Warning -- this chapter is all over the place. [shrugs] To be honest, it kind of got out of hand. Sort of like when you go grocery shopping, and you're hungry, so all sorts of things get thrown in the cart. Anyway, there's some angst here, and some romance, and some comedy (I think), and a couple interesting new story lines. Something for everyone hopefully. So I hope you like it. This chapter also leaves several things unresolved -- things I'm not sure yet how I want to resolve. If you want to get your two cents worth in, send me email. Several people have already written to me about a certain something, and are pushing for a certain other something to happen. (Is that vague enough?) The email address is at denis141@hotmail.com. One more thing: I'm going on vacation for a week tomorrow morning, and I busted my ass to get this done. That also means there might be more than the usual number of typos. Sorry. Now go read the chapter. I hope you like it.
DISCLAIMER: I don't know NSYNC, and this story is purely a work of fiction. And it sometimes has sex in it, so don't read it if you don't like that kind of thing, or aren't old enough.
CHAPTER 30: AXIS MUNDI: Part Five: One Secret of the Ellipse.
ELLIPSE, NOUN: 1. A plane curve, especially: a. A conic section whose plane is not parallel to the axis, base, or generatrix of the intersected cone. b. The locus of points for which the sum of the distances from each point to two fixed points is equal. ETYMOLOGY: French, from Latin ellpsis, from Greek elleipsis, a falling short, ellipse, from elleipein, to fall short (from the relationship between the line joining the vertices of a conic and the line through the focus and parallel to the directrix of a conic).
-- American Heritage Dictionary, 4th Edition, 2000.
The ellipse is as aimless as that, Stretching invisibly into the future so as to reappear In our present. Its flexing is its account, Return to the point of no return.
-- John Ashberry, On the Towpath.
Mankind is not a circle with a single center but an ellipse with two focal points of which facts are one and ideas the other.
-- Victor Hugo
Kepler's first law states that the shape of each planet's orbit is an ellipse with the sun at one focus. The sun is thus off-center in the ellipse and the planet's distance from the sun varies as the planet moves through one orbit... Kepler believed that the sun did not sit passively at the center of the solar system but that through some mysterious power or "virtue" actually compelled the planets to hold to their orbits. Because the planets moved slower when they were farther from the sun, this power must diminish with increasing distance.
-- The Columbia Encyclopedia, 6th Edition, 2001.
Part One:
JC had the bottle wedged tightly between his thighs as he struggled to remove the cork without ripping it in half. The bottle felt cold and slightly damp against his skin. It had been in the refrigerator moments before. As he felt the cork finally start to move, he stopped holding his breath and noisily exhaled. He hated opening bottles of wine, and wondered why all wine couldn't simply come with a screw-off top. The cork released all at once, like someone suddenly and unexpectedly letting go of the rope in a game of tug- of-war, and JC almost smacked himself in the nose with the back of his hand as his hand flew up off the bottle. The wet popping sound of the cork's release startled him too.
"Finally," JC muttered, setting the bottle of wine on the counter, and glancing out the window.
It was Sunday night, Labor Day Weekend, and just past seven o'clock. The sun had disappeared from view, but the sky remained brightly blue and full of light, with only a few clouds scattered along the line of the horizon. JC was in the downstairs kitchen, having come in to get more wine. Glancing out the window, JC watched as Mel walked behind Cameron as he rolled a red ball across the lawn. Justin was lying on the blanket Lance had spread out on the grass next to the pool, propped up on one elbow, so that his shoulders were up off the ground and he could look at Lance as he talked to him. Connor had been laying face-down on Justin's chest for about an hour, held gently there while he slept. Picking up the bottle of wine, JC went back outside and sat down next to Lance on the blanket, gently poking him in the small of the back, and smiling at him.
"Yay -- reinforcements," Lance said, pointing at the bottle of wine that JC held, and holding up his glass for him to fill it.
"Down boy," JC said, laughing as he handed Lance the bottle.
"Hey sweets," Justin said, looking up at Mel as she walked up to the edge of the blanket, Cameron in her arms as he giggled and struggled to escape her hold on him.
"Cameron -- settle down," Mel said, kissing the top of his head.
"Maybe a bit of wine would help," Justin said, smiling at Mel as she sat down on the blanket and situated Cameron on her lap.
"For him or me," Mel asked, leaning her head sharply back to loose Cameron's hold on her chin.
"Or maybe both," Lance said, handing the bottle back to JC.
"Is he sleeping better?" JC asked, pouring wine into Mel and Justin's glasses and then his own.
"During the day," Justin said. "Me and Cam have us a major nap when Mel gets home from the office."
"It really is insane," Mel said, laughing. "Justin stays up with him when he won't sleep at night, which is all the time lately. So when I come home in the afternoon, I take care of Connor so that Justin and Cameron can get some sleep."
"Yeah, we head outside on the deck and crash in that big chaise lounge thing we got out there. Cam loves being outside."
"Aaron was always a good sleeper," JC said.
"In our bed," Lance said.
"Well," JC said, taking a sip from his glass and shrugging his shoulders.
"You'd think," Mel said. "That being a pediatrician, I'd be better at this. Or that I'd at least feel more confident. But it really is a surprise to me -- all of it."
"That never ends," Lance said. "At least, it didn't for me. But you get used to it."
"I imagine so," Mel said, holding her wine out to her side so that Cameron didn't stick his finger in the glass.
"So you aren't back to work full-time yet?" JC said. "At your practice."
"No," Mel said. "I'm up to about two-thirds what I worked before, and I suspect I'll leave it at that. I do rounds early at the hospital, and then I see patients until two or so. Then I rescue my husband."
"Hey -- I'm super-dad," Justin said.
"Except when the tub overflows."
"What?" Lance said, laughing.
"Mel -- shhh!"
"No, I really must tell this," Mel said, nudging Justin with her foot. "Two weeks ago, I come home and find Justin making macaroni and cheese for Cameron, who is, as usual, screaming that he's hungry, because he is incapable of saying anything quietly. In any case, Connor is playing with the blocks you gave him -- which he still adores, by the way -- and, I swear, I am not in the door more than a minute when I notice the staircase has suddenly turned into a waterfall, because the tub in the bathroom at the top of the stairs has started to overflow."
"I was going to give the boys their bath," Justin said. "But then Cameron...well, anyway, it was a disaster."
"That's hysterical," JC said. "The worst that Lance ever did was falling down the embankment over there while he was making a video of Aaron riding his bike for the first time. He just kept backing up and backing up and..."
"Okay, Josh," Lance said. "They get the picture."
"Oh man -- that's why you had that big cut on your head that time," Justin said.
"Yeah, yeah -- Lance takes a fall. Film at eleven."
"So Justin -- you're liking being super-dad and all?" JC said, smiling at him. "I mean, staying home, not working, just being with the boys."
"It's been great," Justin said, looking up at Mel as she put her hand on the back of his neck and gently rubbed it. "I'm already trying to talk Mel into more."
"Or as he puts it," Mel said. "Expanding the Timberlake tribe."
"How `bout you Jayce," Justin said. "You doing a new album anytime soon? Or you homebound for good now."
"No," Lance said. "He's been thinking about touring again. And doing some new stuff. Isn't that right Josh?"
"I don't know," JC said. "Maybe."
"Well -- let me know," Justin said, sitting up and laying Connor down on his lap. "Maybe we could do something together. "
"Actually, one thing I've been thinking about -- although I'm not sure why, is that last album we were working on."
"Wow -- how long ago was that?" Lance said.
"Like twelve years at least," JC said.
"But without Joey, it's not really going to be..." Lance said, letting his words trail off, and not finishing his sentence.
"No -- I know," JC said. "But I think the tracks for like eight songs were pretty much set down, and..."
"That's right," Justin said. "Except for the leads. We always did those last."
"And I've been thinking if we write a couple new songs. I don't know. It might not work, but it's something I'd maybe like to do."
"Totally," Justin said. "I'd forgotten all about it."
"Would you mind?" JC asked, looking at Lance.
"It's up to you," Lance said. "They're your songs -- and Justin's. So I think it's up to you two. I don't want to do it, but I won't be mad if you do."
"Really?" JC said, sliding over next to Lance and hugging him.
"Really," Lance said, kissing JC quickly on the cheek.
"Aren't you going to ask my permission?" Mel said, pretending to be slighted.
"I'll be begging for that later," Justin said, sliding over next to Mel, like JC had done with Lance, and then putting his head on her shoulder.
"Who has the masters?" JC asked, letting go of Lance, and turning back to Justin.
"I'm guessing they'd still be at the studio," Justin said. "Or maybe Johnny will know. He handled all that stuff -- you know, after."
"You want me to call him?" JC asked.
"Yeah -- see what he says," Justin said. "And maybe find out whether we need to get Jive to release the rights or what?"
"We can buy them back," JC said. "If we have to."
"You probably won't need to," Lance said. "I'm pretty sure that the rights would have reverted back by now -- although you may need to get Chris to sign off on it."
"You think?" Justin said.
"Probably," Lance said.
"He'll be cool," Justin said.
"Who knows," JC said, shaking his head. "It depends on whether you catch him on one of his sane days."
"Tell me. But I can call him," Justin said. "If he's out of rehab, that is."
"What?" Lance said, surprised.
"Yeah -- third trip," Justin said.
"And third ex-wife," JC said. "Or fourth. I can't remember."
"Geez," Lance said. "I had no idea."
"It's bad," JC said. "But anyway -- Justin, why don't you bring your boys over late tomorrow morning and we can figure this all out. You're in Los Angeles tomorrow -- aren't you Lance?"
"Yeah," Lance said. "I'm driving up to meet with Stephen. He's been after me for months to come see him, and I can't put him off any longer."
"Looks like Cam finally clicked off," Justin said, reaching out to gently stroke the top of Cameron's head, which now lay in the crook of Mel's arm.
"Maybe we should go," Mel said, looking down at Cameron and then at Justin. "So we can get the boys down."
"Yeah -- okay," Justin said.
"Thank you so much for having us over," Mel said, getting to her knees and then standing up. "Dinner was really nice."
"It was great," Justin said. "As usual."
"No -- don't get up," Mel said, waving her hand at JC, who was about to stand up. "Really."
"Yeah -- you guys hang out here," Justin said. "We can let ourselves out."
"Are you sure?" JC said, looking up at Mel and Justin, and then at Lance.
"For sure," Justin said.
"All right," JC said, looking at Lance again and then wrapping his arm around his waist. "I'll see you tomorrow then."
"Probably around nine," Justin said.
"Great," JC said, watching Mel and Justin walk across the yard towards the back door and then disappear inside.
"Alone at last," Lance said, leaning JC back onto the blanket and then crawling on top of him. "I've been wanting to do this all night."
"What?" JC said, smiling up at Lance, whose face now hovered over his own.
"Kiss you," Lance said, whispering.
"You can kiss me in front of them," JC said, whispering now too, as if sharing a secret. "I'm not shy."
"You aren't huh?" Lance said, kissing JC but only barely, and continuing to speak softly against his lips. "So you wouldn't mind if I did this."
"You are bad," JC said, lifting his head slightly so that he could kiss Lance again, this time pressing hard, and opening his mouth for Lance's tongue.
"No -- I'm good," Lance said, laughing softly into the kiss.
As they kissed, Lance and JC rolled slowly across the blanket, wrapping up in it, as if in a cocoon. Lance could feel JC growing hard in his hand and he wanted it in him. JC moaned at the pressure he felt as Lance gripped it, and slid his hand up and down the length of it. It was well-practiced, and it never failed to startle JC with how quickly it brought him nearly to the brink. JC's hands moved to the back of Lance's head, and his fingers moved through his hair, pulling Lance's mouth hard against his own as he kissed him. He could smell the sharp fresh smell of the grass, and taste the lingering remnants of the wine they'd been drinking, and feel the warmth of Lance's grip on him, and see the sharp clear way that Lance looked at him now, his eyes reflecting the lingering light, as if a mirror, and hear Lance saying, You are my love.
They had fallen asleep after making love. Lance woke first, realizing that JC was asleep in his arms, held there beneath the blanket still wrapped around them. The sky was moonless but still bright with stars. It was late. Probably midnight, Lance thought. JC's face was pressed against his neck, nestled there with his mouth open so that he could feel the warmth of his breath, and the slight moisture of his lips. It felt good and Lance didn't want to wake him -- but he did.
"Josh," Lance whispered. "Come on sweetie -- wake up."
"No," JC mumbled, wrapping his arms more tightly around Lance and kissing his neck. "Let me sleep."
"Come on," Lance said, pulling the blanket from around them. "We fell asleep on the grass. Get up."
"What?" JC said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "Where are we?"
"We're outside," Lance said, laughing. "We fell asleep."
"What?"
"Come on," Lance said, extending his hand to JC. "Get up."
"This is weird," JC said, taking Lance's hand and pulling himself up.
"Uh, you might want to put that away," Lance said, pointing at JC's penis, which was hanging out of his unzipped shorts.
"Oh gawd!" JC said. "Now I remember."
"I certainly hope so," Lance said, picking the blanket up and shaking the grass off of it as he watched JC zip his shorts back up.
"What time is it?" JC said, taking the end of the blanket and help Lance fold it.
"Almost midnight."
"I hope Aaron's okay."
"I'm sure he's fine," Lance said, following JC into the house and locking the door behind him.
"I know," JC said, taking Lance's hand as he climbed the stairs in front of him. "He and James are probably still watching a movie."
"Or playing video games."
"Yeah."
The door to Aaron's room was open and JC looked inside. It was empty. Walking further down the hallway, JC and Lance went into the living room. The floor lamp next to the couch was on, but only at its dimmest setting, so that the room was only barely lit. The television was on too, and its screen glowed brightly blank, without a picture. The DVD the boys had been watching was over, and now they were asleep. Aaron's back was pressed against couch as he lay on his side, his head resting on a throw pillow. James lay along side of Aaron, his back pressed against him, his head resting on Aaron's left arm as he slept. Aaron's other arm was wrapped around James, and his hand was on his chest, rising and falling as James breathed.
"Wow," Lance said, looking at the boys, and then JC. "What's this about?"
"They're just sleeping," JC said.
"You think?"
"Lance -- they're close," JC said, whispering. "But not like that."
"No -- you're right," Lance said. "It's just kind of weird."
"No," JC said.
"Okay," Lance said, crouching down in front of the couch and shaking Aaron's arm to wake him.
James woke first, his eyes suddenly opening wide, as if startled. Lance continued to shake Aaron's arm, eliciting a long low groan but not getting Aaron to open his eyes. Sitting up, James scratched his head as he swung his feet to the floor. The arm that had been wrapped around him slid off and limply hit the couch bouncing once. James leaned back against Aaron, pushing him.
"A -- get up," James said. "Your dad wants us to go to bed."
"Come on big guy," Lance said, grabbing hold of Aaron's shoulders. "You're too big for me to carry so you're going to have to pitch in here."
"Just let me sleep," Aaron grumbled, partly opening one eye.
"I'm going to bed," James said, standing up and then shuffling off, his feet sliding across the floor, as if he was too tired to lift them.
"Okay," Aaron said, finally opening the other eye. "Okay. I'm coming."
Lance and JC followed the boys back to Aaron's room. Once there, James pulled off his socks and crawled under the comforter on the bed. Aaron was barefoot already and he crawled in after James, tugging the comforter over the two of them. The boys lay side-by-side in bed, James on his right side, facing the wall, and Aaron on his back. The bed was small, and it barely contained them, but it was obvious that neither minded, nor felt crowded. There was an easy intimacy between James and Aaron, built of friendship, affection, and trust, an intimacy untroubled by fear or desire. They had for over five years now traveled in the same orbit, the one never far from the other, separated by two very different personalities, but held together by a bond so strong they never even thought to question it, or to worry that it would not be there when it was needed.
Looking at them now, Lance felt vaguely uneasy. Not because he thought there was anything wrong with Aaron's devotion to James, his instinctive desire to protect him, even though he was the younger of the two, or of their closeness. No, what caused Lance concern was knowledge that Aaron would soon face, within himself, the questions he had faced at his age, questions about sexuality, and love, and lust, the myriad unseen forces of push and pull that inevitably define attraction, repulsion, desire, and fear -- all the reasons why people come together, or are pulled apart, or merely drift.
Thinking about this, Lance remembered again that day he and JC first kissed, March 11, 1998, over fifteen years ago, that day JC had written the song about, the song with the line he loved so much, A kiss that explained the world to me. Lance loved this line because that was exactly how it had been for him: the kiss had explained the world to him, and changed it forever too, leading him like some kind of Galileo to realize what his world really revolved around, and why. Lance remembered now how on that day
...he lay quietly on the couch, reading
an article in the National Geographic about the Mars Rover, and trying to blot out the memory of how bad he'd danced at rehearsal. The album would be out in thirteen days and he knew that everything was going to change after that -- everything except for his feeling that he didn't really belong in the group, and that it'd been a mistake to think he could pull this off without someone seeing right through him and know that he was just faking it, except for JC, who always seemed to have a kind word or a small soft touch on the back when Lance's would gasp in frustration at the immense challenge of it all.
And then Lance looked up from his magazine and saw JC standing about eight feet away, his head tilted ever so slightly to the left, his eyes open wide -- as if in fright, no not fright, surprise -- and his lips were apart, as if about to speak, but not speaking, like the words caught in his throat. Unable to look away, and not wanting to anyway, Lance returned the gaze he found himself engulfed within, a gaze that was like a light shining directly into his eyes, and his eyes becoming like mirrors reflecting the light back, but catching it too, and being lit by it, so that Lance felt like he was glowing, and he felt like something deep within was loosed and set free.
JC walked toward Lance and slowly kneeled in front of the couch, the whole time holding Lance's gaze with his own, so that their gazes were twinned and intertwined and it was like a rope that each held tightly, refusing to let it go, and instead pulling the other closer, closer, in and toward, so that soon Lance and JC faced each other, inches apart, and Lance thought, how could I not love this man, and JC thought, how could I not love this man, and they kissed, and Lance's mouth opened and he felt it fill with JC's warm breath, and it was like JC was breathing for him now.
Lance felt JC's arms slip around and under him, pulling him tightly forward, engulfing Lance and lifting him up, up, up, until soon they were standing, legs interlocked, arms tangled, not knowing anymore where one body stopped and another started, and not caring, as Lance kept pushing his lips insistently into this kiss and JC pushed back, insisting too, each discovering in insistence a need they'd not suspected but now did not doubt because here was the proof: this kiss.
"Come on," JC whispered in Lance's ear, startling from his memory, taking his hand and then pulling him gently from the room. "Let's go to bed."
"Okay," Lance said, softly, following JC down the hallway and to bed.
James and Aaron were at the kitchen table, each hunched over a plate of waffles and bacon. They ate silently, neither one fully awake. JC was leaning against the counter and drinking coffee from a white thick-handled mug. He looked up as Lance walked into the room with a semi-frantic look on his face.
"Josh -- I can't find my scripts," Lance said. "All the ones Stephen's been sending me for like the last year. Do you know where they are?"
"In a box," JC said. "In the basement."
"Really?" Lance said, sounding impatient, his voice edging toward sarcasm. "I might have never guessed. Josh -- there are hundreds of boxes downstairs."
"Not with `Lance's Scripts' written in big black letters on the side of it," JC said.
Aaron looked across the table at James and laughed.
"Hey -- no comments from the peanut gallery," Lance said, giving Aaron's head a playful nudge.
"So I take it you didn't actually look for them?" JC said, winking at James.
"Not exactly," Lance said, taking a piece of bacon off Aaron's plate and taking a big bite of it. "I was just worried that you might have thrown them away."
"Now, seriously Lance -- what is the likelihood that I'd throw something away?"
"Yeah dad," Aaron said, laughing.
"Okay, okay!" Lance said trying to nab another piece of bacon.
"Hey!" Aaron said, sliding his plate away from Lance before he could get to it. "Get your own."
"I was trying to," Lance said.
"You can have mine," James said. I'm full."
"No -- that's okay James," Lance said. "I need to hit the road anyway. That is, after I find that box JC has hidden away."
"Right in plain sight."
"See how devious your father is?" Lance said, poking Aaron in the shoulder and then pointing at JC. "Always trying to trick me."
"He's not tricky," Aaron said. "Just smart."
"Thank you Aaron," JC said. "You obviously take after me."
"Okay -- it's getting thick in here," Lance said. "And I got to get going. You boys want to come with?"
"Where?" James asked.
"Los Angeles," Aaron said. "My dad has to meet with his agent."
"And he's just a block away from Universal Studios," JC said.
"Really?" James said. "I've never been there."
"It's awesome," Aaron said, smiling excitedly. "Can we go dad?"
"You could drop them off," JC said. "And pick them up after your meeting."
"Well boys?" Lance said.
"Totally!" Aaron said, pushing his chair back from the table. "We just got to get dressed and then we'll be ready."
"James -- do you need to call your mom?" JC asked. "Or I can."
"That would be great," James said. "If you don't mind."
"No, it's no problem," JC said. "You guys get ready, and I'll call her."
Aaron and James ran out of the kitchen, their bare feet slapping noisily on the floor. Lance, who had been standing in the doorway, stepped to one side to let them pass, and then walked over to where JC stood, still leaning against the counter. Putting a hand on each of JC's shoulders, Lance pulled him forward into a kiss.
"I didn't mean to get all freaky about the scripts," Lance said. "Sorry."
"No worries," JC said, smiling as Lance kissed him again.
"I'm just nervous about the meeting, since I know Stephen's going to be pushing me to do a film, and I'm not sure I want to."
"Have you even read any of them?" JC asked, wrapping his arms around Lance's waist. "The scripts? There's like fifty of them."
"Not a one," Lance said.
"You'll do fine," JC said. "Just don't let him push you into doing something you don't want to do."
"I won't," Lance said.
"Good -- now go get that box, and let me give James' mom a call."
Lance kissed JC again, holding JC's face in his hands as he did so. Slowly letting go of him, Lance looked into JC's eyes and he couldn't help but smile. JC smiled too, nudging Lance gently forward, and saying, "I'll see you tonight."
"Yeah -- you will," Lance said, winking at JC, and then leaving the room.
"You guys find anything good yet?" Lance said, glancing to his right at James and Aaron as the three of them drove north on I-5 approaching Los Angeles.
"I kind of like this `Renegade' one," Aaron said, flipping through a pile of scripts and pulling out the one with the blue cover.
"Is that the one with John Woo directing?" Lance asked, staring straight ahead as the traffic started to build in front of them.
"Yeah," Aaron said.
"I think it's in production already," Lance said.
"What about the circus one -- Big Top?" James said.
"Who would I play," Lance asked.
"Some tightrope walker guy," James said.
"Love story?" Lance asked.
"I think," James said. "But you get to kill someone too, and there's like a trial at the end, and you find out..."
"Nah," Lance said. "That sounds too weird. How about a comedy? Any good comedies in there?"
"Nothing funny," Aaron said. "Aren't comedies supposed to funny?"
"You'd think," Lance said.
"Wait!" James said. "Aaron -- look at this."
"What?" Lance asked.
"No way!" Aaron said, excitedly grabbing the script from James and opening it.
"Tell me," Lance said. "What is it?"
"Dad -- this would be way cool."
"Who's the director?"
"Wait a second," Aaron said. "I'll look. Oh -- cool. Ang Lee. I met him before."
"You did?" James said, turning to look at Aaron.
"Yeah, when I was little," Aaron said. "He was real nice."
Guys," Lance said. "How about letting me in on this."
"Oh -- sorry dad," Aaron said. "It's called `Fallen Hero'. But wait, here James, you tell him. You found it first."
"Okay," James said, taking the script back from Aaron. "It's Star Wars, Episode Seven. Isn't that totally cool?"
"I thought George Lucas was dead?" Lance said.
"He is," James said. "I think."
"Well that doesn't make any sense," Lance said. "Aaron -- push the speed-dial for Stephen, and put him on speaker."
"Okay," Aaron said, leaning forward to look at the cell-phone handset that was attached to the dashboard. "There."
There were several long rings and then finally a voice boomed into the car.
"Stephen here!"
"Steve -- it's Lance."
"Don't be fucking telling me you're not coming Bass, because if you..."
"Hey -- Steve, tone it down. I got kids in the car."
"Shit -- sorry. Hey Aaron, how you been?"
"I'm good."
"So Bass -- why you calling? Please don't tell me you ain't coming."
"No -- I'm coming," Lance said. "I'm almost there. I'm dropping the kids off at Universal Studios, first and then I'll be right over. You buying me lunch, right?"
"Me? The poor starving agent. And I gotta buy Mr. Big Bucks lunch. You know, there just ain't no justice in this pitiful damn world."
"I didn't make the rules," Lance said, laughing. "Anyway, I've been looking at some of the scripts you been sending over for the last few months. What's the deal with the Star Wars one? Isn't Lucas dead?"
"As dead as my fucking sex life," Steve said. "Ooops...sorry. I mean, yeah, he's been dead for a couple of years now."
"I don't get it then," Lance said.
"It's like this -- Ang helped Lucas finish Episode Three, after Lucas had that first heart attack of his. Then when it turned out so good, Lucas agreed to let Ang produce the final trilogy."
"Does it got a green light already?" Lance asked. "And financing?"
What? Are you an idiot ? Of course it fucking has a green light. It's money baby!"
"Steve..."
"Oh, sorry kid. Anyways, it's waiting on you. Ang wants you baby."
"You're kidding me," Lance said.
"Uh -- hello! Absalom. Best Picture. Best Director. Ang loves you."
"Dad -- do it. Do it," Aaron said, bouncing excitedly in his seat.
"Yeah -- listen to your kid, Bass. Save your career. You haven't made a movie in two years."
"What's the part?"
"Did you even read the script?" Steve shouted over the phone.
"It's Jhon," James whispered to Lance. "Luke Skywalker's grown son."
"Oh yeah, it's Jhon -- right?" Lance said, gently nudging James with his elbow and winking at him. "Luke Skywalker's son."
"Exactly. As in the lead role. Top billing."
"All right," Lance said. "We can talk about it when I get there, which should be in like ten minutes. I won't be long."
"Righty-o," Steve said, hanging up.
"Bye," Lance said, reaching across James and punching the END button on the cell phone.
"Are you going to do it?" Aaron asked turning sideways in his seat and looking at Lance. "Are you dad?"
"We'll see," Lance said. "I have to find out the shooting schedule, and a bunch of other stuff. I mean, you have school, and I can't be away somewhere for a year or more."
"Yeah -- okay," Aaron said. "But I hope you do it."
"Me too," James said, smiling at Aaron. "It'd be really cool."
Aaron and James were waiting outside at the car. JC was still inside looking for his keys so he could drive the two of them to school. It was seven-thirty in the morning, and their first day back to school. While anyone looking at the two of them would have assumed that Aaron was the older of the two, he was only eleven and starting the sixth grade, his final year of elementary school. James was twelve and starting his first year of middle school, the seventh grade.
"I hope we aren't late," James said.
"Don't worry," Aaron said. "This always happens."
"Okay."
"Are you nervous?" Aaron asked. "About starting middle school."
"Kind of," James said.
"I'll be going there next year."
"I know."
"I think you'll like it."
"I hope."
"You will."
"Hey -- sorry guys," JC said, bursting suddenly out of the house and then running to the car. "I couldn't find my keys."
"It's okay dad," Aaron said, smiling brightly at him. "But we need to drop James off first. At the Middle School."
"Oh that's right," JC said, unlocking the doors. "I totally forgot."
The boys crawled into the back seat of JC's Volvo and fastened their seatbelts as JC backed the car up and turned it around. Aaron put his book bag on the floor in front of him and, seeing him do it, James did the same. The Francis Parker middle school was several miles away from the elementary school, but it was closer to Aaron's house, so it didn't take them long to get there. When they arrived, JC noticed that most of the kids were already inside the school and that only a few stragglers were still heading up the stairs to the big double-doors that led inside.
"You better hurry James," JC said. "If you don't want to be late."
"Okay," James said, opening his door and getting out. "Thanks for the ride. And thanks for letting me stay at your house this weekend. It was really great."
"You're welcome," JC said, rolling down his window. "And -- James, you let Aaron know if you ever want a ride to school. I'm happy to swing by and pick you up."
"I don't mind taking the bus," James said. "But thanks."
"I'll see you later," Aaron said, leaning across the backseat and waving at James through the still open door.
"Yeah -- okay," James said, frowning as he shut the car door and then turned and walked toward the front of the school.
"You want to get up front," JC asked, turning around to look at Aaron.
"Yeah."
Aaron got out of the car and stood next to it for a moment, watching James walk away. His hands were shoved into his pockets and his shoulders were slumped forward. JC was about to roll down the front passenger-side window and tell Aaron to get in when he saw him sprint after James. JC watched as Aaron caught up with him just as he was about to walk into the building. Aaron whispered something into James' ear. Hearing it, James smiled at Aaron and pushed gently against his shoulder. Aaron laughed, and ran back to the car, waving at James as he ran.
"We can go now," Aaron said, sliding into the front seat and closing the door.
"So what was that about," JC said, reaching over and patting Aaron's knee.
"Oh -- I just had to tell him something."
"Is it a secret?"
"No. Not really," Aaron said, turning to look at JC, his eyes open and bright. "I just told him to have a good day and that I'd call him tonight to see how things went."
"That was nice of you," JC said, patting Aaron's knee again, this time squeezing it too. "You're a very good friend -- do you know that?"
"I don't know," Aaron said, bowing his head, as if embarrassed.
JC and Aaron drove silently the rest of the way to school. When they arrived, JC looked over at Aaron, waiting for him to say good-bye and get out of the car, but he just sat there, looking straight ahead, as if lost in though, and unaware where he was.
"Are you okay?" JC asked.
"Yeah -- I'm okay dad," Aaron said, shrugging and then forcing a smile.
"Are you sad that James isn't here."
"Sort of."
"That's okay, you know," JC said, rubbing the back of Aaron's neck and giving it a soft squeeze. "It's okay to miss someone you like. It's what people with big good hearts like you do."
"You think I have a big good heart?" Aaron said, looking at JC and into his eyes.
"A really big good heart. And a brave one too."
"Some people think it's weird that me and James like each other so much."
"Why do you say that?"
"I don't know. They just do."
"How does that make you feel?"
"Mad."
"Well -- that's good, Aaron, because you should never let what other people think make your mind up about who you're going to like. People you don't even know, people who aren't your friends or don't care about you -- what they think doesn't matter. "
"I try to think that," Aaron said, slouching in his chair. "But people are so mean sometimes, like to James. It makes me mad."
"I know," JC said, his hand still resting on the back of Aaron's neck. "And that's a good thing it makes you mad. It really is. But you can't always be there to stick up for him. Just like me and your dad can't always be there with you. James has to learn to stick up for himself too."
"Okay."
"You know what else?"
"What?"
"I bet James is proud to be your friend."
"I'm proud that he's my friend too."
"Well that's what matters, isn't it?"
"That's right," Aaron said, smiling at JC.
"So you ready to go in?"
"Yeah," James said, reaching over the back of the seat and grabbing his book bag.
"Good," JC said. "I'll see you after school then."
"Thanks dad."
"Don't mention it," JC said, patting Aaron lightly on the knee, and smiling at him.
Aaron opened the door and climbed slowly out. Turning back around, Aaron leaned back into the car and kissed JC on the cheek, something he rarely did anymore. JC blushed, and his eyes opened wide, suddenly becoming moister than before.
"I'm proud that you're my dad," Aaron said.
JC said nothing, but continued to smile as he watched Aaron shut the car door and run toward the school's entrance and disappear inside. He envied Aaron his innocence, and his brave heart. It was a rare combination and one he wished he could take more credit for. In a way that JC did not fully understand, it seemed that he and Lance had somehow given birth, if only through the loving way they raised him, to the young man that Aaron was becoming.
From JC, Aaron had gotten the brave part of his heart, a kind of fearlessness, and courage, that allowed him to push forward into unknown territory, and to love without the need to explain it. But JC had never been truly innocent; he had only ever been naive, or perhaps simply unaware, but never innocent -- not like Aaron. This innocence, Aaron's ability to see world each day as if for the first time, with wonderment and genuine awe, this he had gotten from Lance. And it was this very same quality that had drawn JC to Lance, from the very start, as if pulled their by the force of it. Certainly, Lance had lost some of his innocence, or guarded it more carefully now, because he had learned that the world was not kind to innocence.
Even so, Lance had never lost his hold on JC, his ability to attract him, pulling him always back and in, just like the Sun's hold on the planets that revolved around it, so that he always ended up basking again in the warmth and light of his love. JC hoped that Aaron would find a love like this because, ultimately, it was what mattered most.
Part Two:
"Cameron!" Justin yelled, jumping up from his chair and dashing over to the edge of the swimming pool. "Stop holding your brother underwater!"
"He won't drown," Cameron said, letting go of Connor's head and smiling at him as he popped up out of the water gasping.
"He will too drown," Justin said, reaching for Cameron's shoulder but missing as he dodged away. "Now come here."
"I'm not done swimming yet," Cameron said.
"Dad -- I want to get out," Connor said. "Cameron keeps kicking me."
"You know -- you two drive me crazy sometimes," Justin said, shaking his head.
"Ow -- Dad! He kicked me again."
"I did not," Cameron said, punching his brother in the shoulder.
"Boys!" Mel said, loudly but not shouting. "Now stop it. Immediately. This is simply no way to behave when you are a guest at someone's home."
"Come here," Justin said, extending his hand to Connor and pulling him out of the pool. "And Cameron -- get over here."
"Get your towel," Mel said, pointing at it. "And dry off."
"Cameron! Don't make me say it again."
"Okay already," Cameron said, using the ladder to climb out of the pool.
Justin walked around the corner of the pool over to where Cameron now stood. Grabbing him by the arm, Justin bent over and whispered in his ear. Cameron listened silently to what Justin said, frowning and looking off into the distance. When Justin was done, he led Cameron over to where Connor was sitting while Mel dried his legs with a towel. Mel looked up at Justin and smiled.
"I'm sorry," Cameron said, looking at the ground and not at his twin brother.
"What are you sorry for," Mel asked, standing up and taking Cameron's hand. "It really isn't an apology unless you say what you're apologizing for."
"I'm sorry," Cameron started, a grin forming on his face. "That you're a dork."
"Cameron!" Justin and Mel yelled in unison.
"Okay -- I'm sorry I kicked you," Cameron said, looking at the ground again.
"What else?" Justin said. "What else are you sorry for?"
"I'm sorry for dunking your head."
"That's better," Mel said. "Now why don't the two of you go inside and change out of your swimsuits."
"But I want to swim some more," Cameron whined.
"Do what your mom said," Justin said, giving Cameron a gentle nudge. "Besides -- we need to get going pretty soon."
"All right," Connor said, handing his towel to Mel and heading toward the house, followed closely behind by Cameron.
Walking back to where they'd been sitting before, Mel and Justin simultaneously shook their heads and rolled their eyes in response to Lance's bemused grin. JC laughed when he saw the look of addled frustration on their faces. Before sitting down, Mel bent over and checked on Bronwyn to see if she was still asleep, and she was. Bronwyn, her and Justin's daughter, was nearly three years old.
"I have decided that girls are easier to raise than boys," Mel said, sitting down in the chair next to Lance while Justin sat on her other side.
"I don't know -- Connor seems pretty mellow," JC said.
"He has his moments," Justin said. "He's the sneaky one. Cameron -- you always know what he's up to. No subtlety at all. But Connor -- you've got to watch."
"That's true," Mel said.
"So where's Aaron," Justin asked, stretching his legs out so that his feet sat in the grass. "Working on a Sunday?"
"Sort of," Lance said, frowning. "He's at a photo-shoot."
"Yeah?" Justin said, raising his eyebrows.
"Lance is not a happy man about this," JC said, patting the top of Lance's hand, which had suddenly tightened around that arm of his chair.
"No I'm not," Lance said.
"What it for?" Justin asked. "The shoot?"
"Interview magazine," JC said. "It's a fashion spread. Herb Ritts is doing it."
"Sweet," Justin said. "Herb's the man."
"Who's Herb Ritts?" Mel asked.
"He's a big time photographer," Justin said. "Like the best."
"He directed the `Gone' video," Lance said.
"Oh -- I've seen that," Mel said, smiling.
"How many times has Justin made you watch it?" JC said, laughing.
"Hey!" Justin yelled.
"I think we'd been seeing each other awhile by then," Mel said.
"Herb had it bad for Justin," JC said, pointing at him.
"He did not," Justin said. "Don't say that."
"Dude!" JC said, shaking his head in disbelief. "The rest of us barely made it in that video. It was one long close-up of you."
"Pipe down," Justin said.
"So, Lance," Mel said. "Why are you unhappy about Aaron's photo-shoot?"
"He's too young," Lance said. "He's sixteen."
"He'll be seventeen in a few months," JC said. "And older than you when you joined NSync."
"He's not me," Lance said. "Besides -- I don't want him getting distracted from school. And he's going to college if I have carry him there myself."
"Lance -- he'll be fine," JC said, patting his hand again. "Three shoots a year and no acting jobs. He promised."
"I know," Lance said. "But you and I both know how easy this stuff can spin out of control, or go to a person's head."
"Aaron's a pretty steady guy though," Justin said.
"Exactly," JC said. "And he's not that interested in it anyway. Mostly he thinks it's funny someone would pay to take his picture."
"People magazine wanted to put him in this year's Hot 100 list of up-and-coming stars," Lance said. "I put the kibosh on that pretty quick."
"I guess you should have known this would happen though," Justin said.
"Yeah -- I know," Lance said.
"You know what James calls him now," JC said, laughing. "I mean as a joke?"
"What?"
"Sir Aaron, Prince of Pop Royalty."
"Oh -- geez," Lance said, holding his forehead. "I should have never let him be in that movie with me. That's how all this got started."
"No -- don't say that," Mel said. "He was really good in it. And it must have been fun for him to work with you. Plus you got to live in Sydney for nearly a year."
"Ang said he was a natural," JC said, smiling proudly.
"He was scary good," Justin said.
"Well, it couldn't have been much of a stretch to play my adoring and faithful son," Lance said, trying not to smile, but then laughing.
"Did you know that Connor has both a Jhon and Luke action figure," Mel said.
"No way!"
"Of course, Cameron likes Spiden, the leader of the Dark Jedi," Justin said, only half-jokingly.
"That's just kind of weird," JC said. "But...anyway, Aaron should be back in a couple of hours. The shoot's supposed to be over before dark, and he's not allowed to stay at the after-shoot."
"Justin," Mel said, looking at her watch and then looking back at the house. "Maybe you should go in and check on the boys. They've been in there for awhile."
"Sure," Justin said, standing up. "Anyone want anything?"
"No, I'm fine," Lance said.
"Me too," JC added.
"Cool," Justin said, and then ran towards the backdoor.
"Has Aaron decided where he's going to apply to school?" Mel asked.
"Oh lord -- you should see it," Lance said. "We are buried in application packets. He gets like two a day. He aced the SAT's. He's an athlete. He plays the piano."
"And his parents have money," JC added, laughing.
"The mailman really must hate us by now," Lance said. "Each packet weighs like a pound."
"Well, it's understandable there's keen interest in him," Mel said. "He's an accomplished young man, and sure to be successful in whatever he chooses to do."
"He's thinking of being a doctor," JC said. "Isn't that great?"
"Or a lawyer," Lance said. "Or an architect. It changes every month or so."
"No it doesn't," JC said.
"But whatever he chooses will be fine with me," Lance said, leaning further back in his chair and stretching his legs out.
"Except being in a boyband," JC said.
"Right. Except being in a boyband."
Stephen Fortney was lying on his back, stretched diagonally across the bed, naked except for his white socks, his hands clasped behind his head. He smiled at James, who was standing at the end of the bed, fully clothed, his hands on his hips. They had been to see a movie, something that Stephen had seen before but wanted to see again. James had hardly paid attention to it, focused instead on Stephen's insistence that they sit with a seat separating them. Once home, James had used the bathroom downstairs while Stephen had headed directly upstairs and undressed. James glared at Stephen lying there.
"Don't you want to join me?" Stephen said, the words surprisingly benign, and not what James had expected him to say.
"What do you mean?"
"You know -- play around. Make each other feel good."
"Make you feel good."
"And you," Stephen said, sitting up in bed and holding his hand out to James.
"No," James said, shaking his head firmly. "My mom will be home pretty soon. And I need to figure out my college admission stuff."
"Yeah -- but you're mom knows," Stephen said. "She's seen me here."
"So."
"So let's play. Come on James. Don't be this way."
"What way?"
"That way. The way you're being right now."
"Look -- I just want to be alone, so please get dressed and go."
"Come on James. It's already hard. Look. I want you."
"Oh please," James said. "I know what you want."
"I don't know why you have to be so moody all the time."
"Well how about not even wanting to sit next to me in the theater. But then I'm supposed to jump right into bed with you. That's just lame."
"Okay -- I'm sorry. Shit. What can I say? We've had this fight like a dozen times. I really like you James. A lot. When I'm close to you I get all hotted up, and its like I really want to touch you. I do. But -- I mean, geez, James, I can't like have people seeing that, can I?"
"Why not?"
"Fuck James. You know why. I don't want people to know, you know, about me being bi or gay or whatever it is. And my parents would totally freak if they found out. They aren't like your mom, or like Aaron's freaky two dads thing. They'd frigging take my car away, or something."
"God forbid you lose your car."
"James -- come on," Stephen said. "Can't you just cut me some slack here. This isn't easy for me either. And -- besides, I told you that once I'm on my own at college, we can maybe get a place together, and it'll be okay then. Really."
"You mean if I go to University of Washington, that is."
"Well -- yeah," Stephen said, sitting up in bed. "Aren't you?"
"I haven't decided yet."
"But I thought you said you were going."
"That's not the only place I got accepted, you know."
"I know."
"I could go to UCLA too," James said. "Or Yale or Boston University. Or I could just stay here and go to San Diego state."
"Yeah -- okay," Stephen said. "I get the picture. Do what you want."
"I will," James said.
"So how about coming to bed then," Stephen said, smiling at James and cocking his eyebrows. "Maybe that'll help you decide where to go to college."
"No, I'm sick of this. Just leave. Or -- no. Wait. I'll just go and then you can have all the fun you want...like by yourself."
"Wait," Stephen said, jumping up off the bed and pressing his right hand against the bedroom door, preventing James from opening it.
"Stephen. Move."
"No -- wait," Stephen said, leaning forward to kiss James, only to have him move his face away, avoiding it.
"Stephen -- I said, move!"
James gripped the doorknob with both hands and pulled back hard on it. Stephen outweighed him by at least 30 pounds, and he easily kept the door pressed shut as James tugged on it. Trying to kiss James again, Stephen leaned his body against him, pressing him close to the door. Stephen's lips brushed against his cheek, and he gave him a quick kiss before James managed to twist his face away from him again.
"Stop it," James said, pushing back against Stephen, trying to get him out of the way, then accidentally stepping on his toes.
"You bitch!" Stephen shouted, suddenly releasing his pressure on the door, and grabbing hold of his foot.
James had the doorknob turned, and his full weight was pulling on it. The door sprang open and the edge of hit smashed into James face, bloodying his nose, gashing his lip, hitting him hard on the forehead, and knocking him out cold. It all happened so fast that Stephen hardly noticed what was happening until James slumped to the floor. When he did notice, he panicked, dressed quickly, and left him lying there, hoping James wasn't dead, but not waiting to find out. On his way home, he considered calling 911, but he was afraid that they'd trace the call and he'd get caught. Stephen told himself that it had been an accident, and that James would probably be all right anyway. Or at least he hoped so.
As he neared his home, Stephen pulled his car to the side of the road and got out of his car. He felt sick to his stomach, like he was about to throw up. He couldn't stop thinking of James lying there, crumpled on the floor, and how bloody his face was. The back of Stephen's shirt was soaked through with sweat and his hands were shaking. He wanted to go back, but he couldn't seem to make himself do it. He didn't know what to do, except run away.
"I have to go back," he said, speaking so slowly that each word came out as if it was one sentence by itself.
He stood by the side of the road for fifteen minutes, frozen, one hand leaning on the roof of his car, holding himself up. With a sudden jolt, Stephen pulled open the door and started the car again. He was going back. He had to do it.
As he approached the house, about two blocks away down the long narrow street, Stephen saw the ambulance out front, its lights blazing. He stopped the car and watched. The front door of the house opened and two paramedics came out, carrying a gurney with James lying on it. James' mom followed the gurney out of the housing, pausing only to lock the door, and then she ran to catch up as the paramedics lifted the gurney that carried her son into the back of the ambulance. She got in behind it and the paramedics slammed shut the doors. The ambulance drove away moments later, its siren blaring. Stephen sat in his idling car, watching as the ambulance so quickly disappeared into the distance, the flashing red lights making it appear almost as if it was a rocket ship attempting to slip the bounds of gravity, and escape into orbit. Tears filled his eyes as he watched it disappear, and he whispered softly, James.
When JC had answered the telephone he assumed it would be Aaron calling to tell him that he was going to be later than expected. It was therefore a surprise for him to hear James' mom crying on the other end of the line. He hardly recognized her voice at first, but when he did it was immediately apparent that something was very wrong.
"Luanne," JC said. "What is it?"
"It's James," she stammered. "He's been hurt. Attacked I think."
"What?"
"We're at the hospital," she said. "They just took him in for a CAT-scan."
"Oh Lord," JC said, running his left hand twice through his hair. "Is he going to be all right?"
"They said it didn't look too bad. But I don't know. There was so much blood. His face was covered in it."
"Who did this? Do you know?"
"No. I just came home and found him laying there -- on the floor. Not moving."
"Did someone break in?"
"I don't know. I don't think so. But I didn't really look either. I called 911 and they were there right away. I rode with him in the ambulance."
"Well, I'll be right there," JC said. "You'll need a ride home."
"You don't have to do that."
"I know. But I want to. Really."
"All right. We're at Childrens Hospital. Do you know where that is?"
"Boy do I know where that is."
"Okay. I'm in the emergency room."
"I'll be there in twenty minutes."
"Okay. Thank you Josh."
"Don't worry about it. I'll be there soon."
"Bye."
JC hung up the phone and took a deep breath. He needed to tell Lance what had happened and then get going. Aaron wasn't home from the shoot yet, which seemed fortunate now, because JC knew he'd go crazy with anger and worry. JC had never known anyone as committedly protective of another person as Aaron was with James. It had been that way ever since that first day they'd met on the playground ten years ago when Aaron had come to James defense and ended up fighting a bunch of fifth-graders, boys three years older than him. He'd been bloodied in the process, but had stood his ground. JC remembered how proud he'd been of him then, and how proud he still remained. He did not understand the nature of James' relationship with Aaron, nor did JC try. James was gay, and JC was fairly sure that Aaron wasn't. Still, he knew that it was the thinnest of lines that separated devotion from love, and he wondered how close to this line Aaron would let himself get before pulling back.
He had watched him sleep for twenty minutes now, his chest rising and falling in a steady and contented rhythm. The room was dimly lit, illuminated mostly by the glow of the television. They had been watching The Fellowship of the Ring, which was one of Aaron's favorite movies. The two of them had watched it together at least ten times before. This time though, James had fallen asleep about half way through, something that Aaron had not noticed at first, but was not surprised to see. He knew how tired James was, and stressed out over what had happened, and having still not decided where to go to college next year.
Now Aaron was sitting stretched out on the couch, one long tanned leg extended at an angle across the large low table that sat between the couch and the TV. His other leg extended the length of the couch and James lay along side it, pressed against it. His head rested on Aaron's thigh and his left arm was curled around the back of his head with his hand slipped behind Aaron's back, as if to hold on and not slip off the couch. James' hand felt warm there and Aaron liked the reassuring feel of it.
Looking at James' face, Aaron could see the jagged line of stitches that stretched across his right eyebrow and then veered halfway up his forehead. James' right eye was bloodied still, surrounded by an angry-purple bruise not yet beginning to fade. Aaron touched the stitches, but only barely, and then he ran his index finger slowly around the bruise that surrounded the eye, flinching almost as if he could feel the pain of the blow that had caused this injury. He knew who had caused it, of course, and it filled Aaron with indefinable anger; he could almost taste it, like bile in the back of his throat. He wanted to kill him. He really did. To hurt him like Aaron knew he'd hurt James. Badly. But Aaron had promised not to. It was the one thing James had asked of him when Aaron had come to him that next day and said "What can I do to help you?"
Aaron's rested his left hand in center of James' chest, palm down, and watched as it slowly rose and fell with each long slow sleepy breath that James took. A slightly sad smile slowly formed on Aaron's face as he continued to watch James sleep. James' lips were parted slightly, as he breathed through his mouth, but not noisily. The right side of James' mouth was swollen and distorted into a kind a half-grimace, and there was dried blood where his upper lip had been split. With his left index finger, Aaron touched the place where the blood had dried.
Looking back at the TV, Aaron noticed that it was the final scene, the one where Frodo saves his friend, Sam the Wise, from drowning. It had made Aaron cry the first time he'd seen it, and it still caused tears to fill his eyes. Aaron watched Frodo and Sam embrace, so grateful to be together again, and to have not lost each other. Of course, Aaron knew that it was not the end of their story, but it had always been the part that had moved him most. Sam had made a promise and kept it. That was something that Aaron had always instinctively understood. He did not know why.
As the movie ended, and the credits started to crawl across the screen, Aaron sighed and softly cleared his throat, as if he wanted to say something but could not quite find the words. He realized then that the hand he had used to touch James' lip was now gently cupping his right cheek. Staring at his own hand there, holding James' face as he was asleep, Aaron shuddered. Then without giving it any thought at all, Aaron slowly bent forward and kissed James -- only briefly, but long enough to make him stir, although not awake. No, James was still asleep, and Aaron still held him, and he would do so for the rest of the night.