Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:
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If reading this is in any way illegal where you are or at your age, or you don't want to read about male/male relationships, go away. You shouldn't be here.
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I don't know any of the celebrities in this story, and this story in no way is meant to imply anything about their sexualities, personalities, or anything else. This is a work of pure fiction.
Questions and commentary can be sent to "writerboy69@hotmail.com". I enjoy constructive criticism, praise, and rational discussion. I do not enjoy flames, and will not tolerate them.
That said, on with Season 7.
Lance
Lance was happy to see Jack, but he needed to pee really badly, and, as he'd said, he'd see him on the bus. He'd already gotten changed, and knew that Justin would be finished changing soon. By unspoken agreement, Justin would just sit in the room, and wait for Lance to come back, so that they could walk out to the bus together. He would have been comfortable walking with any of the other guys, besides Joey, but he preferred Lance, and Lance didn't want to disappoint him. The tour was hard for Justin, the same way everything was hard for Justin, and Lance wanted to do whatever he could to make it easier on him. He pushed into the bathroom and was surprised to see Chad in front of the sinks, apparently crying, with a wad of tissues clutched in his hands.
"Chad?" Lance asked, walking over. Chad turned away, throwing a quick smile toward Lance and wiping at his face with the back of his wrist. "You ok?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Chad answered, tossing the tissues in the garbage. He didn't want Lance, or anyone, really, to see him like this, so upset. "I was just, um, washing off my face."
"The water isn't on," Lance pointed out. "If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. I just wanted to ask if you were ok."
"I'm fine, thanks," Chad repeated, turning away as Lance walked toward the stalls. "I'm just going to wash my face now, for real."
"OK," Lance said, shrugging. Chad seemed like a nice guy, if a little emotional. Lance didn't like to see anyone upset, but if Chad didn't want to talk about it, then Lance didn't want to push. He heard the bathroom door close, and when he came out of the stall Chad was gone. He walked back down the hallway and tapped at the door to the dressing room. "Justin?"
"I'm ok," Justin answered from inside.
Justin wouldn't change in front of the other guys, and even Lance, living with him since the wedding, sharing a bedroom and frequently a bed, hadn't seen Justin naked. He would get down to briefs in front of Lance, or a towel, but if he was going to lose those Lance had to turn his back, and would wait patiently for Justin's soft assurance that he was ok. Not knowing for sure if he was finished changing, Lance didn't want to burst in without knocking and upset him. When Lance pushed open the door, Justin was sitting in front of the dressing table, staring at himself in the mirror. His eyes met Lance's in the glass, and he smiled, but it was just a small one, without teeth.
"Are you ready to get on the bus?" Lance asked.
"Yeah," Justin answered, staring at himself again. Lance walked over, standing behind him, and Justin reached up to take his hand, his eyes glistening.
"Justin?" Lance asked, dropping down. He stared into the mirror with Justin, wondering what they were looking at. "What are you looking at?"
"Justin Timberlake," Justin answered, and began to cry. Lance held him tightly, feeling his shoulders shake as Justin buried his face in Lance's chest. Lance didn't ask any questions, knowing that Justin would say it when he was ready, but he expected this. Sometimes it didn't happen until they got back to the hotel, sometimes not until the middle of the night, but there had been a scene like this after almost every show. Justin didn't always talk, and hadn't ever stared at himself in the mirror, but he had cried over something at the end of every show, and Lance figured it was from stress. Lance mentally chastised himself for leaving Justin alone, even for a second.
"It's ok, Justin," Lance quietly, rocking a little, rubbing the back of Justin's head with one hand while making circles on his back with the other. "I'm here now, right here."
Justin wasn't sobbing, not full out, heartrending crying, but tears were trickling freely onto Lance's shirt as Justin fought to get his breathing, and himself, under control. He was making a low, keening sort of sound, shaking in Lance's arms, but he was glad for the touch, glad to know that Lance was here, and would take care of him. He hadn't meant to do this, to be like this, when Lance came back from the bathroom, but he'd glanced in the mirror, and saw himself, and tried to see what everyone else did. He'd tried so hard, but he couldn't do it.
"I'm sorry, Lance," Justin whimpered, sniffling, trying to clear his nose. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to get like this, I didn't."
"It's ok, Justin," Lance said, pulling up the bottom of his own shirt to blot Justin's eyes with it. "I understand."
"It's just, I was thinking about the show, and how well it went," Justin said, closing his eyes as he saw it all again in his head.
"It did, Justin, it did go well," Lance assured him, still holding him. "You did everything right. You were so good."
"I dropped my hat in the wrong place and it almost tripped Chris," Justin pointed out. Lance shook his head.
"That doesn't matter," Lance said. "Chris won't be mad at you. Accidents happen, Justin."
"I know," Justin said, nodding. He pulled away from Lance, sitting on the edge of the dressing table, his back to the mirror. "I just, I was thinking about the concert. When we do it, when we go out, and I hear everyone cheering, and screaming, they see me, Lance. They see me like I used to be, like I was before, and while we're out there, while they do it, it's like, like I am like before. For the show, the whole thing, that's who they see, and that's who I am, but then I, I come back inside. I come back inside, and I look in the mirror, and I, I try to see it, and I can't. I can't be like I was, ever again, Lance, ever."
Justin began to cry again, sobbing now, his shoulders not just trembling, but shaking, and Lance held onto him, telling him over and over that it would be ok. The guys had all been afraid of something like this, and had almost cancelled the tour, but Justin and his therapist had both agreed that it would be good for Justin to try this again, to do the things he loved, with people he trusted, and to try to go on with his life. So far, it seemed to be working, seemed to be opening him up some, but there were still these moments when Justin couldn't hold it all together, and these were the times when he needed Lance close by, when he needed someone he trusted to hold onto him and tell him it would all be ok. He needed to hear it from someone he believed. Justin's tears began to taper off again, and Lance blotted at his face a second time.
"You'll be like that again, someday, Justin," Lance promised. Justin could hear the assurance, the promise, in his voice. "Someday."
"But it makes me remember, Lance," Justin whispered, and this was what hurt him the most. Lance knew that once Justin's mind started down this particular path, it wouldn't let go, wouldn't let him block it out. Justin was as helpless to prevent himself from remembering what happened as he had been to stop it from actually happening. Every time he thought of it, he relived it, and it ripped him apart inside. "He hurt me. He hurt me so much."
"I know, Justin," Lance said, rocking him again. "I know. Justin, we don't have to do this. You know that. We can stop the tour, cancel the rest, tell people you're sick. We all agreed that we would if you needed us to, Justin. All you have to do is say the word."
"No," Justin said, shaking his head. He pulled back from Lance again, swallowing, using his own shirt to blot his face this time. Lance stared into Justin's blue eyes and saw something else there, something he thought he'd caught over the past few weeks, during the rehearsals and the shows. He saw a flash of the old Justin, and he knew that someday Justin would bounce back from this. "I won't quit, Lance, I won't, and I won't make you guys, either. I'm not, I won't let him take that away from me, too. I won't."
"You're so brave, Justin, so brave," Lance said, not wanting to smile, but feeling a swell of pride and happiness inside, just the same. He gently guided Justin to his feet, and walked him over to the dressing table, pulling some tissues out of the box and blotting carefully at Justin's face. Justin reached up with a shaking fingertip and flicked it under Lance's eye, flicking away the lone tear there.
"Thank you, Lance," Justin said, hugging him.
"You're welcome," Lance said, holding him tightly, feeling the muscles in Justin's back shift, and his hear hammering in his chest. "Are you ready to go out to the bus now? The guys are probably all waiting for us."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm ready," Justin said, giving his eyes one last swipe.
He took Lance's hand, and Lance led him down the hallways and out to the parking lot. Justin held Lance's hand tightly, tensing a little each time they rounded a corner, or a door opened, but he really was getting better, and he was mostly ok in the backstage areas, because he knew that no one would be there unauthorized, but he was still a little skittish about people approaching him, or touching him. Management knew that something was up, as you kind of had to be blind to miss the way the guys were acting, but no one would get into it with them. To protect Justin, they had closed ranks around him like a wagon train circling up around the campfire, and all of the things they'd done to accommodate Justin had been explained as things the entire group wanted. Mixed in with all the other changes, like Chad and Jack traveling with JC, or Vlada tagging along with Chris for days at a time, the tighter security around the guys seemed just one more in a list of their requests.
They nodded at the crew members they passed on the way to the bus, not worrying about holding hands, because the crew saw them all touching each other, hugging, holding hands, or whatever, all the time anyway. Lance winced inside each time he felt Justin squeeze, and thought about how much he'd like to grab Nick, and take him behind a closed door somewhere, and make him pay. He blinked, shaking his head, knowing that he shouldn't think like that. It was easy for him to think that way when he was angry, easy for him to want to lash out, but he knew those thoughts weren't him, weren't things that belonged in his mind. They were probably the kind of thoughts that Howie had, the kind that made him the way he was, and Lance had promised himself that he would never think that way, no matter how mad he was, or how upset. Sometimes in his dreams, though, different things happened. Lately they'd gotten darker. Sometimes it was still Howie and Nick hurting him, or hurting Justin, but every once in a while, Lance hurt them, and those dreams scared the hell out of him.
As they approached the bus he noticed how subdued Justin still was, withdrawn, and thought of something that would cheer him up.
"Hey Justin, you heard us below the stage, right?" Lance asked, smiling at him as they crossed the parking lot. All the lights were on inside the bus, and the engine was running, confirming Lance's suspicion that they were running late.
"Huh?" Justin asked. All he'd been concentrating on was the show.
"Jack's here," Lance said. Justin nodded. He'd heard that, and it would be nice to see him again, even if he only had been gone for a couple days. "Justin, that means someone else is waiting on the bus for you."
"Oh? Oh!" Justin said, grinning. He almost jerked Lance's arm out of the socket hurrying toward the bus, and as Justin thundered up the steps they heard a flurry of barks as Junior hurried through the bus toward them. Justin dropped to his knees, scooping Junior up and holding him to his chest as Junior licked all over his face and chin. "Junior! Baby!"
Lance smiled, watching Justin carry Junior reverentially toward Jack and JC, who were standing in the aisle. Junior had grown from a tiny puppy into a small dog in the two months since JC had brought him home for Jack, but he was almost jointly owned by Justin. The little brown and black dog loved Justin, and Justin was devoted to him. When Jack was with them, Junior spent every night in Justin and Lance's suite, curled up next to Justin in bed. Justin never seemed to think or realize, as Lance did, that if Junior was sleeping in their suite, JC and Jack didn't have to have him interrupting things in their bed. They also knew, though, that Junior gave Justin something else to focus on, and something that could love him unconditionally in a way that didn't threaten him, and that was very important to them. As much as Jack and JC loved their dog, Lance knew they would both turn him over to Justin in a heartbeat if Justin asked.
"Hey, Justin," Jack said, smiling. It was hard for him to walk with JC's arms wrapped around him from behind, but he leaned forward and gave Justin a quick hug around the shoulders when Justin leaned toward him.
"Welcome back," Justin said, still holding the dog as it continued licking his face. "Has he been out? Did someone give him some water?"
"He's fine, Justin," Jack answered, laughing. JC tugged on him. "I believe I'm going to go sit down on top of Josh somewhere. The dog toys are over there in the basket if you want to play with him."
"You don't mind?" Justin asked. He always asked permission, as if he was afraid Jack would pull Junior out of his hands and run away.
"No, Justin, of course not," Jack answered. "I think he missed you. You might want to sit down, though. I think we're about to pull out."
"Yeah, but sometimes it's not a bad thing if the bus lurches and someone falls on you," JC said, nuzzling Jack's neck as he tugged him toward a couch.
Justin sat down on the floor as he reached for a bucket of dog toys, Junior sitting expectantly between Justin's outstretched legs, waiting to see what he would produce. His little tail was wagging so hard that his back end was shaking as he sat on the floor, and Lance smiled, seeing how happy both of them were. He patted Justin on the shoulder as he passed him, and Justin smiled up at him. As he walked the length of the bus, Lance heard Joey talking quietly on the phone, inside his bunk, and then Chris grabbed his arm and tugged him into the bathroom. Lance looked down into Chris's brown eyes, trying to figure out what was going on.
"You guys took forever getting out here," Chris said. "I was almost going to come back for you. Is everything ok?"
"Yeah," Lance answered, nodding, relieved that there wasn't something terrible going on. Sometimes Lance felt like they all jumped at every shadow now, and he wondered if they needed to all get into some kind of group therapy. Sometimes it seemed like they were all shell shocked. "Justin just, you know, he had a moment."
"Is he ok?" Chris asked, glancing toward the bathroom door. It wasn't hard, since he was almost touching it.
"I think so," Lance answered. "I mean, he needs a good night's sleep, but having Junior with us will help a lot. I think he'll shake it off by morning, as much as he ever does."
"What about you?" Chris asked, squeezing Lance's shoulder. "Are you ok? Do you need anything?"
"You mean other than not having the sink poking me in the back in here?" Lance asked, grinning. "Seriously, was the bathroom always this small?"
"It has been for the whole tour, yes," Chris answered, not willing to be so easily distracted. He'd accept Lance's assurances about Justin, because Lance was the authority on Justin's mental state outside of his therapist, but he also knew that Lance would neglect his own needs without a second thought if he believed Justin needed him more. "Lance, I mean it. Are you ok? Because you look kind of tired, and you have these little bags under your eyes. If there was anywhere else on the bus to talk we wouldn't be in here, but we're not getting out until you talk to me, ok?"
Lance sighed, but smiled.
"I know I look tired, Chris," he said, hugging him, laying a head on Chris's shoulder. He pulled back a little, but Chris didn't let go.
"Talk to me, Lance, please?" Chris said. "It's not just Justin I'm worried about, you know?"
"I know, Chris," Lance said, swallowing. Chris's eyes were friendly, but firm, and Lance couldn't really avoid them in the tiny space of the bathroom. He and Chris hadn't always been close, but now that Justin and Chris had renewed their bond, Lance had been pulled in as well. "I just, I haven't been sleeping good since the tour started."
"Why not?" Chris asked, smoothing Lance's hair back. "What's wrong? Is it more nightmares?"
"Not exactly," Lance said, shrugging. "It's hard to explain. I just, I get so angry sometimes. I get so mad, not about what happened to me, but about Justin. I mean, he was just trying to help me, Chris. I know why things went bad with me and Howie, and why Howie, why he was so mad all the time. I understand that, but why did this have to happen to Justin? He just wanted to help me, and Nick, he, you know, why did he have to do that to Justin, Chris? Why?"
"I don't know, Lance," Chris answered. "I don't think any of us can answer that, and no answer is going to be worth it. No answer is going to take this away, not for Justin, and not for the rest of us, either."
"I know," Lance said, frowning. "I just, I think about it, about what happened, and I get so angry, and I want to, I, I think about hurting Nick. I think about just grabbing him, and hitting him, hitting him the way Howie hit me when he was mad. I think about, about holding Nick down, and just hitting him, over and over, and I don't want to think about that. I don't want to think about that, because it scares me, Chris. It scares me so much, because I don't ever want to be that way, ever. I don't want to let being angry consume me, and it's so hard not to, like you wouldn't believe. Every time Justin cries, or wakes up from a nightmare, I feel it, and I don't want to be that kind of a person."
Chris tried to understand, and to think of the right thing to say. He could understand being angry, because he felt it, too. Sometimes when he thought about Lance, being afraid in his own house for months, being hurt by Howie, someone they had all trusted, he thought about how good it would feel to slap Howie around. He felt the same way every time he saw Justin shy away from someone, or saw him afraid to do something he wouldn't have given a second thought to before, like getting changed in front of them, or going out to a club or a restaurant. As frustrated as he felt, though, he couldn't even imagine what it was like to be Lance, to feel that way, but also to have so many memories tied into it.
"What does your therapist say about that?" Chris asked, not wanting to disagree, and hoping the guy had some better advice than Chris did.
"He says that it's ok to be angry, and that it's understandable," Lance said, shaking his head. "But I'm afraid, Chris. I'm afraid that I'll be angry, and that I'll hurt someone. I'm afraid that I'll take it out on one of you without thinking about it. I know what that's like, Chris. I know what it feels like, and I don't want to do that to someone else, and I'm so scared that I will."
"But you'll never do that, Lance, never," Chris said, hugging him tightly. "You'll never do that because it's what you're afraid of, and it's not who you are. You'll never be like Howie, Lance."
"I know, but I'm still afraid I will," Lance said, squeezing Chris hard in the tiny bathroom. Chris worried that his lungs might collapse, but Lance needed him, so he just squeezed back. "And sometimes, in my dreams."
"I know, Lance, I know," Chris said, patting his back. "Listen, I want you to take a break tomorrow, ok?"
"What do you mean?" Lance asked, pulling back. They were all on break tomorrow, before the party tomorrow night.
"I'm taking Justin golfing in the morning," Chris began, and Lance nodded. Chris and Justin had golfed on every stop of the tour so far, and Justin looked forward to it now. Lance, however, didn't golf. "Rather than following us around in the cart with your book, I want you to take the day for yourself tomorrow, ok? Rest, watch TV, go shopping, or whatever. I want you to spend a day having some Lance time."
"But, but," Lance began, protesting, and Chris put a hand over his mouth.
"No buts, because where there's a butt, shit follows," Chris said seriously, and Lance blushed. "I mean it, Lance. I'll take care of Justin tomorrow, and you take care of yourself, ok?"
Lance thought about it for a second. In a way, Chris was right. Lance spent every minute, more or less, with Justin, unless one of them was in a therapy session. Maybe he did need a little break. Besides, Justin trusted Chris, and it would be good for him to venture out without Lance, too. He needed to start doing stuff like that again, if he was ready to.
"If it's ok with Justin," Lance said finally. Chris started to say something else, and Lance shook his head. "No, Chris, that's final. Justin and I don't lie to each other, and I'm not going to pretend to be sick or something. I'll ask him if he minds if I don't go, and if he's not ok with it, that's the end of it for now. He's my responsibility, Chris, and I won't shirk that."
"OK," Chris nodded. He wasn't going to argue the point with Lance, yet again, that Justin was all of their responsibility. They'd already been in the bathroom too long as it was. "Are we ok, Lance?"
"Yeah, we are," Lance said, smiling. "Thanks for watching out for me, and Justin."
"That's my job, kid," Chris said, reaching behind him to flush the toilet.
"What's that for?" Lance asked.
"Because we've been in here for five minutes," Chris said. "We need an excuse."
Lance followed Chris out of the bathroom, not quite understanding what he had in mind, but willing to play along. Justin was still seated in the aisle with Junior, happily engaged in tug of war with one of Junior's toy, both of them making absurd little growling noises, as if either of them could be threatening. Justin looked up at Lance cautiously as they stepped out, wondering what they'd been in the bathroom for so long for, but Lance smiled and shook his head to let Justin know it was nothing. As they passed the bunks, he heard Joey still on the phone, and felt a little surge of loss, thinking about how far apart he and Joey had drifted over the past few weeks, over this thing with Justin. No, Lance corrected himself, over Joey's stupid thing with Justin. It was Joey's stubborn pigheadedness and distrust keeping them apart right now, and Lance wasn't going to be the first one to break on that.
JC and Jack looked up as he and Chris walked into the back area. The two of them were sprawled across one of the couches, Jack leaning against JC while JC drowsily rested a head on Jack's shoulder, his hands curled possessively around Jack's chest, Jack's hands resting on top of them. Lance and Chris sat down on the other couch, and Jack smiled at them while JC nuzzled the side of his neck.
"What was going on in the bathroom?" Jack asked.
"My babymaker's so big I needed Lance to help me hold it," Chris said, beaming, as Lance's mouth dropped open. JC and Jack both snickered.
"Really?" Jack asked skeptically.
"Well, we did sort of almost see it that time," JC said, squeezing Jack tightly. "Remember, when he was cuffed to the bed? In those hotpants? The sequined ones?"
"Oh yeah," Jack said, nodding. "We gotta get you a pair of those, baby."
"You, too," JC said, laughing.
"Get a room," Chris grumbled, shaking his head.
"Bathroom's free," Jack said, giggling again. "Now that Lance is all done jerking you off."
"I was not!" Lance said, grinning, but blushing bright red at the same time.
"Lance was jerking off?" Joey asked, walking into the back. Lance stared at him a little frostily, but the others didn't seem to notice.
"Jerking off Chris," JC answered. "Chris told us he needed help."
"Probably because he's so old," Joey said, shrugging. "Poor Vlada."
"You all suck," Chris said, shaking his head.
"No, just those three," Joey said, pointing at Lance, Jack, and JC.
"Can we talk about something else, please?" Chris said, throwing his hands toward the ceiling. "Lance and I aren't ready to reveal our forbidden love right now."
"I thought you were straight," JC said, smirking at Chris. "When did you start trying boys?"
"Everyone else is doing it," Chris said nonchalantly, shrugging. He leaned over and kissed Lance on the cheek, and they all burst into laughter. Lance was laughing, too, but also blushing, and Chris immediately redirected, worried that he had crossed one of Lance's boundaries. "So, Jack, how was the speech thing?"
"It went pretty well," Jack answered, shrugging. "No big surprises, and I've never been to Indiana before, so it was kind of interesting. They took me out to eat at this brewing company, and I ordered you each a case of beer, by the way. They'll be at your houses when the tour's over."
The guys thanked him, Joey and Chris giving each other a high five, being the only real beer drinkers in the group. Jack kept bringing them all back little souvenirs, or ordering things for them when he was on the road, just to let them know he was thinking of them. Lance was willing to bet that there was also some sort of special gift for JC in Jack's suitcase somewhere, because the two of them were always doing that, too, although Lance couldn't think of what you'd bring someone from Indiana. It was such a nondescript state, not known for anything, really. Before Jack went onstage for any of his talks, there was always a bouquet of flowers or box of candy or something for him, which Lance knew from listening to JC set up all the deliveries on the phone in between events. Once Howie had been devoted to him like that, too, but that was a long time ago.
"I thought you weren't coming until tomorrow," Joey said, cocking his head to one side as he listened to Jack tell them about his trip.
"Chad screwed up my flight again," Jack sighed, frowning.
"Hey, is he ok?" Lance asked. Everyone looked at him. "I ran into him in the bathroom before, and I think he was crying."
As soon as he said it he realized what had happened, but it was too late. Everyone glanced at Jack, who was reddening and looking a little uncomfortable, and then they all looked away. Lance mouthed a quick "Sorry", at Jack, and Jack caught it, but he was a little more concerned with JC, who was looking at him with a firm, tense expression, than he was with Lance. There was an air of tension between the two of them, and Lance wondered if this was something they'd argued over before. Everyone rode in silence for a bit, except Justin, who was still growling at Junior, not paying any attention to the rest of them at all. Lance couldn't wait to get off of the bus, but at least Justin was comfortable.
To be continued.