My Surprise Romance

Hi y'all!!!!

Well, it's been a week--and I'm back with another installment of MSR...this installment is very long and while I'm not exactly happy with it, this is the best I can do =) But judging from the e-mails that I've received from the copy I've posted on my webpage, the response has been positive...so....tell me what you think of this part by sending me an e-mail at sweetheart_stories@hotmail.com. Feedback, good or bad, is always welcomed...always!

A big thank you to everyone who's written me over the past few days. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Plus, a big thank you to my usual crew of people...whom I'm way too lazy to name. All I'm saying is, you know who you are--and thank you for all of your support. I couldn't be writing this story without you...I love you all...MUAH

I'm not sure if I'm too late to say this, but please go and vote in the boy band awards if you still can. While I don't care if you vote for me or not (it would be nice, but hey--Colleen theory in effect here), it would be great if you showed your support for all of the authors who write these stories. Okay, I'm done here--stepping off my soapbox...

And finally...please go and visit my baby...my website...I put a lot of time in it, and while you might not be entertained...it's a good way to waste some time! So....here's the addy:

http://sweetheart.homepage.com

And lastly--did anyone see Lance on TRL on Thursday and Friday???? Lordy.... ::swooning:: Does he know the effect he has on people? Yeesh....

A big thank you to Cele for the pictures and the David and DC for the Mississippi info

DISCLAIMER: I don't know Lance. I don't know Lance's family. I don't know implying his sexuality in real life. I don't know *NSYNC. All I do know is that this story involves a m/m relationship and that you have to be 18/21 years old to read it...ahem, certain people out there whom I'm not going to name....and now.....

My Surprise Romance

The Better to Dream of You

Chapter 40

Going Home

Lance and I had decided to take a red-eye flight to Mississippi, instead of waiting for the sun to come up and leave the next morning. That way, we figured, there wouldn't be that many people milling around the airport who would notice that a member of `N Sync was taking a flight like so many of us civilians did everyday.

"Are you sure you're gonna be okay?" Lance asked uncertainly, as we boarded the first class section of the airplane. He had obviously noticed my death-white face, and the sheen of sweat that had broken out across my forehead. "I know how you hate airplanes."

"Very good," I answered evenly, as I attempted to take a couple of deep even breaths. After shoving our on-flight bags in the overhead compartment, Lance and I took our seats and sat there not saying a word. I attempted to push my airplane phobia aside by choosing to examine the on-flight reading materials that were in front of me. My gaze roamed across the numerous periodicals and a grin formed on my lips as a certain boy-band cover caught my eye. There was `N Sync, posing for the camera and laughing like they were having the time of their lives.

"Well, lookie lookie who's on the cover," I said in an observant singsong voice as I pulled the magazine out of the stack and showed it to Lance. "It's bad enough that I see one member all the time." I attempted to sound as exasperated as I could, but ruined it by allowing a peal of laughter escape from my lips.

"Give me that!" Lance exclaimed as he snatched the magazine out of my grasp. "How dare you make fun of these guys! They're musical geniuses!!" He hugged the magazine to his chest and stuck his lower lip out at me, before deciding to flip through the glossy pages.

"Hey, these are from the photo shoot during our last day in Los Angeles," Lance remarked, as he examined the layout pictures. "You wanna know how I can tell?"

"How?" I asked, as a few more people began to board the plane. Distracted, we watched the passengers take their seats for a couple of seconds before Lance looked back at me, flashing me a shy grin.

"Because of this," Lance said, pointing to a specific part of the picture. "Look." As I leaned in closer, my eyes made out my father's silver ID bracelet that encircled Lance's wrist. It was present in every photo.

"Aww, that's sweet," I sighed as I looked up at Lance. A faint blush fell over his cheeks as I smiled at him.

"I don't leave home without it," he quipped as he shook his wrist at me, causing the bracelet to rattle. I couldn't help but laugh. I'll tell you this much, Lance made a world of difference in my life. And then I suddenly felt the plane move. My relaxed body stiffened at the sudden movement and Lance looked at my reaction with worry.

"Stephen, are you gonna be okay?" he asked as he took hold of one of my shaking hands. Instead of being grateful at his sweet gesture, I shook it off, opting to grip the armrests of my chair instead. As I expected, a somewhat shocked look appeared on Lance's face.

"Lance...it's not that I don't want you to hold onto my hand," I managed to say in a low voice, so that no one would hear. "I just don't want anyone to see..." Even through my terror, I was still thinking about Lance's public image. He had done enough for me, and the last thing I needed was for him was to be found out by prying eyes just because I couldn't handle a simple airline flight.

Lance shook his head at me, and pried my hand from it's super glue grip on the armrest. "I. Don't. Care." He said shortly as he took my hand in his again, and gave me a smile. "You look like you're about to pass out...and you know I worry about you, Stephen." He gently squeezed my hand, like he had done so many other times, but this time it was different. I don't know what made it so different, but it was. I could tell.

His actions had a surprising effect on my shaky demeanor. Instantly, my heartbeat slowed down, my breathing returned to normal and my body stopped shaking a little. I swallowed a couple of times and then watched as the `fasten seat belt' sign clicked off.

I turned to Lance and gave him a relieved smile. "Thanks," I said a little sheepishly, as I undid the buckle around my waist. Lance stared at me for a moment, love clearly evident in his eyes as he watched me do this.

"Feel better?" he asked softly as he dropped his hand down to my thigh, and stroked it lightly through the material of my jeans with his thumb.

"Much. Thanks, Lance," I said and I couldn't help but grin at his touch. `Trust my boyfriend to make everything all better', I thought as I suddenly forgot that I was on an airplane. In public. I began to lean towards Lance, ready to place a kiss on his lips, when a voice shook me back to reality.

"Can I get you gentlemen anything?" The stewardess stood next to us, with her food and beverage cart in tow. She looked like one of those kewpie dolls, made up with loads of cosmetics and hair sprayed into such a helmet, I'm surprised that the ozone layer hadn't been destroyed that morning. Her perky, grating voice had shattered any romantic notions in my mind, as I jerked my head in her direction. I noticed her looking at the two of us strangely, as her eyes zeroed in on Lance's hand on my thigh.

"Uhh, is it possible for me to get a glass of water?" I asked, trying to distract her probing gaze. She nodded and began to busy herself with pouring my drink, while I quickly knocked Lance's hand off my leg and gave him a knowing look.

"Here you go sir," the stewardess said as she handed me my water. "Anything else? How about you sir?" she asked Lance with that same suspicious stare. Lance just shook his head at her as he folded his hands over his lap, and stared straight ahead until she wheeled her cart off to the next group of people.

"Whew, that was close," I whispered once she was out of earshot. "You have to learn to control yourself in public, Mr. Bass."

"Me?!!?" Lance exclaimed, pointing to his chest. His voice dropped a couple of notches to speak the next words. "Hey, I'm not the one who was about to give me a kiss! Not that I'm complaining," he added with a mischievous grin.

"Mmmmm, I guess you have a point there." As I took a sip of my water, the talkative person next to me suddenly grew silent. I looked at Lance, only to find him staring out the airplane window. He was nervously drumming his fingers on his kneecap, and humming softly under his breath.

"Lance...you okay?" I asked softly, as he turned his head back in my direction. To my surprise, the happy-go-lucky expression that had been present on Lance's face only seconds ago, was now replaced with an uneasy one. He hesitated speaking for a few seconds, but he didn't even need to say a word. I knew Lance well enough to know that he was worried about going home.

"Umm, yeah...I guess," he stammered, unable to completely lie. "Aww, who the hell am I kidding, Stephen?" He looked disgusted with himself. "I'm scared shitless to go home. I don't want to...I mean, I know I have to, but I'm just scared how the rest of my family will take it."

"So don't tell them," I said a bit recklessly, making it sound like I didn't care. Lance looked at me with surprised green eyes and I quickly corrected myself. "What I mean is, you have to be comfortable with telling them. I didn't mean to sound so careless...I just don't want you to think that I'm pressuring you into doing this just so you can get your family to help me out."

Lance shook his head firmly, and let out a sigh. "No, Stephen..I was the one who offered to help you out. You're not pressuring me at all, it's just that I'm unsure how my dad will be when I tell him. I was surprised that my mother took it so well...I was positive that she was going to tell me I was gonna burn in hell, you know?"

"Or act like my mom?" I offered gently, causing Lance to look up at me, with slightly glassy eyes. He nodded in agreement.

"Yup--and now after what I saw you go through--well, I'm petrified," Lance lamented, looking down at his hands. "I love my parents--I love my dad...I don't know, I'm so confused..." He shook his head a couple of times and then turned back to the window. I felt terrible. Lance was so despondent...so unlike his normal self, that it hurt to even look at him. I had no clue to how I could help him. I wanted to tell Lance that everything was gonna be okay...that there was nothing to worry about, but I didn't want to lie to him. But sometimes...I knew you just needed to hear those words, even if they are lies. `You just need to hear them', I thought as the overhead lights began to dim around us so that the on-flight movie could start.

"Lance," I spoke up softly, reaching for his hand. He turned to look at me once more, except that this time, a couple of tears were running down his face. He was scared. And while I couldn't say I knew exactly how he felt, I think I had a pretty good approximation. My heart broke in two as I looked at him. "It's gonna be okay. I promise." My fingers closed around his hand as I held it, hoping that he knew how much I wanted to wrap my arms around him at that moment.

A smile crossed his lips and I knew that Lance understood. "Thanks, Stephen," he whispered. "I love you." I bit my lip, to hold back the emotion that I felt. I wasn't sure what was coursing through me then...love, anger, happiness...everything...so I just answered Lance with the only words I felt fit at that moment.

"I love you too."

The plane landed without much difficulty (Thank God), and I managed to resume a calm exterior as Lance and I got up from our seats and removed our bags from the overhead compartment. To the observer, I looked relaxed and composed, as if I didn't have a care in the world. But on the inside I was shaking worse than a bowl of jello being poked by third graders at lunchtime. And if you thought that that was nervous, you didn't see Lance. His face was paler than it usually was as we shuffled slowly out of the plane and down the terminal. We didn't speak to each other, instead opting to walk in wordless silence, as though Lance and I sunk into a dimension where only we existed. The other passengers that walked around us seemed nonexistent, separated from our reality. They were happy, while in comparison Lance and I, looked as though we were being led to our deaths.

I looked over at Lance once more, knowing that these few minutes would be our last moments alone, before we would be constantly surrounded by his family.

"Lance," I said, suddenly stopping in my tracks as this thought came over me. My boyfriend halted when he heard me speak, and turned to face me.

"What?" Lance asked a bit irritably as the expression on his face grew more and more nervous with each second that ticked by. His hands clutched the handles of his bags so tightly, his knuckles were turning white. He shuffled his feet a couple of times, not able to stand still. "Stephen, what?" Lance's voice was curt with impending tension as he just stared at me with a moody expression on his face. I stepped closer to him, face to face, so that the next words that I would speak would only be between us.

"Lance...remember, no matter what happens with your family, I still love you." I paused. Truthful words were hard to say, no matter how many times I had said them, I thought to myself before continuing. "You've become my best friend...and I can't imagine my life without you in it," I spoke somewhat bashfully. "Thank you for everything you've done for me so far."

A radiant look crossed Lance's face, as my words hit the air that hung between us. "Thank you Stephen," he remarked, his eyes sparkling with emotion. And with that, he grabbed me in a hug, not caring who was around to see. It felt good to feel his arms around me...I felt stronger whenever he touched me and I wondered if it felt like that for him whenever I held him. When I pulled back from his embrace, the look on his face answered my question for me. And I knew why. We needed to do that. We needed to hold on to each other because at that moment, Lance and I were the only two people in the world who truly understood each other.

"I'm so glad I found you, Stephen," Lance whispered as we stared at each other. His green eyes gazed into mine and I swore that like so many times before, Lance could see directly into my soul. Tearing his eyes away from mine, Lance looked around us and let out a small laugh. We had become so lost in each other, we never noticed that the terminal had cleared out quite some time ago, and that we were the only two left in there. A happy smile appeared on Lance's face as he leaned over and planted a soft kiss on my lips.

"I'm feeling a little better now, Stephen," Lance murmured after we parted, his eyes downcast for a moment. The happy smile faded and he forced himself to give me a halfhearted one, despite the worry that was still evident in his eyes. "Come on, we have to go meet my mom." Lance muttered abruptly, the smile completely disappearing from his lips. He turned away from me and began his decent towards the inside of the airport. I watched his retreating figure for a few seconds and heaved a sigh. I knew that there was going to be problems. I would be an idiot not to think that there wouldn't be. I wasn't that naive. Look at my life....

I followed Lance out into the waiting section of the airport and immediately saw his mother standing there in the middle of an empty section, looking more than a little nervous. But once she saw Lance, a huge smile broke out on her face and she began waving her arms like a maniac.

"Lance!" she exclaimed happily as he rushed over and wrapped his arms around his mother. "I've missed you so much!" They held each other for a few seconds, while I stood back, watching Lance and his mother reunite. And as I watched them, a wave of admitted jealously swept over me, right before a fresh wave of shame followed it. I shouldn't have felt that way, yet seeing Diane accept Lance with open arms, only forced my mind to recall the horrible way that my own mother treated me. Coercing myself to pay attention to Lance, my mind snapped out my miserable thoughts. He had stepped away from his mother as Diane turned to face me, smiling as she stepped towards me.

"Hello again, Stephen," Diane welcomed me warmly, her arms outstretched as she wrapped my body in a hug. Shock coursed throughout me briefly, before I relaxed and placed my arms gingerly around her.

"Hello, Mrs. Bass," I greeted her politely before she pulled away from me.

"Remember, Diane," she reminded me with a smile, while giving me a somewhat critical once over. Her eyes landed on my still-bandaged hand. "Oh my, what happened there?" I noticed that her voice was filled with that somewhat heavy southern accent, as she lifted my hand and examined it. I cringed at the question she had asked, and felt my face turn hot with embarrassment. What was I going to say? `Well, Diane...I got really angry one night and nearly punched your son in the face'? I thought fast.

"I cut myself," I said somewhat lamely, pulling my hand away from her grasp. My eyes quickly shifted to where Lance was standing, where he acknowledged my lie with a wan smile. "How have you been, Diane?" I asked, ready to change the subject.

Diane's eyes opened up somewhat larger than normal and my question seemed to have floored her. Even Lance noticed his mother's odd reaction and gave her a quizzical look while she answered me. "I've been doing well, Stephen--thanks for asking." (I would learn later on from Lance, that I had impressed Diane by taking the time to ask how she was. According to Lance, none of his old girlfriends had ever asked his mother things like that, so I assumed that my question had scored major brownie points with her) "In fact, I've--"

"Should we get our luggage?" Lance suddenly broke in abruptly from where he was standing. Diane looked at her son, a bit boggled by his rude behavior. Not wanting to start a fight, I nodded wordlessly and began walking in the direction of where the luggage pick up was. Diane and Lance walked in back of me, and I could hear her firing questions at him in a low voice--so I wouldn't hear, I guess.

"Lance...why did you want to come home on such short notice....not that I mind one bit, but why? And Stephen..." I heard her trail off, as I slowed my pace and dropped into step with them. When I looked over, I saw Lance staring at his mother with an even gaze as we came to the luggage pick up area. Not answering Diane, Lance just stood there, waiting for our suitcases to rotate past us. Once they came through and we had them, Lance turned back to his mother and let out a long, sad sigh.

"Mom...there's a lot I have to tell you....is dad home?" he asked. I noticed that his voice began to shake once he spoke the word, `dad'. Lance gripped the handle of his suitcase tighter as he waited for his mother's answer. Maternal instincts kicking in, Diane immediately noticed the melancholy look on her son's face.

"Lance, what's wrong? Tell me, please...I'm your mother, you can tell me anything..." she begged him, worry breaking out on every inch of her face. "You sounded so strange on the phone when you called me this afternoon..." Lance sighed again and ran a hand through his short hair, not knowing what to do with his fidgety hands.

"Mom..I'll tell you in the car, okay?" Lance asked her and she nodded, knowing that she would have to be satisfied with that answer. Diane would have to be, because for the remainder of the time we spent in the airport, Lance remained silent. He kept his lips pressed together in a thin line, and tried to keep his poker face, although I could see the worry growing in his eyes as the minutes flew by.

I looked at my watch. It was late--a little past two a.m.--and once we walked out into the airport parking lot, the hot, muggy night air that blanketed Mississippi, hit me full force. It was like a slap in the face and I fought to pull up my breath causing Diane to notice my reaction to the weather.

"It's very hot down here, Stephen," she explained, with a kind smile on her lips. "Where are you from again? I don't recall you saying where you were from." I blinked in surprise at how interested Diane managed to sound. She was really nice, I thought wistfully, as I continued to push thoughts of my deceased mother out of my mind.

"New York--a little town called Ridgemont," I told Diane as she led us to a forest green colored car that was parked under a bright parking lot light. "It's a couple of hours from Rochester."

"So you're probably used to cooler weather in the summer, right?" Diane asked, as she fished a set of car keys from her purse. She looked at me, waiting for an answer while she unlocked the trunk for Lance and I to throw our suitcases into. I briefly looked over at Lance, and noticed that he was staring off into space, not caring one bit about the conversation that I was having with his mother. As I turned back to answer Diane's question, I noticed that she was intently watching her son place his suitcase in the trunk.

"A little," I admitted. "The summers are kinda brutal...but I'm not sure if they're any match for here. I'm not sure I can handle Mississippi weather." I placed my suitcase on top of Lance's, and turned to find him watching our conversation with interest. Diane laughed as she slammed the trunk shut and walked over to unlock the passenger side doors for us. I crawled into the backseat, while Lance took the front seat. Once we were alone, Lance twisted himself around to talk to me.

"She likes you Stephen," he said as he managed to muster up a grin. "She's never made small talk with any of my old girlfriends before."

"Maybe it's because I'm not a girl," I quipped as Diane unlocked her door and slid into the car. Lance immediately turned back around in his seat, facing forward and the car grew silent. Diane slammed her door shut and then pressed a button on the ceiling of the car, flooding the dark space with light. I blinked a couple of times, my eyes unaccustomed to the sudden brightness, as Diane turned to face her son.

"Okay, Lance...spill it," she said a bit curtly. "What is the matter with you? I want to know and we're not leaving this parking lot until you tell me." Needless to say, I wasn't the only one stunned by the sudden change in Diane's demeanor. She had gone from happy to serious in a matter of minutes. Suddenly it dawned on me that Lance's mother wasn't all sweetness and light--not when it came to her son, anyways. She stared at him with a mixture of anger and concern. Meeting her eyes, Lance raised his head like a little boy about to be reprimanded and then instantly broke down.

"Oh honey," Diane said, her face turning pale at Lance's sudden outburst. "I didn't mean to sound so angry...I'm just so worried about you...what's wrong?" Lance looked up at her and quickly wiped the tears away, embarrassed by his sudden display of emotions. He turned his head to look at me briefly, before turning back to face his mother.

"Mom...it's has to do with Stephen..." Diane looked at me then, confusion appearing on her face, but Lance rushed on before she could ask any questions. "See, Stephen's mom...his mom..." Lance stammered, not able to get the words out. It wasn't up to Lance to tell her, I thought as I broke into the conversation.

"My mother killed herself, " I blurted out from my place in the back, not wanting to watch Lance struggle anymore. Diane turned to me, a look of horror and shock on her pretty face. I bet that wasn't something that she expected to hear.

"She what?!" Diane exclaimed, placing a hand to her mouth. "Oh, Stephen..I'm so sorry to hear that..." She shook her head at me, rendered speechless by my announcement. "I don't know what to say.."

"Nothing," I answered, a grim smile forming on my lips. "It's not your fault at all, so please don't apologize. Lance...do you want me to tell her?" He shook his head at me, as he reached for a box of tissues that sat on the dashboard and took one from the box.

"No...it was my idea," Lance said as he blew his nose. "My idea..I'll tell her."

"What?" Diane asked, clearly confused at the conversation we were having. "Lance, just tell me already."

He looked at his mother. "Mom...Stephen's mom wrote him out of the will...she left him penniless and possibly homeless. He can challenge the will, but he has no money. So it was my idea to come home--I came up with this idea...I thought that maybe Uncle Jeff could help Stephen out by looking over the will for him...for free." Once Lance finished his little speech, he took a much needed breath and then turned back to me and smiled weakly before turning back to his mother, waiting for an answer.

Diane sat there in silence, not sure what to exactly say. A funny look crossed her face, and she looked as though she was about to say something. She paused thoughtfully for a couple of seconds and then finally spoke.

"Lance...you know if you want your Uncle to help you out, you're going to have to tell him and your father. And Stacey." Lance's face went pale at the mention of his family, and he began to tremble slightly as his mother continued on. "Lance...do you know how keeping your secret has been on me?" Diane asked wearily as she briefly closed her eyes.

Lance stared at his mother. "What do you mean?" he asked her carefully, not wanting to aggravate her in anyway. She just sighed, shaking her head wearily.

"Lance...I think your father knows that I'm keeping something from him...he's been asking me questions since I came back from Los Angeles when you fell..and to be honest with you, I don't know what to tell him. I've never kept a secret from Jim in my entire life, except for this. And it's killing me."

"Mom...I'm sorry," Lance began to apologize, but Diane cut him off with a wave of her hand, determined to speak her two cents.

"No, Lance...please don't apologize. I understand that you want to tell your father on your own terms, but you know that you have to tell him sometime. I just want to make that clear with you." Diane paused again. "And you'll have to explain what Stephen is doing here--I'm not sure if Jim will understand. And you know that Uncle Jeff might not either..." Her last words trailed off, and Lance and I both got the message she was sending--`He might not want to help you once he finds out.' I knew what she meant. Lance knew what she meant. We weren't stupid. There was a good chance that Lance's announcement could alienate him from the rest of his family. And there was a good possibility of that happening--which also meant that I could kiss any chance of his family helping me out, good-bye.

"I know, mom," Lance nodded, his voice serious. "But I want to tell dad...I...I can't keep the fact that I'm...gay..." he spoke haltingly as he watched his mother flinch slightly at the word. "...from dad and Stace and everyone forever, right?"

"Right," Diane agreed with a somewhat tight smile, as she stuck the keys in the ignition. "I don't know when you're going to tell your father, Lance, but I hope it's soon." Diane started up the car and pulled the transmission into drive. I sat there, in the backseat, suddenly feeling as though I wasn't part of this anymore--I felt like I was watching some sort of film--one of Diane and Lance...

"Mom?" Lance spoke up, as Diane began driving the car out of the airport parking lot. "What do you think dad will say?" His voice had come out quiet and soft, the same way that the voice of a scared child would.

Diane was silent for a few seconds, as she concentrated on the traffic in front of her. A couple of seconds passed by as she drove down the road, stopping at a light, before turning onto the thruway. Finally, she answered her son.

"Lance...I don't know," Diane said a bit ominously, not taking her eyes off the road in front of her. And then the car grew eerily quiet, except for the hum of the engine and the tires on the road.

We had arrived at the Bass residence a little while later. I was tired, but the knots bunching up in my stomach were tight enough to keep me up the entire car ride. Lance spent the duration of the ride, nibbling on what was left of his fingernails and staring out the window. I watched as the landscape around me went from city to a more rural setting. As the town flashed by, I noticed kudzu growing everywhere. It really was a small town--different from my hometown as well as all of the cities that I had visited when I was on tour with `N Sync. And then I could understand why Lance was freaking out. The ideals of this small town weren't as open as the big cities we had experienced. There was a completely different state of mind here. And maybe that's why Lance's face once again paled as Diane pulled into the driveway and parked the car. We were home now--there was no escaping what was soon to be the inevitable. Diane turned back to Lance as she unbuckled her seat belt.

"Good to be back home?" she asked her son as she tried to keep her voice upbeat. Lance nodded wordlessly and busied himself by unbuckling his seat belt as well.

Diane got out of the car and slammed her door, making her way to the trunk leaving Lance and I alone. I could hear him muttering unintelligible words under his breath as we were about to get out of the car.

"You okay, Lance?" I asked from my place in the back, observing my boyfriend's distress.

"Fine," he muttered as he swung open his door. "I'm just peachy."

"Cut the sarcasm," I shot back, feeling a bit grumpy myself. The words had come out a bit harsher than I had intended. I was worried and tired--not a good combination. And then I looked at Lance. He was staring at me, a bit rattled by the sharpness of my voice. And I felt terrible. I hadn't meant to be nasty towards him...I loved him. I was just a bit high-strung. I had learned to prepare myself for the worst--and this was no exception. From Diane's tentative behavior in the car before, to the fact that we were only a couple of feet from Lance's father, Lance and I were both a bit edgy. And then I realized that I just wanted to hug my boyfriend right then and there. And if Diane weren't standing in back of the car, taking out our suitcases, I would have. `Like that would make everything better', I thought bitterly as I pulled myself out of the backseat of the car, walked over to Diane and took my suitcases from her.

"Thank you," I said, as she handed mine to me. She gave me a brief smile, and I could tell from that smile alone that she didn't hate me. She wasn't exactly crazy about the fact that I was her son's boyfriend, but she liked me and respected me and to tell you the truth, that alone was good enough for me.

"You're welcome," Diane returned as Lance walked over and took his suitcase from her. He began walking up the sidewalk that led to the house and Diane and I followed him. Just then the front door swung open and a blonde haired man, (who I should add here, looked an awful lot like Lance) stood there with a big grin on his face.

"James! Welcome back home, son! It's about time!" Lance's father greeted him. Lance walked up the steps, grinning despite the internal feelings that was still lurking around inside of him.

"Hey dad," Lance said, as he walked into the house and dropped his suitcase. "I'm back--for only a couple of days--but I'm back." He looked around, a genuine grin on his face, as he examined the hallway around him. "Just like I remember--it really feels good to be home again."

Diane and I followed Lance into the house and I watched as Diane greeted her husband with a kiss. "Hi...I'm back," she told Jim, as she strode into the living room, dropping her purse on the couch. She disappeared into the kitchen, while I continued to stand there in the hallway, feeling like a complete oddball. I had no idea what to do or say until Lance's father glanced briefly at me before doing a double take.

"Who are you?" he asked suspiciously, staring at me with a look of surprise on his face. I felt my face turn the color of a strawberry, and I attempted to stammer out some kind of answer, before Lance (Thank God for Lance) saved me.

"Dad...this is Stephen Peterson...he worked on the tour with us and we became pretty good friends," Lance explained, his cheeks turning slightly pink once the word friends' left his mouth. Oh, we were friends', I thought trying not to smirk. `Really, really good friends who happened to sleep together.' I couldn't help thinking this. I have a knack for thinking inappropriate things at inappropriate moments sometimes and this was definitely one of them. "I thought he'd want to come down here for a visit," Lance finished up, sounding a bit defensive.

"Oh," Lance's father said shortly as his surprised expression began to fade. I guess Lance's explanation sounded plausible enough, because he walked over to me and shook my hand.

"Good to meet you Stephen..." he trailed off as he peered closely at me. "You look familiar...ah, I know where I saw you before." He snapped his fingers. "You were the person next to Lance when he fell on stage in Los Angeles. I remember seeing that in the paper."

I nodded, letting a slight sigh of relief escape my lips. "Yes...I accompanied Lance to the hospital. I met your wife there," I told him, nodding my head towards Diane, who had briefly reappeared in the living room once she heard her husband talking. She watched her husband and I interact closely, before walking back into the kitchen. "It's nice meeting you, sir."

"Sir?" he looked bemused at my formal greeting. "You can call me Jim, if you'd like. No formalities needed here." With that, he turned back to his son, and smiled at him. "Stacey is coming by tomorrow--she really wants to see you, James. Misses you."

"Oh, yeah?" Lance asked, trying to hide the nervousness in his voice. "That's good. Haven't seen Stace in awhile...hey dad, I really want to get to bed. I'm really exhausted...I've been up since seven this morning."

"Yeah? Doing what? I thought that since you got off the tour, you'd be sleeping in everyday," Jim quipped, a laugh punctuating his words. But Lance ignored his question, grabbing his suitcase as he began to walk up the staircase that led to the second floor. My boyfriend stopped midway, turning himself back to look at me.

"Stephen? Where you gonna sleep tonight?" Lance called out. I could tell by the soft expression present in his eyes that he wanted me to sleep with him, but we both knew that idea was completely out of the question. Hearing Lance's question, Diane reemerged from the kitchen and looked at her son standing on the stairs.

"Lance--I fixed up the guest room next to yours for Stephen," Diane called up to him. "So if you want to show him it and get him settled in..." Her words trailed off uncomfortably, and judging from the expression on her face, I assumed that the image of her little boy sleeping with another man had entered her mind. She turned away from the living room abruptly and walked into the kitchen once more. Jim watched his wife and then looked at Lance, puzzled by his entire family's strange behavior.

Clearing his throat to get my attention, Lance jerked his head, indicating me to follow him. Picking up my suitcase, I followed Lance's lead, noticing how silent we were as we made our way towards the guest bedroom. Once we reached it, Lance flipped on the light and looked at me.

"Here's the guest room," he said, as we walked into the simple, yet elegantly decorated bedroom. I walked over to the bed, placed my suitcase on top of it and looked back over at my boyfriend, who had relaxed a little once we were alone. "Hope you like it--even though you'll be sleeping alone tonight," he added mischievously.

I rolled my eyes at his comment. "Lance...how can you even think of that now?" I asked in wonder as I sat down on the neatly made bed.

"I don't know," he sighed, shaking his head. "I'm completely freaking out on the inside you know....but on the bright side, both of my parents seem to like you--a lot." A grin replaced the downcast look on his face and I couldn't help returning it with one of my own.

"Yeah..." I trailed off, not sure what to say. All I could think of was, `Yeah, Lance's father likes me now...but will he when Lance tells him?' But I chose to keep those thoughts to myself and opted to change the subject. "So...how come you never told me to call you James?"

Lance stood there, pondering the question for a brief second, before shrugging his shoulders at me. "I don't know...it just never seemed to fit..." Lance flopped on the bed next to me as his words trailed off. "You know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I know...but if you want me to start calling you that, I will," I told him seriously. Lance shook his head, and made a face like he had tasted something horrible.

"No! I like when you call me Lance..." he said shyly, running his fingers along my thigh. "It sounds nice when it comes from your mouth." He gave me another shaky smile and then leaned towards me, placing a quick kiss on my lips. I responded to it, but pulled away as quickly as his lips touched mine. It would have been way too easy to fall into the moment, and as much as I would have liked to, I was scared.

"You okay?" Lance asked, a bit puzzled by my reaction to his kiss.

"I'm fine," I answered him, surprised by the sound of my heart beating in my eardrums. "It's just that...I'm not comfortable doing this in your parents house...does that make sense? It just feels..." I tried to find the word that I was looking for, "...wrong."

Lance answered me with a smirk and just as he was about to answer me, we both heard the sound of footsteps walking up the staircase. Lance and I looked at each other somewhat horrified, not wanting to be caught in the middle of any suspicious looking behavior. Lance jumped off the bed as though it were on fire, as he backed himself a few feet away from me.

"Well, I hope you have a good night's sleep Stephen," Lance said loudly as Jim emerged in the doorway just then. Lance gave me a parting smile, turned towards the door and nearly flew straight into the air when he saw his father standing in front of him. "Hi dad," Lance managed to croak out.

"Hey James...Stephen," he said, acknowledging my presence before turning back to his son. "You wouldn't happen to know why your mother is acting a little strange, would you?" Under his father's scrutinizing gaze, a blush began to creep up the side of Lance's neck. He knew why his mother was acting odd, but he certainly wasn't going to tell his father why. Not now anyway.

"Nope--maybe she's tired," Lance offered as helpfully as he could, trying to regain some of his lost composure. "You know how mom gets when she doesn't get enough sleep."

Jim nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe..I don't know...she's been acting odd ever since she came back from L.A." Jim shifted his gaze to me and I froze for a second. I was positive that he somehow knew...maybe he could read between the lines, I thought with panic. But as quickly as I thought this, Jim switched his gaze back to Lance.

"Well...I don't know. I'll ask her about it in the morning--I took the day off from work, you know. I'm going to bed in a little while," Jim said, brushing his worry off as he turned away from Lance and I. "Good night, guys--and Stephen?"

I looked up at Lance's father in surprise. "Yes?"

"It was nice meeting you," he said, with a short nod of his head. "See you guys tomorrow morning." And with that, Jim was gone, disappearing down the staircase once more. Lance and I remained quiet for a few seconds. And then Lance walked out of the room, over to the staircase and checked to make sure that his father was back downstairs and out of earshot, before he walked towards me.

"Great--he's gonna be around all day tomorrow," Lance muttered under his breath, taking a seat next to me once more.

"Yup....so...are you gonna tell him then?" I asked Lance hesitantly. I didn't want him to think that I was pressuring him into spilling his secret, but I wanted..no, I needed to know. Not because I wanted Lance to ask his uncle about me, if that's was what you were wondering. No, my main concern was all of the lying that was going on around me. Diane was lying to her husband, Lance was lying to his father, I was lying to Jim. Lying made me feel extremely uncomfortable. I had firsthand knowledge of how lying could destroy relationships and break barriers of trust.

Lance looked at me in surprise. I guess he hadn't expected my question to be so straightforward, but I had been and I hoped that Lance would answer me honestly.

"Yeah..." he said slowly, as though it was the first time he had thought of it. "Stephen...I have to... I don't want to hide you from him anymore. You mean the world to me...." Lance flashed me a crooked grin. "I know it sounds corny, but you do...you've changed my life so much, and I want my dad to know that." He leaned over and placed another kiss on my cheek.

I wanted to say something badly to Lance...the words were fighting to leave my mouth. I wanted to say, "How sweet" or "Aww, thank you" Something. But I couldn't. I just wanted to sit there and just stare at his handsome face. Stare into his magnificent green eyes. I wanted to hold him all night. No words could express what I was feeling at that moment...nothing.

Lance must have sensed this, because all he did next was take my hand in his. He slowly began to stroke my fingers over and over as he continued on with his little speech. "And if everything goes okay, and I'm praying to God that it will," he said with a clear look of worry in his eyes. "Then I want to talk to my uncle, so that he can help you out."

My mind began to shift again and the voice in the back of my head started to speak up once more. I tried to fight it, but it wouldn't shut the hell up. And so I gave in, and asked Lance the question that had been burning into my mind for the past few hours or so.

"Lance...if all this stuff wouldn't have happened--with the will and all--would you have brought me here?" Lance tipped his head sideways, a bit puzzled by my question. I cleared my throat and decided to ask him, flat out. I needed to know his answer. "Would you have planned to out yourself to your father even if nothing had happened with my mother? I mean so soon after the tour ended? Or would you have waited a little longer?"

Lance didn't flinch at my question, not even for a second. Instead, he looked straight into my eyes, reached up and began to run his thumb down the side of my face. "Stephen," he said softly, "The answer to your question is `yes'. There's no doubt in my mind that I would have dragged you down here and told my father that I was in love with you. I've wanted to tell him for ages. I would have told him in that hotel room that one night, but I just couldn't do it over the phone." He smiled at me. "It might not be that easy to say to him, but it's the truth. And I'm willing to face the consequences of what I tell him."

"Really?" I asked timidly, a spot in my heart touched by his words. Lance nodded and gently kissed my fingertips.

"Yes. I told you, I love you. I'm so proud of you and I want my parents to know what a wonderful person you are," Lance murmured before leaning over and kissing me softly. This time, I didn't pull away. We deserved this little bit of down time together, I thought happily, as I felt Lance's hand circle around the back of my neck, pulling me closer to him. His tongue slowly snaked in between my slightly parted lips, and began to gingerly search my mouth, until I felt the tips of our tongues meet. A small moan escaped my lips, as Lance's hand began to run down the side of my neck...who knows how far Lance and I would have taken our kissing...

"Ahem." The short, displeased sound of someone clearing their throat was more than enough to shake me back to reality. I nearly snapped my neck as I pulled my mouth away from Lance's, just in time to see Diane watching us from her spot in the doorway. This was the second time she had caught us making out, and personally, I think this time was worst than the one in the hospital. A look of obvious discomfort was written all over Diane's face, as she stood there, arms folded across her chest, as her eyes averted the situation in front of her by peering at a spot on the ceiling.

But to our surprise, Diane was pretty cool about catching us. She didn't go berserk. She didn't start crying. She didn't start screaming. All she did was give the two of us a somewhat sickly smile, once she could meet our embarrassed, mortified gazes.

"I just wanted to tell you that I was going to bed. I wanted to say good night," Diane said softly, as she eyed Lance and I sitting on the bed together. As I watched the movement of her eyes, I could tell that they were drawn to the sight of our hands entwined together and just as Lance was about to let go, Diane held up one of her hands, stopping him. "Lance, don't. Not on the account of me." I could tell that the scene in front of her was hard to digest--in her eyes, it was still wrong, disturbing...but she was open-minded enough to accept us.

I looked back over at Lance to see a smile of relief form on his lips. "Thanks, mom," he said gratefully, as his fingers wrapped a little snugger around mine.

"I just stopped in to say goodnight," Diane repeated a bit awkwardly. "And honey, your father is coming upstairs in a few seconds." She gave us one last uncomfortable smile for the night. "Good night, Stephen. Good seeing you again. Good night, Lance." And with that, she turned and left, walking away from us and towards her bedroom.

Lance and I sat there for a few seconds, bathed in embarrassed silence. We had been careless, caught by one of his parents--and thankfully, the one who knew about us. Lance finally looked back at me with a sheepish look on his face..

"It was a nice kiss," he said with a laugh. "Before we were interrupted..." Lance let go of my hand, pulled himself off the bed and began to walk towards the door. "I should get to my room before anything else happens here."

I nodded in agreement, even though I didn't want him to leave. "I know...anyways, I'm sure gonna miss you," I sighed, allowing my eyes to widen into a puppy dog look.

"That's my look your stealing there, Stephen," Lance remarked, rolling his eyes good naturedly. He stared at me for a couple of seconds, before speaking again. "I'm gonna miss you too, Stephen..especially when I know that you're only a room away..."

An idea popped into my mind as he said this. "Wait," I ordered Lance, holding my finger up. I turned to my suitcase, unzipped it and began to rummage through the mess inside of it. I found my journal and flipped through the pages until I found what I was looking for. "Here," I said to Lance, as I got off the bed. "Keep this next to you. That way I'll be watching your every move." I handed him the photograph that Britney had taken of us in Los Angeles.

His green eyes lit up as they skimmed the picture over. "Thanks, Stephen," he said with a smile. "You'll be the last thing I see when I go to sleep and the first thing I see when I wake up." He reached out to touch my cheek once more, a bit of sadness in his eyes as he stared at me.

"Yeah, it'll be like a nightmare," I deadpanned, causing Lance to let out a genuine laugh for the first time that night.

"You..." Lance trailed off as he shook his head at me. He looked over his shoulder once more to make sure that no one was watching us, leaned over and placed a quick kiss on my lips. "Good night, Stephen...sleep well..."

"Night, Lance...see you tomorrow," I managed to breathe before he turned around and headed for his room. Standing in my doorway, I watched Lance walk to his door and open it up. But before he disappeared into the room, he turned back to me, a sleepy grin on his face as he blew me a kiss. I smiled, blew one back and then closed my door, opting to keep that memory of my boyfriend fresh in my head.

Chapter 41

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

The mind works in mysterious ways. That night, as I attempted to sleep, I could have sworn that Lance's arms were wrapped around me. I felt them. Encircling my body, holding me close to him. But when I would wake up, I'd look around and see no one lying in the bed, except for me. I had waken up around thirty times that night. Sometimes I would wake up because thoughts of my mother would be nagging me. Or I would lie there and think of Lance. And sometimes, I just couldn't breathe, thanks to the hot, muggy Mississippi night air that floated through the open windows.

I tossed and turned in my bed, finally falling asleep around five-thirty, just as the sun began climbing over the horizon. It figures, I thought as my heavy eyelids began to shut the world out around me. It seemed like only minutes had passed when my bladder suddenly woke me up, begging for me to go to the bathroom.

No. I won't go,' I thought to myself. I just fell asleep.'

Oh, so you want to pee in the Bass's guest bed? Smooth move there, Peterson,' another voice shot back. Go right ahead and see how much they'll like you then. Try it--I dare you.'

Shut up,' the other voice volleyed back. Just shut up.'

It was like that episode of The Simpsons. Where Bart has to go to the bathroom, and in his dream, they start shouting, "Go Go Go--P P P!!!" That's what the voice in my head started chanting, only worsening the cramps that were forming in my lower abdomen. I knew when I was beaten. Grumbling, I sat up, swung my legs over the side of the bed and began the somewhat painful walk to the bathroom.

As I walked into the hall, I noticed that Lance's bedroom door was still closed. Inwardly, it killed me to know that the man I loved was only a couple of feet away from me. I shrugged that unpleasant feeling off and walked into the bathroom (I had noticed it as Lance and I walked up the stairs last night), did my business and walked back out. As I headed back to my room, I heard voices floating up the staircase...somewhat angry voices of a man and a woman...

"...I still don't understand why James would bring that guy home with him. It doesn't make sense...Diane...is there something going on that you're not telling me?"

I stood there as my mind began to move into gear. It was Lance's father, no doubt. And they were talking about us. I continued to stand there, waiting for Diane's answer.

"Jim...I told you...nothing is wrong...okay? Just leave me alone. Please? Lance just wanted to bring a friend home with him, that's all."

"Diane, it's not like James. I talked to him one night when he was on tour, and he sounded strange."

"That's because you were grilling the poor boy about his love life. You were relentless, Jim. You were giving him the third degree," Diane shot back, her voice growing more intense with every word.

"Can't a father ask his only son about the women he's dating? I have a right to know! He's my son too, Diane. Just because you used to go on tour with him, doesn't mean that you're the only one who has access to his life. I'm his father--"

"Jim, he's twenty-one years old! Just leave Lance alone already! Please, ever since I've come back from L.A, you've never let the subject drop!"

Feeling horribly guilty at eavesdropping on their conversation, I slowly began to creep back to my room. But not before hearing a voice from in back of me.

"And where do you think you're going, Mr. Peterson? Hmmm?" Recognizing Lance's voice, I spun around and smiled at him, not able to control the happiness that was breaking through on my face.

"Back to bed," I said, as Lance walked over to greet me with a quick good morning kiss.

"Lazy," Lance shot back, giving me a mock sneer, before his lips relaxed into a smile. "It's already eleven a.m. I don't want my parents thinking that you're some kind of bum, now do I?"

"It's already eleven?" I asked in surprise, feeling myself wake up more and more as the seconds passed by. Lance noticed my expression and peered at me with concerned eyes.

"Have a rough night?"

"Yeah...I don't think I'm used to the heat around here...I kept waking up, like, every fifteen minutes or so. I think I got around two hours of sleep, if I was lucky," I said while punctuating my statement with a loud yawn.

"Awww, poor baby," Lance murmured, as he reached up and traced the outline of my lips. "I got to sleep just fine last night. Thanks for the picture," he added mischievously, his eyes lighting up.

"I don't think I want the picture back," I said dryly as I turned back to my room. "I think I'm gonna take a shower. Is that okay with you?"

Lance nodded. "I'd much rather be in the shower with you, but seeing that were in the same house as my parents, I *don't * think that's such a hot idea," Lance laughed, heading back to his room. "Just let me know when you're done, okay Stephen?" I answered him with a nod as I headed back to my room, to get myself ready for the day ahead.

After I had washed, I stepped out of the shower, my eyes drifted to a package of gauze and some medical tape sitting on the counter of the sink. A small note was lying on top of the items: S.' it read, Thought you might need this for your hand. I would have stayed around to help, but...you know how I get when I'm around you. smile. I'll see you in a few--Love, L.' I smiled at my boyfriend's thoughtfulness, as I dried my hair with a towel.

As I began to shave, my mind reeled itself back to the argument that I had overheard that morning. Lance's father knew that something weird was going on with his only son. He had his suspicions--and despite the fact that Jim had been nice to me the night before, he was also wondering what the hell I was doing in the Bass household. And to be perfectly honest with you, if I were Lance's father, I wouldn't have understood what I was doing there either. To Jim, I was a complete stranger. Someone who just waltzed into his family's life and was now sleeping in their guest bedroom. On other nights, I was sleeping with their son, but that was a different story altogether in itself.

When I finished shaving, I stared at myself in the mirror. On the outside, I looked like any other normal 21 year old male that you would have encountered on the street. I never thought I was particularly handsome or particularly ugly either. I was taller than Lance with brown hair and brown eyes. I was thin, but not too skinny or too fat either. Nothing to write home about. But there was something that Lance obviously found appealing about me.

And then I stared at myself for a few more minutes. I wondered if Lance's father could tell that I was gay? I wondered if he could tell if his son was gay? Only my family and the guys in `N Sync knew about my sexuality. I had never chosen to out myself to my classmates back home, mainly because no one there had caught my eye. I wondered why I had chosen to act on my feelings once I saw Lance? It was weird. Why Lance? Was it because he was famous? Or was it because he was the first person who ever made me feel alive and happy and content with myself? No one had ever made me feel the way Lance did.

And no one had ever supported me the way Lance did either, I thought, as I closed the toilet seat and sat down on it. I began to fix up my still-injured hand and I smiled as I did this. Lance was so thoughtful...caring...he was wonderful. I couldn't have dreamt a better boyfriend up.

And now I was in the Bass's residence...because of Lance. Because he wanted to help me out. And I knew Lance was scared to tell his father--he had seen too much shit with my mother not to be scared. My mother was the complete worst nightmare package. But then you had my aunt and uncle, who had accepted me the way I was...two extremes. Then there was Cynthia, I thought with a smile, but Cynthia would have accepted a one handed, blind, hard-of-hearing monkey--that's how open Cynthia was.

Somehow it wasn't fair that there was a good possibility that Lance could ruin his relationship with his father because of me. He was only trying to help me out because he loved me. And yes, I felt confident enough to say that Lance loved me. We had been through way too much together, for me not to believe that we weren't in love. It wasn't fair. Just because we weren't a "normal" (and I use that term very loosely) couple. Who was anyone to say that we shouldn't be together? I mean, we were happy...wasn't that enough? My mind thought once more of my mother...

But then, I thought as I stepped out into the hallway, sometimes, life wasn't fair. Life wasn't meant to be fair.

A little while later, when Lance and I walked into the kitchen, I noticed an older looking blonde female sitting at the table. She was talking in a rather animated manner to Diane, until she noticed that her brother was walking into the kitchen.

"Lance!!!!" she screamed, knocking the chair from underneath her down in her mad pursuit to hug her brother. "I've missed you so much!!!" The excited girl nearly toppled him over as she hung onto him. Lance let out an excited laugh, clearly happy to see her again. By the process of elimination, I figured that the girl had to be his sister, Stacey.

"Geez, Stace--kill me here, why don't you!?!?" Lance managed to say before he finally untangled himself from her grip and looked at her with a smile. "I'm guessing you missed me?"

"Missed your ugly face? No. Everywhere I go, I see your face. Geez, Lance--Ford and me can't even go into a McDonald's without seeing you," Stacey laughed. "But missed you? Yes. A lot. I missed my baby brother," she cooed as she reached out and pinched his cheek. Realizing that there was someone else standing there in the kitchen with her family, Stacey turned to me. "And you must be Stephen? Right?"

I stared at Stacey in surprise as she reached out and shook my hand. "Uhhh...yeah.." I managed to say, as I returned her handshake. "How'd you know?"

She gave me a charming grin, one that mirrored one of Lance's. "I do talk to my mama, you know," Stacey laughed cheerfully, as she swung her head back to look at Diane, her blonde hair flying out as she did that. "And she told me that one of Lance's friends had come home with him...so I'm guessing that it was you." She switched her gaze back over to her brother. "Unless you have some other friend named Stephen that you're hiding from me."

"No..." Lance trailed off, as the happy excited look that had prevailed on his face, suddenly disappeared into thin air. I could practically read his mind: `Great, another person to find out.' He abruptly turned away from Stacey and headed towards the refrigerator. His sister watched him, an odd look forming on her face at his behavior as she turned back to me.

"So Stephen, what brings you down to Mississippi?" Stacey asked me politely as she picked up the topped over kitchen chair and sat back in it. As Lance's sister spoke, I noticed that her voice had that familiar southern accent dotting it, as did everyone else's around here. Even Lance's southern accent had reappeared again...I felt like an outsider.

"Well...I became friends with Lance on the tour," I began, my face turning warm with every word I spoke. "And we kinda hung out all the time, so I just decided to come on down here with him. I've never been to Mississippi before, so...." I trailed off, knowing my explanation sounded lame. Diane looked down at the cup of coffee that she held in her hands, and I heard Lance mutter something under his breath while he was rummaging around in the fridge. But it must have sounded plausible to Stacey, because all she did was give me a pretty smile and a nod.

As I awkwardly stood there in the middle of the Bass's kitchen, trying to explain my existence, the back door swung open and Lance's father walked through it, looking exhausted.

"Jesus, I think it gets hotter and hotter here...those damn mosquitoes never stop biting," Jim muttered, while scratching his arm. He looked at his family around the kitchen, and his eyes finally rested on me.

`Hello, Stephen," Jim greeted me. "How are you doing this morning?"

"Fine," I answered. As the time passed, I felt more and more uncomfortable in the Bass's residence. I kept thinking, `Lance--get it over with. Tell them. It'll be better for both of us.' I stopped myself. Had my thinking been rendered stupid by the heat? Or was I just going insane? As I lost myself in my thoughts once more, I noticed that Jim had walked over to Lance and gently tapped him on his shoulder.

"Hey James?" Lost in his own world, Lance practically jumped five feet into the air, almost knocking the carton of milk out of his hand.

"What?!?" Lance practically screamed at his father, as he wiped the sweat that was forming on his brow with the back of his hand. He calmed down once he realized that his entire family and me, were staring at him as though he had gone off the deep end. Lance took a deep breath and then gave us all a shaky smile. "I mean, what?"

"I just was wondering if you knew where one of your old fishing poles was. I needed to get something from in back of the shed, and that was the only thing I could think of long enough to reach it," Jim explained, trying to ignore his son's odd behavior.

"Oh. It's upstairs in my room--I think it's under my bed," Lance told him, placing the milk carton back on a shelf.

"Thanks, James." And with that, Jim left the room and headed upstairs, while Lance resumed his poking around in the refrigerator.

"Lance?" Stacey called from her seat at the table. My boyfriend looked up from the refrigerator once more, trying to hold back the expression of agitation that was about to form on his face as he turned towards his sister.

"What, Stace?" he asked, sounding much calmer than he looked. By the look on his face, I swear to God that Lance was about to snap from all the pressure.

"Are you okay?" she asked a bit apprehensively, not wanting to get yelled at like her father did. "You just seem a little on edge there." I saw Lance roll his eyes at her question. Just as he was about to answer her with some sort of sarcastic retort, we heard Jim yell from upstairs.

"James? I can't find it--would you mind coming up here and helping me look for it?" A pause. "And tell Stephen to come up here too." Lance and I looked at each other, confusion in both of our eyes. I could understand why Jim would want Lance up there, but me? I had no idea where a fishing pole would be in this house. Despite my inner musings, Lance just shrugged and closed the refrigerator door.

"I'll be back down," Lance told Stacey and Diane, who were looking at each other strangely, puzzled by Jim's request as well. "Come on, Stephen...let's go help my father out." Lance and I silently walked into the living room, and as we headed up the staircase together, I looked over at Lance. He looked so sad, I thought, wanting to reach out and hold him. His eyes were dull...flat...he looked tired...he looked as though he was completely fed up with his life. I couldn't blame him. It seemed as though everything was crashing down on us. Lance caught me looking at him and gave me a tired smile.

"You okay?" he asked me softly. I nodded.

"I'm fine...but I'm worried about you," I responded. "You're not looking so hot today."

"Thanks, Stephen--I'll get you for that later." Lance gave me a half-hearted smile as he attempted to sound like his old self once more. But it didn't work. He wasn't fooling anyone--least of all me. I could tell that his mind was too preoccupied with other things.

Lance and I finally reached his bedroom, only to see the door partially open. And as we were about to walk into the bedroom, one of those strange feelings came over me again. I felt funny--it was like when I was a child and I tried to warn my father not to go to work. Or when Lance was going on stage, because something deep inside of me knew that he was going to fall from the strings. I wanted to hold Lance back and tell him that everything was going to be okay. But I couldn't...he had already pushed open the door and walked into his bedroom. I had no choice but to follow him into the room.

Suddenly, Lance stopped dead in his tracks and I watched as all of the color drained from his face. His green eyes were fixed straight ahead, looking at his father, who was sitting on his bed. Jim was staring at something in his hands, with a confused and angry look on his face. As my eyes focused on the object, I felt my heart stop beating. My mouth went dry and I swear to God, I was going to die right there on the spot.

"Care to explain what this is, James?" Jim asked his son. His voice was shaking, as were his hands, as he held up the Polaroid of Lance and I.

Chapter 42

Love/Hate Reaction

For a second, time had stopped. I don't know how long Lance and I stood there, unable to move or speak. All I could think, was `Shit...shit, shit, shit. How could Lance be so stupid?' Leaving the photo of us lying around for anyone to see...but then, it was my fault as well. I had given it to him. We hadn't expect Jim to go into his son's bedroom and look at it...

But he had. And now he knew. It would finally be out in the open...as much as I wanted to be relieved, I couldn't. There was too much tension in that air to be relieved.

"What are you doing looking at my personal belongings?" Lance suddenly yelled, waking up from his daze. He strode towards his father and yanked the photo out of his father's hands. Jim didn't seemed fazed by this. He had already seen the picture. Nothing could take that away. He just stared at his son and a funny look passed over his features.

"Explain what I just saw in that photo, James....please," Jim asked his son, his voice simple with questioning. His eyes shifted and stared at me for a couple of seconds, before moving back to his son. Lance stood there as though he was a statue, not able to speak. I could see the gears turning in his mind. And then he finally spoke.

"Dad...I...I'm gay..." Lance finally whispered. His words were soft and quiet and barely audible to our ears. "S-S-Stephen..." he turned and looked at me, the emotions of how he felt at that moment swimming around in his beautiful eyes. I could tell he was petrified...but that he still loved me, no matter what would happen at that moment. I wanted to reach out and grab for his hand, but I couldn't. I was frozen to my spot as well, unable to move. Plus, I didn't want to agitate Jim any more than he probably was already.

"Stephen is my boyfriend," Lance announced. This time his voice was clearer and stronger. The fear in his eyes faded away, as Lance stared at his father with almost an almost defiant gaze. "That's why I brought him here with me. I wanted you to meet him. I love him."

Jim just continued to sit there on Lance's bed, no expression appearing on his face at his son's confession. I felt my blood turn cold as ice. I silently began to pray that Jim wouldn't freak out, go insane like my mother. Lance didn't need that. No one did. I wouldn't wish what I had experienced on my worst enemy. Jim just kept switching his gaze from Lance and then to me...I wasn't sure what that man was thinking, and to be honest with you, I wasn't sure if I wanted to.

The silence was killing us and looking at Lance, I could tell that he couldn't take it anymore. "Dad...please say something," Lance said, his green eyes pleading with his father. "Please."

Jim looked at Lance, his face still void of any emotion. He looked as though he was gathering his thoughts, and finally he stood up from his seat on Lance's bed.

"James...I don't know what to say to you..." Jim spoke quietly. "I really don't. I don't hate you but..." All Jim did was shake his head in disbelief, gave his son another expressionless look and with that, wordlessly left the room, leaving Lance and I alone once again.

His reaction hadn't been what I was expecting. Jim hadn't yelled at Lance, but he hadn't been thrilled about it either. I couldn't blame him--how would you feel if you found out your son was gay via a Polaroid photo? I turned to Lance, only to see that he had tears streaming down his face.

"Stephen...he hates me," Lance managed to say through his tears. "I can tell....he didn't want anything to do with me." He reached out for me, his arms open and I met him halfway, wrapping my arms around his body, and pulling him close to me. I could feel his the rapidness of his heart beating through our clothes, and when I pulled my head back to look at him, my heart nearly broke. The word sad didn't even describe the look on his face--he looked as though he had been emotionally torn apart and pulled through the wringer. I just wanted everything to be okay, but then, we couldn't have everything we wanted...

"No he doesn't," I whispered, kissing the top of his head. "He's just shocked, Lance...he doesn't hate you...how could anyone hate you?" I was trying my best to soothe him and judging by the shaky semi-smile that broke out on his lips, I had been a little successful.

"Stephen...no matter what my father says, I still love you," Lance whispered, running a finger down my cheek, before placing a brief kiss on my lips. "Always, I promise..."

"What the hell is going on?" The sudden intuition of a harsh female voice jolted Lance and I back to life. We turned our heads to see Stacey standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips and a clearly horrified look on her face.

"Oh my God," Lance croaked out, his face draining of all its color once more. Later when we talked, Lance had told me he didn't even remember saying anything when he saw his angry sister appear. He had been too shocked. But I did. I remembered feeling his body stiffen in my arms, and the way his body temperature suddenly seemed to drop.

"Lance?" she asked, shaking her head at the sight of us. "What--what--what was that?"

"How long have you been watching us?" Lance asked her, disentangling himself from my arms, as he strode over to her. "Goddamn it, Stacey, do you always sneak up on people and watch them?"

"Well you and him--" Her voice had come out sneering. "Are just standing there--kissing." Her face twisted into a disgusted look as her mind recalled the image of Lance and I together. "Lance....are you gay?"

"Yes, Stacey--I am," Lance shot back, anger coursing through his voice. "I'm gay. And Stephen--" He pointed at me. "--Is my boyfriend. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Well, what do you think? That's disgusting, Lance--didn't all that time in the church tell you anything? For God's sake, homosexuals burn in hell, you know that. How did mom and dad raise you?" she spat out, her pale face flushing as her anger rose. I will never forget the look of hurt and utter disbelief that appeared on Lance's face just then. His own sister was against him. Lance's fists clutched at his sides and an intense shade of red began working it's way up the side of his neck.

"You know what? Fuck you, Stacey. Fuck you. It's not like you're such a holy roller yourself," Lance screamed back at her. "Where the hell do you get the right to judge people?"

"ME? You have some nerve asking me that. I can't believe that you would even have the balls to bring him home," Stacey hollered back. "How dare you--"

"Stacey, stop it."

The three of us turned to face Jim, who had come out of the bedroom that he and Diane shared. The look on his face was one of dead seriousness as he observed his two children squared off in the middle of the hallway. Stacey turned to him, her mouth gaping open at her father's disapproval of her.

"Dad, it's the truth--" Stacey began to argue, but Jim cut her off, stopping her by holding up his hand.

"I don't want to ever hear you talk to your brother like that again. I don't care how old you are--you are in my house, under my roof. Go back downstairs--I want to talk to your brother," Jim ordered her sternly, his eyebrows dipping into a frown.

With one more glare at Lance, Stacey huffed down the steps, each footstep pounding into the carpet underneath. I was surprised that she didn't go crashing through the floor. It would serve her right, I thought with some satisfaction. My satisfied facade faded, as Jim walked over to his son, who was panting from all of the yelling that he had just done.

"James, I'd like to speak to you. In private," Jim said quietly, before turning back to the bedroom and walking into it. Lance turned to me briefly, and for that brief second, I could see all of the emotions he was feeling. Hurt. Fear. Love. It was amazing how you could feel all of those different things at one time. But I knew it was possible, because I had been there before. I silently nodded towards Lance, letting him know that I was with him in spirit, as he turned away from me. I watched him disappear into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

There was no sense of standing around in the hallway, so I slowly headed back to my room. When I walked back inside, I realized that I was shaking. Stacey's words had, quite honestly, shocked me beyond belief. I hadn't expected her to bring up the subject of religion into the fray--how insensitive could one person be, I asked myself. Couldn't she see Lance was having a hard enough time as it is, without being told that he would burn in hell? As I sat back down on my bed, I placed my head in my hands. I was nervous. Restless. I couldn't sit down. I walked over to the open window and felt the hot, muggy breeze blow over me. It didn't help one bit. In fact, the humid air of Mississippi made me even more agitated, and I walked away from the window in disgust.

I began to nervously pace around the room. What was Jim saying to Lance now? Was he going to disown him, like my mother had done? Or did he agree with Stacey on the idea that Lance had committed a sin...the questions were driving me absolutely insane with worry.

The clock on the wall ticked away happily, as each second that passed was like driving a nail into my chest. I began imagining as many worse case scenarios as I possibly could. Lance would be disowned by his father. Diane would finally crack and agree with him. Stacey was already against Lance. He would have no family. Lance would get angry at me, realize he really was straight and leave me for the approval of his parents. Looking back on the theory, I wondered if I had really gone insane at that moment.

I continued my pacing and just as I felt as though I was about to vomit, the door to my room opened. I looked up to see Lance's father standing there, looking at me with an inquisitive expression on his face.

"Mind if I come in?" Jim asked me. His manner was polite, although I could tell that he had an good amount of issues on his mind.

"Sure--it's your house, isn't it?" I said lightly, trying to make myself sound like I didn't have a rock knocking a hole in my stomach. I walked back over to the bed and sat on it, and Jim took a seat next to me. For a second, he just sat there, not saying a word, opting to stare at his hands instead. I knew that he wanted to say something--but I'm not sure what exactly. I hoped that it would be good.

Finally, Jim began to speak. "Look...Stephen....I wasn't exactly expecting to speak to my son's...boyfriend," he said slowly, managing to get over the word, with a decent amount of discomfort on his face. "I want you to know that I don't hate you. I don't." I let out a small sigh of relief, even though I knew I wasn't out of the woods yet. I knew that Jim had to plenty more to say and I was right.

"I'm not going to mince words with you--I really don't approve of my son being a homosexual. It's very hard for me to accept the fact that he's with another man...very hard. When I saw the picture, I was in complete shock." He briefly closed his eyes, and then opened his eyes once more.

"But when I heard my daughter yelling those things at James, I knew that I couldn't hate my son--or you for that matter. I apologize for her behavior--it's just that sometimes...Stacey can take things very seriously. She loves her brother dearly." He paused once again to swallow. "But when I heard her say those awful things, I couldn't just stand there and watch her say that. I still love my son--he's James--he always will be. And a thing such as his sexual preference shouldn't matter..." His voice was a bit uncertain, but firm. I continued to sit there wordlessly, taking in Jim's words. I was still unclear on how he was reacting to Lance and I. I knew that he loved his son...

Jim noticed my silence and gave me a shaky smile. "Stephen, I was talking to James...and he spoke a great deal about you. It's quite clear to me that he cares for you...more than anyone else he's dated in his life." Another smile, which helped soothe my nervous soul a little more. "I would have major objections against the two of you if I thought that you weren't serious about each other. But it's clear that he's...he's..." Jim trailed off and then took a deep breath. "That James is in love with you. And I'm not one to ruin a relationship--my son is grown up. He can make his own decisions, and this is one of them."

Something in his words had touched me. He didn't hate me. And it seemed as though he wasn't going to disown Lance. "Mr. Bass--" I slowly began, finally moving my lips to speak. But Jim wouldn't let me. He cut me off with a wave of his hand.

"James has also told me about your troubles at home--I'm very sorry to hear what your mother did," he said a bit stiffly. "No mother has the right to treat their child that way--I don't mean to speak ill of the deceased, but that was a terrible thing for her to do to you, Stephen. And I don't want to treat James that way. He doesn't deserve it--no one does." And with that, Jim looked at me and I swear for a second, I saw tears welling in his eyes. But then they disappeared and another soft smile appeared on his face. "Now you can speak," he said with a slight laugh. "I'm sorry I cut you off before, but I needed to say that before I forgot it."

I returned his laugh and then folded my hands together, so that they wouldn't shake too badly. I was happy...but I was also shaken up inside. It seemed as though Jim didn't hate me. In fact, he sympathized with me. "Mr. Bass--" I began once more, only to have him cut me off.

"Call me Jim," he said, with a smile. "It seems that you'll be here for awhile...be comfortable. No formalities here." Upon hearing that, every muscle in my body relaxed a little bit more and I took a deep breath.

"Okay...Jim...well, thank you for your kind words about my mother. You didn't have to say those things, and I do appreciate them." I looked at Lance's father and he nodded at me to continue. "I want to thank you for not hating La--er, James--and for not hating me. I was worried most about that--and I was willing to leave your son if that was the case. I want you to know that I do love your son...I would do anything for him. I care for him," I said. Simple words said it best.

Jim nodded at me. "I understand...that's a rather brave thing, putting someone's happiness first," he noted, staring at me with impressed eyes.

"That's because La--James," I corrected myself again. "Has always put my happiness first. I've never met a more caring person in my life. You've raised him well--he's a wonderful person and I'm proud to have someone like that in my life." The words I spoke were true. No need for lies...I spoke what I felt from my heart.

Jim smiled at my comments and I must have won some part of him over with my truthfulness. "Thank you Stephen--that was very nice of you to say. You've seem to have brought a lot of happiness into my son's life--and I have to thank you for that. Every father wants to see his son happy--and if it happens to be with someone of the same sex--" He paused once more, before continuing. "Then so be it. I'm not one to play God here."

To my horror, I felt tears of happiness prick behind my eyelids. Lance's father had accepted me. He didn't hate me. He didn't blame me for his son's sexuality. And he didn't seem to think that we were going to burn in hell. That was a plus, I thought to myself as I tried to hide a smile. I blinked a couple of times, to brush the tears away, before looking at Lance's father once more.

"Thank you Jim" I said quietly. "You don't know how much I appreciate you and your wife for your kindness towards Lance and I."

Jim nodded. "He's my son," he said wistfully. "You just can't stop loving someone...and I'll always love James." With that he stood up from his place on the bed and looked down at me. "Well, Stephen--what do you say we go see how James is doing?"

I nodded and this time, I didn't even bother to hide the smile that formed on my lips. I wanted to see Lance more than ever now. "I'd love that," I told him honestly, as we walked out of the room together.

So that's it for this part....I'm shooting for another installment out before I go back to the drudgery of school once more. And then after school starts, well--just pray for me, okay? =)

That's all for now...remember, e-mail is always open to comments and criticisms at sweetheart_stories@hotmail.com... I eagerly wait for your reply....thanks for reading....love, Gabriella....