End Game
A glistening bottom lip was taken between a set of
teeth. He tasted the skin with his
tongue as fire pit green eyes stayed painstakingly level.
The unknowing target of the ocular bullets glanced up from his
notebook and at the shooter.
Serious cerulean eyes met fantastical emerald ones in a
flash of serenity.
“Lance?”
He bit down hard in culpability. “Awww shit!” He touched
his fingers to his lip and stared at the incriminating red evidence of his
transgressions.
“Jesus!” JC exclaimed, moving deftly from his spot on a
less-than-comfortable chair to hover over Lance, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I just bit down too hard on my lip,” Lance mumbled,
his telltale eyes staying focused on the spot of blood on his fingertip.
“What were you doing?”
Staring. “Thinking.”
“Well dude, be careful.
You might need those things to sing,” the older man admonished
playfully, referring to Lance’s damaged lip, and let his hand rest briefly,
innocently, on his friend’s shoulder.
A quick shrug off.
“Yeah, I know.”
Turn, turn, jump, smile, smile, smile, wink, smile, smile,
smile, thrust, thrust, thr…
A hyena-like snickering broke his concentration.
“What?” He demanded.
“You look like such a dolt when you do the pelvic thrusts,
Lance,” Chris tittered.
A frustrated hand ran through uneven blonde hair.
In the background, his two group mates chuckled, their eyes
meeting through the mirror.
JC rolled his eyes and stretched his arms behind him,
limbering up before trying his moves again.
“Let’s just do this so we can get home, okay?”
“Sorry JC,” three voices in unison. No remorse.
A winked eye and a fluttered heart.
“You look fine, Lance.
Just do the damn move.”
Rose- colored cheeks and half smiles.
“Okay.”
His hands. That was
the best part. Long, elegant, thin
fingers. Strong and confident. Gentle and timid. Smooth skin with complicated veins and lines. Tattered cuticles, cut to the quick finger
nails.
Those hands gliding across a piano…moving with such ease and
agility. His eyes shut lazily, but it
was his hands that spoke through the keys. The way he nibbled on his thumbnail when he was concentrating on
writing his lyrics.
He had beautiful hands.
Five men sat in front of a television.
Licked lips and roaming eyes.
Lance looked over JC’s profile. His nose, his lips, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed at
the jokes in the movie.
His eyes strayed away from JC to find that Justin was
staring at him, one eyebrow raised incredibly high.
A nervous cough.
“Umm…I’m going to get some chips in the kitchen.”
He stood up and began walking briskly past his friends.
“I’ll go with you.”
The voice made him stop abruptly in front of the
television. Shouts of protest were
logged in throats, knowing better than to be released.
Slowly, he turned back to meet the inquisitive stare of
JC. “Yeah, okay.”
Three heads shaken sadly for what could not be.
His hands shook as he reached in the cabinets to pull down
the glass bowl for the chips. Did he
see me looking at him? Oh God, oh God,
say he didn’t see me. Why did he come
in here? He wants chips, food,
sustenance. Don’ t think anything of
it, asshole, he just wants chips.
“Doritos? Lays? What?” JC asked, pondering the large
assortment of greasy, cholesterol inducing, salty and/or artificially cheesy
choices.
“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Doritos.”
Lance spun around briskly with two bowls in his hands.
“Lance…” His eyes met JC’s head on and he gave a frightened
yell before stumbling backward.
The bowls landed on the floor with a shrill, resounding,
undulating CRASH.
“Umm...Ranch or Regular?” The startled, dark haired man
finished his thought.
“Fuck JC, I turned around…and…you were right there. FUCK!” Lance scolded, breaths coming out
shallow and quick.
He crawled on the floor to begin collecting the broken
shards of crystal.
“Lance, be careful.
Don’t just grab the glass like that, you’re gonna get cut. Lance, stop. Lance…”
“OWW! DAMMIT!” More blood.
A tiny, almost invisible cut oozing violent crimson blood down the side
of his thumb. Lance hissed
sharply. Damn, damn, damn. Stop shaking. God, just…don’t think about him.
JC sunk to his knees in front of the ailed boy, looking
incredibly more ailed. His green eyes
almost yellow and his mouth grimaced in pain.
“I told you. But
don’t listen to me,” JC mumbled, moving forward to look at his hand. “Let me see.” What are you doing?
“I can do it, Jace.
Thanks.” Lance said quietly, almost shyly. JC smiled without smiling and shook his head.
“Just let me see your hand, Lance.” He can take care of
himself.
“I can take care of myself,” he retorted, shocking JC.
His mind pulled him backward, but something else pushed him
closer, hovering dangerously over the broken glass and Lance’s broken
gaze. His hand reached over and
encompassed a pale wrist.
“I told you to be careful,” JC said as he brought the hand
close to his face, inspecting the finger.
His fingers conveniently missed the way the smooth skin was trembling
beneath his touch.
His ears conveniently missed the hitched breath when his
moist mouth brushed against the pad of Lance’s bloodstained thumb.
He conveniently missed the pulse pounding crazily under the
skin of Lance’s wrist.
“You just have to get this cleaned up. I could get you a wet rag,” JC suggested,
conveniently missing the way his voice was lower. Calmer.
“I can get it myself.
I’m fine, it’s just a little cut.
You can sweep up the glass while I…fix me,” Lance stuttered,
conveniently not missing anything.
“Okay,” the older man agreed with a nod. Still, he didn’t drop the wrist he was
holding. Instead, his grip tightened.
“Umm…” no effort was made on either mans’ part to break
away. “JC…” please don’t let me
go. “I need my arm back now.”
“Oh…” No “…right.”
Frozen.
Stillness. No breathing, no
movement, no sound.
Serious cerulean eyes met fantastical emerald ones in a
flash of passion.
“What the hell?” A shrill, resounding, undulating YELL.
An electric shock threw Lance and JC backward in separate
directions.
JC jumped up first. “Uhhh…Lance
was just being a clumsy ass again and dropped the bowls on the floor.”
A forlorn expression and averted eyes.
“That’s not what I…” a sigh from the rosy mouth of the
youngest man, “all right.”
“I’m an ass. I just
have to clean this up,” Lance mumbled noncommittally.
“I’ll take the chips into the other room. Bring some bowls
when you’re finished,” JC rambled before snatching the chips from the floor
where he dropped them.
Justin followed the fleeing man out after shooting Lance a
sympathetic look the towhead conveniently missed.
“Okay,” he muttered, “I’ll just pick all this stuff up.”
“Gin!” Joey cried, triumphantly displaying the winning hand
to his opponents, “That is sooo Gin.”
“God Joey, how much do you play this game anyway?” Chris
asked as he, along with Justin, passed Joey their money for the fourth time
that night.
Chris and Justin had decided to congregate in Lance and
Joey’s bus for the duration of their drive to Salt Lake City for their
concert. Now Justin, Joey and Chris sat
at the kitchen-like table playing Gin to pass the time.
Lance was brooding in his bunk, passing his time
staring at the blank, desolate ceiling of the small space. Two days had passed since Lance had even
spoken to JC. The thought of going
through more days with that lack of communication was suffocating him.
And he began to feel very constricted and claustrophobic in
his bunk.
He felt claustrophobic in his whole fucking life.
JC laid his head gently back against the soft/soggy padding
of the couch on his bus. He was
alone. Simply he and his bus
driver. And for the umpteenth time, his
logical mind tried to make sense of what was going on in his head. HE was the rational one. HE was the level-headed. HE was the one now drowning in his own
rationality.
And the only person with a lifesaver or big, puffy yellow
lifejacket or CPR certification, was the only person he was keeping at bay, so
to speak.
The only person who could make the noises in his head stop
and who could make his insanity sane again and who could weaken his defenses to
where he didn’t want to defend anymore, was next to him every day and every
night…but as far away from a him as any person could get.
The only person that really made him feel totally secure in
who he was, was also the only person that brought out all his
insecurities. It was a fitful
cycle.
And it was making his poor, logical head cry.
“Come on guys! Rest
stop!”
At nearly two in the morning, with the sun gone and the moon
yawning, there was no thought of wayward fans or autographs. But after almost six hours of driving,
everyone needed a breath of fresh air.
Lance walked to a vending machine, his socked feet becoming
cold on the cement of the dirty floor in the rest stop. It was a chilly, October night and Lance
marveled at the way his breath puffed in front of him and then drifted off into
the black night.
His eyes shifted over his choices. Snickers, Skittles, Mars, Rolos, Twix…
A cornucopia of sugar-high inducing special-treats. He let his finger slide over the glass of
the display case lazily.
“Lance?”
A deep sigh of resignation and longing. Conveniently not missed by the
sighed-upon party.
“What do you want, JC?” He forced his eyes on the vending
machine. Reeses, Starburst, generic
cookies. Wow, which of these is not
like the other?
Lance felt JC walk up to stand directly behind his
body. The dark man’s chest brushed
tantalizingly onto the light man’s back.
Lance’s body immediately stiffened.
Ramrods weren’t straighter.
“What do you want, JC?” Again, with more
force. Maybe if he talked in italics
the quiver in his voice would become obsolete.
“I just wanted to say that…to say that…” He bowed his head,
almost in shame at the mockery he was making of himself.
“Jesus JC, spit it out,” Lance ordered, his mind begging JC
to say what he wanted to hear.
“I wanted say I’m sorry,” He began. And the floodgates are opened. “Oh fuck, Lance, I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean to run out of there, it’s
just…it’s just…”
“What should I get?” Lance asked thoughtfully, though
everything he could feel, would feel and did feel was concentrated on JC’s hard
stomach pressed against his back and the soft, unabashed words that caressed
his ears lovingly, keeping away the cold.
Frustrated, JC shot his arm around Lance and jabbed at the
buttons of the machine. The cookies
fell down and into the opening. Figures.
“Do you see what I’m saying, Lance?”
“I do.”
“Do you?”
“I do.”
“I was just…so fucking scared. What am I supposed to do when a few months ago you were my best
friend, and now…now…” he placed a hand on Lance’s shoulder tenderly and slowly
inched it over to gently massage the crook of his neck. “And now I don’t know. All I know is that I’ve wanted to touch you
like this for a long time. And I’m not
sure what that means, exactly. I just
know that when you walk into a room, lately, my whole body awakens and the only
thing I see are those green eyes of yours.”
A final release and a deep sadness.
“I need my cookies,” Lance whispered, bending over to grab
his food.
JC saw a blinding red.
“Don’t do this.”
A hand laid on the cool glass of the vending machine. “Do what?”
“Lance, I know you fucking better than anyone. You know I do. Don’t do this.”
This time there was no response.
Roughly, JC spun Lance around to face him, slamming his back
into the machine. “Don’t pull away from
me. Don’t fucking pull away.”
Fantastical cerulean eyes met serious emerald ones in a
flash of heated anger.
“I’m not,” Lance defended calmly.
“No? No? Then what the fuck are you doing?” The other
man demanded.
A sad shake of his head.
“I know you better than anyone too, JC.”
“What does that mean?
How does that explain what you’re doing?”
“It explains everything.
I’m just protecting myself.”
A stunned quiet in the dead of night. “You’re protecting yourself? You feel you have to…protect yourself from
me? Why? Why?”
No words were spoken.
“Are you guys ready?” Joey’s voice broke through the haze
and Lance’s face twisted into a bitter, triumphant smile when JC
instantaneously leapt away from him.
“I have to go, JC.
See you in a few hours.” Lance walked away slowly, forcing his tears
back into their respective ducts.
JC walked up the steps to his bus. Again being the lone member of the five of them to board
his. He gave a smile to his bus driver
and trekked slowly to the back of the bus.
The living room area. He shut
the door tightly behind him and fell back against one of the couches.
“Oh my God, is it just you?
This is perfect!”
JC jerked up to see a woman hovering over him.
“Oh yeah, like I need this now. Who are you and why the hell are you on my bus?” He questioned
tiredly.
“I’ll be whoever you want me to be,” the scantily clad woman
cooed seductively.
JC looked her over once before shaking his head. “Not possible. Now, I’ll repeat, what the fuck are you doing on my bus?”
“I’ve been following you.
Since you were in Michigan,” she smiled coyly, “I’ve always wanted to do
it one the buses.”
“Jesus Christ, get out of here!” He demanded angrily.
A hearty laugh, “Please,” she let her jacket fall off her
shoulders to reveal a small red dress.
“No one has ever said no to me, JC.”
“That’s quite an accomplishment. Now get the hell away from me.”
“Maybe you’re not understanding what I’m saying. No one.
Not even Joey and Justin. And
I’m not going to start with you.”
“Look, I don’t care what the guys…what Justin and Joey do on
their own time. That’s not really my
business. But I’m afraid that little
red dress isn’t going to do much to convince me. You’re not my type.”
“Then what is your type?” She inquired, taking a bold step
forward. JC responded with a step of
his own back.
“The type that doesn’t sneak into tour buses to get laid.”
“Oh, come on, you’re a virile, twenty-four year old…”
“Twenty-five,” he corrected quickly.
“Twenty-five year old guy.
Let’s just have fun.”
He avoided the hands that were trying to make their way in
his hair and…other places.
“Look, like I said, you’re not my type, okay?”
“Anyone knows that when it comes to sex, guys don’t have
types. As long as we’ve got these…” she
pointed to her breasts, “…it doesn’t matter.”
JC laughed at the irony.
“Well maybe I’m different.
God, why am I even arguing with you?
Get off of my bus!”
“In my experience…”
Which JC assumed was a lot.
“…no guys are different unless they’re…oh my God…”
His chest turned cold.
“Are you…gay? Is
that it? Oh my God, an NSYNC member
gay. This is great,” she was ranting
then.
With an angry growl, JC jumped out of the couch and pounced
on her. He grabbed her by the straps of
her dress and brought her to him in a savage kiss devoid of all emotion.
He pushed her back roughly before rumbling, “I’m not…” hot,
deep, sucking breaths coming out in gasps.
He didn’t finish his sentence, instead brought the nameless woman back
to his mouth.
He was so busy trying to act sexual that he didn’t notice
the bus limping and hobbling and finally stopping. He was so busy trying to be excited that he didn’t notice the
door of the living room open.
“Oh God.”
That made him pause.
“Your…uhhh…your bus broke down. We’re stopped at a gas station.
That’s all I wanted to say.”
JC closed his eyes to shut out the pain on Lance’s
face. “No, it’s not what you think! It wasn’t…I mean I wasn’t…I mean…”
“Protecting myself.
I guess I didn’t do a very good job,” Lance mumbled quietly.
“No, Lance, no. Oh
God no.”
JC watched as Lance turned around and slunk out of the
bus.
With dangerous intensity, he turned to the Devil. With a red dress on. “If you are not out of this bus when I get
back…well, you do not want to know what I will do. Do you understand me?”
Silence. “Do you?”
The passion and defeat in his eyes made it impossible to say
no.
A mere whisper.
“Yeah. Yeah, I understand.”
Before the words were even out of her mouth, JC was off the
bus and jogging into the 7-11 attached to the gas station, where he saw Lance’s
blonde hair peaking over one of the shelves.
“Lance!” He ran past the newspapers and tabloids and into
the back where Lance was fiddling through various school supplies. He was making a valiant effort to seem
nonchalant and JC was almost tempted to smile at the intense way he was
scrutinizing the Magic markers.
“Lance…” his voice was softer.
Lance turned toward him and let JC get the full image of his
forlorn, lost look burned into his memory.
Smooth talker turned to bumbling idiot.
“Lance…it wasn’t…it didn’t mean anything…”
“It’s fine, JC. You
don’t owe me anything. I don’t owe you
anything. We’re…debt free. You don’t have to explain.”
“Oh, why do I keep hurting you?” JC wondered out loud, more
to himself than anyone.
“It’s fine,” Lance repeated, walking swiftly through the
aisle followed closely by JC.
“Hey, hey…can you just listen to me? Please?
I was scared. I didn’t know what
I was doing,” JC’s stomach began churning with repulsion when he thought of
what he did.
Justin, Joey and Chris watched the scene play out, their
curiosity begging to know what was going on.
Their love for their friends begging whatever it was to be resolved.
Lance continued his brisk pace when JC grabbed his arm to
halt him. Angrily, Lance struggled to
pull himself away from the powerful grasp of his friend. In his frenzy, he propelled out of the hold
JC and had his arm in and got knocked into a man at the counter, seemingly
purchasing items.
Lance mumbled an apology before stalking further across the
store, JC in tow. The latter made another
attempt to grab Lance’s sleeve when he swung around and delivered him a sharp
push into a shelf full of gum.
A loud bang on a countertop stopped them both cold. “Who did that?” A burly voice rasped.
The two men slowly turned their heads.
“Who hit me?” The man asked. The same man Lance had bumped into.
“Uhh…” All 300 pounds of his being shifted to focus solely
on Lance.
“Was it you, you scrawny bastard? Did you hit me?” He shouted.
It didn’t take a rocket scientist (something Lance was
actually considering at one point) to realize this guy wasn’t very stable and
probably equaled troubled. “It was…an
accident. I didn’t mean it.”
When the gleam of the gun he pulled from his back pocket
caught his eye, Lance heart jumped into his throat. “Ohh God.”
“That’s right, you fucking punk. I’m crazy. I’m fucking
crazy! And now you’re going to know
it,” his voice was menacing and left no for sympathy or sanity.
Turning briefly away from Lance, the man pointed his gun at
the clerk behind the counter. Give me
all the money in the register. Give it
to me now or all these fucking kids, and you, die. I’ve got the bullets.”
Silently, in terror, the man opened the register and began
filling the bag. He turned back to
Lance. “And you…”
“I…it was an accident.”
He didn’t have a defense. The
guy was obviously close to the edge when he walked into the convenience store
with a gun as it was…but then Lance just gave him that extra push over the
precipice.
Lance lifted his arms slowly above his head. His pained eyes fluttered from Justin to
Joey to Chris and settled on JC.
Fantastical cerulean eyes met fantastical emerald ones in a
flash of complete and utter terror.
Lance tore his eyes away and faced his shooter once
again. “Please…please don’t hurt me.”
The low, resounding, evil sound of his chuckle brought bile
up Lance’s throat. “I’m…I’m really
sorry. It...uhh…it won’t happen
again?” Lance wished desperately that
their bodyguards were with them, but alas, they were on another bus, somewhere
closer to Salt Lake City, probably securing the hotel they were to stay in.
Beading sweat and pressing of a button.
“You’re damn right it won’t happen again you little fuck,”
he sneered.
“It was me.”
Countless pairs of eyes turned to look at the new voice in
the scene.
JC stood up boldly.
“It was me. I was the one that
pushed you.”
“What?” Lance sputtered, completely shocked.
“He was lying. It wasn’t
him that hit you. It was me. I hit you before, and I will fucking
do it again,” JC threatened, much to horror of everyone in the store.
“JC, stop. Don’t do
this. It was my fault,” Lance pushed.
“No it wasn’t. You
weren’t anywhere near him. I hit
him. It was me,” he declared again, for
the third time.
Lance faced the shooter.
“No it wasn’t. It was me. Shoot me.
Don’t hurt him.”
“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Shoot me.”
The man looked back and forth between two arguing men. Each one fighting to be shot. “What the fuck is…”
Realization dawned and fear heightened.
A couple of queers.
Well hot damn his luck.
He pointed the gun at Lance maliciously, carelessly waving
it to and fro. Lance’s eyes followed it
back and forth, becoming mesmerized by the motion.
“Fuck!” JC shouted loudly, “Me! It’s me!”
“Good try, you pretty little pansy. But I don’t buy it.”
Chris, Joey and Justin held their collective breath, praying
for a miracle. Oh God, please keep them
safe. Please, please keep them safe.
The man stepped forward, moving closer to Lance. “I’m fucking crazy,” the man whispered, “And
you’re going to get it. It’s your
fault.”
The aim was taken and a disgustingly sinister smile spread
across his face. The shot heard ‘round
the world. Well, not really. But it was incredibly loud. There was a nanosecond of regret and
surprise before JC was there.
Jumping in front of Lance and blocking the younger man’s
body with his own, JC felt the slicing of the skin, tendons, veins, bones in
his arm. His whole arm was on
fire. It was at that moment that the
police burst in.
The clerk, shocked and scarred, was relieved beyond compare
that the little button under his desk had worked.
Lance rolled out from under JC and drew up on his knees to
look at him. His face was ash white and
tears of agony were streaming from his eyes.
His breath came out in hurried puffs as he tried to regain
control.
“Oh…oh God, oh God JC.
Why did you do that? Why? Are you all right?” Lance questioned, taking the time to brush the damp hair out of
JC’s eyes.
JC’s voice was quiet as paramedics lifted him onto a
stretcher and began wheeling him out the door.
“I was…protecting you,” a small smile graced his face even
after his eyes closed.
(three days later)
Hey, it’s me. If
you don’t know who me is, then you probably shouldn’t be calling here
anyway. I’m not in, but leave a
message.
“Lance, it’s JC. I’m
out of the hospital. I don’t know where
you are right now, but meet tonight at my house. Seven o’clock. We need to
talk.”
A timid knock on the door.
“It’s opened,” came the shout from in the house. Slowly, Lance opened the door and stepped
in.
*Listen as the wind blows from across the great divide
Voices trapped in yearning, memories trapped in time
The night is my companion, and solitude my guide
Would I spend forever here and not be satisfied?*
“Come and sit down,” JC instructed, patting the seat next to
him.
* And I would be the one
To hold you down
Kiss you so hard
I'll take your breath away
And after, I'd wipe away the tears
Just close your eyes dear *
Lance sat down and noticed JC’s cast. A look of derision passed over his features.
“How are you?”
“Better. It doesn’t
hurt anymore.”
“JC, I don’t understand.
Why did you…why did you do it?”
A deep breath. It
was the moment JC had been preparing for.
“I just…I saw you. That look on
your face. And…I couldn’t let you
die. Jesus, if you died…I don’t even
know. I don’t even know. The last image, oh God, the last image of me
you would have in your head would be of me kissing that…whore. I don’t even know her name, Lance. I don’t even know her fucking name.”
* Through this world I've stumbled
So many times betrayed
Trying to find an honest word to find
The truth enslaved
Oh you speak to me in riddles
And you speak to me in rhymes
My body aches to breathe your breath
Your words keep me alive *
“I couldn’t let that happen…” he shook his head vigorously,
“…you’re so honest and good. You don’t
deserve to die. And I couldn’t let
you…I couldn’t let you never see me again when you thought…when you thought….”
“When I thought what?”
*And I would be the one
To hold you down
Kiss you so hard
I'll take your breath away
And after, I'd wipe away the tears
Just close your eyes dear*
“Because I do…I’d swear on anything I do. I was confused before, but now I know. I’m not confused anymore. I know.
And I’m so sorry. I’ve been such
a fucking prick. But you…” he reached
out and grazed his fingers across the porcelain skin of Lance’s cheek, “…You’re
still here. For some crazy reason,
you’re still here. I don’t understand.”
Lance closed his eyes and leaned into JC’s touch a moment
before pulling back.
Magnetic cobalt eyes met whimsical jade ones in a flash of
longing.
“JC, you do what?”
* Into this night I wander
It's morning that I dread
Another day of knowing of
The path I fear to tread*
“Why did you come today?
After everything I’ve done?
After getting you so wound up your were almost killed?”
“Because you saved me, JC.
I wouldn’t be standing here, I’d be fucking six feet under the ground
right now, if you hadn’t jumped in front of that bullet,” Lance said.
“You really care about me,” it was said with a note of awe.
“You’re the only person that understands me,” Lance
confessed.
“Same with me. I
mean…about you.”
“I always knew what you meant to me. Always.”
A hard shake of a head.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
Lance chuckled.
“That would have certainly been an interesting conversation.”
JC scratched the side of his head with his good hand. “I suppose so, huh?” He paused moment to move closer to Lance on
the couch. He traced Lance’s jaw with a
finger. “God, I just think you’re so
beautiful.”
*Oh into the sea of waking dreams
I follow without pride
Nothing stands between us here
And I won't be denied *
JC let his fingers dance over Lance’s face, through his hair
and down to his neck.
“You do what, JC?
You do what?”
JC smiled a tempting, sultry, tender, emotional, enigmatic
smile.
“I love you. I’m not
confused anymore. I love you.”
* And I would be the one
To hold you down
Kiss you so hard
I'll take your breath away
And after, I'd wipe away the tears
Just close your eyes... *
~Possession by Sarah McLachlan