The More Things Change 4a
By Diana
Author's Notes: Well, I have to admit, I was a little disappointed by the lack of feedback on "Vendetta", "Angels" and chapter 3 of this story. Getting a little tedious? Well, hopefully this chapter'll give this dying series a little boost. :) Since my computer locked up every time I sent this chapter out, I've cut it in half: 4a and 4b. I'll try to get 4b out as fast as I can. In the meantime, enjoy! :)
Disclaimer: The song featured here are "Crash! Boom! Bang!" by Roxette
Lance arched his back, pleasure coursing through his whole body as he writhed on the bed. The sheets were cool against his heated skin, but he couldn't even feel them. He could only feel the stiff manhood sliding in and out of him. Every thrust made him gasp, every withdrawal left him wanting more. He was drowning in the sensations, losing control and loving every blissful second of it.
Both he and his lover were covered in sweat and lubricant and cum, and it was messy as hell. But it didn't matter. This was the essence of perfection: everything he'd ever hoped for, everything he'd ever wanted.
JC looked down at him as they made love, and it was the most gorgeous, sexy, amazing thing Lance had ever seen. The blonde wrapped his legs around the other man's waist, pleading for him to do it harder, deeper, faster. He felt his muscles clamp down on JC's shaft as they let themselves go, their gentle and tender pace dissolving into a wild rhythm.
They came together like no other men in the world could, thunderous orgasms that shook the earth and parted the seas. Lance didn't care what his mother or his hometown pastor would think, he didn't care if he'd burn in hell for all eternity. This was worth it.
As he slowly descended from his impossible high, Lance let out a long breath and raised his head, giving JC a huge, well-deserved smile.
The smile instantly disappeared. JC was gone. In his place was a fully-clothed Justin Timberlake, glaring at him with pure, unadulterated hatred. His hands were up in the air, grasping the hilt of a large knife, and he was breathing hard.
With a scream that was all fury, all pain, Justin swung downward, stabbing the blade into Lance's heart.
"NO!" Lance screamed, lurching up in bed. His hands flew to his chest, but found only sweat, not blood. Just a nightmare.
And then a hand grabbed his shoulder.
He didn't stop to think; that was his mistake last time. Instead, the blonde simply reacted, lashing out with a fist that immediately connected with skin and bone.
A loud cry of pain rang out, and Lance, to his horror, recognized the voice. It was Chris, and he was doubled over right now, rubbing his jaw.
"Chris!" Lance got out of bed and reached for his friend. "I'm sor..."
Chris quickly stepped away from the blonde, shaking his head. "I'm okay." he said. "Next time I'll get minimum safe distance."
"I'll get you some ice." Lance offered, but again Chris refused.
"I don't want... help." the older man stammered.
The blonde paused, realizing what Chris really meant. "You mean you don't want MY help."
An uncomfortable silence fell on the two, but Lance was the one to break it. Things were different now, thanks to Joey. He wasn't alone anymore. Someone he'd hurt had forgiven him. If Chris couldn't do the same, it was HIS problem.
"You can tell me you hate me." Lance challenged, crossing his arms. "You might as well just say it."
Chris considered that for a moment with a thoughtful expression. Then he shook his head. "No. You've heard that from enough people, you don't need to hear it from me." He paused, that pondering look intensifying. "For what it's worth, I don't hate you. I'm just disappointed in you."
Before Lance could ask for an explanation, the older man gave it to him. "We're supposed to be family. We've been living more like brothers than bandmates since we got together. We know stuff about each other that no one else does." He indicated the room with a wave of his arm. "Everything we have, we got together. I thought it meant something. I thought it meant everything."
A small, bitter half-smile rose on his lips. Lance had never seen Chris bitter before, not even when he broke up with Danielle. "But you don't feel that way. That's why I'm disappointed. That you didn't trust me enough to tell me what was going on. That you didn't even think about how coming between JC and Justin would affect US."
"Chris..." Lance was at a loss for words. "Chris, I'm..."
"I know, you're sorry." Chris interrupted. "But Joey's a better person than me. I can't let go of stuff like he does, and I can never forget. The best I can do is try to forgive."
Lance smiled softly. "That's good enough for me." he whispered. The thought of hugging Chris came to mind, but it wouldn't happen. Like the man had said, he wasn't Joey. Chris was much more honest when it came to physical contact.
"Speaking of which..." Lance prompted. "Where is Joey anyway?"
Chris shrugged. "Haven't seen him yet."
As if that were his cue, JC suddenly threw the door open, storming into the room and glaring at Lance. "Where is he?!" he demanded, and Chris sighed as if to say "not again".
"W-where's who?" Lance stammered, even though he knew there was only one person JC could ever care about. And it would never be him.
JC narrowed his eyes. "Don't play dumb, Lance. Justin didn't sleep in his room last night."
At that, Chris' face darkened with worry. "And Joey's missing too." Lance expected the older man to turn an accusatory look on him, just as JC was doing, but instead Chris kept his eyes on JC. "So where are they?"
Lance's eyes widened as a worst-case scenario suddenly came to mind. Justin had attacked him. Joey had saved him. Joey had confronted Justin. And now they were both gone.
"No..." the teen whispered. If Justin had snapped again... who knew what he'd be capable of doing to Joey? "We have to find them, NOW."
Surprised at hearing Lance's voice, Chris turned back to face him. "What?"
Lance got out of bed, looking around him for some clothes. "We have to find them before he hurts Joey!"
"What the fuck are you talking about?" JC growled, barely able to restrain his anger.
The panic was starting to take hold of Lance. He'd never forgive himself if something happened to Joey. And instead of being worried, JC was too busy making a scene, maybe even trying to provoke him. Enough was enough.
"Okay, that's it." Lance said, turning to face JC. "I've had it with you and your bullshit, Chasez! You wanna know the truth? Justin never had amnesia. He's just playing games because he thinks you fucked me."
JC's response was immediate and predictable. "I don't believe you."
"That's not my problem anymore!" Lance's voice was rising rapidly, but he didn't seem to notice. "I don't fucking CARE if you believe me! I don't CARE what you think about me anymore!" He took a step forward, and JC, despite his anger, stepped back.
"You think I WANT this?" the blonde ranted, captivating JC in his sudden fury. Chris was barely noticed as he slipped out of the room. "You think I like torturing myself every day, thinking about what I did and why? I can't change it and I can't make it better, and you can't understand because you've never loved someone who wouldn't love you back. Justin had a boyfriend, he had a life outside N'Sync, he was over you, and you still made him yours."
At last, Lance winded down, sliding down to the floor and covering his face with his hands. JC stared at his bandmate for a long moment, and then his eyes moved up to the window. Unrequited love. The same subject they'd sung about time after time. I drive myself crazy thinking of you. It's tearing up my heart when I'm with you. And he'd missed the signs not once, but twice. Justin and Lance. Both in love with him, both hiding their feelings so well.
Did Lance have a point? If he'd come out that day instead of Justin, would he have been Lance Bass-Chasez now? After all, JC hadn't thought about Justin "that way" until it was almost too late. He might have grown to love Lance... And Justin, in an act of jealous rage, might have done something horrible. And it would be this same situation all over again. That was Joshua Chasez's life: a permanent no-win scenario.
But none of that mattered now. What mattered was that maybe, just maybe, Lance was telling the truth. Maybe Justin had lied to them. Maybe wherever he was, he'd taken Joey with him, possibly by force.
Turning on his heel, JC walked out of the room. He could finish things with Lance later.
Right now it was time to get some answers.
Justin hadn't said a word during the entire bus ride. But that was okay, Joey reasoned; there wasn't much to talk about right now anyway. That was why he was the right man for this job and not Chris: Joey knew when to shut up. Chris had a habit of constantly communicating, analyzing and talking about EVERYTHING. That wasn't what Justin needed.
They were in a cab now, driving along the coast towards Rosie O'Donnell's beach house. He could see it in the distance, a white building that hovered over the horizon. Rosie had given him the basic specs: enough rooms to hold every boy band on the planet, great view of the ocean, pool in the back area. A few well-spent days here and he'd have Justin back to his old dorky self.
Justin, meanwhile, had spotted the beach house and was staring at it with something akin to awe.
"Looks good, huh?" Joey prompted. Justin nodded quietly; he was too busy admiring the place.
"And it's all ours. For as long as we want it. No press, no fans, no managers... total peace and quiet. We could set the place on fire and no one would notice."
A small grin lit up the blonde's face. "Cool." he whispered, and Joey saw, for just a moment, the kid he used to know.
The kid he was trying to find.
The cab stopped. They were here.
"Wow." Justin murmured as they walked through the front door. And Joey echoed the comment.
The house had two floors, connected by a white stairwell that ran from the living room to the second-story hall. The outer walls of the building were huge panes of clear glass, revealing a perfect view of the beach and ocean beyond. According to Rosie, there were two outdoor porches on the second floor, while the kitchen's back door led to the pool and backyard.
While Joey admired the place, Justin hauled his luggage up the stairs to the second floor and began moving towards the room at the end of the hall, as far as possible from the rest of the house. He was clearly expecting to be left alone.
Unfortunately, Joey had other plans. Following Justin up the stairs, he dashed past his friend and burst into the room, throwing himself on one of the beds.
"What are you doing?" Justin asked as he pulled his suitcase through the door.
Joey smiled. "Settling in."
"This is MY room."
"I saw it first."
"No you didn't!"
"Yes I did!"
"No you DIDN'T!"
"YES I DID!"
"Would you get off my bed?"
"Make me!"
Justin abruptly launched himself at Joey, knocking them both onto the mattress. They rolled around for a few moments, but Joey was stronger than his friend and easily pinned him to the bed.
"You lose." Joey announced with an irrepressable grin.
And Justin laughed. The kind of laugh Joey had been waiting to hear, the laugh of someone having fun.
"Look, we've got two beds here." Joey suggested, indicating the bed on the other side of the room. "Why don't we share?"
The blonde smiled. "Sounds good to me." he agreed. With that out of the way, Joey let Justin go and started to unpack their things.
It felt strange to do something so mundane. The record company usually sent assistants to do all the "dirty work": unpacking their things, coordinating their schedules, keeping their rooms clean... anything that could make them feel remotely human. Of course, that was the idea: N'Sync wasn't supposed to be human, but a well-oiled money-making performance machine.
But things were different now. As far as they were concerned, N'Sync didn't exist, and they weren't famous. They could DO things, the little things that made them content and happy before fame sunk its sweet, poisonous fangs into them.
As Justin watched, Joey turned his suitcase upside down, dumping all his things on the bed. It was so sloppy, so careless, so JOEY, that Justin couldn't resist and did the same, letting his carefully-folded clothes and safely-packed belongings collapse into a shapeless, nameless mess. And he would have left it at that if he hadn't noticed something shiny peeking out of the small mound of clothes. The corner of a picture frame.
Justin's brow furrowed; he didn't remember packing any pictures. As he pulled the object out and raised it to the light, his lips thinned. It was a photo of him and JC, an old one, before they'd gotten together. And yet they looked so happy just being together...
"Hey." Joey was at his side, taking a look at the picture. "What's wrong?"
Justin looked up at his friend and realized with a start that he'd been crying. He hadn't even noticed the heat in his face, the mist in his eyes. "N-nothing." Justin mumbled, dropping the picture onto the bed.
"Sorry, Curly. I'm not letting it slide this time." Lightly pushing Justin's things aside, he sat down on the bed. "Talk to me, Justin."
Their eyes met, and Joey saw all the insecurities and fears that Justin had been accumulating since this whole mess started. And he knew he'd be hearing the truth this time.
"I always had an exaggerated outlook on life when I was a kid." Justin began quietly, eyes downcast. "Way too optimistic. I thought love was the strongest power in the world. And then my parents split up." He drew in a shuddering breath. "They never loved each other. They got married, they had me, but they were never in love. I kept thinking, maybe someday they'd come around... but I was just kidding myself. There's no such thing as love."
Joey shook his head. "No. Come on, Justin, you know that's not true."
"Yes it is." Justin said. "It's just sex, and having things in common, and... stuff I obviously can't figure out. Because JC was the only one for eight fucking years, and then there was someone else, just like that. And I don't know which one I love more."
"You don't have to figure it out, Justin." Joey replied. "Just let it go."
"I can't. Nothing makes sense anymore." The blonde paused, leaning against the wall and turning his gaze up towards the ceiling, to hold the tears back. "JC could get me through anything. When the Club was cancelled, he called every day to make sure I was okay. When we started touring and the pressure was driving me crazy, he was always there to take care of me. But it doesn't work like that anymore. Now he's just making everything worse and I don't know what to do."
Joey nodded, considering his words very carefully before speaking. "Look... I gotta be honest with you, Justin." he said. "I don't know how you and JC work. As a couple, I mean. I don't get the whole 'two guys' thing." Then he smiled softly. "But I know he loves you. And you love him too, or you wouldn't be so messed up because of him."
The Italian teen stood and reached into the collar of his shirt, pulling out his ever-present Superman necklace. "Here." he said, removing the chain and slipping it over Justin's head. "You need this more than I do."
Justin clutched the "S" tightly, returning the smile despite his tears. Joey pulled him into a hug, and they stood there, arms wrapped around each other, their breathing the only sound in the room.
Finally, what seemed like hours later, Joey stirred. "You okay?" he asked, though he hadn't released his friend.
Justin pulled away from the embrace and nodded. "Yeah. I'm okay."
"Great. 'Cause I gotta pee."
The blonde couldn't help chuckling at that last statement. But then, that was part of the Fatone charm, wasn't it? Joey's willingness to ALWAYS tell it like it was.
Stepping over to the mirror, Justin smoothed his face back, feeling the urge to set every single curl on his head in place. But he wouldn't. No one was watching or taking pictures, he didn't HAVE to look pretty. He could let himself go, stay unshaven and haggard and maybe even gain a few pounds. That'd show those bastards. He could look ruined and still be happy.
This coming from a guy who never goes anywhere without looking in the mirror first.
Justin's fists clenched as that familiar voice rang out in the back of his mind. He turned around, and sure enough, Jack Matthews was standing in a shadowed corner of the room, clothes and face stained with blood.
Jack's hollow eyes were fixed on the pendant around Justin's neck. Superman, huh? Nice choice. But you're not Superman, kiddo. Not even close. You have NO idea how badly you can be hurt.
Justin grit his teeth. "Go away." he growled, blinking once. Twice. Three times.
And the room was empty.
Letting out a deep breath, Justin sat on his bed, wondering what was happening to him. But he was too tired to care. Instead, he lay back against the mattress and closed his eyes. A gentle ballad was playing downstairs, and the soothing rhythm helped the troubled teen drift off into an uneasy sleep.
"My papa told me to stay out of trouble When you've found your man, make sure he's for real I've learned that nothing really lasts forever I sleep with the scars I wear that won't heal They won't heal
'Cause every time I seem to fall in love Crash boom bang I find the hope but then I hit the wall Crash boom bang That's the call, that's the game And the pain stays the same
I'm walking down this empty road to nowhere I pass by the houses and blocks I once knew My mama told me not to mess with sorrow But I always did, and lord I still do I'm still breaking the rules (I kick it up, I kick it down)
'Cause every time I seem to fall in love Crash boom bang I find the hope but then I hit the wall Crash boom bang That's my real middle name It has always been the same That's the call, that's the game And the pain stays the same..."
She was washing the kitchen floor when JC walked in to confront her. As always, Lynn Harliss' practicality took the teen by surprise: she could easily afford to hire a whole staff of maids to keep the house clean. But she did it herself.
He didn't know how to approach this subject. Flat-out accusing her would only lead to another screaming match, and JC didn't want that. Besides, he wasn't entirely sure Lance was telling the truth.
"Lynn?"
The moment their eyes met, JC knew. And it hit him like a rain of hammers: Lance had been right. Justin had lied to them all this time, and Lynn had helped him maintain that facade.
"Where is he?" he finally asked.
To her credit, Lynn seemed unfazed by the question. Of course, she'd been expecting him to find out sooner or later. "Where's who?" she asked.
"I know, Lynn." And with that casual admission, Lynn froze. "I know what he did."
"Why can't you leave him alone?" his mother-in-law snapped. "Why can't you let him take care of himself?"
JC stood his ground. "He's my husband, Lynn. I love him, and I won't turn my back on him."
"He doesn't want you to help him." Lynn shot back, and that was it. She'd admitted it. But this went beyond lies or trust or betrayal. This was about Justin, and maybe it had always BEEN about Justin. That they both had different ideas as to what was best for him. That neither one of them could claim a higher place in Justin's heart: Lynn was his mother, JC was his lover. Maybe that was what Lynn had always held against JC: that after years of raising her son alone, she suddenly had an equal, someone with just as much influence on Justin who didn't always see things her way.
"You never gave me a fair chance." JC said, practically begging her. "Please, Lynn, help me. Help me make things right again."
The conflict tore at Lynn's heart. She had promised. PROMISED. But didn't parents have to make those kinds of choices when it came to their children? If Justin had ever taken up drugs or another illegal vice, she would have turned him in. Even if he hated her for it, she would have known it was for the best.
This case wasn't as clear-cut. All the facts were a jumble of half-truths and bald-faced lies. For the first time in her life, she didn't KNOW what was best for Justin. Should she betray her son's confidence in the hopes that love would conquer all? Or should she honor her son's wishes, even though it could probably ruin both him and the man she knew he still loved?
Finally, she made her decision.
To be continued...