one

"Hey, Lance, can you hand me my deodorant?" JC called to me, towelling off his hair vigorously. "Keep going," he added. "We have Letterman on the 8th and then...?"

I glanced behind me on the vanity and played a little duck-duck-goose hunting for his deodorant before picking it up and chucking it at him through the open bathroom door. "Okay," I continued, scrolling down on the itinerary email I'd just received, and checking it against the one I already had with JC's own schedule. "Then... we're both in L.A. from the 11th to the 17th."

JC emerged from the bathroom then, dropping his towel as he reached for his underwear. I carried my laptop with me back to the bed and sat next to his suitcase, trailing my hand down over his bare butt before he could pull his shorts up. He grinned at me, then groaned and cursed in frustration. "Dammit," he remembered. "I mean, I'm in L.A., sure, but me and Justin are gonna be working on remixes in the studio." He shrugged. "We might be writing a bit, too."

"I could still visit you," I pointed out. "Drop by the studio, see if I can help out. Maybe I'll have some vocals I need to lay down again," I suggested with a grin. "And you can always use a break, right? Justin'll understand if we sneak away for a little bit... make out in the recording booth...." I wasn't really serious; I knew how JC got when he was working, and I knew he didn't appreciate distractions, even if it was me, the boyfriend. I got the same way about FreeLance -- it was just understood between us. We were both too business-minded to let other stuff get in the way when we were on the job.

Which was why it surprised me when he nodded in response to my suggestion. "Yeah, totally; I'd love it if you stopped by."

I looked up at him as he continued to dress himself. "Serious? I won't be in the way?"

He came over to me and lifted my reading glasses up over my hair. "To see you for something not work-related on this damn tour? Come see me. You won't be in the way." He kissed me on the mouth and dropped my glasses before heading back to his suitcase. "Keep looking."

I sighed, straightening my glasses, and checked the next page. "Okay," I began. "Okay, um... you don't have anything on the 22nd." I glanced at him over my shoulder. "You don't have anything on the 22nd."

"Apparently not," he agreed. "What's the deal?"

"I'm in Orlando from the 21st 'til the end of the month," I explained. "So... can you come visit me?"

"I can do that," he told me. "Take what we can get, right?" He frowned at his reflection in the mirror, combing gel through his hair. "Okay, when we said we wanted a more flexible tour this time, did you know it meant we'd see each other for, like, two hours a week between shows?"

I smiled, still studying our schedules for any overlapping dates. "No, but I figured it'd probably happen this way." Rubbing my temples, I accepted defeat and admitted to myself that those were the only dates when we were going to manage being in the same place. "But you know, JC, absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that."

He came back over to the bed and stretched out behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist as I logged off. "Yeah, but all work and no play makes Josh a dull boy." Sitting up, he smoothed down my already flat hair, then placed his hands back against my stomach, kissing the top of my head. "A weepy, sexually frustrated dull boy," he mumbled into my hair, and I laughed at the feel of his voice travelling through my scalp.

"You don't get weepy," I told him as I closed my laptop and set it aside, putting my hands over his.

"You don't argue with the 'dull' part, though," he complained, his chin still resting on my hair. "What're you gonna be doing in Orlando?"

"Joey's taking me to a bunch of improv shows," I told him. "Audience participation; that kind of thing. We both kind of figure I could use the experience," I chuckled, and JC hummed his agreement. "So there's gonna be shows, and a couple of workshops, and I'm just gonna get as involved as I can for the week."

"You're gonna do the audience participation thing?" he asked, kissing the back of my neck, nuzzling his nose in my hair. He loved to do it when my hair was still damp from a shower, and I bowed my head to give him better access. "I wish I could take you to those shows," he said longingly.

"If I'm feeling brave, I'll do the audience participation thing," I shrugged. "Joey'll probably drag me down and I'll make a fool out of myself, but it's not like I have a problem with that, really." I didn't respond to JC's last comment. I knew what he meant; he wished he could share my interest in acting with me, the way Joey did. His passion for music just wasn't something I understood very well -- I could come along and watch him work in the studio, but it was really more for the company or moral support than anything else. It was like a spectator sport for me. With Joey and acting, though... that was something I shared in, wanted to be a part of, even when I sucked at it, whereas for JC it was his spectator sport. I didn't feel like re-inforcing my devotion to him, so I kept quiet.

He rocked me slightly from side to side and kissed the back of my neck again, then the back of my ear. "Aren't you gonna put some gel in your hair?" he murmured. "It's gonna dry all flat like that."

I reached up and twisted a few strands from the crown of my head, holding the spike straight up. "I'm going for the Alfalfa look," I deadpanned, turning to purse my lips at him. "Haven't you heard? It's all the rage." He laughed as he let me go, and I headed for the bathroom to wet my hair again and gel it properly this time.

"Two minutes, babe," he shouted after me, and almost like clockwork, Chris was banging on our door wanting someone to walk with to the conference room for our group meeting. I ran one gelled hand quickly over my hair, hated the results, grabbed my hat on my way out of the bathroom, kissed JC, took him by the hand, and tugged him over to the door, chucking off my glasses before we reached it.

Right on time, like a well-oiled machine.

JC and I were living, breathing testimonies to the fact that you can mix business and pleasure.

"Okay," I leaned back on the Fatone family's kitchen counter, facing Joey. "Thirty second crash course in improv. Ready, set, go!"

Joey just laughed, squinting his eyes at me. "Not thirty seconds, if you're gonna do this well at all," he told me. "So... the basics. The basic things about improv are: anything goes, except you can't pretend to die and you can't refuse a request," he began.

I cocked my head at him. "What do you mean, I can't refuse a request? Do you just have to trust everybody? What if somebody wants to pick me up by the ankles and I say no? Do you get disqualified or something?"

He was shaking his head before I'd finished speaking. "No, I mean, you can refuse a request, but you have to offer an alternative. So, like, if somebody asked you if they could pick you up by the ankles, you could say 'no, but you can do a fireman's lift on me instead'."

"What if I don't want them to pick me up at all?" I asked, raising an eyebrow and grinning.

"Shut up," he murmured absently. "And gimme that gum," he demanded, stepping nearer to me and holding out a hand.

I frowned. "What's wrong with my gum?"

"You're chewing it with your mouth open, and I'm not gonna show you how to improv with you smacking on it like that," Joey explained, then waggled his fingers beneath my chin, waiting for me to hand it to him.

"I'll stop," I promised sullenly, closing my mouth and beginning to chew more slowly. The gum was stale to me already, but Joey was beginning to make me feel like he was Mr.-freaking-Mayagi. Wax on. Wax off. Spit out your gum.

"Lance," he pleaded, albeit sternly. "Do you sing with gum in your mouth?"

"No," I started to say, but as soon as I opened my mouth he lunged at me, one hand gripping the nape of my neck and the thumb and forefinger of his other hand swiping my mouth for the gum. I hit the back of my head against a cupboard when I flinched, and bit down on him, grabbing at his wrist with both hands. Since I didn't want to take his fingers off with my teeth -- or draw blood, for that matter -- I held back and stomped down with my feet instead, hoping to catch him there. It was only then that I remembered I was only wearing socks, so I slipped on the linoleum and lost my balance, and suddenly my grip on Joey's wrists was the only thing keeping me on my feet.

"Give it to me, you little..." Joey growled, half-laughing, as he tried to pinch at my tongue. Hunching over at the waist, I pulled Joey down with me and reached behind me with a leg to hook with his. I felt his foot slip, and his weight bore down on my back, buckling my knees as we tumbled to the ground. We managed to twist somehow; he hit the floor first, landing on his back with a grunt, me dropping to his side on my knees. It hurt, but not too bad, and I don't know how he managed it, but his damn fingers were still in my mouth. And then he was pinning me, holding down both my wrists with his one hand and sitting on my thighs, so I bit him again, clenching my teeth down harder and harder until he let go of me everywhere else.

He rolled off of me and wiped his hand off on his shirt, panting. "Fine," he huffed. "Keep the gum. See if I care."

"No," I told him, taking the gum out of my mouth with one hand and wiping the drool from my chin with the other. "I changed my mind. You can have it." I pressed it into his palm as I sat up, crawling to the dining room table to get on one of their chairs. He threw it out, grumbling, before coming over and sitting in my lap.

"Excercise one in improv, my horrible pupil," he sighed, poking me in the side until I squirmed. "The one minute story."

"One minute story," I repeated. "I gotcha. What's that?"

"You make up a short story off the top of your head, with a beginning, middle and an end, and you have to tell it in less than a minute." Joey climbed off of me and settled into the chair next to me, slapping the table. "Simple."

I narrowed my eyes, thinking that it did sound simple, but was probably one of those things that would bite me in the butt. 'Kickball-change' had sounded simple in theory, too, but it had taken me a month to master that move back in the day. "Okay, so what do I do? Just... start?"

"Yeah," Joey nodded. "Knock yourself out. I'll time you. Remember, anything goes, and you can kill people off in these, so...."

"Um... okay. So... uh, there was this... um..." I began, folding and unfolding my fingers as I tried to come up with something.

"Ah-ah-ah," Joey scolded me, wagging his finger in my face. "No 'ums' and 'uhs'. It wastes time. Just tell the story."

I stared at him in wide-eyed disbelief. "My God -- Joey, I've never done this before. This isn't fai--"

"And... go!" Joey pressed the timer on his watch, shutting me up effectively.

"Um--" I glanced sharply at him to see if he'd caught my slip, but he simply gestured for me to continue. "Once there was this... boy... who liked to... ride horses.... and he rode horses every day and he had... a huge stable full of breeds for his choosing. And one day he... was riding his horse... a beautiful gelding... and he fell in the field. And... he lost all his memories, and his friends were very sad. They tried and tried to help him to remember who he was, and the fun times they had together, but.... " I looked up, and he pointed to his watch, and I had no idea where I was heading with this story. "But they couldn't save him and he diedtheend."

I winced, but Joey predictably laughed, shaking his head. "Wow," he wheezed. "That was shitty."

"Hey, thanks."

"But it's okay," he reassured me. "It's really hard the first time, but it just gets easier."

"Well, you do one, then," I challenged, folding my arms.

Joey took a deep breath and focused his gaze on a spot behind and above me. In only the time it takes to inhale and blink, he hit his watch timer, opened his mouth, and I couldn't really believe what came out.

"Once upon a time lived a little boy who was bed-ridden with illness, and all day long he would lie in his bed and look out of his window at the beautiful trees and clouds just outside. One day, a bird flew into his room, weak and injured, and the boy felt sorry for it and fed it and nursed it back to health day by day, until it was well enough to fly away on its own once more. It never came back again after that, and the little boy wondered how the bird was doing, when one day it suddenly flew through his window, perched on his chest, and dropped a single yellow ribbon on the blanket before flying off again. He realized that the bird was trying to thank him, and drifted off to sleep with a smile, knowing he'd made a difference in its life. The end." He smiled a little, stopping his watch, and checked the time. "Yeah, it was under a minute," he confirmed.

"Shit," I breathed, widening my eyes as I tucked in my chin. "Okay, I quit."

Joey just laughed and laid a hand on my shoulder. "No, I'll give you a second. Try it again. Go ahead." He let me pause for a moment to think before nudging me and starting the timer again. I furrowed my brow and bit my lip on the "um" that threatened to come out, then just went for it.

"There once was a girl who was in love with the fairest boy in all the land. He was so handsome, with golden hair and..." I faltered slightly. "...silver eyes. She loved him with all her heart and soul, and had been promised to him from birth, to be wed when they reached the proper age. But the boy loved her not--" where was I getting this prose speech from? "--and when the appointed date approached, he insisted that they take a vow, never to marry, but to love one another as brother and sister for the rest of their lives. She was heartbroken, but her love for him was so strong that she would agree to whatever made him happy. And so they made their solemn pledge, and she pined away for her love all the days of her life. The end." I'd like to thank my own life for inspiring this story....

Joey raised his eyebrows at me and applauded, clapping me on the back. "Hey, that wasn't bad," he admitted, and I ducked my head as I smiled, because I'd thought it wasn't bad, either. "Silver eyes, huh?" he grinned. "You missing JC?"

I frowned in confusion for a second before I realized he was referring to the boy in my story. Actually, I hadn't even made the connection in my head; I'd just wanted to choose a color that was unique. Blue was too obvious, green was too... me, and brown was... brown was Joey, and I'd already made the story autobiographical enough, casting myself as the heroine. "I guess," I mumbled, turning my head to look out of the dining room window. Joey silently reached around me with both arms, and I leaned back into his comforting embrace, pining away.

two

So I was in love with my best friend in the group. That would be great if it was JC, since he was the one I was sleeping with, but it wasn't. Instead I was in love with Joey, who I was decidedly not sleeping with. Him being straight, and me being male, and all. I'd like to be able to say that my feelings for Joey were a recent development, and that until, say, a month ago, I was perfectly happy dating JC. But the truth was that I'd been hopeless over Joey for five years, and JC and I had only been together for ten months.

At the time I'd told myself it was hero-worship, idolization, something like that. The first day I walked into Justin's house with my mom to meet the guys and sing for them, my gaze settled upon Joey and never really moved away until I left the room hours later. He was, to quote the cliché, tall, dark, and handsome, I noted as I watched and studied him carefully. And when he shook my hand and grinned at me, his eyes crinkling into half-moons, I could have thought I want to be like him, or I want to be his friend. But instead, he pinned me with those sparkling brown eyes, and I thought I want him.

I'd never been so scared. I'd never felt such an intense, immediate attraction before. Not towards any girl. Certainly not towards a guy.

It might have been easier to put those feelings behind me if only he'd been more aloof. The five of us were fast friends out of necessity, but no one could deny that I was the outsider here. I had no history with anybody else; my life experiences were far removed from the others. And while everyone put in the effort to include me in group activities and outings, Joey was the only one in those early days who never made me feel like including me was an obligation. Not even JC held that title, although I gave him credit for trying.

Joey was my champion of 'the clubbing expeditions'. And of my coming out.

Somehow it all started when we were doing choreography for our first tour, preparing to take Europe by storm, or die trying. We'd dance and grunt and sweat, and during breaks the guys would shoot back and forth comments about what club they wanted to check out that night. During breaks I did homework; I figured if I couldn't master the dance breakdown in I Want You Back, at least I did a mean calculus. Trying to tell that to a frustrated choreographer was a whole other story.

The other guys took turns with me; it was something that had started right at the beginning, when I'd first joined the group and needed to pick up all the choreography in time for our showcase performance -- learn five songs in something like T-minus ten seconds. Since they recognized that everybody learns differently, the logic was that out of the four others, one of them might have a handle on what I'd need to do to pick it up. I think they might have under-estimated my lack of ability just a bit, but it did help with the group sense of comraderie.

This resulted in me spending my extra hours with Justin, watching him try to patiently explain the choreography like it was a clinical procedure, followed by him performing it in front of me, pulling these fluid slides and slinks out of his ass like it was just meant to be there. Then he would stand aside and go, "Okay, you try it now," like I was supposed to say, "Oh. OH, so that's how it goes. Now I get it." Not his fault; you can't just show someone how to do something you've got in your blood. I hated him for it, yet I couldn't bring myself to hate him for it.

Then there was the time I spent with Chris, who did his best, but honestly, he was just as wooden and unsure when he danced as I was. The only things he had on me were rhythm and the ability to coordinate his step-snap. Or JC, who was probably the most helpful, since he was the most patient and didn't usually stop until I'd learned at least something new from his sessions. But that just meant that my slowness frustrated me even more, and made me feel like I was giving him a harder time than I had to. And then there was Joey. Joey who had that infuriating hands-on, Dirty Dancing way of trying to teach me things that just didn't make the fact that I wanted to feel his hands on my body any easier on me.

Joey finally released me from his torture for a breather, and I retreated to the corner gratefully, glad to use the distance and my textbook as a barrier between us. He, in turn, eyed me suspiciously. "Do you ever stop workin' on homework? Justin took a break, like, two hours ago."

"Justin doesn't have to spend, like, three extra hours a day on choreography," I pointed out. The integral from x = -2 to x = 3 of 4 sin squared x cos x.

"Oh." Just 'oh', like he hadn't ever thought of that. "Well, I'll go easy on you today, then. No more rehearsal; you're done." He lifted the hem of his t-shirt and rubbed at his sweaty forehead, revealing his too too flat and solid stomach, and I glared at my homework, taking the anti-derivative. Math was my cold shower.

"So," he asked, picking up his water bottle and downing half of its contents in a gulp before setting it down again. "You gonna come out clubbin' with us tonight?"

"Nah." I shook my head. "I don't think so," I told him. "Maybe next time, though." I knew that next time I probably wouldn't feel up to it, either.

Joey began to cross the room towards me. "Come on," he insisted. "You used to be all excited to go to the clubs with us, and now you hardly ever come out. What, are you not havin' fun out there or somethin'? I mean, there was that girl you met that one night-- Cheryl?"

"Sharon," I corrected softly.

"--Sharon," he amended. "You had a good time that night. She's asked about you, you know. And if you didn't like her, there's, like, a million Sharons out there, so why wouldn't you wanna hang out for a coupla hours, even if you don't dance?"

I shrugged uneasily, not wanting to get into Sharon, who'd liked me, I knew, who I'd wanted to like, really. I'd wanted to like her and be interested in her conversation, but Joey had brought his girlfriend to the club that night. I'd watched him the whole freaking night, and gotten drunk -- smashed -- for the first time, and I don't quite remember what I'd done with Sharon, though I knew it wasn't too bad, whatever it was. But it wasn't an experience I particularly wanted to repeat anytime soon.

"Lance...." Suddenly he seemed concerned, sitting down next to me and placing his hand on my thigh. "If you're not... you know... interested... in the girls...."

My eyes widened at the thought that he was touching my thigh and that he knew somehow, he knew, as if it was obvious, as if it was something I broadcasted in my every action, like they did on TV, only I wasn't like that, or I'd hoped I wasn't like that, and how could he know when I didn't even know yet, not for sure, anyway?

He went on. "We can always go to another kind of club, you know. I'll tell the guys it's so we don't get recognized, and we can still go dance and have a good time, and you never know what you'll find there, huh?"

I shook my head, knowing that wasn't what I wanted. "I don't know," I whispered.

"It's okay, Lance," he assured me, patting my thigh innocently. "You won't have to be alone, and if you're worried about me tellin' the other guys, well," he snorted softly. "That's not gonna happen."

"No," I mumbled, shaking my head again. "I mean I don't know..." I sighed. "I don't know if I'm... I don't know." I couldn't even say the word aloud yet, but I was thinking it. It was actually really comforting to know that even though Joey thought I could be gay, he hadn't hesitated to touch me the same way he would have if I wasn't.

"So what is it about being gay that you're not sure about, exactly?" he asked me some time later as he stepped out of the bathroom, wearing only a towel. It was yet another German hotel room, on tour, after I'd declined to go clubbing for yet another night. Let the other guys think I was being a prude, and my mother think I was an angel. I did go sometimes; just not... a lot. "You're not sure you like guys, or you're not sure you like a guy, or whatever?"

"I..." I sighed, my hands folded beneath my head, which was aimed in the general direction of the television. It was a German dub of Terminator 2, which I only followed because I'd seen the original. "I dunno. I guess I like somebody, but what does that mean?" I turned my head and shoulders to shrug at him. "Just because I think I like one guy, am I gay?"

"You like a guy?" He asked excitedly, grinning. "Is it somebody I know? Is it someone on tour?"

"No," I muttered. "You don't know him."

He shrugged back at me. "Well, I'm no expert, but I'd think you could tell with these things, you know? Like, there are things about girls that I like, but that doesn't mean I like every girl, right? But just because I don't like every girl doesn't mean I'm not straight." Giving me a helpless glance, he looked over my shoulder at the television as he continued to throw his clothes on.

Could it be any more obvious that I wasn't paying any attention to the TV? I watched him from beneath my eyelashes, watched him get dressed, watched his muscles stretch easily, and bit my lip when my body reacted predictably. I rolled over on to my stomach, trying not to hump the bed, trying to will my erection away by thinking of how mortified I'd be if Joey were to look over at me just then and ask what was wrong. It didn't budge, and I figured I could just blame it on the spontaneity of hormones. If I didn't die of embarrassment first.

"But how am I supposed to know?" I asked softly after a moment, and I hated that my voice came out all whiny. I scowled; Joey sighed.

"Okay," he strode over to me and put his hands on his hips. "Stand up."

Like hell. I shook my head. "Joey," I insisted, "whatever you can say to me standing up you can say to me lying down." I propped my head up on my elbow as if to compromise, and raised my eyebrows at him expectantly.

He narrowed his eyes at me, but went on. "Okay," he gave in, squatting by my head. "Say I'm just a generic guy. Just a regular guy." He stuck out a hand. "Hi," he introduced himself. "I'm generic guy. You must be Lance; nice to meet you." I smiled slightly and rolled my eyes, wondering where he was going with this, and freed my other hand to shake his.

"Okay, and then I--" Joey leaned in quickly and pressed his lips against mine without warning. I seriously yelped, squeezing my eyes shut as I pulled back slightly, but he followed me backwards, his mouth still closed. After a second I started to relax and concentrate on what it felt like to really be kissing him, and I tugged my hand free from his and rested it on his shoulder, half for support and half because I needed to touch him. He pulled away.

"--Like that," he finished casually. "So, did you feel anything?"

I wanted to tell him 'no', so he'd just get off my back and go clubbing and let me hump my bed in peace. "Yes?" I horrified myself by whispering it before I could think, more a question than a statement. I wondered if I could get away with trying to laugh it off like my comment was a joke.

Before I could, Joey grinned widely and began to sing. "Coming out of the dark! I finally see the light now..." He laughed, shaking me by the shoulder. "There. You just kissed most of the 3 billion guys in the world, so only a couple more and you'll know for sure, huh?"

"Yeah." I forced a laugh, simultaneously relieved that he hadn't suspected anything, and pissed that he was making light of something that was bothering me, even if it was his way of handling it.

He seemed to pick up on that right away, sobering up immediately. "No, but seriously, Lance," he said, "I'm not good with the..." he threw up his hands in defeat. "I don't know what to tell you, you know? This can't be easy for you, and I know you probably don't wanna talk about it right now, but--" he squeezed my shoulder and let his hand drift down my back. "You know I'm okay with you, no matter what, right?" I nodded and allowed myself a smile that widened when he returned it. "And if you... if you don't wanna talk to me about it because I don't have advice for you, or whatever, well." He released me and stood, finishing buttoning up his shirt. "Do you promise you'll at least go to one of the other guys, if not me? Maybe they can help you out with it better."

Then he looked at me dolefully, jutting out his lower lip, until I promised him.

I did eventually tell JC, after he came out to us as bisexual. I'd never had anyone to personally identify with like that before, so I figured he'd be the best to understand some of what I was going through. We became a lot closer once I told him; he was no stranger to unrequited love, and he was always there for me when I needed to vent or wallow in self-pity, or Joey had some girl in his room and I couldn't stand the thought of what he was doing with her... anything. After a while, though, it became clear that he thought it was time I should be getting over Joey -- even if he didn't say as much -- and so I slowly cut down on the complaining, on the verbal longing, if not the emotional kind.

Somewhere along the way, JC managed to tap into my need for somebody. I loved him dearly, like a friend, and he was the one who gave me the strength to start going out with the other guys more often, the one who made it easier for me to spend time with Joey without having it hurt so much. So when his hugs started to last longer than normal, and he started to brush my neck with his lips before letting go, I kind of liked it, and let him continue. And then that one night when he was showing me some of his poetry and kissed me lightly on the mouth, I kissed him back. And after that, we just sort of... went from there, and started seeing each other, which led to something more serious. I finally came out as "Bi, I guess," to the rest of the group, and when JC and I came out as being together, Joey was, I think, the happiest out of everybody for the two of us.

And it wasn't like I fantasized about him when JC and I had sex or anything.

Okay, one time I tried it. But I felt so guilty after like, ten seconds, that I never did it again. Besides, frankly, JC was hot enough on his own. And he was good. I mean, I was a virgin to gay sex when we started dating, so I couldn't exactly compare, but I didn't think I was missing out on much in that department.

Speaking of sex -- at the moment, I was seeing stars.

I mean, literally; there were millions of bursts of white and red lights sparking behind my closed eyes, and when I opened them the lights were still there, swimming over JC's furrowed brow, wide eyes, slightly opened mouth. The fireworks were the perfect representation of what was going on inside my body; my blood racing through me, pulsing in my head and my heart and everywhere, the tingling in my fingers, my ears, the tip of my nose -- the weirdest places, I swear -- and I was hot, burning up all over. All I could hear was the ocean-like roar of my circulation and the sighs JC made, his hands pulling at my waist, driving me on, deeper, harder, faster, as I rolled my hips into him. I lifted my fingers, locking my other elbow by his head for support, trying to trace the paths of light over his face, and kissed him as I exploded, flooded with sensation that left me speaking in tongues, releasing choked moans, feeling JC's warmth spread between us as my arm gave out and I shuddered, sparks abating.

"Jesus," I breathed, collapsing next to JC, and it wasn't a statement of wonder -- I was thanking Him, for letting me feel so good without being high or dead. I saw JC smile, and I smiled back, but my little moment of praise and worship was short-lived.

JC told me he loved me.

To be completely honest, I'd sort of suspected that he might be falling for me for a while. I just told myself I was over-estimating my importance and tried to ignore it; I hoped he was simply growing comfortable with our relationship, the way I was. Love, after all, would throw a whole new monkey wrench into the equation. JC didn't love people; he lived them. The same passion that enabled him to sing so beautifully was intimidating to me when it came to our relationship. Sometimes he would touch me really lightly, but with a crackle of emotion travelling through his fingertips that told me it was more than an idle caress. Or he would look at me so intently that I felt like he was touching my soul, and sometimes I was afraid of what he'd find if he really could.

It was a time like that, my head resting next to his on the pillow with my arm draped across his chest, that he looked over at me and said, "You know, I love you so much, Lance."

Bam. Right in the soul.

My eyes did fill with tears when he said that, and I sort of smiled and moaned an "ohhhh..." the way you do at a really romantic part in a movie. I mean, I was touched and everything. I'd never been in a relationship this long-term, and things were good with JC. He was a great guy; he just... wasn't Joey. And he couldn't help that. But after a little while I realized that I should probably say something in return, and "thanks" probably wasn't it. "I love you, too, C," I told him, running my hand over the fine hairs of his chest, and as far as I was concerned he didn't ever have to know I didn't mean it the same way he did.

"I know you had that thing for Joey and everything," he continued, capturing my hand in his and entwining our fingers. "I never tried to replace him, 'cause you know, your first love -- that's intense and and you always remember that. But I like to think we complement each other in different ways, and -- I dunno." He shrugged. "I hope you don't feel like you're missing out on something by being with me. I hope you see how good we are together, and that you never feel like you're only getting the second-best with me. You know? I hope you never just settled for me."

I didn't have much to say to that, so I didn't say anything, wondering how long a moment I should allow to pass before a change of subject would be appropriate. But after a while, JC tilted his head back down to make eye contact and brought the topic up again. "Did you settle?" he asked. "Are you settling for me, Lance?"

He wasn't going to let me get out of answering it, so I had no other choice. I had to lie.

"No," I answered. "I'm not settling."

three

"Let's dance," I breathed, slamming my shot glass down on our table in the club. I reached for JC's hand and pulled him out of the booth after me. "Come on, I wanna dance; let's go."

"You hate to dance," JC complained mockingly, because he knew I expected him to, but he was smiling when I glanced back at him on the way to the dance floor.

"I like to dance with you," I responded, an equally expected reply, as I bumped him with my hip, then reached out and gripped him by the waist to steady him. Of course, it wasn't the dancing itself that I didn't like; it was having to do certain steps correctly, and, like, on the beat, that I didn't enjoy. On the floor, though, JC and I had similar styles; "gay-style", as Joey called it, arms raised above our heads and the whole deal. Dancing with JC was a relative term, anyway; in a crowded club we couldn't really dance with each other, just sort of near to each other. We ended up back to back, occasionally brushing against one another in gestures that were not entirely accidental.

I'd picked the spot because I saw one of our bodyguards out on the floor already, and right in the center of action was, of course, Joey. I made sure we were close enough for him to spot us if he wanted, close enough for me to watch him if I wanted, and far away enough for us to ignore each other if we chose. But eventually he did see us, and maneuvered his way over to join in. "Hey," he called, turning himself to face both of us, and JC and I nodded in acknowledgement.

It wasn't until JC started to work his way between Joey and I that I realized I'd been edging closer to Joey somehow. It wasn't like we were doing anything inappropriate, or even touching, really, but JC was giving off jealous vibes, so I announced that I wanted another drink -- which I did -- and headed off the floor to get one. Sure enough, after a while, he followed; he was trying to act normal, but his eyes were narrowed, and I knew what that meant. It wasn't anybody's fault, really; it was just the way we got when we drank. I got loud and flirty, and JC got... well, difficult. Possessive. Our drunken personalities just didn't mesh all that well.

It wasn't usually a problem, because JC didn't usually drink when we went out. But tonight he was drinking. And the more I noticed him looking at me through narrowed eyes, the more annoyed I got. And the more I drank. And the harder I flirted. And since there was no way I was going to actually try to pick anybody up, the flirting was usually with Joey, who never seemed to mind flirting back. But then again, Joey never knew that I meant it.

"Shouldn't you be headin' back to your man?" Joey asked me as I pushed past him to sit heavily on his hotel bed, falling prone and letting the springs throw me around a bit. It didn't do a lot to help the spinning sensation in my head that had plagued me for the last hour or so at the club.

I thought about JC, back in our room, having left the club less than an hour before Joey and I did. From the icy looks he'd been shooting me, and the fact that I suggested he go back to the hotel without me, I didn't think we were ready to see each other just yet. "No," I sighed, groaning when he threw himself down to lie next to me and I bounced around some more. "If I go back now and he's up, we're just gonna fight, and I don't wanna fight tonight."

"Like there's a good time to fight?" He raised an eyebrow at me and grinned.

I ignored him. "I just wanna wait it out 'til I think he might be asleep, and then I'll go back, okay?" I turned my head to look at him; he had rolled over on to his stomach and rested his cheek upon his folded hands, still giving me a lazy smile. Looking at him like that reminded me in a rush of the fact that we were side by side on his bed, and of all the other times over the last five years when we'd been like this and I'd wanted to reach over and touch him in some way that wasn't just playful. I felt that need again, lying here with him now; but I wasn't so drunk that I didn't know what I was doing, and I suspected that Joey knew me well enough to be able to tell.

I did reach out sort of absently, trailing my fingers over his shoulder blades and down his sides, making circles on the small of his back. "What?" he murmured, looking up at me, and I didn't answer, avoiding eye contact as I watched my hand move instead. His body was so warm beneath my fingers -- not that I didn't know how he felt to me, but sometimes I could almost believe I was touching him the way I'd always wanted to touch him. I could almost believe that in another minute I wouldn't be pretending I was just playing around, because it was really starting to get to me.

"Hey," he prompted, half turning on to his side and trying to see my face better. "Hey, Lance...." He sat up when I did, probably mistaking my mood for being upset over the prospect of fighting with JC. "Come on, Lance; come over here." He pulled me to him, wrapping me up this totally loving and completely compassionate hug, and I just held on to him for all I was worth, because there was such a difference between 'friendly' Joey and 'loving' Joey. A hug from Joey was nice -- nicer than nice -- but when he hugged you like he loved you... it didn't matter that you weren't his lover, because in that one moment he could make you feel like you were the most important person in his world, that he'd die for you without a second thought. And the thing about Joey was that it wasn't just a vibe he gave off -- he'd do it.

With me in his arms, Joey murmured words meant to comfort me, telling me that this thing with JC would blow over, that we'd laugh about it in the morning, that we were lucky to have each other. Pulling back, he took my face within his hands and planted a wet kiss on my forehead. "Feel better," he admonished me. "I've never even been with someone who cared whether I flirted a bunch, slept with other people... anything like that."

I shrugged, keeping my face perfectly still. "Maybe you need to start dating guys," I quipped, and chuckled slightly, but Joey didn't laugh. He studied me carefully for a long moment, his face solemn, until I started to become uncomfortable. "Um," I said, looking away from his steady gaze. "Um-- Joey." He looked way too intense. He looked JC intense.

"You know," he began softly, still holding my face. "Sometimes I wonder... you know, I think back to when you were just this confused kid in Germany and I kissed you to see if you'd like it...." He sighed, his voice becoming more gruff. "Sometimes I wonder what would've happened if we'd tried to make something of it, way back then."

Oh, shit.

"'Cause, I mean, I love you like a friend, man, but... I liked that kiss, too." He grinned a little uneasily at me and started to pull back, dropping his hands from either side of my head.

I stared at him -- stupid stupid stupid -- just gaped for a second, before I recovered from that little revelation. "You comin' out to me, Joe?" I asked lightly, trying to sound compassionate, trying not to sound like I'd just won the lottery. Smooth as butter.

"Nah," Joey shook his head. "Nah, it's not like I wanted to kiss all guys or nothin'," he clarified, then dropped his voice even further. "I think... you know, maybe it was just you." Shaking his head as though it were a silly thought, he pulled back even more, but this time I inched closer, following him. "I don't know what I would've done anyway, if I'd said something, or if you'd had a crush on me--"

I kissed him. I didn't even let myself think about it; I just leaned in and pressed my lips to his and inhaled and... he felt like silk against my mouth, warm and soft. I wanted to taste him, but kept my tongue out of it; I didn't want to freak him out, and I was happy enough that he was kissing me back at all. I kept it suitably PG and was pretty proud of myself for it, too, until he pulled away. He looked like I'd sucker-punched him or something. I'd never seen Joey so caught off-guard before, and I felt the overwhelming desire to save him from his uncertainty. "That's what I would've done," I breathed, watching his hooded eyes carefully. "If you'd said something... if you'd said you liked it, I would've--"

This time he kissed me. This one was much more unsure than the kiss we'd shared in Germany, as though he was afraid of how I'd react this time. But I wouldn't let him hold back; I reached up and pulled on the back of his neck, crushing him to me until I could feel my teeth press against my lips and his; then I opened my mouth and leaned back slightly on the bed, taking him down with me. I kept my eyes open when he closed his, traced my thumb over his fluttering eyelashes, marvelled over how beautiful he looked just then, wondering how drunk he really was, because I was feeling pretty sober at the time.

I swallowed all of his protests, the murmurs and the "what about"s and the "we shouldn't"s, as I stripped off my shirt and worked on his, finally allowing my tongue to probe his mouth; he tasted like Bacardi, and returned the favor even as he fought me weakly. But when he finally forced me back by the shoulders, I sort of froze in panic, afraid I'd really gone too far and fucked everything up and could I really pretend I was too drunk to know better? I eyed him carefully -- he still looked stunned, and more than a little upset. "You have to get out of here," he practically growled at me, running his fingers through his hair. "Lance, this..." he allowed one hand to drop to the bed. "My God, we can't-- this is wrong. You gotta go back to JC and..." he rolled away from me entirely, sighing, and swung his legs over the side of the bed opposite me.

I felt horrible. It was wrong; I knew that more than anyone. JC was back in our room, pissed at me, not because I'd done something wrong, but because he feared that I might, because he was jealous of Joey, and he didn't even know the half of it. But he'd had no reason to be that way, because I'd never cheated on him before, ever. But now here I was, with a chance I'd never thought I'd get, and my choices were to walk away from someone I'd wanted for five years, or... well, cheat.

"Joey," I said soothingly, hoping to comfort him as I slid over the bed's surface to drape my arm non-threateningly over his shoulder, kneading the tense flesh with my fingers. It was just that I'd wanted him for so long.... "JC and I...." I swallowed hard. Prelude to the lie. "It's not like we're married, you know." Segueway to the lie. "I mean, we're not... we're not really serious or anything." I tried to keep the wince out of my voice, closing my eyes briefly against the guilt. "Yeah, like, we've been together a while," I continued to explain, bringing my other arm up to hug him around his neck from behind. "But... it's just been a kinda casual thing, if it makes you feel better," I added, dropping my voice as I kissed the back of his neck, and God, that felt nice. "If you wanna give this a shot -- give us a shot -- I'll stop the thing with JC and then... we can see where this goes."

Joey turned to look at me, his eyes doubtful, but he let me continue to hold him. "Is that what you want me to do?" I prodded, afraid to even pray that he'd say yes, but he just watched me with those watery eyes, and I didn't know if he believed me or thought I was nuts or what. "Joey," I whispered, knowing I sounded desperate now as I took his face in my hands. "This isn't a whiskey sour speaking, okay? This isn't about me and JC, it's about me and you. Is there gonna be a me and you? 'Cause if there isn't, just tell me now, and I'll go. I'll go and I'll fight with JC, and I'll deal, and I won't bring it up again." I meant it; I wouldn't be able to stick around and face him if he said no to me now. And I knew I'd never ask again. Maybe I was more drunk than I thought I was.

But apparently I said the right things, because Joey kissed me again after that, pressing me back to the bed, and he didn't hesitate any longer.

You know how in some stories the protagonist gets something they've wanted for a long time and it turns out to not be as good as they thought it would be?

That's bullshit.

Making love with Joey was everything I'd ever wanted it to be, and then some. I almost cried, it felt so good to just finally be there with him, and it was real, really happening. I hadn't realized how much I'd been holding back with JC until I was with Joey. I may have lost my virginity to JC, but it turned out I'd been saving myself for someone else all along.

I watched Joey snore lightly in his sleep for a little while, fighting the urge to sleep myself. I'd seen him sleep a million times before, but never like this; never after this, my body still tingling from his touch. I was also stalling, because as long as I was watching Joey sleep, I didn't have to think about what I'd done and what I would be going back to when I got out of Joey's bed. JC would definitely be sleeping by now, though, and if I waited much longer to go back, I'd be strangely late and might wake him. So I climbed out of bed and got dressed, which didn't disturb Joey in the least. And then I went back to mine and JC's room.

Just as I'd predicted, JC was out cold, stretched out straight on his side of the bed with his arm extended over towards my side. I watched him sleep for a moment, his bare back rising and falling with his sighing breaths, and chewed on my bottom lip. That -- seeing that, waking up to that -- I'd miss. Wearily pulling off my clothes, I tossed them quietly on to the suite's couch before heading to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Tomorrow, I decided, examining myself in the mirror. I'd have to end it with JC tomorrow. Morning. I didn't know what the hell I'd say, but I had all night to come up with something, and I was nothing if not resourceful. I frowned and spit; how easy were the lies going to get, exactly? It wasn't exactly a skill I wanted to hone.

"Lance?" JC murmured sleepily when I came out of the bathroom and turned off the light, fumbling my way across the room.

"Yeah," I acknowledged. "Sorry I'm so late--" I checked the clock; it was nearly four-- "go back to sleep, okay?"

"We need to talk, Lance," he continued, beginning to prop himself up on one elbow. He yawned. "About tonight..." he trailed off, leaving it up to me to continue. I didn't bite; there was no way I wanted to even talk about anything right now. I felt a little sick, even, and I knew it wasn't because I'd been drinking.

"You know what?" I started, pulling back the covers as I crawled in. "I'm just... really tired, C, and I really just am..." I sighed. "I can't-- can we talk more when we get up later?"

JC sighed. "Will we have time in the morning before we have to head out?" he asked, his fingers making contact with my side. I shied away from his touch, then took his hand in mine because I didn't want him to feel like I was pulling away. Then I thought it might not be a good idea to lead him on if I was breaking up with him the next day.

I squeezed his hand once before letting go and turning on my side, away from him. "I'll make time in the morning," I promised.

I got up quite a while before JC did, still feeling sick. Spent half an hour doubled over in the bathroom with stomach cramps. Then I threw up and felt a little better. I don't ever suffer from hangovers; it was so nice to know that my conscience was kicking my ass. Still, I managed to shower, shave, do my hair and everything else before he woke up.

He started to mumble himself awake as I tossed the last of my things into my suitcase. "'Morning," he greeted me.

"Hey," I said softly. I'd planned not to look at him, but then I caved and risked a glance. Crossing the room on impulse, I kissed him lightly on the lips. "Let's have that talk now," I told him, and he nodded.

"Yeah," he began. "Okay. Lance, I'm sorry about getting on your case last night; I know I should know better, but..." he sighed, sitting up and starting to get out of bed. "You know, it takes two," he declared, sounding more frustrated than defiant. "That's how it always seems to go, these days. You and Joey start to do that flirty thing, and then it gets to me after a few beers, and then you do it more." He peeled off his pajama bottoms and strode past me, heading sleepily for the bathroom and leaving the door open. "We could both afford to lay off a little, don't you think?"

I pursed my lips, my gaze scanning the room randomly, and took a deep breath in through the nose before I met him just outside the bathroom. "But that's sort of the thing, JC," I pointed out, folding my arms. "I kinda feel pushed when you get all jealous, and like..." I shrugged. "I guess I feel like, I wonder why I'm bothering if you don't feel like you can trust me. Like I wonder why I don't just go ahead and do what you expect me to, anyway." I'd found my trump card, and the handy thing about it was that I'd played it before. "I mean, I know I'm stubborn, but..." I sighed, raising my voice as he started his shower. "You know, just telling me to ease up... you know me; it doesn't really work that way."

"Well, how does it work?" he asked me through the shower curtain. "What, I should just drop having drinks? Stop going to the club with you guys? I mean..." he trailed off. This wasn't anything new. We never came up with a solution before, either. Joey and I hardly ever argued. Maybe this was meant to be; maybe this wasn't such a bad idea. Maybe JC had given me an out.

I leaned against the doorway and propped one foot up against the opposite side of the frame. "I don't know," I mumbled. "I'll let you shower, though; meet you outside." I was going to wait until he came out of the bathroom to start in again, but figured he was too vulnerable until he got dressed. Then he had to do his hair. Then he had to finish packing. And when he was done all of that, I realized we wouldn't have anything to distract ourselves with, but it was too late to put it off any longer.

"JC," I began slowly, crouching in front of him where he sat on the bed, zipping up his suitcase. "Maybe we-- you think maybe we should take a break?"

He reeled back at that. "Wh... what? What do you mean, like... from..."

I finished his sentence. "Like from each other? For a while? I mean, maybe this... maybe all this stuff happens because we've been together so long, and..." I licked my lips. "Maybe we just need to settle it down a bit."

JC stood abruptly, grabbing his suitcase and yanking it rather savagely off the bed. I winced. "So like... starting today?" he asked, his voice starting to sound choked. "'Cause we have the rest of the tour, and... uh...." he pulled the suitcase after him rather than carrying it over to the door. I got up and followed him, my knuckles popping as I twisted on my fingers.

"Yeah, I think," I agreed. "Because I don't think we should... you know, with all the tension and stuff, it'd only make it worse, you know?" I was mentally kicking myself for not really considering what it would be like, being involved with Joey when JC was so close, right on tour. For another fucking month, too. Shit; I hoped this wasn't going to ruin even a chance at friendship between us. "I want us to be friends, JC," I blurted, blinking back tears a little. "I mean, who knows about the future, right? I just can't... right now, I just think we could use the space."

He was looking down on the patterned carpet as though searching for something, in that way I knew meant he was trying not to cry. "You think so, huh?"

I nodded, shrugging as I did, and shoved my hands into my pockets. "I still love you," I whispered, as an afterthought, and hoped he'd believe me, because I really did, and I never felt like I didn't deserve him as much as in that moment.

JC looked at me solemnly, his eyes glittering. "Yeah," he said finally, then bent down and picked up his carry-on. "Yeah, okay. We'll take a break. If that's what you want." He brushed past me, and when I heard him sniffle I reached out and pulled him back gently by the shoulder. The expression on his face was so sad when he looked at me that I couldn't let him go without hugging him to me, just to hold him.

"I'm sorry," I muttered into his neck, letting him cry on me and starting to cry myself.

"I know," he responded, and that only made me feel worse, because he really didn't know.

four

JC and I knew the guys would probably pick up on the uneasy vibe between us right away, so there wasn't any use in pretending everything was okay. We couldn't just "pretend" between us, anyway; if they thought we'd had a fight, or whatever, they'd leave us alone to let us sort it out and let us come to them later. So once we left our room to meet the others, we just went about our morning routines, quiet and a little bit estranged, and the other guys kept their distance. I figured we wouldn't be making any grand announcement that we'd broken up; as close as the five of us were, it would be pretty obvious in no time that JC and I were no longer playing the game of checking into separate rooms and then sleeping in one.

Joey was a little skittish around me that morning, though, and I wasn't sure whether I should be bothered by that. He's not the type to avoid you if he thinks you're in a bad mood, so I knew he'd be trying to keep things light. But even then he was a little too loud, trying a little too hard with the jokes, and dancing around a little too much. I just didn't know if he was just being overly buddy-buddy with me because he didn't want Steve or anybody to suspect what was up between us, or if he just didn't want to slip up again until he knew that JC and I had ended our relationship.

When we got on our bus, he went on ahead of me, made right for his bunk, and crawled inside. I paused in the lounge, chewing on my lip as I deliberated going after him; I knew what I needed to do was let him have his space to figure out... whatever the hell he needed to figure out, but... well, there was no but, so I headed for my own bunk.

"Hey." Steve stopped me in the aisle. He jerked his head towards Joey's closed bunk. "What's with him?" he asked softly.

I shrugged helplessly. "Tired, I guess," I offered, and yawned to make my point. He let it go, and I made a big show of crawling into my bunk as he left. I lay there for a while, listening to him head for the back lounge and close the door. And then I listened to the bus rumble on its way to the venue. And then I couldn't take the way I was psyching myself out over Joey, so I got out of my bunk and squatted outside of his.

"Hey, Joe," I said softly through the curtain. "Can I come in for a sec?"

He didn't respond right away; then he asked, "You naked?"

I bit the inside of my lip as I smiled. "Of course."

"Can Steve videotape?" I could hear the grin and leer in his voice even from the aisle, and rolled my eyes, stifling a laugh.

"Just let me in, already," I sighed heavily, even as he peeled back the curtain and I leaned in towards him. He squished himself back along the wall and I climbed in so that I was on my side, facing him. We didn't say anything for a while; he smiled at me and I smiled back, and I didn't really know where to start but I knew he was waiting for me to begin first.

"Are you avoiding me?" I asked him point-blank, figuring I might as well get it out in the open. Or, out between the two of us. I kept my gaze on his chest, too chicken to make eye contact in case he really was avoiding me.

He gave a little start and gestured to himself. "Me? No. No, I just..." he shrugged. "Didn't feel like dealing with Steve or whatever. Just wanted to think."

I raised my eyebrows guiltily. "Oh. So, um," I stammered. "So, I should go then, maybe...." I was already reaching behind me awkwardly to push back his curtain. I wished he hadn't let me in if he was only gonna kick me out a second later; it wasn't like this was easy for me or anything. He stopped me with a hand on my arm.

"No, stay; I'd be in here thinkin' about you, so you can stay. Should stay," he amended.

"Yeah, maybe I should," I murmured in agreement. Joey hadn't moved his hand yet. "So...." Finally I ventured to look him in the eye, and he was watching me seriously, studying me. "Are we okay?"

Joey shrugged, picking at the material of my jacket sleeve. "I dunno; are we? That's kind of what I'm thinking about."

His gaze was really making me self-conscious. I took a deep breath, preparing my words mentally. "Okay, look," I began, letting all the air out in a rush. "What we did last night was wrong, and I know that, and... I'm sorry that it happened that way, but I'm not sorry it happened." I paused. "Am I making any sense?"

"I just.... I don't wanna mess with JC, man," Joey whispered, but he was nodding, and still picking at my sleeve.

"Me and JC broke up this morning," I told him quietly.

"Oh, good," he said, tilting his head towards mine. "I mean, not good, but. That's...." His lips brushed my temple, and I closed my eyes momentarily; a lengthy blink. That was good; it was better than good. It meant I was free to be with Joey after all this time and, lying there in his bunk with his lips grazing my skin gently like that, I wondered if it wasn't just a dream.

But I still knew that it wasn't going to be a fairy tale, and we had to start somewhere. Where did we go from here? I asked him as much.

He shrugged slowly. "I don't know," he admitted. "Are you gonna come to my room tonight?"

I blinked a couple of times in surprise. "Yeah," I answered carefully. "You want me to?"

"Yeah," he nodded, trailing his lips down the side of my face until they met mine. Our kiss was slow this time, and leisurely, nothing like they'd been the night before. He linked his hand within mine and helped tug me up and over him, and I straddled him in the shallow bunk, learning the way his face felt under my hands and mouth all over again.

Still, the way he'd just... suggested that I come to his room bugged me. I mean, I wasn't looking for a grand declaration of love -- I certainly wasn't about to tell him, "hey, Joey, the reason I wanted to sleep with you so bad is because I've wanted you for five years now." But I had half a mind to take offense and ask him if he was gonna leave me a fifty on the dresser in the morning. I don't know why it made me feel like this was just some casual fling between us. It just did.

JC told everyone that night. We hadn't discussed it beforehand or anything; he just decided to tell everyone. We were in the Quiet Room, everybody engaged in their own little pre-show rituals, when JC, sitting on the couch with his chin in his hands, said, "me and Lance broke up," really softly. Nobody had been speaking at the time, so his voice carried well through the room, and I knew, without looking, that everyone was staring at him. And then I felt everyone's gaze shift to me, and nodded slowly, keeping my head down as I shoved my hands into my pockets.

"Well, okay then," Justin offered sympathetically, because we didn't have time to get into it, and that was all anybody said about it before we had to go on.

I wanted to be mad at him, because I hadn't wanted it to get out like that; but I think maybe that was his way of getting one in over me. I could forgive that, since I'd hurt him. But I was hurt, too, a bit, because all of a sudden it was like I didn't really know him, and he acted like he didn't really know me. Which I guess he didn't. But that didn't make it hurt any less.

Chris was the first to single me out once we'd been given the requisite space for everyone to get used to the change in group dynamic. He cornered me during sound check while Justin and JC were getting their sound levels adjusted, and Joey was with Steve around somewhere talking to and filming fans. I had my legs dangled over the edge of the stage and was drinking from my water bottle when Chris came plopping down heavily next to me like he had nowhere else to sit.

"Hey," he said softly, and I knew right then that he was coming to ask me about JC. Chris didn't just "hey" you like that. Well, he didn't just "hey" me like that, anyway. It was always "hey, whatever". "Hey, I gotta show you something," or "hey, take a listen to this," or "hey, pull my finger," and yes, he actually still said that kind of stuff.

"Hey," I responded, and we didn't say anything more for a while, Chris swinging his legs back and forth over the edge and me joining in after a moment as I finished my water.

"So," he asked finally. "How are you holding up?"

I shrugged, setting the bottle aside and leaning back on my hands. "I'm okay."

He gave an affirmative grunt, then briefly turned his gaze to Justin and JC before returning to me. "He misses you, you know," he commented, picking at a hangnail as though the conversation were entirely casual.

I bit the inside of my cheek. There was no need to remind me that this breakup had hurt JC more than me. I mean, really. "He tell you that?"

"He doesn't have to."

"You know, I miss him, too," I told him, and immediately hoped that it didn't come across like I was being defensive or anything.

"I know," he agreed, nodding. His hand grazed the small of my back and rested there lightly.

Well, just as long as he knew. I had this terrible fear of being perceived the bad guy in the whole mess, and the last thing I wanted was for any of the guys to be mad at me, or worse, take sides over us.

"Hey, Lance; I said it when you guys got together, and I'll say it again," he went on gravely, meeting my gaze with serious eyes. "If you wanna talk about it... you know. I'm here."

I nodded. "Yeah. I mean-- thanks. I mean, we've both been through breakups before, and you've been--"

"Yeah," he cut me off. "And that's hard enough. I mean, I know you guys are total professionals about this, and you never let whatever you had get in the way of the group, but it's gonna be so much harder now, you know? I know I don't need to tell you, but I'm telling you anyway. You can lean on us anytime you need it. Just don't keep it all inside, okay?

"Yeah, and... thanks. I mean it; thanks," I told him, spotting Joey and Steve as they made their way down the aise towards us. I waved at them and started to get to my feet.

"And also," Chris went on. "When you're hurting, and you're really close to someone, you might mistake comfort for something else, and I don't wanna see you get hurt any worse; so be careful with that, okay?"

I furrowed my brows, trying to think of who he could be talking about aside from Joey; I couldn't come up with anything, so I sort of nodded absently as I waited for Joey to catch up. When I stood to meet him, though, Chris gripped my wrist, stopping me. "Be careful, okay?" he repeated, and it finally hit me that he might have thought there was something between Joey and I, and that I was spending more time with Joey out of misery at breaking up with JC. Or something equally messed up.

Sometimes I don't know whether Chris is extremely perceptive for real, or if he just likes to say cryptic shit to make us think he is.

"Okay," I assured him. "I will."

Justin took a while longer to say anything, so I was pretty sure that JC wasn't telling him much about the whole situation. Why he didn't pry to find out, I didn't know, since he tended to be really interested in what went on with each of our lives. Maybe he just thought it would blow over quickly and didn't want to push things. I didn't know, really. I couldn't always tell with Justin.

We hadn't stopped hanging out as a group, which was a good thing and put me at ease about the breakup -- and Joey, though Joey didn't worry about it the way I did. It made me wish for the millionth time that I could be more relaxed about things the way Joey was, but all I seemed to manage was the ability to fake it. This night, four of us stayed up in Justin's room to watch movies and cable TV. Chris begged off because he had a conference call early the next morning and I think -- though I'd never say it to his face -- that he'd lost the ability to pull all-nighters.

The movie I'd picked -- Pi -- was too trippy to watch at this hour and in our state of mind, which is the price anyone risks paying when they ask me to pick the movie. So we'd degenerated into MST-ing it for lack of anything better to do. After a while of that, Joey yawned comically loud, stretching before getting off the bed next to me. He did a soft-shoe, his actions looking strobed in the light from the television, and announced that he was going back to his room to sleep, so nobody bug him.

I knew that if I left in twenty minutes to an hour to meet him that he'd still be up, and that was exactly what I intended to do.

"Hey, Lance," Justin said softly, when the movie finished. I figured that he would say something when he noticed that JC had fallen asleep with his head on his shoulder, when before it definitely would've been my shoulder he slept on. It would be at that point that he could no longer pretend that nothing serious had gone down between the two of us.

"Do you think things'll be okay between you guys soon?" he asked me, his head down as he stroked his fingers through JC's hair lightly.

I thought he meant would JC and I be able to be friends again; would we be able to get past that 'broken up' tension quickly. As it was, JC had moved past just being civilly polite with me when we weren't working, but we had a long way to go if we were gonna be on the level we'd had before we'd started dating. Still, JC wasn't angry at me or anything, so I was pretty sure we'd be fine. "I think things are okay with us now, J," I said, coming down off the bed to sit on the other side of Justin on the floor.

"No," he answered, shaking his head. "No, that's not what I mean. I don't mean 'will you still be friends' okay. I mean... really okay," he stressed, raising his eyebrows at me.

I shook my head slowly in protest. "Justin," I began warily, "you know, sometimes it just... things just don't work out the way you want them to. You know how it is."

"I know, but...." The credits stopped rolling and we were met with a blue screen. Justin turned both the DVD player and the TV off and turned to me, concern written all over his face. "I probably shouldn't say this," he sighed. "But... I mean, I think you two were really good together, you know?"

Well, thanks a lot, Justin.

I almost told him right then. I had the words on my tongue and even opened my mouth to say them -- "Hey, Justin -- me and Joey started dating." I don't know why I felt the urge to blurt it out like that. Maybe I wanted to see if he'd be sorry for saying what he'd said, or maybe I wanted to see if he'd be willing to give Joey and I a chance; to see if we could be good together, too. Maybe I wanted some support. Maybe I was just tired of not being able to talk about Joey with anyone.

Instead, I just muttered, "yeah, we were," and then, "good night," and then I got up and went to meet Joey in his room.

It wasn't all about sex with Joey, which was what made it difficult for me to put my finger on what was so different between us as compared to when I was with JC. Sometimes we'd do it in his bunk, or mine -- a level of access I'd never enjoyed with JC -- having to keep it quiet because it was a near-to-public space. Other times Joey'd come up to me and speak in innuendos that made me wonder if it really was just about when I could meet him in his room next. But other times we could hang out together and have a blast in a completely platonic way, just like we did before we'd slept together. If I had to put my finger on it, I'd say the difference was that Joey was still like my best friend, but then we also had sex... and I guess the bridge between the two aspects was missing.

We were agreed on not telling the guys for the time being. Our reasons were different, of course. I didn't want JC to know for a long time because I didn't want him to hurt any more than he already was, and I didn't want the other guys to think I was rebounding, least of all Chris. Joey hadn't asked for my reasons, so I didn't ask for his; but I figured, just as JC and I had handled it when we were dating, that he would want to give it time to get serious before he was sharing our business with everybody. So as it was, whichever one of us visited the other's room had to leave before wake-up call. That was usually me, but I didn't mind, because I knew Joey liked being with me, and that if I put off going to meet him, he'd come to see me himself. I just didn't feel like doing that.

In the meantime Joey grilled me on improvisation in bed at nights, when we were still damp and sweaty and I just wanted to go to sleep for a few hours. And we went through our respective morning routines separately. And Chris stopped giving us funny looks, but JC started, although he didn't seem unhappy and didn't say a word about it. And I watched my back and fell more and more in love with Joey every day and wondered how long it might take him to begin to return those feelings, if it had taken JC ten months.

Joey always took longer to get ready for clubbing than I did. I don't know why; it wasn't like he had extra preparing to do, or that he went in anything more than casual wear, but I was the one left lying on his bed, flipping through the channels on DirectTV while he primped like a diva.

And who was he trying to impress, anyway? I guess old habits die hard.

"You know," Joey started, diverting my attention from Sally Fields' tearful breakdown (what was this, Soapdish? I thought so) -- "when I think about it, looking back, you and JC must've had a pretty open relationship, I guess. I really had no idea you guys were like that." He leaned close into the mirror to inspect the stubble that had grown around the trim of his beard and nodded, deciding to let it be.

"Yeah," I said neutrally, not knowing what he meant by that. "Um, what do you mean by that? We were like what?"

"No, just--" he shrugged and turned to me. "Stuff I didn't, you know, bother about before 'cause it was none of my business or whatever. Like, girls I'd see." He made a vague gesture at me. "I'd see you taking girls up to your room and stuff, and I'd be like, 'does JC know about this?' And now I know what the deal was. So, I mean, that's cool."

I'd started nodding as he spoke, but I had the feeling that Joey had misunderstood whatever it was that he'd seen. "Ohhhh," I realized, rolling on to my side. "You probably thought I was, like, cheatin' on JC or something, right?"

"Well, like I said," Joey explained, "I didn't wanna get involved or jump to conclusions or anything. It just makes so much more sense now, 'cause sometimes you'd be going with them to JC's room, and I'd be like, 'huh?' So--"

"No, that was -- thanks for givin' us the benefit of the doubt," I told him, and didn't quite know what else to say after that. I mean, if Joey'd seen me with some girl heading up to JC's and my room, what did he think we did with her? Share?

Oh, my God, that's what he thought we did with her.

"Because, I mean," I said somewhat anxiously, "we could talk about anything, JC and me. So when you're saying open, it's really more like--"

"Hey," Joey cut me off, hands held up in surrender. "Really, I don't need to know the details. I just think it's cool that you guys could be with other people like that. Especially you, you know? I thought you were big on commitment and all that--"

I nodded as if I was listening, but truthfully I had begun to tune him out, mainly because I didn't like where this was heading.

"--JC's kind of a jerk about gettin' jealous, though, isn't he?" Joey wondered aloud, coming over and sitting on the bed next to me. "Like, what? He was okay with the girls, but not okay with you flirting with me? That's messed up." He took a deep breath and let it out in a gust. "You know, I think maybe it's a good thing you guys didn't work out."

Any other time, that would have been music to my ears. "No, you don't-- JC is...." I shook my head and rolled back into Joey's hand on my side, wondering how I could fix the direction Joey'd gone in with his assumptions. "It's more complicated than that, Joey," I said simply, wondering vaguely why I was defending JC, except that it was more complicated than that, even if Joey could never find out why. I couldn't tell Joey that JC would bring a girl up to our room, too, and that he'd just tell them to dance together or make out or something while he and I sat back and watched, not getting involved.

And okay, it did something for me, too; so much so that I didn't know how JC could be so calm and removed from it all, watching patiently while these girls nearly stripped down on our bed, before quietly thanking them and asking them to leave. But I also couldn't tell Joey how hot JC got after they'd left, and how the sex was rougher, more intense, and how he'd wear the both of us out by morning. I couldn't tell him that JC never laid a hand on those girls, and that sharing wasn't a part of the deal, and that JC was right to be jealous because Joey had been a threat.

"I'm sure he has his reasons," Joey assured me, rubbing the small of my back before he got off the bed. "We ready to go now?" I nodded as I climbed off of the bed as well. "So how do I look," he asked, grinning, and I looked him over appraisingly; his clubwear consisted of designer-worn jeans, a deliberately oversized sweater, and his kanji necklace. It was almost a preppy look, but Joey somehow made it look street and casual.

"You look great," I responded, leaned up and kissed him, slipping my hands up the back of his shirt to hold him for a moment before pulling the door open and stepping out into the hall.

This was all before he introduced me to-- "Jenna," he said, offering her the seat next to me at our booth at the club and sliding in after her. I smiled politely, holding out my hand to shake, thinking she was just someone Joey knew from somewhere. I only clued in when Joey asked Jenna if she'd ever done this before, and she said 'yes' and asked what hotel we were staying at.

It immediately hit me that this was something I should have seen coming; yet I hadn't wanted to admit to it, even after Joey'd brought it up. Was I being too subtle here, or was this something I was supposed to spell out? You are not allowed to have women when you are with me, Joe. "You know," I said suddenly, as apologetically as I could manage, "I'm sorry, but I really... I'm gonna have to, um... I don't, I'm not feeling all that good tonight. I'm really sorry," I repeated in earnest.

To her credit, Jenna looked concerned -- Joey too -- and disappointed. "Want me to head back with you?" he asked as I got up and checked my pockets for my wallet. I shook my head, not wanting to talk to him much. Or be around him. Or... see him at all.

"No, it's okay; you... guys go ahead and do whatever," I mumbled, turning to go, but hoping that Joey would try to stop me. He did, with a warm hand on my shoulder. I turned to look at him and he gazed down at me seriously.

"I hope you feel better, okay? I'll see you tomorrow?"

And then I knew that I wasn't going to feel any better in the morning.

So okay, I hadn't realized that my going to Joey's room had become a sort of routine, although if I really thought about it I'd have seen that everything in life took on a routine when we were on tour. I mean, the shows ended the same time every night and you learned how much sleep you needed to function the next day, so you pretty much got into the hotel at the same time whether you meant to or not. JC and I had had our own routine, and now Joey and I had ours.

What I hadn't counted on, though, was that JC had noticed how my going to Joey's room had become a sort of routine. Which was how he caught me in the hall one night when I opened my door, finding him lounging across the hall near to, but not quite, his door.

"Hey, Lance," he said distractely, looking up as soon as I'd closed the door behind me. He pushed off of the wall and unfolded his arms, opening up slightly. "Can we talk?"

Well, it wasn't like we'd really talked since we'd broken up or anything. JC looked so casual about it that I wanted to think this was no big deal, but there was also a sense of forboding about it that made me nervous. "Yeah," I said. "Yeah, sure. Do you wanna..." I gestured behind me to my room, but JC shook his head.

"No," he shook his head. "Here's good." He refolded his arms and leaned against the wall next to me.

I nodded slowly, sensing that this wasn't a point to be argued. "Okay," I conceded, trying not to hug myself under his scrutiny. "Here's fine," I added, and hugged myself before I realized I was doing it.

"I just wanted to know," JC went on, glancing at a point past me in the hall as though he couldn't sense my discomfort, "how things are with Joey."

Oh, fuck, went through my head even as I raised my eyebrows. And how much did he know? Oh, fuck. I kept my face carefully neutral. Tried to. "What do you mean; things are fine," I said, not sounding the least bit defensive. There was nothing to defend; I knew JC wouldn't buy my game face for a second.

He didn't; I could see the disappointment in his eyes even before he spoke. "You know, Lance," he said, shaking his head slightly. "I just--" he sighed. "Were you ever honest with me? I just wanna know if... I mean, was anything we had real to you? 'Cause I thought I could handle it if you lied when you said you loved me--"

"No," I said quickly, cutting him off. "JC, no. I loved you; I wasn't, that wasn't--"

"But not the way you love Joey," he finished quietly, and I didn't have anything to say to that, because it was true, and did he have to bring this up in the hall? "So what; you just told me what I wanted to hear?"

God, he made it sound like I'd lied to him for the hell of it. "I didn't wanna hurt you," I muttered, dropping my gaze to his waist, staring at the studs and seams on his jeans pocket. I expected his laugh, but flinched when I heard it anyway.

"So are you tellin' Joey what he wants to hear, too?" he asked suddenly, and it wasn't a little bit snide. "What does he like to hear? You tellin' him this isn't serious, you don't want a commitment, that kinda thing?"

That struck a nerve, and he had to know it would. He had to know that if I was with Joey I'd be working as patiently as I could to get him to be exclusive with me; he had to know how hard it would be on me if he had any idea how much I loved Joey. He had to know that if he knew anything at all. And suddenly I was angry -- at Joey for not getting that I love him and wanted him exclusively, at myself for fucking up what JC and I had had and still not knowing if it was worth it, at JC for taking out his hurt on me. "Yeah," I said glibly. "Yeah, JC, I tell him whatever he wants to hear, so he's not getting it any better than you did."

JC rolled his eyes, drawing his lips into a tight line. "No, because he always had your heart, and I never had a chance at that."

He was right, completely right about that. I wondered if I should have bothered being with him in the first place. I looked up at him and saw his resigned expression, face closed to scrutiny; and I found myself, in that moment, wishing that I really could have loved him the way he'd needed me to, if I could have gotten over Joey and just let myself have what JC and I had had. I wondered if we could have worked out if we had only kept going. "I'm sorry," I said. "I wanted to--" I stopped, and sighed wearily. "I just couldn't, JC. I couldn't."

He nodded. "I know," he replied softly. He reached out and rested his hand against the side of my neck. "Maybe someday I'll be able to stop being hurt and just be really mad at you, huh?" he said, then looked past me again down the hall. "Oh, hey," he called, his voice changing, and I spun to see Joey step out of his room, probably coming to look for me.

I had never believed more strongly in Divine retribution.

"Hey," Joey greeted us, moving closer with a half-hearted wave. "We gonna do something tonight? Group conference in the hall?" He grinned.

"No, it's nothing," JC declared, stretching his hands up above his head. "I was just telling Lance whatever you guys have is cool with me, so." He gave Joey a smile so relaxed that I wondered if he'd practiced it. "You guys don't need to pretend around me."

"Oh, wow," Joey breathed, relieved, his gaze flicking between JC and I. "You knew? We thought we were bein' all careful."

"Well, I guess I just know Lance too well," JC laughed, shooting me a look, and the laugh that was wrenched out of me on cue sounded more like a dry cough than anything else.

"Yeah," Joey agreed, "I guess you'd know. So hey," he went on. "That's cool. I'm glad this isn't gonna be a problem or whatever; that's really good to know."

"Yeah, but..." JC stretched again. "You guys probably wanna...." he gestured vaguely. "So I'm just gonna go back." Smiling again, he backed up until his back collided with his room's doorknob. "'Night, guys." And that was all he said before retreating.

He was giving me his blessing. He wasn't holding this against me. So why did I feel so shitty?

Joey stared off at JC's closed door for a long moment, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, before nodding appreciatively. "Well, I guess that's one less person we need to be careful around, huh?" he offered.

I made a non-committal sound, bitter. "Yeah, JC is just the person I wanted to find out," I said, folding my arms and leaning back against my door.

"He was actually cooler with it than I thought I'd be." Joey leaned up against the door next to me. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

I just shook my head, and he continued. "So what do you wanna do tonight?

I shrugged. "Do you..." I pointed over my shoulder with my thumb as I had with JC. "Did you wanna come in?"

Joey grinned happily at me, straightening beside me. He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Hey, yeah; sure, I can stay for a while."

"No," I clarified, "I meant, like... could you stay the whole night, maybe?" I asked, watching him carefully for his reaction and praying he'd say yes. At that point I didn't even care if he was only doing it to be nice; I just didn't want to go back to my room alone, to spend the night staring up at the ceiling and mourning what I'd lost, what I'd given up.

Joey raised his eyebrows, considering, and glanced down the hall as an afterthought, as though Dré might suspect something if he agreed. It occured to me that Dré'd heard everything and probably already knew, had probably already known about JC and me by the time we'd come out, that maybe all the guys knew and that we had only been hiding from ourselves by sneaking around. "Yeah; I'll stay," he said finally.

"Okay," I said, my voice cracking slightly, and I pushed the door open behind me with my fingers, leaning back into it.

Joey tilted his head at me in concern. "You okay?"

I rolled my eyes a little to keep them from welling over. "Yeah," I assured him as I led him further into my room, and this time my voice was steady.

Joey looked at me cautiously as he closed the door behind him. "This means something, doesn't it?" he asked as more of a declaration than a question. He slid his hands up under the hem of my shirt and ran his thumbs up my bare sides. "If I stay. It means something for us."

I bowed my head when his nose touched my temple and I felt his lips brush the side of my mouth. "Do you want it to mean something?" I asked, even though I knew I couldn't handle hearing a 'no' for that. With Joey, really, I didn't know what to expect.

He didn't answer me right away, and I found myself blinking back tears again, because it really would work out that way, wouldn't it? Because I fucking deserved it.

When he finally sighed "Yeah, I do," against my mouth I sobbed out loud and kissed him so hard we both forgot to breathe.

[back]