The More Things Change 2
By Diana
Author's Notes: Time for another fic recommendation! "The Sound of Your Voice" by Dayse Craze. Short, no smut, but it turned me into a blubbering idiot for ten minutes. And while you're at it, visit her webpage, http://home.earthlink.net/~crcwjt/mojoe/index2.html, and check out "Can't Sleep Tonight". It's an AU fic, but still worth a read. Again, this chapter was late... no surprises, I just don't have as much free time as I did when I started writing. Sorry, everyone! Hope this was worth the wait!
Dedication: This one's for Toni the Tearful Lurker, who got the ball rolling. ;) I know my original timetable was off, and I apologize. That'll teach me to set deadlines I can't meet. And, of course, this one also goes out to N'Sync with congratulations on maintaining their sales records (but really, you guys didn't think "Shape of My Heart" could top "Bye Bye Bye", right? wink)
Disclaimer: The song featured here is "How" by Lisa Loeb.
There was a dull throbbing behind JC's eyes, the onset of a well-deserved hangover. He'd stayed up for hours after everyone else went to bed, drinking himself into a stupor. A vain attempt to take his mind off his problems. But as he trudged up the stairs to his room, he realized there wasn't enough booze in the world to make him forget. In fact, it was having the opposite effect; as he paused at the top of the stairs, he suddenly became lost in his thoughts and memories.
At some point during the last week, he'd stopped caring about N'Sync. Once it had been everything to him, as much a part of him as his heart and soul. He remembered those days fondly; it had all been fun and games. If they'd wanted something, all they had to do was ask and Big Poppa would give it to them on a silver platter. A devil's deal, perhaps, but a lucrative one, where they never had to worry about anything but looking cool. They'd sung of love and desire without having to experience it, that fire that could burn as easily as it warmed. All they did, all they knew, was sing, dance and show some skin when necessary.
Maybe it was for the best. True, they'd been young and naive, but also genuinely happy. There'd been no subtext, no strings attached to anything they did. As children, JC had slept in Justin's arms with no explanations needed or wanted. No reason to complicate their relationship.
But time had a way of changing things. They'd grown up, and couldn't hide behind those excuses anymore. In hindsight, JC knew that what they'd really needed was time: he'd just come to terms with his attraction to Justin, and Justin himself was on the rebound.
Justin had probably had the same thoughts: he'd been adamant that they take things slow, let their relationship develop naturally. But JC quickly grew tired of secret make-out sessions in the dark. He loved Justin, and wanted everyone to know it. He wanted proof that their relationship was the real thing.
So he'd proposed. Justin had been hesitant at first, and his doubts only made JC more insecure. He pushed harder, and eventually they were standing at an altar together. Their marriage had been a closely-guarded secret; the only tangible proof were their wedding rings, passed off as common jewelry, and Justin's customized ID, which he insisted on keeping with him.
JC swayed as a wave of nausea overcame him, dispelling his train of thought. He grabbed the banister for support and slowly made his way down the second-story hall to his room.
"I didn't come this far
For you to make this hard for me
And now you want to ask me how?"
As he passed Justin's bedroom, he stopped for a moment, taking a long look at the closed door. It was still early, Justin was probably still asleep... As quietly as he could, JC turned the doorknob and peered into the room.
His husband was splayed out on the bed, fast asleep. But then, why would he have any trouble sleeping? As far as he was concerned, everything was just as it was supposed to be. But he was so serene, so peaceful, that JC couldn't resist coming closer. He crept into the room, closing the door behind him and slowly sitting down at the edge of the bed.
"It's like
How does your heart beat?
Why do you breathe?
How does your heart beat?
And why do you breathe?"
For long minutes, JC just sat there, watching Justin sleep. Then, unable to control himself, he reached out and brushed his fingertips against the blonde's cheek. The skin was as soft and as smooth as he remembered, warm to the touch. Tears sprung to JC's eyes as he realized this was the only time he could touch his lover; when Justin woke up, JC would be just another stranger. His fingers moved down past Justin's neck, gently tracing a line across the trim, hairless chest.
"Why did you come here?
You weren't invited
And you're on the outside
Stay on the outside
And now you want to ask me why?"
It was too much; Jesus, the pain was going to kill him. Shutting his eyes tightly, JC leaned down and pressed his lips to Justin's in a soft, firm kiss. He needed to feel this just one more time, it would never come again...
And indeed, the moment ended as Justin stirred beneath the older teen. With a start, the blonde lurched up, shoving JC away from him. "What the hell are you doing?!" he screamed, wiping his mouth in disgust.
"It's like
How does your heart beat?
And how do you cry?
How does your heart beat?"
"I... I just..." JC began, but he could think of no false excuse to placate his fuming bandmate. "I'm sorry." His face hot with shame, JC turned around and fled.
Justin remained still for a few minutes, his lips tingling with the taste of JC's mouth. He took in a deep, shuddering breath and wiped the sleep from his eyes.
"I can do this." he whispered to himself through clenched teeth. "I can do this."
"And there are some things that I like to figure out
There are some things that I can do without
You and your letters that go on forever
You and the people that were never friends
Never friends
Never friends..."
He climbed off the bed, eyes scanning the room for something to distract him. His gaze fell on his desk; it was cluttered with all sorts of trinkets Lynn had apparently unloaded in his room to help him regain his memory. A little piece of paper was sticking out from under a pile of junk; curiously, Justin pulled it out and unrolled it.
It was a small napkin, with "Ristorante Italia" emblazoned on the bottom.
Across the napkin's plain white surface, in his own handwriting, were two words:
Something's happening.
"With all the things that you could be
You never could learn how to be me
And now you want to ask me how?"
He ran his fingers over the words, then folded the napkin up again. For a moment, he considered ripping it up and throwing it in the trash can. But instead, he dropped to his knees and slipped it under his bed.
Then he turned to his closet and pulled out some clothes. It was almost time for breakfast.
"It's like
How does your heart beat?
Why do you breathe?
How does your heart beat?
Why do you breathe?
How do you breathe?"
Lance idly dragged his fork across his scrambled eggs. He wasn't really hungry, and hadn't been for quite some time, but the silence at the kitchen table was so thick and tangible he didn't dare break it. It was the calm before the storm, and he wanted to enjoy it as much as he possibly could.
"Hey everyone!" Justin chirped energetically, bouncing down the stairs in a blue T-shirt and white shorts. Kissing his mother on the cheek, he then proceeded to plop himself down at the table next to Lance, who shifted uncomfortably.
"You look good today." Joey casually remarked. Justin grinned widely and nodded.
"I FEEL good." he replied. Before he could say anything more, Lynn came up to the table and lay a bowl of cereal before him. Justin glanced at it, and then gave his mother a look that was half-plea, half-pout. "Mom, can I have what Lance is having?"
The older blonde suddenly made a choking sound, setting down his orange juice. Justin laughed, clapping his bandmate on the back. "Ease up, man!" the curly-haired teen joked. "The food's not going anywhere!"
Lynn seemed perplexed by her son refusing his favorite breakfast, but she just shrugged and returned to the stove.
"So..." Justin looked around the table. "Joey, right?"
The Italian teen's head snapped up; for once, Joey Fatone was at a loss for words. "Huh?" he finally managed.
"Did you do that yourself? Your hair, I mean."
Joey smiled softly and ran a hand through his red-brown spikes. "Stylists. I got to pick the color, though."
Justin smiled back. "It's kinda cool. Maybe I should try it too."
Chris tried to picture Justin with fiery pink hair and snorted softly. "Sorry." he apologized as Justin shot him a look. "It's just... you would never do something that crazy."
Though Justin's smile remained, there was suddenly something in his eyes that made it seem enigmatic. "Yeah, well... I'm not really sure of what I would or wouldn't do anymore. It's kind of hard to remember where I used to draw the line."
"Then I'll draw it for you." Mrs. Harliss interjected, setting a plate of scrambled eggs in front of her son. "No dyeing your hair while you're under this roof, young man."
The blonde raised his hands defensively, shooting his mother a disarming smile. "I'm just kidding, Mom." Her stern look faded considerably, and she backed off.
Justin then turned to look at Lance. "You wanna play some B-ball with me?"
Lance's eyes widened slightly. "M-me?" he stammered.
The younger teen nodded innocently. "Yeah. I mean, I wanna get to know you guys. I'm just not up for a group game right now."
"I... I really don't think..."
"Come on! I'll try not to kick your ass TOO hard, I promise!" Justin's pleas were bordering on whiny now, and Lance finally consented with a silent nod. "I'll go get my ball." the curly-haired blonde announced, jumping to his feet and dashing upstairs.
Lance slowly backed away from the table and stood, but as he turned to leave, JC shot up and grabbed Lance's arm.
"If you do anything..." JC growled. "Tell one lie, move a hair on his head... I'll kill you."
Lance wrenched away from JC's grip, running out the back door and leaving the three remaining members of N'Sync in stony silence.
JC lay in his bed, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. Outside, the merciless sound of a basketball hitting the pavement continued, constantly reminding the teen of his present situation. When he'd lived here years ago, Justin had always been able to come up with something to do, to take his mind off whatever was bothering him. But alone, he didn't have many options.
And that was it, wasn't it? He was alone. N'Sync was done, his family was miles away. And friends... did he even HAVE any real friends? Sure, there were Christina and Britney, and Tony Lucca from the MMC... but they were in the same boat as him. Celebrities. JC realized with a start that he didn't even KNOW any "normal" people, who hadn't developed a second persona in the spotlight. He didn't know anyone REAL.
It was a depressing thought. Who could he turn to? His parents would do their best to help him, but they'd never really understood his relationship with Justin. Accepted, but not understood. And Heather and Tyler... he'd always been their Big Brother, the invincible source of guidance. He couldn't take that illusion away from them. He couldn't show them how pathetically human he really was; they'd never trust him again.
"Joshua?"
Lynn Harliss' voice broke into JC's morbid thoughts, and he sat up to face his mother-in-law, the woman who, only a few days earlier, had threatened to destroy him. JC immediately felt contempt wash over him at the sight of her sympathetic expression. He didn't want her pity.
"What's with the sad face, Lynn?" he asked angrily. "You should be thrilled. Your son dumped me. Isn't that what you wanted?"
Lynn was taken aback by JC's venom, and she shook her head. "No. No, it isn't."
"Bullshit!" JC yelled, leaping to his feet. Normally, he would never have attacked this woman, who'd been like a second mother to him. But the pain and frustration of the last 48 hours were taking control of him, and he couldn't stop himself from venting all of his anger on Lynn. "I saw the look on your face when you took Justin away. You enjoyed it! You can't stand that he's with me!"
"That's ridiculous!" she retorted.
"You can't admit to yourself that your son is a fag!"
Lynn's eyes immediately grew hard, and she slapped him. JC felt his cheek grow hot from the sudden blow, and he stared at her in astonishment.
"How dare you!" she screamed, and JC was shocked at how quickly she'd lost her composure. "How DARE you! I would never stand in the way of Justin's happiness! NEVER!" She pointed an accusing finger at him. "All I ever wanted was for him to be safe! You were supposed to protect him! But instead he's been abused, raped, kidnapped... and now this!"
JC felt the blood drain from his face. She was right, of course. And they both knew it. He turned away from her, staring out the window at the darkening sky.
Minutes later, when he turned around again, Lynn was gone.
"He shoots, he scores!" Justin crowed as he barged into his bedroom, jumping up energetically. Lance walked in after him, a smile of resigned defeat on his face.
"Looks like you still remember how to play." Lance said. Justin merely shrugged, his eyes gleaming mysteriously.
"There's a lot of stuff I still remember." He winked. "I'm gonna get a beer. You want one?"
Lance, still pondering that cryptic reply, nodded absently. The moment his friend was gone, the older blonde dropped onto the bed, letting out an exhausted sigh. The game had been a difficult one, mostly because Lance's gnawing guilt had kept him from actually participating. But Justin's constant jokes and playful attitude had eventually gotten results, and Lance had thrown himself into the game, feeling a genuine smile light up his face.
"Beer's here!" the younger blonde announced as he walked back into the room with two glasses of sparkling amber liquid. Lance took the beer gratefully, and downed half the glass in a single gulp.
Justin giggled as Lance set the glass down. "You drink like a lush!" he managed to gasp out, and the green-eyed teen felt himself laugh as well, despite himself.
Suddenly Justin's smile disappeared, just like that, and he rested his beer on the nightstand. "Lance?"
"Yeah?"
Justin turned back to his bandmate. "I've been having these... these weird feelings lately. I don't know what they mean, if it's something I'm supposed to remember or not."
Lance was puzzled. "What do you mean?"
Justin shrugged, running a hand through his golden curls. "Sometimes, when I look at JC... I get mad. Really mad. And I don't know why." His hand trailed down from his hair to his eyes, and he rubbed them tiredly. "Do you?"
It took the Mississippi native a few moments to find his voice. "Do I what?"
Justin sighed. "Do you know why I'm so angry at JC?"
Lance shook his head; if anything, HE should be the focus of Justin's anger. "You love him. Or at least, you used to."
"I think he cheated on me."
The whispered words sent a shock through Lance's body. Of course... the picture Jack had faked, of JC and him together. Lance had admitted the truth to his friends, that he'd never slept with JC... but Justin had been comatose at the time. And no one had filled him in.
"I bet she was blonde." Justin's mouth was perking up just a bit, in a wistful smile. "JC likes blondes. Maybe..." The ice-blue eyes fell on Lance. "Maybe with green eyes?"
Lance's knees almost gave out, and that made Justin's smile grow. "She was probably hiding in plain sight for years, pretending to be my friend so she could take my husband up the ass like a two-dollar whore." And then the younger teen's face BENT, twisting into a dark sneer. "But you must've been a LOUSY lay, Lance. 'Cause he still wants ME."
"You..." Lance whispered, feeling his heart skip a beat as he realized exactly what Justin was saying. "You're faking it. You're FAKING it!"
Justin laughed coldly; it was nothing like his normal laugh. This was hatred and spite and anger. "Give the boy a prize!" the teen sneered. "I can't believe you all fell for it. Like I could ever FORGET what you did to me!"
Lance backed away, numbed by this shocking revelation. "But... why?"
"Why?" Justin mimicked in a high and whiny voice. "God, you really need me to connect the dots for you, huh?" He took a step forward, clenching and unclenching his fists. "I was thinking payback, for what you did to me. You and JC."
"No, Justin, he didn't..."
"SHUT UP!" Justin screamed, frightening Lance into silence. "JC's gonna get his later." He grinned menacingly. "After I'm done with you."
Lance backed away warily. "Why are you telling me all this?" he demanded. "Why not just take me out when my guard's down?"
Justin shrugged. "'Cause I want you to see it coming. I want you to think about all the things I'm gonna do to JC because of you."
Lance's eyes narrowed. "I won't let you hurt him." But the display of ferocity only made Justin more amused.
"Well, look at you!" He crossed his arms as he studied his older counterpart. "Tough guy. For all you know, I poisoned your beer."
Lance faltered as he considered that dreadful possibility. But he dismissed it, reminding himself that this was Justin Timberlake, the guy who wouldn't and COULDN'T hurt a fly.
"You'll have to do better than that." Lance pointedly walked past Justin and headed for the door.
Justin's flat "Okay" was Lance's only warning, and as he turned around he was struck in the side by a lamp. It broke on impact, and Lance was thrown to the floor, clutching his wounded shoulder.
"How's that for starters?" Justin snarled, picking up the lamp's extension cord. As Lance rose to his knees, the other teen lunged forward, wrapping the black cable around Lance's throat and pulling tight.
"You know, everything was going great for me." Justin exclaimed as he yanked harder, ignoring the other blonde's frantic struggles for air. "You just HAD to step in and fuck it all up."
Lance felt the edges of his vision go black as he fought to stay conscious. Desperately, he reared his elbow back and jabbed it into Justin's stomach. The younger blonde doubled over with a grunt, allowing Lance to stand and take a much-needed deep breath.
Justin came at Lance with murder in his eyes, and the latter teen was too disoriented to defend himself. The first blow caught him across the mouth, the second on the back of his neck. White-hot pain shot through Lance's body and stars exploded behind his eyes as Justin rammed a closed fist into his gut.
Lance crumpled to the ground, feeling the room spin and his lungs ache. His body went limp, and the last thing he saw was Justin picking up a particularly sharp piece of the broken lamp.
The last thing he felt was the tip of that same shard press against the skin of his throat.
And then everything went black.
To be continued...