It went in cycles, JC thought. Together. Apart. Together. Apart.
Like those magnets you played with in 7th grade science class. Shove one side together, and they jumped together. Flip one, and they repelled, pushing apart.
He could never quite predict when Justin would flip.
Today was definitely an 'apart' day. Justin was pissy. The rehearsal wasn't going well, and he was making it worse. "Are you sure you've got that, Lance? It's different than we do it on tour, you know. If you forget and do the old steps, we'll look like idiots in front of millions of people."
"I've got it, J," Lance said, and there was an edge to his voice.
"Lay off him already," JC told Justin, exasperated. "We've all got it. Unless you want to try to keep us off stage a little longer, so you can be out there alone for more of the song. You might be able to delay bringing out your backup singers for a few more stanzas."
Everyone froze. Even if they had thought it, they would have never said it.
"Fuck off," Justin said clearly, and he walked off the stage.
"I guess rehearsal is over." JC shrugged and started gathering up his stuff. "Don't worry, Lance, you'll be fine."
They drifted off stage, and when JC looked up Joey was hovering over him. "C.... You and J gotta do something about this thing."
"Thing?" He couldn't play innocent as well as Justin can, but it was kind of fun to try.
"Yeah. This thing. You know."
Of course he knew. He thought of telling Joey his magnet theory, but didn't think he'd be able to explain it properly, that Joey would still be standing there with his brow furrowed and confusion hanging heavy over him. Maybe the next time they stopped at a Target he'd pick up some of those little magnets you put on your refrigerator, then he'd be able to show him.
He realized that Joey was still waiting, and that he'd gone off on another mental tangent. "Yeah. I know. We... it's complicated."
"So uncomplicate it. Fuck him already." JC isn't the only one being blunt today.
Been there, done that, JC thought, but he couldn't say it. If he couldn't articulate his magnet theory, he can't imagine how he'd explain to Joey that there was never any sexual tension between Justin and him until after they slept together. Falling into bed together had been the easy part. It was everything that had happened since they got out that had been the problem.
"It'll be fine, Joe. You know how he is. He'll be all sweetness and light the next time we see him. He has... moods."
Joey nodded, but his eyes were still intense and probing. "What about you? Are you gonna be fine?"
JC smiled at him, hoping the edges weren't wistful, but knowing that he wasn't good at hiding these things. Not like Justin. "Yeah. It doesn't really matter."
"I'm going alone," JC said, trying to make it sound casual, but knowing he had failed when Lance's head whipped around hard enough to cause whiplash. In the middle of TRL, for the love of god.
"You are?" Lance demanded, like he was offended that he hadn't gotten the memo. In the middle of TRL.
Joey jumped in then, babbling incessantly about something completely irrelevant, and the attention was off of JC and his newly dateless status. Or at least, the attention of Carson Daly and the TRL viewing audience. He could feel Justin's eyes boring into the back of his head, and he wondered idly if his highlights were starting to singe from the force of that look.
"I thought Bobbie was coming," Justin muttered to him sotto voce later, when they were waiting for the limo to bring them back to the hotel to change, just so they could come back to Lincoln Center again. No one had ever told them that being pop stars required spending their lives going in endless circles.
"I know this is gonna really disappoint you," he answered dryly, knowing that Justin would probably start doing handsprings at the news. "But I wouldn't expect to see Bobbie around anymore. Unless you want to ask her out."
Justin snorted. "Not likely." He gave JC another of those appraising looks. "So what happened?"
JC shrugged. "It doesn't matter."
In the limo, on the way back to Lincoln Center - again - Justin had flipped. Again.
He sat next to JC, but he kept leaning over him, ostensibly to peer out the window. But there wasn't much to see out the window except crowds of people on the sidewalk trying to see into the limo, and by the third time Justin had done it JC realized that it was just a thinly veiled excuse to run a hand up his thigh. Not that he was trying to get away or anything.
Justin's other hand was curled at the nape of his neck, in that casual way they had of throwing their arms around each other. The fingers that were teasing his hair, occasionally slipping up to stroke down the back of his ear, were anything but casual, however.
He wondered how he was gonna explain a raging erection when they tumbled out of the limo onto the red carpet.
Lance was still harping at them, the same complaint he'd had for the past twenty minutes. "We should have written a speech."
"Why?" Chris shot back. "It's not like we're gonna win anything." Chris had been bitter about awards shows ever since the Grammys.
"You don't know that," Lance argued. "For Best Dance Video --."
"Fat Boy Slim," Justin interrupted.
"Okay. But Best Group --."
"U2." This time the interjection came from JC.
"But 'Pop' --."
"Peaked at nineteen on the Hot 100," Chris finished. "The only reason it was on TRL so long was because JC and Justin look good in tight pants. The only thing we have a shot at is Viewer's Choice Award, and all the insane BSB fans have probably been voting their fingers off. So why bother with a fucking speech?"
That was a little more doom and gloom than even Chris usually expressed. But the other three were willing to go along with it if it meant they didn't have to write a speech.
Justin might have taken offense at the comment about 'Pop''s lack of success on the pop charts, except he was too busy blowing in JC's ear to really notice. Or at least too busy to care.
"You look hot," he breathed, a lot of air around the words. "I like you all glammed up like this."
JC had figured that out when Justin had ripped off his pink sparkly shirt from the TCA's in his haste to get JC out of his clothes. The shirt had been shredded beyond repair, which JC hadn't minded too much when he'd seen pictures of how ridiculous he'd looked actually wearing it.
"If we win," Justin continued in the same low murmur, "we should celebrate." This time he didn't even bother to try and hide the hand brushing up toward JC's crotch. JC found himself fervently wishing ignominious defeat on Fat Boy Slim. And U2.
The limo stopped. An MTV page opened the door and said in a harried voice, "*NSYNC, you're on the red carpet. Welcome to the VMAs. Press to your right, then House of Style to your left."
They crawled out -- there really was no graceful way to get out of a limo unless you were the person right by the door -- and JC tugged his jacket around to try and conceal himself. As soon as the light of day had hit them Justin had put back on his mask, and the looks he gave JC had gone from hot and smoking to cold and impersonal.
Lance looked from Justin back to JC and back to Justin again. Mindful of all the reporters he slung an arm around JC's neck -- in that casual way they had -- and whispered, "Is everything okay?"
JC nodded, popping a stick of gum into his mouth. "Don't worry about it. It doesn't matter."
Maybe it was JC's lustful plea to a higher power. Maybe the president of MTV had a teenage daughter in love with Justin. Maybe Christoper Walken's deal with the devil had finally run out. Whichever it was, when they called out their name, the five of them looked at each other with identical expressions of, "Huh?"
They didn't do much better up on the stage, with Chris pointing out that they had no idea they were going to win anything, and Justin frantically trying to find people in the audience that they were maybe supposed to thank. His panicked eyes finally lit on JC, staring at him as if he could pull the names out of JC's mind if he tried hard enough. Eventually they stammered out enough names that they could escape off stage.
Away from the cameras, Lance was coldly furious. "Well, Justin, I'm glad you were so damn concerned about me making us look like idiots in front of millions of people. I especially liked how you barely remembered to thank our choreographer when we'd just won best dance video."
He corralled them before they can even go talk to the press, pulling out a piece of notebook paper -- where the hell had he gotten that? -- and making them compile a list of names. "Just in case Chris' powers of prognostication continue to be fallible," he said sarcastically.
"Am I supposed to be offended at that?" Chris whispered to JC on the way back to their seats, as he tried to puzzle out what prognostication meant. JC shook his head as they sat down, his eyes still on Justin. All the way down at the end. Justin had put his mother, Brit, and Wade in between himself and the rest of the group, basically situating himself as far away as possible without actually changing rows.
"What's he doing down there, preparing his transition to a solo career?" Joey grumbled.
Chris nudged JC. "You think this'll put His Lordship in a better mood?"
JC shrugged. He'd been doing that a lot lately. "I don't really care."
"Bullshit," Chris said succinctly. "You care way too fucking much. Don't even think you can fool me. We share a bus, remember?"
Busted. JC just shrugged again. "Maybe so. But it doesn't really matter. "
Four awards. Four! Every one they'd been up for live. They hadn't managed to sound particularly intelligent accepting any of them, but who cared? Four!
And Justin was definitely in a better mood, pinning JC in a corner at the after party. "Everyone keeps asking me where Brit is," he said in a low voice, as his eyes scanned the room to try and determine if there were any curious eyes on them. "Is it wrong if I tell them she's off playing with her snake?"
"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" JC quipped lightly, but he felt anything but light as Justin's thigh pressed against him. He felt heavy, like every beat of his heart was sending so much blood pulsing through his body that it was pinning him to the ground.
"So about that celebration..." Justin said meaningfully, his eyes lighting up in a way they only did when he was on stage, or incredibly aroused. JC had seen him both ways, the first thousands of times, the latter only once. For a split second JC let himself consider it, another night of skin sliding against skin, the incredibly shocking heat of Justin's mouth, the way Justin called his name in a high, breathy voice when they fucked. Another ripped shirt on another hotel room floor.
Then he slipped away from Justin, from the all-too appealing sight of Justin's eyes and mouth and hands. "Go find Britney, Justin. I'm sure she'll help you celebrate."
Justin's eyes clouded over. "Fine," he snapped, and stormed away.
JC turned to find Joey watching him with an unreadable look in his eyes. He held up his hand before Joey could say a word. "Don't ask, Joe. It doesn't matter."
* * * * *
Justin looked annoyed at the knock at his hotel room door, but he opened it, which is almost more than JC had expected. "C'mon, we're going out," he said, throwing a sneaker at Justin. "Put on your shoes."
Justin put them on, though he griped about it. "Maybe I have plans."
"What, like disappearing again?" Friday night Justin and Britney had left the Jackson tribute concert as soon as Brit's number was done, not even bothering to hang around for the finale. But JC knew that Britney was out with her mother and her manager, and that Justin hadn't been invited to that meal. "If you've got plans, then why are you sitting around a hotel room on 8:30 on a Sunday night?"
Justin couldn't argue with that, and he followed Lonnie and JC down through the lobby to the waiting cab. "You gonna tell me where we're going at least?"
"You're a smart boy, you'll figure it out," was all JC answered.
Justin looked up as they got out of the cab. Up and up and up. "You dragged me out to a tourist trap?" he asked.
"Yup. C'mon." He pulled Justin inside, then waited while Lonnie did the talking. He figured they'd be able to go up, even though they were about to close, but it was easier to let Lonnie arrange it. Throwing around the power of *NSYNC's name was all very good and well, but somehow people always seemed more inclined to listen to the big burly security guard.
Their ears popped as the elevator raced to the top. When they got out, the observation deck was mostly deserted. Lonnie hung back, and no one took a second glance at the two young men in leather jackets and baseball caps.
They looked out at the lights of the city. "So. Why did you drag me to the top of the Empire State Building in the middle of the night?"
JC didn't answer right away. When he did, it didn't seem to have anything to do with the question. "Did you know that this was the tallest building in the world for over 40 years? And then they built the Twin Towers," he gestured toward the gleaming spires at the end of the island, "and they only managed to hold on to that title for a year, when the Sears Tower in Chicago was finished. They spent all those years building them, and they didn't even get bragging rights for very long."
It reminded Justin of when he was younger, and they would travel through Europe, and JC would take him to museums on his day off when all he wanted to do was go skateboarding or play video games. "You're not getting much of a real education, so we might as well try to give you some culture," he'd explain.
"How do you possibly remember all this stuff?" he asked now.
"A head full of inconsequential knowledge, what can I say?" he said with a grin. "And now the tallest building in the world isn't even in the United States. It's off in Kuala Lumpar."
Justin sighed. "You gonna tell me where you're heading with this extended metaphor, or are you planning to just let me freeze to death?" It had been a warm day, but it was chilly up this high. He shivered a little, and JC moved closer, putting an arm around him and drawing him close. A quick glance around showed that they were now alone, except for Lonnie standing at a corner looking across at New Jersey as if it were a truly captivating sight.
"I just think it's good for us to get some perspective sometimes. To remember that we spend so much time and effort worrying about being great, better, best, and in the end it doesn't really matter. It doesn't matter if you're at the top of the list for forty years or one."
"So what does?"
"That you're remembered. That your work endures. That..."
"What?" Justin asked, his voice urgent. "I don't understand. What are you trying to tell me?"
JC smiled, but it was a little sad. "Don't worry about it, Jus." He rested his head on Justin's shoulder for a minute. "It doesn't really matter."
The pounding on his front door woke him out of a sound sleep. He didn't think he'd been asleep for very long; looking at his clock, he saw that he was right it wasn't even 9:30 yet. They had gotten home in the middle of the night, flying out of New York after the second Jackson tribute concert.
Still more asleep than awake, he stumbled down the stairs and opened the door. For some reason he wasn't terribly surprised to see it was Justin.
But Justin was pale and shaking, and the look of utter terror in his eyes jolted JC awake faster than he would have thought possible. "Justin? What's wrong?"
Justin just threw himself at JC, who automatically caught him. "Jus? What happened?"
Still not talking, Justin pulled him into the living room and down onto the couch. He picked up the television remote, dropped it, then picked it up again and pointed it at the TV to turn it on.
JC gasped in horror. The world was on fire.
"… 18 minutes later another jet crashed into Tower 2. The identities of the attackers are not yet known." The voice of the reporter on television droned on, explaining the vision of horror they were watching.
"We were just there," JC said in a strangled voice, and Justin nodded mutely. He was clinging to JC as if he expected the other man to disappear at any second, and JC just hugged him back. It was as if the only stable things they could find to hold on to in an uncertain world was each other.
It didn't quite seem real. Any second JC thought that they'd discover they were really watching a Jerry Bruckheimer movie instead of the news. The explosions were too bright, the smoke too dark, the screams of terror too piercing to be real, they had to be digital creations of some Hollywood producer. Or JC was still asleep, and it was all a nightmare.
When the first tower collapsed, JC knew it wasn't a dream. Nothing in his psyche could have possibly created a concept of such dread.
The phone started ringing. Family members. Friends. People who knew they had just been in New York, and were afraid they were still there. "Justin's here. Come over," JC said three times. "Just come in."
Lance huddled in Joey's arms, crying. Sometimes they forgot that he was so young, that he and Justin had once been 'the babies.' Chris paced and swore. JC just held on to Justin, who still hadn't spoken.
Eventually the five of them ended up on the couch together. They didn't quite fit, but they made themselves fit, arms and legs entwined, faces buried in each others' shoulders when the visions on the television screen became too much to bear.
They prayed.
They all cried out together when the second tower went down.
Justin turned in JC's arms, his eyes looking bruised and shocked. JC didn't catch what he said.
"What, J?"
"I love you."
JC gently kissed Justin's forehead. "I know. I love you, too. It's okay."
Justin shook his head. "No, I mean. I love you. I'm in love with you."
The other three stared at the television very, very hard, trying to give JC and Justin some illusion of privacy.
"I know, Justin." JC's voice was just as calm, just as gentle as it had been all morning as he tried to soothe Justin's terror.
"No! Listen to me. I was afraid. Afraid of admitting it. To you. To me. To everyone. But I need you to know. I love you."
"Justin…." JC sighed, then kissed Justin lightly. "I know. I've always known."
And Justin realized that he always had.
They didn't kiss again. They didn't need to. Justin leaned back and settled himself back in JC's embrace, as they watched a world gone mad. It was easier to watch it together.
"I understand now," Justin said quietly.
"Understand what, J?" Lance asked.
Justin looked at the five of them together, safe, and JC's arms around him, at the look of love in JC's eyes. "What really matters."
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