Forget
“What, Justin, did you forget to call me? You couldn’t remember what room I was in? You left your phone in your other pants? What?” The angrier Lance was, the more sarcastic he got, and sometimes that made Justin want to smack him.Other times, like now, it made Justin want to try and ease his way out of the room, if not the situation. “I was going to call you, Lance, really I was. But, you know, it got late, and seriously, we didn’t do anything. We were too tired, okay?”
“So, if you hadn’t been tired, you would have, what, fucked without me? Is that what you’re telling me?” Lance angrily stuffed a couple of clean t-shirts in his backpack.
Justin grit his teeth and looked around the messy hotel room for his Gameboy. “No, we were too tired to do anything, and that’s why we didn’t call you,” Justin snapped. They were in the middle of rehearsals for the PopOdyssey tour, and Justin really wasn’t in the mood for another one of Lance’s snits about Britney. He didn’t know why it had to be so hard all the time, why Lance couldn’t just relax and let stuff happen, the way Justin did. Brit was only in New Orleans overnight. She was hanging out at home with her family and had snuck in under the press’s radar for a quick visit before the group left for LA. But Justin really had been exhausted, and they’d just talked, and fallen asleep early. It had been kind of peaceful amidst the flurry of the prep for this ridiculously massive tour, and there had been no reason to call Lance back from wherever he’d gone for the evening.
“So what did you do?” There was something in Lance’s voice that Justin couldn’t quite get a handle on. Something small and unsure.
“We talked, she’s worried about Jamie Lynn, we watched TV, we called room service, we fell asleep.” That pretty much covered it, really.
Lance was momentarily distracted. “What’s going on with Jamie Lynn? Is she okay?” he asked with concern. Before Justin could answer him, though, his lips tightened. “No, never mind. I’m sure she’s fine, or Britney would have told me.” He waved his hand dismissively. “So, if you guys aren’t gonna fuck, there’s no reason to call me, is that it?”
“Jesus, Lance, what do you want from me? Just tell me, okay, and I’ll do it.” Justin said impatiently. The minute the words were out of his mouth, Justin knew they were a mistake, but God, he was tired.
“What do I want?” Lance answered, his voice seething with animosity. “I want to be good for something other than to be the admiring audience when you and the pop princess fuck. It’s lovely to watch, Justin, but it makes me feel a bit unnecessary. I mean, I try to stay out of the way, but sometimes I just can’t stop myself from touching-”
Justin turned around and walked out of the room, letting the door slam as he left. JC was hurrying down the hallway towards him. “Aren’t you guys ready yet, J? The van is downstairs. Wade went on ahead with Chris and Joey.” JC flapped his arms in the direction of the hotel elevator.
“Fuck Wade. And don’t look at me like that, JC. Give me a fucking break here, okay?” That’s just what Justin needed, Wade on his case for being late, on top of JC looking pissed and steely-eyed with self-righteousness.
“Hey, don’t take it out on me if you and Lance are having another fight, asshole. Not my problem.” And JC turned toward the elevator, flinging, “Let’s go!” back over his shoulder.
Justin was aware that the door to his and Lance’s room had opened up behind him while JC was bitching at him. He shoved past Lance, going back inside to get his backpack, while Lance frowned down the hallway after JC’s retreating form.
“What’s his problem this morning?” Lance asked crossly.
“Apparently, we are,” Justin answered, just as the door three rooms down opened and Britney emerged, carrying her overnight bag. She smiled when she saw Lance.
“Mornin,’ darlin’. We missed you last night.” She smiled sweetly up at him. With her hair pulled back in a simple ponytail, wearing sweat pants and no makeup, she looked like a regular girl. Justin had intimate knowledge that she was anything but.
A tight smile crossed Lance’s face. “Hey, Britney Jean.”
“Justin said you went out last night. Did you have a good time?”
“Yeah, me and Joey went out to eat,” Lance said, looking at Justin as if daring him to say anything. Justin shrugged. He knew there was nothing going on between Lance and Joey, but that didn’t mean Lance didn’t want there to be, no matter how hard he tried to convince Justin otherwise.
It didn’t really matter.
“Well, me and Justin just crashed, but we missed you anyway,” Britney said. Lance’s face softened.
“I wish I’d have been there, BJ. You leaving now?”
“Yeah, I’m heading back home for a few more days before I get back to work.”
The elevator dinged. “Come on, guys,” JC yelled at the top of his considerable lungs. Eric motioned to Britney to wait for both her own security and the next elevator. She nodded and turned to kiss Lance and Justin goodbye. She whispered something in Lance’s ear that made him duck his head, his cheeks tinged with color, and he gave her one last peck on the cheek and headed toward the elevator. Justin bent to kiss her, and she pouted up at him. “When can we get together to compare schedules? Maybe I’d better call Lance for that,” she added thoughtfully. “You always forget something.”
Justin rolled his eyes. He knew their schedule just fine. “Whatever, Brit. I’ll call you. Tell your mama I said hi, and kiss Jamie Lynn for me.” He kissed her one last time and followed Lance to the elevator, which JC was holding open with one eye on his watch.
“Jesus, C. Chill,” Justin said wearily. JC frowned as Lance stared stonily at the lighted numbers over the door without saying a word.
The elevator ride down to the garage was completely silent.
~~~~~
Lance falls back into the rhythm of tour prep as easily as if it’s been seven days instead of seven years since the last time he’s done this. That doesn’t surprise, him, really. If there’s one thing Lance is good at, it’s being in NSYNC. Now that they’ve decided on the track listing for the CD, Jive’s firing up the promotional machine, and Lance reads the schedule for the upcoming month with some trepidation. He’s forgotten how little time is allotted for sleeping when they’re in the middle of promo for an album.
Another thing he’s forgotten is how exhausting rehearsals can be. They’re not doing choreography like the old days, of course, Chris’s knees and Justin’s back won’t allow it. Lance would like to think their sense of dignity won’t allow it, either, but he knows very well they don’t have a sense of dignity when it comes to performing. Certainly Chris and Joey don’t. He’s not sure he has faith in JC’s ability to dissuade Chris from wearing some of his more disreputable outfits on stage. Lance smiles at the thought. It might be fun, at that.
But with JC and Justin being a very big part of NSYNC, there’s no way they can completely escape dancing, and Lance really doesn’t mind. It’s a good way to get in shape, if nothing else. It takes them a while to decide on a choreographer. Justin and JC have their favorites, and the other three let them sort it out. No one mentions Wade.
One of the big questions to settle is how much of their old stuff to include in the set list, and Lance finds himself fighting pretty fiercely to include I Thought She Knew. It’s not that the others don’t want to include it, they want to remember Robin as much as Lance does, but where to put it becomes the big question. They end up pairing it with Only a Glimpse, and Lance finds himself unable to get through singing the two songs back to back without choking up. He glares at Joey, daring him to say one word, just one word, about it. Joey keeps his mouth shut, but his sympathetic smile speaks volumes.
Joey doesn’t know what he thinks he knows, but Lance finds himself watching Justin during rehearsal, the way he used to so many years ago. Justin still has complete discipline and utter concentration, staring in the mirror critically, always pushing for perfection. Lance notices he doesn’t watch the others as critically as he used to, although Lance can tell by Joey’s wary expression that he hasn’t forgotten how intense things can get on a bad day.
Lance watches Justin’s muscles work, watches them move smoothly under skin that glows with sweat, and he remembers when Justin brought that single-minded dedication to more than rehearsing and performing.
Lance won’t ever forget being the focus of that concentration, can’t let himself forget the way Justin could make the rest of the world go away with just a smile, the way he could make everything else fall away, until Lance’s whole existence was centered around where Justin was going to touch him next.
He misses that with an ache that never lets up, an ache that’s been there since Justin walked away for the last time.
During a water break, Chris announces that he wants to have another party to celebrate the beginning of tour prep. Lance thinks these days Chris would have a party to celebrate the beginning of the week, if he could convince everyone else that it was a good idea. The only objection comes, surprisingly, from Justin. It’s not an objection as much as it is just generalized bitching about Chris’s habit of supplying his party guests with crappy beer, the risk of permanent hearing loss from the decibel level he insists on keeping the music cranked to, and how stupid his friends are.
Chris has been contemplating Justin calmly all throughout this diatribe, until Justin insults his friends. The his eyes narrow and he says, his hands on his hips, “What the fuck, Timberlake. Since when are you too good for my friends?”
And Lance thinks Chris is seriously insulted, but Justin doesn’t seem to care. “Since your friends can’t keep their hands to themselves,” and oh, shit, this is about Lance.
And Chris has no idea what Justin’s talking about, and JC and Joey look equally confused. “Did someone molest you last time, Justin?” Chris asks, honestly puzzled.
“Not Justin. Me,” Lance says quietly, and everyone turns to look at him. Justin’s eyes are shuttered, but he has a spot of bright color on his cheekbones.
“You were molested?” Joey says, like he’s suddenly found himself in an alternate universe.
“No, Joey. Don’t be dumb,” Lance snaps.
“Look, just forget I said anything,” Justin mumbles. “Never mind. A party is a swell idea. I’ll be there.” And he stalks out of the rehearsal room.
“Dude, did you hook up at my party?” Chris asks curiously. He frowns, obviously thinking back. “Who was it? One of the twins? I know how you like twins, but I gotta tell you, I don’t think they’re natural blonds.” He snickers. “Well, I guess you know that now, don’t you? Which one was it, Ronnie or Donnie?”
Lance feels himself blushing, and he has no idea why. It’s nothing new for Chris to give him a hard time about his sex life. At least this time there’s no animosity, which isn’t always the case. “Um, I’m not really sure,” he admits. “The one with the tattoo on his neck.”
Chris laughs again. “The snake or the koi?”
“The koi.”
“That’s Ronnie.” Chris frowns again. “I think. I can never remember, myself.”
They all laugh, although Lance is uncomfortable, especially when JC looks at him with sad eyes, something like disappointment in them. “I gotta take a piss,” he says, and he’s out the door and on his way to the bathroom before anyone else can attempt to demonstrate what fabulous comedians they are.
Justin’s in the bathroom, washing his hands. Lance pauses, his hand on the door. “Justin,” he says.
“Forget it,” Justin says quickly. “It’s okay, I’m done here. I’m going,” He hangs the towel back up and stands motionless for a minute, studying the painting of the dolphins over the toilet. “It’s a nice picture. I’m glad you got it fixed.” And then he’s gone.
~~~~~
“They’re meeting us at the airport. Steve says they should be able to make the flight.” Lance couldn’t catch his breath, and he felt like he’d run up the twenty flights of stairs instead of taking the elevator. His legs were rubbery, and he wobbled to the bed while they were still holding him up. Delayed reaction to fear, he figured.
Justin kept yanking clothes out of the dresser with sharp, jerky movements, not turning around when Lance plopped down on the bed next to his suitcase. “I don’t care if he makes it or not,” he said viciously. “Stupid fucker.”
Startled, Lance reached out and gently took hold of Justin’s arm when he turned to dump a handful of dirty t-shirts into the suitcase, looking at him closely. His eyes were red-rimmed and he was clenching his jaw in the way that Lance knew meant he’d have a headache by the time they boarded their flight to LA if he didn’t relax. Lance tugged and Justin reluctantly sat down next to him, staring at the wadded up shirt he clutched tightly, his hands between his knees. “J?”
“What did he mean, he forgot about the spring-loaded thing?! He didn’t even know what it’s called! How could he just not pay attention like that? Is he that stupid?!” Justin sounded furious, his voice rising with each sentence.
Lance shrugged. “He’s Joey. He’s not stupid. He’s just-”
Justin jumped up from the bed, flinging his shirt at Lance. It hit him in the face, and Lance grabbed it and put it in Justin’s suitcase. “He’s stupid!” Justin yelled, his voice breaking. And Lance realized that Justin had been terrified when Joey screamed and fell, clutching his leg. Lance had been too worried about Joey, too busy putting pressure on his leg, making sure he kept the towel firmly in place no matter how much Joey tried to move, to pay much attention to Justin. Joey was hurt, and while it wasn’t the first time, it was certainly the worst Lance had seen, and even Joey had lost his equilibrium for a time there. He needed Lance, and that’s all that mattered.
But now Joey was fine, that’s what Steve said on the phone, and he was going to be able to fly with them to LA tonight. They were going to spend the next two days shooting the video for Pop, although no one was saying yet to what extent Joey would be able to participate. There was talk of having Wade stand in for him for some of the longer shots, although Joey didn’t know that yet. Lance had a feeling it was supposed to be his job to tell him during their flight.
Wade was certainly a handy guy to have around, always ready to step in whenever he was needed, whenever one of them was unable to do their part, for whatever reason.
And suddenly Lance had a clear recollection of Justin’s face, pale with fear, his eyes wide and scared, his mouth a shocked red “oh!” looking on as Lance held Joey’s leg until the paramedics got him loaded onto the gurney. They had gently peeled Lance’s hand away from the bloody towel, nodded at him reassuringly, and taken Joey away. Lance smiled at Joey, coolly stepped back, and had gone to find somewhere to wash his hands. He didn’t remember seeing Justin much after that, as they all made their way back to the hotel to get ready to leave town.
“He’s fine, Justin. He’s Joey. He’s fine. It’s gonna take more than a hole in his leg-” and then Justin made a noise like a hurt child and Lance was on his feet, wrapping his arms around Justin, holding on tight. Justin clung to him, trembling, his face buried in Lance’s shoulder. “Shh, it’s okay,” he soothed. “Shh, Justin, look at me,” and Justin shook his head no. Lance laughed softly and kissed his neck.
“Don’t laugh at me,” Justin mumbled wetly into Lance’s shirt.
“I’m not. Come on, baby, look at me,” Lance said. Justin pulled back and blinked at Lance, his eyelashes damp. Lance put two fingers on either side of Justin’s jaw and massaged lightly. “Loosen up now, or you’re gonna have a headache, and then you’ll be miserable on the plane.”
Justin sighed and flexed his jaw. “I know.”
“I’ve got some Advil somewhere around here if you want a couple,” Lance said, and Justin nodded and sniffed.
Lance dug around in the jumble of things on the counter in the bathroom, and it was as he was popping three Advil out of the bottle into his palm that he noticed he still had Joey’s blood under his fingernails. He calmly put the bottle down, put the pills down, and called out, “Justin? Can you come here?”
Justin’s head quickly appeared behind him in the mirror. “What’s wrong?”
Lance held his hands out helplessly toward Justin. “Do you have something to get this off me?” he asked. He looked at the shaving kits and toothpaste and shampoo and felt panic start to rise up in his chest. “Can you hurry?”
Justin paled when he got a good look at Lance’s hands, but he dug around in his bag until he emerged with a spare toothbrush. “Give me your hands.” Justin held Lance’s hands under warm running water, using the toothbrush to carefully scrub under his nails until there was no trace of blood left that either one of them could see. Lance’s hands were shaking, but Justin didn’t say a word.
They finished packing in silence, well-versed in the choreography of “this is yours, no it’s mine, no it’s yours, don’t put it in my suitcase,” having been doing it together for years.
Justin took one last look around the room to make sure they had everything. “Ready?” Lance nodded.
“Okay,” Lance conceded as they left the room, heading for the car to take them to the airport. “Maybe he’s a little stupid.”
~~~~~
Forget: a: to lose the remembrance of b: be unable to think of or recall c: to treat with inattention or disregard d: to disregard intentionally e: forget oneself; to lose one's dignity, temper, or self-control
