Hey there! Just wanted to say hi, so um... hi
disclaimer: not real. fiction. no one really gay.
gemmini999@aol.com <------------------- loves feedback
Chapter Two
Breakfast that morning passed by in a blur of faces. Faces incapable of wishing another good morning or good day. Faces incapable of talking, of inquiring how another's night was, how they were. Faces that, for the life of him, Lance didn't know why he tolerated. They would whisper to each other words and phrases that he never would hear. They would laugh about things that he didn't understand. They would talk of things he had no clue about, or had no desire to be a part of.
He sat there, immersed in total silence, already mentally going through the days schedule, trying to make time to fit a couple of phone calls to Steph in. If only he could talk to her, hear the magical sound of her voice, everything would be alright.
Only he knew it wouldn't be.
He knew that tomorrow morning he would wake, and go face another breakfast that would pass by in a blur of faces. No one would talk to him, he would remain silent. He would beg off dinner or lunch, just to make time to phone Steph. And this, THIS, was his life. He'd accepted this when the group first started out, because he was still talking to his mom, his dad, his brother and sister. They would call him practically every day, asking how he was, how the group was. They WANTED to be a part of his life badly enough to put up with his cranky attitude, his lack of enthusiasium.
And somewhere along the road the daily phone calls had become weekly. The weekly, monthly. Now it seemed he never talked to his family unless he call them, and only then for a few minutes.
Everyone wanted out of his life, he brought nothing but misery. Nothing but pain. Nothing but hopelessness.
All because of HIM. Just because someone had been unwilling to talk to someone different. Somehow, everything always managed to resort back to HIM.
Everything was his fault, or related to him in one way or another. And...
HE had once been Lance's friend.
That thought boggled Lance's mind for hours on end.
How had he not seen through Josh's facade? How had he been taken in by his smile, his charm, his lies? Out of all the guys, Lance figured Josh would have the easiest time accepting that he was gay. He seemed to be indifferent to differences, they didn't exist in his life. All that he needed to see was a human being, and all else was carelessly tossed aside.
That's how people should make other's feel.
Lance sighed slightly, and turned towards the nearly empty plate of eggs that rested on a small, wooden table in front of him.
He needed to eat. He needed strength for his day, he needed strength to face Josh. He needed strength in order to persevere through this ordeal.
He needed strength.
"Hey, Lance, wait up." A voice called out as Lance wandered aimlessly down the hall. He sighed, not really wanting to talk to anyone, but still he stopped. Something made him stand still, made his feet incapable of walking another foot, another inch, without hearing what the person wanted.
"What Justin." Lance asked, bitterness in his voice, in every syllable he spoke. Justin stood next to Lance and started at the older man.
"Nothing man, I just wanted to know what today's schedule was." Justin replied. Lance took one look at the disorganized youth and rolled his eyes.
They had been friends, once upon a time. Back when everyone still liked him, when they didn't go out of their way to avoid him, avoid anyone like him.
But then Josh had made a choice, and they had stuck to it.
"You got a copy of it, same as me." Lance finally replied. Justin laughed slightly and shook his head.
"You know I don't read those things. It makes a lot more sense when you explain it." Lance nodded slowly and briefly gave Justin a run-down of the day.
Justin jotted down the important times; meet-and-greet, sound-check. He groaned when he learned it would be a bus night; those were always the worst.
He would be so close to Lance, but far enough away at the same time that they couldn't talk. Instead he would watch a movie with JC or Chris or Joey.
Lance would talk to... that friend of his. Justin didn't know her name; they had only been introduced vaguely two or three times. Lance was possessive of her.
"Thanks man." Justin said, turning and walking down the hall. Lance nodded, turned and walked down to the lobby. He had just enough time to squeeze in a phone call to Steph before the group had to be on the bus.
"Fuck!" Chris shouted as the bus hit yet another pot-hole. Lance tried to suppress a soft laugh; Chris never learned not to drink coffee while James was driving. They had been driving on the same bus, with the same driver, for nearly four years now, and no one had learned anything. James went out of his way to hit the potholes; a fact he had once jokingly admitted to Lance.
The two would talk when Lance was feeling lonely sometimes; when James was.
They weren't friends; Lance kept people far away from his heart.
He only had one friend.
But they... knew about one another. They knew about birthdays, friends, family, incidents. The two knew more about each other then most friends knew about each other, but Lance wouldn't let him cross the line.
James didn't want that power, either. He knew how vulnerable Lance was, about how the other's treated him, about why. He didn't want to hurt Lance even more, and the best way to maintain that impossible to hurt relationship was to pretend that they weren't friends.
Today was no different; Lance was sitting near the front of the bus, listening to James tell him about his daughter's project. He wasn't really listening, but he knew enough to insert laughter in the correct place, to interject with a comment every so often. He knew James.
The scenery was rolling by, but no one was enjoying it. Lance was caught up in his thoughts, his dreams. The other's were in back, playing play station or nintendo. He didn't know the difference, and Justin owned both.
James was going on and on about his daughter. The scenery was being neglected; much like Lance, but he didn't know how to change that reality.
He didn't want to change that reality.
"Lance, are you listening?" James asked, jerking Lance out of his trance.
"Ya know I am." He replied, "Molly burned down the school's gym with her volcano..." "Lance, that's an episode of Doug. Molly isn't even my daughter's name..." James quietly laughed, making Lance blush.
"Sorry James. I guess..." "No need to explain, I understand. I really do. Why don't you go try and take a nap, you look like you need one." "Are you sure, I don't mind keeping you company." "I have my music, my radio. I'll be fine, unlike a certain albino I know that needs sleep." James joked. Lance laughed weakly, stood, and walked back towards his bunk. James was right, he needed a nap.
Lance smiled at the enthusiastic young fan in front of him. Her bright, happy face was contagious; far more then even she knew. The meet and greets always drained Lance; he had to act not only around the guys but also around hordes of fans. Perceptive fans.
"What's your name, sweetie?" He questioned. Those four words were imprinted upon his brain. That was how he was supposed to treat the female fans. Make them think you like them, make them think that you care. In reality, half the time Lance didn't even hear their name and would sign a brief message without personalizing it.
She was no exception.
He wrote their motto- Stay N SYNC- and signed his name before handing it back to the young teen. Her dream had just come true... now he needed to work on his. Only, another fan came forward. She wasn't smiling quite as widely as the previous one, but he already could tell why. Her baby-blue jersey gave it away. She had already met Justin; the rest of the group was just that; the rest of the group. Sometimes Lance wondered if half the fans even knew his name, let alone that he existed.
Still, he smiled at the girl. He wrote a brief message-Enjoy the Show- and passed her on down the line. Soon this would be over, and he could relax a little before show time.
But this was show-time too. He had to act like he cared about these people. He had to act as if they mattered, as if the rest of the group cared.
He had to act like he was best of friends with Josh.
Not likely to happen; ever.
This was more tiring then concert's sometimes. Because, at a concert, he knew what to expect. He knew what to say, what to do. He knew exactly when to talk and when to fade quietly into the background.
Meet-and-Greets weren't choreographed, and as much as he hated dancing, he still wished they were. He wished that Darren or Wade would sit the five of them down and tell them the moves to perform, the words to say. He wished that every day was the same, that they could practice until it was perfect.
But another fan stood in front of him, and Lance knew that he couldn't plan everything out. Something just had to happen, were never any good unless they did JUST happen.
He signed another autograph.