Map

And except for Challenge in July, he wouldn’t have to see Lance at all. If this weekend, while Lance was off in fucking Russia of all places, was any indication of what that was going to be like, Justin couldn’t wait to get started.

That would have been fine, they did that all the time, but they encountered Joey in the hotel corridor, bouncing down the hallway with Tiny and whistling Copacabana really loudly. Justin needed to get into his room, quickly.

He wasn’t sure about his and Joey’s friendship, though.

~~~~~

“Hey, Joey.” Justin sits down next to Joey on the couch that runs almost half the length of the bus.

“Hey, J.” Joey throws his arm around Justin’s shoulder and pulls him close.

The discussion about buses had gone on for what seemed to Justin like forever, but they finally reached a consensus, if not a true agreement. Their real problem is one of basic math. It’s impossible to divide the number five evenly, except by itself. And tempting as that may be, no one really likes the idea of five separate buses. It’s an unnecessary expense for starters, and it doesn’t exactly scream group unity. So for now, Justin and Joey are on the two-man bus, and JC, Chris and Lance on the three-man, with options to renegotiate if more than one person has issues, but not any more often than every two weeks. It’s a very complicated accord, and Joey hangs a framed copy, printed out on parchment paper, in the bathroom of each bus.

“Nervous?” Their first concert is tonight, and they’re on their way from the airport to the venue. They’re playing all arenas this time, and most of the concerts have sold out, some more quickly than others.

“Nah,” says Joey, and they both laugh. “What do we have to be nervous about? This tour is gonna put us on the map!”

“Uh, Joe, I think we’re already on the map. Or we were. Or, you know.” And Joey might not be nervous, but Justin is. He doesn’t seriously doubt that the tour will be a success, the CD certainly has been, with both critics and fans, but he can’t help but worry. He shrugs and Joey smacks him on the back of the head.

“Ass. It’ll be fine.”

Justin smiles and leans into Joey until they arrive at the venue.

Justin likes to perform. That’s like saying Justin likes to breathe, but there’s something about performing with these four guys that makes him inordinately happy. The hiatus was never supposed to last forever, it wasn’t even supposed to last more than six months, and all the intervening years are momentarily forgotten as they clasp hands and bow after the final encore. Which is, of course, Bye, Bye Bye. How could it not be?

Lance even gets through his solo on Only a Glimpse without a hitch, although his cheeks are an endearing shade of pink when it’s over. Justin watches him with a smile, and to his surprise, Lance glances across the stage at him and smiles back.

It doesn’t mean anything more than Lance being grateful that he remembered the words and stayed on key, but Justin will take it.

They all ride Justin and Joey’s bus back to the hotel. JC is vibrating with post-show energy, crawling over Chris to give Justin a hug, high-fiving Joey, kissing Lance loudly on the cheek. Chris finally reins him in, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him down firmly on his lap. JC wiggles around until he’s straddling Chris, and he grins amicably at him, practically nose-to-nose.

Lance laughs at them, and Justin impulsively says, “Where to next, pardner?”

It was one of their things, something they used to do on tour all the time. Lance always memorized the tour schedule, and could recite the list of cities and venues the way sixth graders would recite the names of the Presidents in order, back when Justin went to real school.

And Lance stares at Justin, and the other three fall silent, watching them, JC’s forehead against Chris’s, his head tilted to the side, squinting, Joey smiling encouragement. There are more memories here than Justin can deal with right now, and he holds his breath, waiting. Then, slowly, Lance smiles, and jabbing his finger at points on an invisible map in the air, says, “San Francisco, Anaheim, San Diego, back up to Oakland, across to Las Vegas,” and he goes all the way through the list, all the way down to Orlando. He’s still smiling at Justin when he’s done, and Justin grins back like an idiot.

It’s not quite the same as it used to be, of course. Somewhere in the middle of the No Strings tour, Justin thinks it was, Justin’s body became the map. Lance would touch the place behind Justin’s ear, gently stroking with his fingertip, and whisper, “San Diego. I’m going to blow you in San Diego, make you come so hard, so I can see what you taste like in San Diego.” He would bite softly at Justin’s neck and say, “Las Vegas. I’m going to let you fuck me in Las Vegas, Justin.” Justin would feel Lance’s tongue trace around his nipple, making him shiver. “Denver. I’m going to bend you over the table, the one on your bus, Justin, and fuck you. Maybe Chris and JC can watch, would you like that?” Soft air blowing over his naval, a tongue flicking in and out. “Chicago. Would you like a rimjob in Chicago, Justin?” By the time Lance got to Justin’s cock, whispering impossibly dirty things into his skin, Justin would come the minute Lance’s tongue made contact. Lance would laugh delightedly at him, and Justin would growl and pin his hips to the bed and ruthlessly suck him off, not even giving him time to breathe before he was laughing and coming down Justin’s throat at the same time.

No, this wasn’t the same, but it was a place to start.

~~~~~

Lance had never been able to tell Justin no, until he did. And once he did, even though he went about it in a completely fucked up way, there was no going back. Justin was gone.

It was a hiatus, that was all it was supposed to be, but to Lance it felt like the slow and torturous dissolution of every thing in his life that mattered, especially since they tended to discuss it to death. JC worried constantly about whether he should live in LA or Orlando. Joey was trying very hard to get a part on Broadway, and it looked as if Rent might be a possibility. Justin was all, “Pharrell this,” and “Timbaland that,” and then he’d realize Lance was in the room and clam up like a big baby. Chris had had a crappy spring, what with Busta dying and FuMan in trouble, and he was the only one not full of plans for the long break.

He knew he was running, but there was nothing to stay for, so why shouldn’t he go as far away as he could go?

~~~~~

Lance is convinced that whoever put together the order of the cities they’re playing on this tour couldn’t possibly have had a map in front of them at the time. They’re all over the place, up and down and all around. He guesses it doesn’t matter, and he really doesn’t mind the extra time on the buses. They’re almost going at a leisurely pace, plenty of down time between concerts. They no longer have to worry that it’s all going to go away tomorrow, because it already went away once, and they lived through it and survived just fine.

He’s not at all sure why Chris and JC don’t want the two-man bus, although he figures they assume he and Justin don’t want to be on a bus together, and Joey would have laughed in their faces had they suggested he be stuck with the two of them. Lance is cool with this arrangement, though. He and JC are good and they always will be, but he’d like to do some fence-mending with Chris. Hours and hours on a bus together will either help that along, or result in murder on the highway. Only time will tell for sure, he guesses.

The first show was great, with all the usual first show glitches, but nothing they couldn’t handle. Lance is still not quite ready to forgive Justin for saddling him with a solo, and for everyone else to insist that he actually sing it live, but he didn’t fuck it up, and so that’s one show down, thirty-four to go.

He wakes up to the sounds of Chris and JC squabbling over a video game. Who was it who said, “The more things change, the more they stay the same?” Some Japanese philosopher, Lance thinks. The same guy who said something about a thousand steps and a journey, maybe. Or maybe not. Lance doesn’t remember stuff like that very well.

Lance stretches and tumbles out of his bunk, hoping to God there’s coffee made. Chris and JC ignore him completely until he plops down between them on the couch, a cup of hot coffee in his hand. “Careful, you’re going to spill my coffee,” he admonishes them cheerfully.

They both turn to glare at him. “You suck, Bass,” Chris growls.

“And not in the good way,” JC adds with a scowl, but his eyes are twinkling.

“How would you know, hmm?” Lance teases.

“Do you have any idea where we are?” JC asks. “It’s only the third day and I’m lost already.”

“You started out lost, I’m afraid, C,” says Chris, shaking his head mournfully, and JC agrees.

“You may be right.”

“We’re in California, JC,” Lance tells him. "That’s all you need to know right now.” Lance gets up and moves to the kitchen to dig an apple out of the fruit bowl. He’s tempted to call Joey and see how things are going over on the other bus. He settles back to watch Chris and JC play.

Maybe later.

~~~~~

Lance is almost too numb to realize that this is going to be their last concert for a very long time. He’s exhausted, for one, and bored, and every show is just more thing he can cross off the list before he can go to Russia.

Thank God it’s in Orlando, and he an sleep in his own bed afterwards, after the parties and the clubbing and the good-byes, like they aren’t seeing each other in the studio tomorrow to record When You Wish Upon a Star for Disney.