Lance had never expected it to be a flop.
He was a businessman. He looked at profit and loss columns, and did due diligence, and weighed levels of risk versus potential return. It was what he did. And no matter what angle he had looked at On the Line from, he had seen success.
Perhaps not blazing box office success. He didn't expect it to break $100 million or anything. And probably not huge critical success, either. It was a happy, fluffy, romantic comedy. It was supposed to make people smile, not end up on the critics' top ten lists. He had figured that people would walk out of the theatre feeling good.
Of course, what he hadn't figured into that logical equation was that people would have to actually walk in to the theatre in order to see it. And that was where the whole line of deduction had kind of fallen apart.
Lance wasn't used to failure anymore -- at least, not public failure. Even if their album had only stayed at number 1 for a week, it had still debuted in the top spot. Even if Celebrity hadn't beaten No Strings' sales records, it had still been the second top selling album of the year. Their videos got huge airplay. Their concerts were packed. Even when they weren't at the absolute pinnacle of success, they were so high above almost everyone else in the universe that no one could possibly think of them as failures.
And, with something that resembled arrogance a little more than he cared to admit, Lance had assumed that would translate to his movie. All those millions of fans would flock to his film. It would be another check mark in the plus column of his -- their -- achievements.
Instead he was left with the taste of failure, thick like ashes in his mouth. The others had been kind about it. No one had laughed at him. No one had made any negative comment about the movie at all, not even jokingly. They were just... kind.
Maybe that was what hurt most of all.
He had known at the premiere, at the scaled-down, subdued premiere, which still seemed too flashy and frivolous in a city that remained in mourning. They had cancelled the big blowout at Radio City, but had wanted to keep it in New York City as a show of support. Lance had been almost childishly excited about it -- a New York City premiere for his movie!
They had been doing the press junket like madmen, and at first it seemed strange that it was just him and Joey, with JC tagging along like their own personal groupie. Once, it would have been fine with just the two of them, but things were strange now when they were without the rest of the group, so JC was their buffer. Surprisingly, he ended up being a good buffer, because his aimless chatter filled the awkward silences, and he was so sweet that it was nearly impossible for Joey and Lance to be stiff and standoffish when he was with them.
Lance had told himself this was the year he had to grow up. It was time to stop being perceived as just a boyband member, and actually be a grown up. He had a movie to produce, an album to help record, and a business to run. Trivial things had to be left behind, he had thought, in order to focus properly.
And somehow, Joey had been cast aside along with all those other "trivial things".
It had seemed to make sense at the time -- somehow.
He just couldn't quite remember how.
It had started in Toronto.
Sort of.
If he was to be honest, it had started a million times, in a million places. How could he even begin to count the number of times that he had fallen in love with Joey? From the beginning, Joey had been Lance's hero, the person who smiled at him when everyone else was watching him as if he was expected to fail. The person who hugged him when it seemed that nothing would ever go right at rehearsals. The person who let him cry on his shoulder when it all got too overwhelmingly, and the road got too lonely.
Joey had been his salvation, his rock, and then he'd become more. Joey had known, of course. It would have been impossible not to know -- Lance had never been able to hide his emotions from people, back at the beginning, before he grew his hard professional shell. But Joey was always kind about it, sweet and patient in the face of Lance's utter and complete adoration.
And time passed, and things changed, and Lance still loved Joey. Not in the same melodramatic, pining-away kind of love he'd felt at 17, but a simpler, quieter love. One that was always there, deep down, ready to flare to life from something as simple as a casual touch, or a private smile. They were friends -- good friends, best friends -- and Lance thought that he could live with that, and that it was enough.
In Toronto it changed again. Away from the group, they were suddenly just Lance and Joey. Doing something new and exciting together, and learning each other all over again. Lance had never really let himself believe that this could happen, but it was. Quiet dinners out became quiet dinners in, and goodnight hugs became... more.
Dreams come true were never supposed to be quite as wonderful as you expected, but this one was. It was perfect, everything. His movie, his romance, his life. It was everything that Lance had ever wanted, and he finally had it, and it was just as amazing as he'd always dreamed.
And he had never been more terrified in his life. Because nothing this good could possibly last.
When the stress caught up, it caught up fast. Suddenly they were in post-production, both on the movie and on the album, and they were about to go on tour. Having Joey there -- really there, finally -- should have made things easier. Instead, Lance felt as if every force in the universe was pushing at him from opposite directions, and he knew that something would have to give.
In the end, what gave way was Lance.
"I don't think this is really working out," he had told Joey, using the same clipped tones he used on conference calls with lawyers who thought they could sneak unacceptable clauses into contracts without him noticing. He'd steeled himself against the hurt and confusion in Joey's eyes. Joey couldn't understand what he was going through, he told himself, or what he needed to focus on in order to succeed. This was for the best. It would only hurt them more if they let things go further.
"Not working... what?" Joey could barely spit the words out. "Lance, what the hell are you talking about?"
"It's just... we shouldn't do this. You were right all along. It could screw up the group. It was different before, when we were away, but we're back now. To our real lives. Things should just be like they were before." And Lance turned back to his laptop, fingers moving rapidly over the keyboard as if he had some urgent matter that couldn't wait. On the screen, lines of meaningless gibberish scrolled out, but then they got so blurred he could barely see them.
There was a long pause, and then Joey said slowly, "If that's what you really want. Then. Okay." There was almost no emotion in his voice. A second later, Lance heard the door shut, and he let his eyes close and the tears fall.
He knew that he'd had to do it. Now. Because he knew that if he had let Joey tell him that he loved him, he'd never be able to walk away.
It was ironic that after that, everything he tried so hard to hold together just fell apart.
First Joey got hurt, and that was so horrible Lance didn't know how he could stand it. It was if he watched the accident happen in slow motion. All he wanted to do was run to his side, to hold him close and tell him everything was going to be okay. Instead he had to stand back, sick and numb, and know that he'd given up his right to be the person by Joey's side.
If he could have hated JC, he probably would have, but it just wasn't possible. So he let himself be glad that Joey had someone to be there for him, and that JC would take good care of Joey. They cameras from MTV saw a lot, but they never realized that the care JC lavished on Joey was just an extension of the comfort JC had been offering ever since the breakup. Even knowing that there was nothing more than friendship didn't do anything to ease the sick knot of jealousy in Lance's stomach.
If the accident was in slow motion, then everything after that flashed by at warp speed. The tour started, and it was good -- but not sold out, and strangely quiet because the audience couldn't sing along on a bunch of songs they had never heard before. The album dropped, and it hit big -- but not as big as their last album. Pop languished on the singles charts, barely breaking the top twenty, never mind the top ten. And each time Lance screened his movie, he knew that he had fallen short somehow, and that he didn't know how to make it right.
He didn't know how to make any of it right.
Too soon, they were back in New York again, for the premiere. Justin didn't show -- Britney had thrown a hysterical fit when he told her he was going back to New York, and he had folded like a house of cards. Lance wanted to make a bitter comment about the fact that it was okay for Justin to take a plane to Los Angeles to see Brit, but absolutely forbidden for him to come to New York for his movie. He let it go. Certain battles didn't seem quite as important as they had at the beginning of September.
Chris didn't come either, though Lance held a seat reserved for him right to the end. JC was there, though, and he stood by Lance as loyally as he'd stood by Joey after the breakup. JC didn't choose between his friends, and Lance was thankful he was there, sitting with him at the premiere, holding his hand when Lance thought he might just pass out. Joey sat in front of them, flanked by his whole family. They had been doing press together for days, smiling big fake smiles for the camera, their hugs empty and impersonal.
The premiere rushed by, and so did opening weekend, and then everything slowed down again. Slowed down, and got very, very quiet.
Because that was when Lance knew he was a failure.
It became his obsession - failure. How did people deal with it? How did they live with it?
How could he live with it?
He had always thought that there would be something for him outside of *NSYNC -- something besides music, something besides singing and dancing. Now it all seemed like a child playing at being a grown up, and he wondered how many of the industry people he dealt with got a good chuckle out of Lance Bass, Businessman.
He felt as if he were a different person than he'd been before, and yet everything around him was the same. They did their shows, and ended the tour, and went to awards shows and did some more concerts. Justin could still make the girls scream with one hip thrust, and JC still obsessed over their harmonies, and Chris looked more bored and annoyed with the whole rigmarole with every show. Joey still managed to be funny and charming, and no one except the people closest to him would have noticed the sadness in his eyes. It was almost like it had always been, except that Lance felt completely apart from all of it. He could see that when he watched the tapes, saw the insolent, almost arrogant glare on his face. He wondered if anyone else saw it, too, but didn't know who -- or how -- to ask.
Even though they were on vacation, they all tended to gravitate over to the compound at least once a week. It was just poor timing that Lance walked in when they were talking about him.
"What a difference a year makes, huh?" Justin said, brandishing a copy of Entertainment Weekly with "The Best of 2001" splashed across the cover. "Last year we were the biggest success story of the year. This year the only mention we get is because of Lance's movie, and that's not exactly flattering." JC coughed, sounding fake and urgent, and Justin went white when he turned and saw Lance standing there.
"What does it say about the movie?" Lance asked, his voice deceptively calm and quiet. When Justin didn't answer, Lance repeated the question. "What did it say?"
Justin just shook his head, and Lance strode across the room and yanked the magazine out of his hand. And there it was staring at him, page 84, with "Top o' the Flops" across the top, and in case that wasn't clear enough, the subtitle said in big red letters: "Charting the year's deadliest duds."
On the Line was first on the list. He was referred to as "dreamy boy-bander Lance Bass" and given the pithy advice to "stick to your specialty, pretty boy." It wasn't like he hadn't seen bad reviews -- one critic had called it "Like Serendipity, but without an ounce of cleverness or charm" -- but this seemed viciously personal.
Lance laughed, a short, bitter bark. "You guys sure got the short end of the stick with me, huh? First my lame excuse for dancing, and now I manage to embarrass you all even more. Maybe y'all should call up Brian and see if he's available for the spring tour." He left before he could look up and see the pity in their eyes.
He was about to pull his car out of the driveway when Joey's car pulled out first, blocking him in. Lance waited for Joey to move, but instead he got out of his car and came around to the door, standing there until Lance rolled down his window. "Get out," Joey said, tapping his foot impatiently.
"Joey, I don't --"
"Out. Now." Joey's face was hard and set, and Lance gave in unwillingly. He wasn't sure what Joey was going to do once he was out of the car -- hug him? hit him? -- but instead Joey just walked back to his own car and climbed in the driver's seat. "Get in."
Lance got in, fastening his seatbelt and staring out the window, after growling, "Not really in the mood for a field trip, Joe." Joey didn't answer, just gunned the engine and pulled out into the road.
It didn't take Lance long to figure out where they were going, mostly because there wasn't much out on I-4. "Um, I appreciate the thought, and I know that it's the happiest place on earth and all, but I don't really think a trip to Disney World is going to make me feel better."
Joey never took his eyes off the road. "Actually, Disneyland is the happiest place on earth. That's in California."
"Whatever. Second happiest. But not in the mood, okay?"
Joey gave him an even, measured look before turning his attention back to the road. "Pretty sure I've put up with enough of your fucking moods, Bass. So why don't you shut up and sit tight, okay?"
Lance did just that.
It was rare for them to go to Disney without bodyguards around, but they both pulled on baseball caps and got in without attracting much attention. It was nearly dark already, and most of the crowds were lined up to wait for the parade and fireworks. Joey ducked under a velvet rope and pulled Lance into a little side path near the castle, where there were no people around.
"When I was a kid," Joey started, "all I wanted to do was be on Broadway. There were always a couple of shows that had kids in them, and I dreamed about it all the time. Then we moved down here, and damn! Disney World. You could be anything here -- Prince Charming or Mickey Mouse or Chip. Or Dale. So all I wanted to do was work at Disney, once I got old enough. Not like C or J, I mean, that was the big time, on television and everything. I just wanted to sing and dance for people."
Lance didn't quite understand where this story was heading. "Newsflash, Joe. That's what you do. Sing and dance for people."
"Lance, I know that in the last year you've convinced yourself that you know everything, but could you please listen?"
Stung, Lance just nodded.
"So I came to an audition. And then another one. And then another, and another. Fuck, I must have been out here twenty times. Character auditions. Face auditions. I think I even auditioned for their damn cruise line a couple of times. And you know what happened?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Nothing. I got called back once or twice, but that was it. I never got cast. Never."
He looked straight at Lance, his eyes clear and direct. "And I felt like the world's biggest failure."
Lance didn't say anything. "But you know what happened?" Joey continued. "I ended up working at Universal. Which, you know, wasn't as snazzy as working for Disney. But I got to sing and dance. And wear stupid costumes! And I met this totally insane guy named Chris, and then he formed this little band. Well, one guy would insist it was a male vocal group. But you know."
"I think I get the point." But Lance's voice wasn't quite as cold anymore.
"Do you? Do you really? Because I thought that was it, my life was over, I'd never be able to show my face in public. And instead I have the best job in the world, and I found my best friends in the world... and I found the guy I love, even if he acts like an ass when he gets insecure. But that's probably part of the reason I love him."
Lance was embarrassed to feel his eyes fill with tears. "Joey... you don't. Don't say that just because. Because you --."
"Pity you? Is that what you really think? Is that what you think of all of us? That we feel sorry for you, because you tried something new, you took a risk, and you got your nose skinned? That we only like you if you're perfect? Do you really think we're all that shallow?"
Lance didn't answer, staring fixedly at the ground, until Joey reached out and gently tipped his chin up so he had no choice but to look at him. "Maybe... maybe I'm the shallow one. Look what I did to try and make it. Look what I did to us. And for what? A huge failure."
"You worked your ass off on that movie. And maybe it didn't turn out like you hoped, but look at everything you learned. Look at how much fun we had doing it. So it didn't make a ton of money. Big fucking deal. Now you know you can't skate by on your good looks and your charm. Oh, and that whole being a member of *NSYNC thing. So when you do get it right, and make that great movie, you'll know that it's because you earned it. That's how it works in the real world, or so I've been told. Isn't that what you wanted?"
It was the truth, all of it. Lance had somehow deluded himself into thinking that Joey didn't understand him, when the truth was that Joey knew him better than anyone else in the world. And sometimes even better than he knew himself.
"Did... did you mean it?" He wasn't ashamed that his voice broke. Because this was way more important than box office numbers or sales records or what a bunch of irritating industry people thought of him. This was his life.
The jump in subjects didn't phase Joey, who had always been able to follow the way Lance thought. "What, that you have good looks and charm?" he joked. Then his eyes got serious, and the hand that was still resting on Lance's chin moved to cup his face. "Or the part where I told you I loved you? 'Cause yeah. I sure do."
"I love you, too," Lance whispered. "I should have... I should have done so many things differently. I'm so sorry, Joe. I don't know how you can ever forgive me."
Joey grinned, pulling Lance close to him, one arm wrapped around his waist. "See, that's the way it works. I love you, so I forgive you. You love me, so you trust me enough to let me know when you're scared to death, instead of pushing me away. It's really very simple once you get past the whole awkward declaration thing."
They kissed, heedless of the people milling around just a few feet away. A loud bang made them jump apart, and they looked up to see lights sparkling in the sky.
"Now isn't that the damned cheesiest thing you've ever seen. We kiss, and there are fireworks. You'd almost think that someone planned it that way."
Lance looked at Joey's satisfied grin, and knew that he'd done just that. He laughed. It felt like a long time since he'd laughed like that, free and unconstrained. It felt great.
"Face it, Fatone. You're a hopeless romantic."
"And you're not?"
He looped his arms around Joey's waist again, pulling him close. "Guilty as charged. Guess it's a good thing that we love each other, huh? Who else would put up with us?"
Just before their lips met again, Joey paused. "You know what. I was wrong. You're right."
This time Lance couldn't follow the conversation shift. "Huh?"
Joey's eyes twinkled at him, reflecting the fireworks bursting overhead. "To hell with California. As far as I'm concerned, this is the happiest place on earth."
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Author's Note: My first ever SeSa story ever, written for Don We Now Our Gay Apparel in 2001. It was written for Lisa Furey (and I still have no idea who she is/was, or if she liked the story!), and she had requested Lance and Joey at Disneyworld.