By skeabs 1. I’ve been wrong, I’ve been down. Joey hunched into the wing-backed chair before the fake fireplace. “I don’t want Lance to know.” “Know what?” she asked him, leaning forward in genuine concern. “Know why.” She leaned back. “He’s a smart man, Joey. He was there.” “Have you been talking to him?” He glared accusingly at her. “Have you?”
“No, I’ve tried. But he’s been avoiding me.” Lance shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Sometimes it felt like a failing of his own that Joey wouldn’t talk to him beyond formal greetings in front of press. “How did you manage all the appearances for your movie premiere?” Lance shrugged. “He stayed on his side, I stayed on mine. We only really talk in front of cameras anymore. It’s acting. He’s an amazing actor.” “So are you,” she said. Lance nodded and shrugged. “If only the critics knew, right?”
Joey answered on the tenth ring, thinking anyone who really wanted to talk to him would wait that long. It was Chris. “You want to come over?” “No.” “Can I come over there?” “Not now. Later, Chris.” “Okay.”
2. Must have damn near killed you. Joey watched her uncross her legs. The red spot on her knee from the pressure point fascinated him as it slowly faded away. “How do you feel now?” He shrugged. “Mad, more than anything.” “Oh?” She cocked her head to the side, posing ‘interested.’ “At myself, mostly, for trying. And for the way I tried.” He started rubbing the scar on his left wrist with his right thumb. “It’s such a girly way to do it.” “You’re mad at yourself for your method?” “Partly, yeah. I’m also mad at them,” he said, as he jerked his chin towards the door. “Why?” “For not seeing it.”
Lance watched her cross her legs. The red spot on her ankle from where they’d pressed together underneath her chair fascinated him until it faded away. “How are you feeling, Lance?” He looked up at her. “Mad. I guess. Though I feel sort of stupid for feeling that way.” “Mad?” “At Joey, for not seeing that we were there for him, that we loved him. At myself, for not noticing.” “Why do you feel stupid about feeling mad?” “Because I’m mad at him, when he obviously needed my help and I couldn’t give it to him.”
She put her yellow pad on the table between them and leaned forward, placing her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. She was trying to look as if she were about to impart special advice, a secret. Joey knew better. “You need to start talking to him again.” Joey folded his arms over his chest and frowned. “I know.” “Soon.” “I know!”
Joey checked his caller id and answered because the display said “J-Dawg,” which was how Justin identified himself to his cell phone company. “Hey, J.” “Joey! You answered!” “Yeah, what do you want?” “You gotta come over on Friday. I’m having a thing.” Joey winced. “How many things invited?” “Five.” Joey breathed a little easier, and nodded as he said, “yes.” “Really?” “Really. I have things I need to tell you all.” “Well, cool. 6?”
Lance folded his hands, and his fingers clenched each other as he spoke. “It’s like I have this need to be around him, all the time. I want to be with him. But it scares me at the same time. Our relationship is different now. It changed. It’s harder and scarier and not the same. I don’t know what to say.”
3. Sight without a sense of feeling. “Hello, Joey.” “Hey, Lance.” Joey nodded toward the other man on his way into Justin’s kitchen, where he found Chris and JC, raiding the fridge for beer. He nodded toward them both. “I need to talk to you guys in the living room.” “Just us?” “All of you.” Chris went out back to drag Justin away from the grill for a few minutes. Joey led them into the living room, where Lance already waited on one of the white leather corner sofas. Everyone else dropped around him, and Joey sat on the love seat across from them. Joey took a deep, visible breath. “She wanted me to tell you all… to tell you why… why I was depressed. Why I did what I did.” JC spoke up. “You can say it. We aren’t afraid of it anymore.” Joey looked around at the others, who all nodded. “Okay. Why I tried to kill myself.” Lance’s eyes closed briefly, but JC nodded. “It was just… too much. I don’t know who I am anymore. Who you are. It was like I was walking around, performing, whatever, and people would scream my name and I couldn’t hear it anymore. I lost my identity, somewhere along the way. Became the screams. There are people out there who know my preferred breakfast cereal, and sometimes I have trouble remembering my own name.” “Lucky Charms,” Justin whispered. “Joseph Anthony Fatone, Jr.,” Chris added quietly. Joey nodded. “But that wasn’t… wasn’t all. Remember doing the Pop video? With Wade that first day, because I wasn’t there?” “Of course we do.” “I spent that whole first day just lying in that bed, thinking ‘this is how it feels.’” “What feels?” Lance spoke for the first time. “Not being needed.” Joey held up a hand to forestall outbursts. “Wait. I just… it wasn’t anything you all did. It was me, it was all me. But I felt like I didn’t matter, like you didn’t need me anymore. I felt replaceable. And then the dream started and the idea never went away.” “Dream?” “Like ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ in reverse. That I was alive, but I didn’t matter to anyone but myself.” “Oh, Joey,” JC whispered through the beginnings of tears. Joey glared at him. “Stop. I can’t… I don’t need that now.” He took several deep breaths before continuing. “I didn’t know how to tell you, and I couldn’t make it stop. And I kept worrying, and it kept building. And I kept thinking that I would let you down again, and you really wouldn’t want me. And I didn’t know how to stop it, and I convinced myself that I didn’t matter, that you wouldn’t care. And I was grasping and trying to hold onto anything I could.” Joey looked right at Lance. “But I couldn’t, and I fell. And it happened and I can’t take it back and I’m so damn sorry about it all.” Joey’s voice was a harsh whisper by the end. JC pulled himself up and hurled himself across their dividing space. He tried to put his arms around Joey, but Joey pushed him away, stood up quickly and left the room, the house, before any of them could say or do anything to stop him.
4. I was waiting on a different story. Lance’s head hung low between his shoulders, his hands fell between his knees. “I miss him. I miss Joey.” “You want to tell me why you laughed?” “Yes, I do.” He sat up straighter.
Joey looked out at the rain clouds and laughed without a trace of humor. Rainy days seemed like a good day to be broken. He’d made the first move, he knew Lance would make the second and he wasn’t surprised when Lance showed up on his doorstep later, when the drops had finally started to fall. “I need to tell you,” he said, breathlessly, as if he’d run to the house instead of driven. “Tell me what?” “Tell you why. She said you didn’t know and I need to tell you why.” “Why what?” “The night you… that night. When you told me you loved me and I laughed. I need to tell you why.” “I know why. It wasn’t as much to you as it was to me. I know. I can’t go back. I can’t do that anymore. I’m so… tired. I can’t hide anymore. I’m so tired of hiding.” Joey turned away. “See? I know.” He turned back when Lance grabbed his arm. “You don’t,” he said quietly. “You really don’t. Let me tell you.” Joey pulled his arm from Lance’s grasp and turned back to face him. “So?” “Have you ever wanted something so badly, for so long, that you didn’t ever believe you’d get it?” “Yes.” “That’s what this was. I just couldn’t believe.” “So you laughed?” “I was sure you were kidding! It was stupid; it is stupid. My stupid response in those situations is to laugh, to wonder if it’s a joke because there’s no way I could possibly be getting what I wanted. And I’d wanted you to love me, prayed for you to love me for so long.” And Joey knew he was serious because Lance never prayed for anything trivial. He never asked God to bless their performance, never prayed to win a Grammy. But Lance had prayed for him. Lance grabbed Joey’s hand again and held it tightly between his. “I love you. I love you so much and I couldn’t tell you first because I didn’t know how to say it. And I wanted so badly for you to love me back but I didn’t know how to ask for it.” “Lance…” Joey pulled his hand from Lance’s and stepped back. Lance loved him. Lance loved him and he hadn’t ever said anything and he’d laughed when he really loved him. “Lance… I…” He really loved him and he hadn’t known anything, he hadn’t seen and he loved him. “What?” “Go. Now.” “But…” “Now.” “Sure.” Joey stared at the door for several moments after Lance left. He turned finally to go back into the kitchen, back to the beer he’d been nursing before Lance came in. He took one drink and choked on it, choked on his bitterness and his anger and his utter sense of betrayal and loss. He hurled it away from him. The brown glass of the bottle scattered across his floor in a pattern of brokenness, the amber liquid spreading to connect the scattered pieces. He found himself in the hallway again, near his front door. Through the window next to his door he could see a huddled figure on his steps, shoulders shaking with either laughter or tears. The utter dejected stance told Joey they were tears, tears in the rain. He couldn’t see anything after that, he was too lost in his own mind, his own thoughts. Tears ran down his cheeks unchecked and unnoticed, obscuring his vision as he walked towards the door, towards the point that he’d last seen Lance. He fell against it heavily and let gravity pull him towards the floor.
5. These five words in my head. Lance stared down at his hands. “He said something.” “About?” “Hiding. About hiding. He doesn’t want to anymore.” “It isn’t healthy for him to.” Lance nodded.
“Hello?” “Johnny?” “Lance? What is it?” Lance closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I want to come out,” he said in a rush. “Out of where?” Johnny’s hollow laugh echoed over the phone line. “Not funny.” “No, I suppose it wasn’t. Okay, I’ll make a call.” “Good.” Johnny was like that, serious about the important stuff, the stuff he could tell really mattered. He was also serious about them remaining true to themselves, as well as true to each other. “Have you talked to the others?” “Yes.” Johnny waited. “And?” “They’re fine.” And they were fine with this decision. They were each worried about public reaction, but not enough that they wouldn’t support Lance’s decision to stop lying. He hadn’t been able to reach Joey, but he knew the other man would support him. “Great. We’ll talk more later.”
“Johnny?” “Joey.” Johnny sighed. “I figured you’d call.”
6. What I really am. The gathering of press included those magazines that had always supported them in the past. Rolling Stone had sent a representative. Teen Magazine, People, US Weekly, YM, and Seventeen were also there. The major newspapers and TV networks had reporters and cameras along the back walls. Lance had worked with Johnny and their PR people to come up with a short, simple statement that he read before the gathered crowd. Justin and Chris sat on either side of him, both with accepting, open faces. Joey sat on the other side of Chris, and JC sat on the other side of Justin. Lance came to the end of his statement and was about to signal to open the floor for questions when Joey spoke up. “I have a statement as well.” The other four looked over at him in surprise as he leaned forward and read a statement almost identical to Lance’s, with all the given information and circumstances that Lance cited. The room exploded with questions when he was finished. “Why didn’t the rest of you know that Joey was going to speak?” “Why didn’t you tell them, Joey?” “Why have you all been hiding?” “Why now?” “Justin, Chris, JC, did you all know? How do you feel about this?” Joey sat back during all this, answering only those questions directed to him, and watched the other four struggle to find answers and meaning to questions they’d only begun to ask themselves.
Justin turned to Lance as they left. “Were you and Joey, like, together?” “Yeah, for a little while.” “When did it start?” “After we found out about Brianna.” “I can’t believe you guys didn’t say anything.” “It wasn’t supposed to be anything at all.”
7. Handing you a heart worth breaking. Lance caught Joey in the bathroom afterwards and pushed him back against the cool tile wall. “What was that?” Joey shrugged as much as he could, pressed against the wall. “I’m not hiding anymore, I told you.” “Well, that’s great. A little warning next time, perhaps?” “I’m planning on a special for MTV.” “On what?” “Teen suicide.” Lance’s eyes clouded over, his face wrinkling as his features crumpled in an attempt to staunch the flow of tears threatening. Joey leaned forward so he could look directly into Lance’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m very, very sorry for what I did and the way I acted. What I said.” Lance sniffled a little and tried to speak. Joey stopped him. “Not yet. I have to tell you… It wasn’t just you, that night. It wasn’t just you laughing that made me try.” Lance nodded. “I just… I didn’t want you to think that it was you. Something you did. I mean, I won’t lie. It was part of it, you know? But only part.” Lance stepped back and Joey was about to follow when Lance’s fist connected with his jaw, sending him staggering back against the wall. He shook his head, dazed, blinking at Lance in confusion until he threw himself against Joey, wrapping his arms around Joey’s waist and tucking his head under Joey’s chin. “Don’t you ever, ever do that to me again,” he muttered. Joey reached up around Lance’s head to rub his jaw a little, then pressed his face into Lance’s hair. “I won’t.”
8. I said I loved you and I swear I still do. They decided on Lance’s house, because it held fewer memories. They needed a place, an area, that was completely new to them, them as a couple, a unit. They needed to create new memories, new thoughts. Lance led Joey to his bedroom. The touches and glances weren’t new, weren’t something they hadn’t done before. But each touch, each glance held so much more, meant so much more to each. Lance turned to Joey and kissed him, pressed against him in the middle of his bedroom. His arms came up around Joey’s neck while Joey’s circled his waist. Their tongues slid against each other, and this too was familiar, but different. Lance pulled back a little, slid his hands under Joey’s long-sleeved t-shirt and up over his head when Joey lifted his arms to help him. Joey brought his arms down slowly, shaking his head when Lance grabbed his wrists. He tried to pull his arms away, but Lance held tight. “Let me see, I haven’t seen.” “But…” “Let me.” Joey stopped struggling and let Lance look at his scars, the jagged, uneven cuts tracing his vein up his arm. Lance dropped his right wrist to trace the lines on his left, which were deeper and longer. “I did that one second, after I’d gotten used to how it felt.” Lance nodded, not speaking for the tears clogging his throat. He pulled Joey’s hand up to his mouth and kissed the line of scars. “I love you,” he breathed against the warm, jagged skin. “I love you.” He pulled the right wrist to his face and did the same to it before Joey pulled both out of his hands, using them instead to pull Lance to him. Their mouths collided in a hot rush, both familiar and different. Lance pulled his mouth away from Joey’s and ran his lips over Joey’s exposed skin. He whispered “I love you” on his neck, his collarbone, above his left nipple and into the soft skin of Joey’s stomach. He unbuckled Joey’s belt and pulled his pants and boxers down, whispering it in the warm skin just above Joey’s erection. He nudged Joey backwards, towards the bed, and stopped when Joey’s knees hit the edge of the bed and he sat down on it. Lance pulled his shirt and pants off quickly and knelt between Joey’s legs. He put his hands on Joey’s hips, rubbing his fingers in the crease between hip and waistline. He ran his tongue up the underside of Joey’s erection, then drew it into his mouth. He felt Joey’s hands running down his back, stroking the muscles bunched in his neck. He let Joey pull him away. “I don’t want to finish like that,” he said. “Come up.” Joey moved to the middle of the bed and lay down on his back, holding his hand out to Lance, who moved over him, fitting his body to Joey’s. “I have…” “No. I want to feel you. Just you.” Joey scooted down in the bed, still under Lance, and took Lance’s cock into his mouth. He worked it in his mouth, getting every inch with his tongue, and then moved back up Lance’s body, until they were face to face again. “Like this,” he whispered, and drew his knees up, spreading his legs. Lance licked one of his fingers and pressed it into Joey as he kissed him. He added a second and when Joey whispered “now,” he withdrew his fingers and pressed his cock inside. It was painful, a burning, stretching sensation but Joey welcomed it, welcomed Lance. The pain became absolution, the absolution became a welcome, and both felt like home.
9. Must have been so bad. “Today we’re going to talk about a topic that’s difficult for us: teen suicide. It’s a growing trend among teenagers in America, one that we at MTV want to offer information about. In the next hour we’ll talk to survivors of suicide attempts, friends of victims, and psychiatrists who can give us warning signs for teens at risk. We’ll give you hot line numbers to call if you know of someone, or if you might have problems yourself. But first, joining us to talk about this topic are Joey Fatone and Lance Bass of N Sync. Guys?” Joey and Lance both waved and called out greetings to the camera. “You want to tell us a little bit about why you’re here today?” Joey nodded, sat up a little straighter and looked directly in the camera. “I’m here, and Lance is here with me, because 8 months ago I tried to kill myself.” [end]
For all those who emailed me, telling me Lance was a punk.
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