleep he kept waking back up because he’d start to see her and he knew she was back.  The nap he had had that afternoon was a tease and peaceful sleep was a long, long way away from him.

 

He started to cry because he thought that maybe Trace was right and maybe he did need help.  And then he started to cry even more because of the simple fact that he was that upset about it all.

 

Finally, an hour later, his body gave up and he passed out from sheer exhaustion.

 

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