Waking Up to the Familiar
by: Nynaeve

Songfic for More Than a Feeling (lyrics at the end)

~..~

JC loves living in LA. He thought it just might be the perfect place for him, a perfect match for his personality. It just felt right, some sort of vibe or feng shui thing, though, now that he thought of it, he really wasn’t totally sure he understood what feng shui was. His interior decorator had kept throwing the term around and asking him how he felt in certain places in his house, which was confusing since at the time they were mostly plain empty rooms and all he could think to say was “cold”, but that didn’t seem to bother her and she would just mutter things like “earth tones” and “red” and “extra seating” and once she had patted his shoulder and told him that she was making sure everything was perfectly placed and in harmony, and that’s sort of what he means about LA so it maybe could apply. He likes the idea of it, anyway.

He supposed that he could call the decorator and ask, but he didn’t think she was speaking to him after she had come to his housewarming party and seen what he had done to the “music room” she had built for him. He still didn’t think he should have been expected to work in a room that had bed sheets stapled to the walls. It reminded him entirely too much of sleeping and naps and was wholly unconducive to productive creativity. Anyway, it didn’t really matter since the point was that JC believed, right now, that LA was the perfect place for him.

He thought about that as his plane taxied into LAX. He refolded the little blanket and pulled on a hat with tires painted on it that probably once had belonged to Justin and thought about believing in LA. Really, he believed in a lot of things.

He believed in happy endings. He believed in getting what you paid for and paying for what you get. He believed in the power of prayer, and when that failed, his family’s home remedies. (He’d once spent three days with oatmeal and honey in his hair, trying to make it grow faster. He still believed it had worked.) He believed in discount sales and recycling and taking vitamins and making things out of alternative materials. (His favorite exercise shoes were plastic ones that supposedly were made only from recycled milk jugs.) He believed in freedom of speech and freedom of religion and freedom of the press-even when most of his best friends would love nothing more than to slap gag orders on dozens of mouthy members of the media. But JC had never believed in living by other peoples’ rules and couldn’t imagine expecting more from anyone else, even the tabloids.

He also had more personal beliefs. Ones that he had never talked to anyone but Lance about since Lance had once seemed like someone they could apply to.

He believed in true love and forever.

It hurt his heart to think about still, but at the time Lance had been the perfect person to share those beliefs with, so solid and dependable and with a mouth that he thought he could spend forever...well, yes, forever. Now, though, it all seemed like a lot of work. He figured that he’d deal with it later and just enjoy himself now. It had always been easy for him to meet interesting people that he wanted to spend time with, share experiences with, and a few times love (he believed that there were a lot of different types of love in the world). What he didn’t believe in was being alone and miserable when he didn’t have to be and he’d noticed early on that he was much happier with a partner in his life. He also didn’t understand the point in being depressed and sad when there were so many fascinating, fun things to distract himself with. JC was always very busy.

When people asked, as they often did (he’d noticed that the more famous he became, the more people wanted to know what he had to say, though he didn’t personally notice that he’d become any more interesting) and he related all of these beliefs, they almost always accused him of having no clue what he was talking about. JC knew that they had every right to their own beliefs, naturally, but he disagreed. He didn’t think he was naïve. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t had plenty of tough times to balance with the good and he’d learned several nasty lessons in disappointment. He’d had his heart broken, his money stolen, his principles compromised, his talent mocked, his person ridiculed, his friends insulted, his family hurt, his trust betrayed, among other things. But none of these things were worth dwelling on any longer than necessary, in his opinion, or any longer than it took to learn whatever lesson he was supposed to learn before moving on. Bad things happened, of course, and really after all, didn’t that make the happy endings even happier later on?

~..~

JC stared out of the tinted window at the golden city as his hired driver sped him along in his hired SUV. He loved LA, he really did. It was almost always sunny, which he loved, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had been really, truly cold when he was here. He hated being cold.

Today, the weather wasn’t as perfect as it usually was, which was okay since it was still 80 degrees outside. Sun-streaked clouds littered the sky, making the smog almost impossible to see for once. The only light filtering through to his space in the back seat was weak and watery, causing JC to feel as if he should be blinking to clear his vision. The uncertain weather actually made the city look far more attractive than it probably really was. The buildings took on a more uniform sheen, details of weathering and age were harder to pick out and the air seemed clearer, cleaner.

Bobbie might be home from work already. But maybe not because JC thought he remembered her saying that she was really enjoying her job lately. Or not enjoying so much as working a lot, or working harder, or...He scratched absently at his neck, feeling guilty that he couldn’t recall what she had told him and hadn’t they just talked the other day? Well, not yesterday because he’d spent the day with his brother, and not the day before because he and Joey’d had that thing with the radio station and then Chris wanted to go out and party before they made a group call to Lance in Russia. So, at least three days ago.

He pulled out his cell phone wondering if maybe the memory would tell him when the last call from LA had come. He had just scrolled through the call log choices when he felt the car slow down. Glancing up, wondering where they were because the drive was a long one and he thought they had just passed that one cafe that he knew was a good 30 minute trip out...

He was surprised to notice that they were already at his house.

The driver unloaded JC’s luggage from the back of the car while JC tried not to forget anything in the backseat. He thanked the man and handed him some money before gathering his bags and going inside. The house was dark and felt empty and unused so JC knew he was alone for now.

After he unpacked and did the coming-home ritual of checking piles of mail, reading messages and walking through the rooms of his house to get in touch with them again, JC wasn’t sure what to do. He had been home for a few hours already and still no Bobbie. He really hadn’t thought to plan what to do with his time, assuming that he would be spending his first night home with his girlfriend. But apparently not and now it was getting late already.

He decided to try and find something to eat. Strangely enough, the fridge was mostly empty and there wasn’t anything fresh or appetizing to be found. Weird. What had Bobbie been eating?

He was standing in the middle of his kitchen feeling uneasy and like he was missing some important piece of the puzzle when his two-way went off. The message read, “r u alive, fuckr?” JC grinned, picked up his phone and hit memory 3.

Not even one full ring went by before he heard, “No excuses, asshole. You know the drill.”

“I’m so sorry, Chris. First the plane, and I was thinking and you should have seen the clouds. They were all wispy with the sun coming through. LA can be so pretty. So, I was thinking, and I got-“

“Distracted. Yeah, yeah. But-“

It was JC’s turn to interrupt. “I know the drill. Call when we land or you’ll have our balls. I’m really sorry.”

“Damn straight.”

“Chris, just out of curiosity, what would you do with my balls if you had them?”

Chris cackled delightedly and JC smiled happily, pleased that he had made a funny joke. “Oh, JC, honey, child. Baby. I’d tell you but then you’d want me and my fine ass and the two of us are all the way over here and honestly, I don’t think you’re ready for this jelly.”

“Don’t be so sure,” JC murmured. Chris groaned and JC giggled. “You’re such a flirt, Chris”

“Me?! You’re the one flirting back!” JC covered his mouth, feeling his smile under his fingers. He was starting to feel almost too warm, so he shrugged out of his jacket without taking the phone from his ear. Chris continued, “I always flirt, you know that. What I want to know is when you started flirting back.”

JC shrugged. “I dunno. I guess when I figured out what you were doing, because you haven’t always. You sometimes, you know, just. In case you were messing with my head. But, no.”

“huh.”

“Either that, I just couldn’t contain myself around that fine booty any longer.”

“That’s right, baby!” They both laughed and then Chris asked, “So, you hangin’ with your woman tonight?”

“I dunno,” JC sighed. “We haven’t talked in a few days and she’s not here right now. Actually, it’s hard to tell, and she hasn’t said anything, but.” He paused, thinking. That last statement didn’t sound entirely right in his head. “I don’t think she’s been staying here,” he said quietly. It was one thing to think these uncertain relationship thoughts in his head and another to open them up to one of his best friends. They had wavery boundaries on what they talked about regarding significant others within the group. It was tough when your friends, people you saw almost every day, didn’t like certain things about people you were dating. They all tended to avoid introducing controversy whenever possible and just not bring things up when they weren’t ready to hear whatever might be said. So, when something was brought up, it was usually a signal that the other person really needed to talk. JC had always thought it was a good policy.

“Woah. Wasn’t she there on tour stop in, what was that, two or three months ago?”

“Yeah.” JC traced the grout on his tile counter with a finger, feeling the grains catch on the thin blade of his nail. He tried to remember what had been said recently, figure out what he had missed. He knew that he would talk to Bobbie soon, hopefully when she came home tonight, and he wanted to be prepared. Right now he had no idea what could be going on in her head. She had been with him a long time now and he found it disheartening that it suddenly seemed like he didn’t know her very well. “And I’m pretty sure she knew I’d be getting in tonight.”

“And you guys’ve been okay lately?”

“Well, I thought so. Not great, but okay at least. But…”

“But, yeah, I know, distracted.”

JC frowned, not liking that easy characterization. “Hey, I know. I’m not. That’s not fair. Everyone has their thing.”

“Do your thing,” Chris sang, making his voice a mockery of the song. JC laughed a little, uneasily. “Look. C. It doesn’t sound like you really know what’s going on, yet. She’s not home, so what? Maybe she had to go out of town for work. Maybe she missed the couch she has at her place. She still has her own place in town, right?” JC grunted in affirmation. “Yeah, so. Don’t cry your pretty eyes out, yet. Don’t count any hatching ducks. Don’t jump over any candlesticks.” JC giggled a little, rubbing his eyes and suddenly feeling tired.

He nodded. “Yeah, I got it. I just. I dunno. Losing her. It would. suck, man.”

“She’d be an absolute clueless wench to dump your pretty ass. You can tell her I said that. You know, if you need to. Not that you will. ‘Cause-“

“Got it, Chris,” JC said quickly. And then, “Thanks, man.”

“Anytime.”

They hung up and JC went out alone to eat.

Bobbie never came home that night.

~..~

The next morning JC woke up feeling sick. And cold. The weather outside was cloudy and raining off and on, from what he could see out the window from his bed. He was distracted, though, by his stomach roiling and twisting as his head felt swollen and sore. He didn’t want to face the day at all, so he went back to sleep for two hours.

When he crawled out of bed, feeling only marginally better, he immediately drank two bottles of Aquafina, hoping that part of his problem was dehydration from the plane, and then waited sadly, with an afghan over his shoulders, by a phone that never rang.

Around dinnertime, he realized that he was being silly and the stress of avoiding tackling his problem was only making him feel worse. He clutched his stomach as he dialed the phone, hoping that he wouldn’t throw up. Bobbie answered after three rings and sounded surprised to hear from him, which he didn’t take to be a good sign. She agreed to meet for an early meal since she already had other plans, which she didn’t elaborate on, and gave JC an hour to come pick her up.

JC scrambled to get ready, having a minor crisis when he couldn’t find any underwear and then just going without. He felt gross and sick walking out of his door, hat crammed over his hair. He’d only had twenty minutes for his shower, which wasn’t nearly enough to counteract the way he was feeling right now and he still felt chilled to the bone.

Bobbie smiled softly at seeing him but didn’t give him more than a quick kiss and a brush across the back with one hand. They were midway through their meal of salads and crabcakes, chatting about work and friends, before they really started talking.

“So. I got in late yesterday afternoon,” JC ventured.

“Yeah,” Bobbie said vaguely. “I know.” JC stared at her. “What?”

JC looked down and poked at the mix of greens in his bowl. He though the romaine was a little limp. “You weren’t there.”

Bobbie’s eyes widened. “Well, JC.”

He set his fork down and swallowed. “Yes? What?”

Bobbie bit her lip and seemed to visibly gather herself. “Of course I wasn’t going to be there. Oh, honey.” She shook her head and JC noticed that her hair hardly moved even though it was breezy out where they sat on the restaurant’s covered terrace. The light wind seemed to cut right through the long-sleeved shirt he was wearing. “I thought we’d talked about this.”

JC’s stomach rumbled and he regretted eating any of the fish that Bobbie had wanted to order. He grabbed his water and drank deeply before gasping, “When? What did we decide?” He looked up again with pleading eyes. “I’m sorry, Bobbie. I’m honestly not trying to be dense.”

She reached over and patted his hand. He tried to wrap around her fingers but she pulled away and he only grabbed air. “I know you aren’t. I was afraid of this.” She sighed. “When you were here in March, I told you that I was looking for something else. It was pretty obvious to me that we were moving in different directions and have been for a long, long time. I’ve known for a long time that we were mostly together for the convenience of it all. Yes, JC, we were.” JC stopped shaking his head. “You were in the area for almost a week that time and only spent one night at your house with me, but you invited me to walk in with you to that event the Thursday before and…I did it for you, no questions asked.”

“I slept at the house almost every night,” he contradicted lamely, trying to remember everything that had gone on that week several months before. Concerts, of course, but it had felt like he’d been busy, though the only things he was remembering right now were going to a strip club with Chris one night, and playing a Halo marathon another until all of them had fallen asleep together packed into one hotel room.

“Sleeping and spending time here are two different things.” JC sighed sadly, knowing she was right about that. “JC, when was the last time you called me? Not that we talked, but that you actually picked up the phone and dialed my number.”

Wrapping his arms around himself, JC tried to think if he knew this answer or not. “Well, I was on tour,” he started lamely, but she shook her head impatiently so he tried to think harder. He hadn’t remembered to go back and check his cell phone’s memory after that ride home from the airport, though he still wasn’t sure if the device would have had the information he needed or not. “Three days ago?” he tried.

Bobbie looked at him sorrowfully and he knew he’d got it wrong. “Not even close,” she said, not unkindly. “I called you once last week, to see when you were coming home so I could have my stuff out of your house by then.” JC flinched. He hadn’t even noticed that her stuff was gone. He also hadn’t been sure before this moment exactly what Bobbie was trying to tell him.

He thought, distracted or not, that he didn’t seem to know an awful lot of important things about his relationship with Bobbie. Maybe that should’ve been a sign, though it didn’t make him feel any better right now.

“JC, I know you’re a smart guy. I’m having a hard time believing that you really didn’t know this was coming.”

“Me, too.”

“I really wasn’t trying to keep it a secret and be mean about it or anything.” She paused and pressed her lips together in the way women did when they were trying to spread their lipstick out evenly. “I could’ve sworn that you understood what we were talking about when I mentioned all the work I had done on my place to make it livable again and how it was hard adjusting and moving on and everything.”

Oh, JC thought, so that’s what she meant about having a lot of work to do. Oh, of course. Too bad I wasn’t spending the last three months moving on, too.

“I know that your fans hated me a lot while we were together.” Past tense already, JC noticed. She’s walking away and I’m standing still. “And it scared me when I thought I might be becoming the creature they think I am. Someone who uses her boyfriend, you know. And I was there, at the end, as much as the truth hurts us both. Being with you was easy when we could count on our fingers and toes the number of times we saw each other during the year. And I did love your house. It’s scary how easy it is to justify avoiding doing the hard thing.” JC fixed his gaze on his wilting salad, feeling the agreement to that deep inside himself. The phrase, “truth hurts” echoed in his mind.

Bobbie shook her head again and said, “I’m really sorry, JC,” before leaning over and pulling her purse strap over her shoulder and JC knew they were done here. He shivered, paid the bill, and drove her home.

Before she got out of the car, she turned and gave him a warm hug. “I still care about you, you know.” JC did know since they had never had a relationship where caring enough was the problem. Or he thought not anyway. “But maybe you should think about what you’ve been avoiding this last little while. It sounds to me like, maybe, and, you know, I’m not a professional or anything, but maybe you’ve been avoiding some major stuff. If you live forever inside your own head, you’re gonna miss out on things that really matter.” JC almost smiled at her tendency towards bad clichés. He remembered once finding them endearing.

Halfway home he had to pull the car over so he could throw up in some unfortunate person’s bushes.

~..~

JC didn’t do much over the next several days except avoid doing anything at all. He still hadn’t solved the mystery of his missing underwear, so instead he wandered around his professionally decorated house naked and cold, stopping here and there to do a lot more nothing before going back to bed and spending 12 hours at a time dreaming about nothing. Nothing he could recall, anyway.

He cranked the heat up on his thermostat and tried sometimes to work in his music room. He dragged in a padded chair from the dining area and sat at his consol with headphones over his ears. He had a few tracks saved that were not even close to being finished. One had a grating feel that made his ears throb with sound that was just short of being nauseating. He listened to that one a lot, fiddling away with his knobs and levels and making no significant changes. A few times he remembered to check his clock and was always amazed at the number of hours that slipped by him while his ears sweated under the foam headset. Even when he ventured out of the room, he kept humming the part of the song that he thought would be the bridge someday, unable to shake off the thrall of the music.

He totally forgot that he had a maid who was supposed to clean his house and do his grocery shopping once a week and that was the cause of one very embarrassing moment when she walked in on him drinking a bottle of water in his kitchen wearing nothing but a barrette to hold his bangs back.

They both shrieked a little and then JC pretended not to be offended by her subsequent hysterical laughter as he edged out of the room clutching a potholder to his groin. He later called Bobbie to ask what the maid’s name was and then snuck down to leave her a labeled envelope with some cash in it by way of apology.

Then he went back to bed.

~..~

He was awakened a few hours later by someone pulling his hair out by the roots. He rolled away from his attacker in a panicked frenzy that landed him on the floor with his ass in the air and his breath knocked out. By the time he could breathe again he realized that his “attacker” was having a laughing fit on his bed and none of his hair was really gone, though his scalp felt tender in one place.

“Justin,” he muttered and hauled himself up with the aid of his nightstand.

“Dude. Dude,” Justin gasped. “Oh, fuck that was funny.” JC looked around for something to throw at him. “Oh, my ribs, ow.” Justin finally seemed to be calming down when he looked up at JC and then down at JC’s naked body and laughed even more. JC found a copy of a Mercedes Lackey book, unfortunately in paperback, on the bottom shelf of his nightstand and bounced it off of Justin’s shoulder. Justin yelped and his laughter slowed down until he lay gasping on JC’s rumpled sheets.

“C, man, put some shorts on,” he finally said.

JC collapsed back onto the bed next to his groupmate, pulled a pillow over his head and mumbled into it.

Justin yanked the pillow away. “What was that again?”

JC sighed and stared at the ceiling. “I can’t. They’re gone. Maybe Bobbie has them.” Justin leaned over him into his line of vision and raised an eyebrow. “She’s gone, too.” JC grinned without humor. “Gooooone,” he giggled, and then stopped abruptly.

“Ohhhh,” Justin said, and didn’t sound surprised at all.

“What are you doing here, Justin?” JC asked after a moment of silence. A moment of silence for a three-year relationship, he thought. It didn’t seem like enough.

“I got some tickets for the playoffs here in town, so I called you to see if you’d put me up for a few but you didn’t answer. Naturally, I assumed that meant ‘yes’ and here I am.”

JC rolled his head over to look at his friend. “Here you are.” He looked back at the ceiling.

“Your maid let me in. After I talked her into it.” JC sighed and felt even sorrier for his poor maid who was probably scarred for life now, or something. Justin fidgeted next to him. “C,” Justin sighed and then JC felt his upper body lifted a little as Justin slid next to him and hugged him tight. JC squinted as he buried his face into Justin’s neck and breathed in his friend’s familiar smell. He curled his hands and pressed them against Justin’s sides and let himself consider, for the first time, that he was alone again. It felt odd to think that while being naked and cradled by a large handsome man, but here you had it. He was alone.

Justin held him closer as he cried about Bobbie for the first, and he hoped last, time.

~..~

Later, Justin asked him again about putting on some clothes. He laughed when JC explained that he really had no clue where any of his underwear was.

“Don’t you have, like, a sock and underwear delivery service?”

JC stared into the empty drawer he had pulled out to prove his lack of clothing. “Well, sorta. Lately, Bobbie’s been taking care of the household stuff for me…” He trailed off as the logical conclusion came to him. “She usually buys a month’s worth at a time and then ships it to me.” Obviously, she wouldn’t be doing that sort of thing for him any longer.

“Shit, man, didn’t you bring any with you from Florida?”

“Yeah, of course.” JC glanced around his room vacantly, as if the underwear might crawl out and surprise him at any moment. “But I threw it away when I unpacked, like always.”

“Which trash can did you use?”

“The one in my bathroom. Oh, wait, is the maid still here?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Justin was already walking towards the bathroom, clearly ready for JC to put on some clothes. “And I don’t think she’s been up here to clean yet since she told me when she let me in that she didn’t think you were feeling very well.”

Justin disappeared into the other room and then came out holding three pairs of JC’s Hanes at arm’s length with his fingertips. “Got ‘em!” he said triumphantly.

JC blinked and felt his headache throb again. “I can’t wear those.” Justin looked sharply at him and dropped the underwear onto the floor.

“Why the hell not?” he demanded.

“They’re dirty.” JC slumped back onto the bed and pulled his legs up to his chest.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

~..~

After Justin’s outburst, he apologized and petted JC’s back for several minutes before coaxing him into some sweat pants sans undies. He led JC down to the amused maid and asked her about doing laundry. Apparently, her job description didn’t extend to that task, though she was perfectly willing to show JC where the laundry room in the house was. JC felt dumb because of course he knew where it was. He’d even been in it before, though Bobbie had taken care of most of those types of chores since he’d had this house. And really, it wasn’t as if he’d never done laundry ever before, that was just ridiculous. It had just…been awhile.

Upon inspection, it appeared as if the house was completely empty of all laundry-doing supplies, except for one small bottle of Woolite under the guest bathroom sink, and the maid finally told him helpfully that Bobbie had used a service that delivered and had a 6-hour turn around time. JC wondered absently how much that had cost him over the last year or so as the maid showed him where she kept the forms he could fill out if he wanted her to do the grocery shopping for him.

JC bit his lip and absolutely did not tear up as he checked the tiny box next to, “Tide, with bleach.” He sniffled and Justin patted his shoulder sympathetically.

There weren’t any boxes labeled, “Hanes, boxer briefs” and JC guessed that he’d be making a lot more solo trips to Wal-Mart in his future. He was pretty sure that he couldn’t ask the maid to do that for him.

~..~

JC was totally not surprised when Joey showed up the next morning, though he was surprised that Joey hadn’t brought anyone else with him.

“Justin called you,” JC said after Joey had released him from a ten-minute long hug where JC just breathed and let his friend’s comforting aura warm his skin.

“Yep. And Bree has an ear infection. I wasn’t taking her within five miles of the airport.”

“Ah.”

And then Joey had swept him up into a whirl of activity that involved JC being very pampered and his two friends trying to distract him. JC rested one hand over his aching belly and hummed part of his “chainsaw song,” as he’d taken to calling it in his head, as Joey brushed and blow-dried his hair for him.

He didn’t ask if Chris was coming or not. JC tried two-waying him, just to check in, and got back the wholly unsatisfying response, “all good.”

~..~

Justin had declared that he drew the line at buying JC’s underwear for him, but somehow three new packages appeared in his drawer and he didn’t have to wash the dirty old ones after all. He shivered with gratitude and washed his hands five times after throwing them back into the trashcan.

Joey walked in on him throwing up later that day and wouldn’t let JC wave him away. He fussed and wrapped JC in a blanket, gave him some Pepto-Bismol, and set him on a chair in the kitchen while he fixed food on the stovetop that JC nibbled at half-heartedly. He thanked Joey and gave his friend a hug before grabbing two bottles of water and retreating back into the music room.

He mentioned one time that he missed his dog, who was living the bachelor college life in Florida with Tyler. A few hours later, Justin handed him a bucket hat and warm jacket with stripes the same color as the checks on the hat, which made JC smile and Justin beam proudly, and Joey drove the three of them out to the hills where they spent the afternoon going horseback riding. Joey made sure that JC got the horse with the blond mane and JC hugged each of his friends before burying his face against the horse’s beautiful neck, feeling the warm sun beat against his back for the first time in he didn’t know how long. He whispered to the horse that his friends were saps but the horse didn’t seem to care one way or the other.

On the drive home, though, they had to pull the car over when JC felt suddenly carsick. He walked it off without throwing up the chicken lunch that Joey had packed for them, but his head pounded horribly inside his skull. He took deep breaths of air that seemed to chill his throat going down and wished that he could erase this entire month. He wanted to be back on tour where he always had plenty of clean clothes and his four friends around him and a crowd eager to be given a show every night. Where no one was in Russia and no one was ignoring his phone calls and no one had dumped his sorry ass and no one was treating him like he didn’t know what was best all of the time.

He felt guilty about thinking that last part. Justin and Joey were just making sure that he okay with the breakup. There wasn’t anything unusual with that and he frankly felt that he needed them right now. They’d done the same thing for Justin in the two months between his break up with Britney and his starting to date a friend of Trace’s. They just wanted to help him and he loved them for it, he really did. He was glad that he didn’t have to go to Wal-Mart on his own yet. It was just…he leaned over and vomited up biscuits and fried chicken and waited for someone to bring him Kleenex and water.

He fell asleep in the car and woke up in his own bed after dreaming about chain saws that cut at his toes with no pain and doors that slammed shut loudly before he could see what was behind them.

~..~

It was weird, but it seemed like the more his friends did for him, reminding him over and over how much they loved and cared for him, the easier it was for JC to get lost in his music, blocking out everything, even his friends’ attempts at conversation.

He found Eminem-ish qualities inside himself and composed lyrics berating Bobbie for being a using bitch. A song that would probably emotionally stunt an entire generation of little girls. Which he supposed was only fair since Eminem had already gotten his hands on the little boys in the same way.

Then he felt horribly guilty and shredded the lyric sheets before someone else could see them. After all, it wasn’t like he was totally blameless himself.

He drank the tea that someone had made for him and pulled on a sweater that he found on the back of the chair. He hunched over his consol and listened again to the grating song that was quickly becoming an obsession. He supposed that he’d have to show this to Justin before he drove himself completely insane with it, assuming that it wasn’t already too late. There were lyrics for it hanging out in the back of his head, lyrics that wouldn’t get him sued for defamation by an ex-girlfriend who was actually still being nice to him, but he kept getting distracted before he could write them down.

Sometimes he wanted to bang his head endlessly against the edge of his desk or pull his hair out before his ever-present headache made his eyes actually pop out of their sockets and roll around on the floor. Those times he queued up all of the songs that he’d ever written or produced. Work that stretched back almost ten years to his early days of being allowed by indulgent executives to play around in the Mickey Mouse Club studio. All of it he was proud of and reminded him how far he’d come. He’d lean back and twist in slow circles in the leather desk chair that had mysteriously found its way into the room, listening for hours.

Those were the only times he didn’t have the over-whelming urge to call Bobbie and beg her to take him back. Something that he simultaneously knew that he didn’t need, deserve or even, deep down, really want.

~..~

Chris showed up one evening, two weeks after Bobbie had dumped JC and five days after ignoring JC’s last phone call, and walked in without knocking. He rolled his eyes at Justin and Joey’s glares and went straight over to where JC was hunched in a corner of the couch sipping a mug of hot chocolate and humming. He tugged on one of JC’s curls, resting a hip on the arm of the couch and said, “Hey cutie.” He kissed JC on the cheek and asked, “What’s shakin’?” just as if he hadn’t totally let JC down in his hour of need.

JC ducked his head and didn’t answer, picking his song back up from the beginning. Justin piped up loudly from across the room, “Well you’d know if you’d-“

“Shove it, kiddo,” Chris interrupted. “I was asking JC.”

“Chris,” Joey said sharply. “Can I talk to you in private?”

“I don’t think so.” He looked back down at JC, who was shifting uncomfortably in his seat, fighting down the taste of bile in his throat. “You look like shit,” he said flatly. JC stopped shifting, stopped humming, and met Chris’s eyes. Chris reached down and tucked a piece of hair back under the headband JC was wearing. JC took another sip of hot chocolate and wondered what would happen next.

~..~

What happened next was that Chris made JC come help him make dinner in the kitchen, overriding Joey’s protests that he could do it by himself, that he’d been doing it by himself for more than a week now, which Chris would know if he wasn’t such a...and then he called Chris a couple of mean names which Chris laughed at as he hauled JC off of the sofa.

“You’ve lost weight again, dumbass,” Chris said with seriousness instead of the humor JC had expected.

JC shrugged and managed to fumblingly catch the head of iceberg lettuce Chris chucked at him.

Chris boiled water and refused to let Justin leave to fly to Sacramento where he was supposed to watch another playoff basketball game. Justin was about one second away from punching Chris in the face when he looked over and saw JC watching them. Instead, he flushed and slammed out of the room to go call his date.

“You’re lucky he loves you,” JC said quietly as he slowly shredded lettuce.

“Actually, he’s lucky that I love him.”

“What?” JC asked, totally confused.

Chris shook his head and turned his back, slamming down pot lids and throwing carrots into the sink.

Things only got weirder when Joey brought JC a pair of socks so he wouldn’t get cold on the tile floor and Chris almost bit his head off. JC, a little frightened and even more confused, put the socks aside and went to set the table.

As he laid the fork on the left, spoon and knife on the right of each plate, JC realized that he hadn’t taken any Advil for the last three hours. Amazingly, he didn’t feel the urge to go Wile E. Coyote and drop an anvil on his own head for the first time since landing in Los Angeles. Very definitely weird.

~..~

An hour later and the four of them were eating vegetable soup in near silence. Justin was glowering and making snide comments about the food that weren’t quite inaudible, blatantly trying to bait and insult Chris. JC flinched every time he looked at Chris’s angry face and wondered if he was going to be able to keep any of this down. He personally thought it was really good. He hadn’t known that he could make soup like this until Chris had forced him to be the one to add the spices and stir.

Chris finally put his spoon down and said, “I want you guys to leave JC alone for awhile.”

JC choked on the sip of wine he had taken and wondered if he’d need to call the cops on Joey, who had shoved back from the table and looked ready to throttle Chris, and Justin, who looked ready to aid and abet Joey.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from the son of a bitch who ignored us all for two weeks! Especially poor JC,” Joey yelled. “Us, his friends, right?! No way!”

“I don’t think so,” Justin agreed, also loudly.

JC put his hands over his ears and watched Chris glaring at the other men.

“You guys are just making it worse, okay? You’re the ones who don’t understand.”

“Goddamnit, Chris-“

“No, listen, ok? Just listen!” Chris locked gazes with Joey. Joey had never been able to stay really furious with one of them, though he wasn’t ever afraid of arguing things out. Justin continued to mutter under his breath and send death glares Chris’s way. He looked ready to jump in at any time, though he was deferring to Joey for the moment. JC was glad. Joey was usually the more rational of the two.

“Fine,” Joey finally spit out, surprising everyone except for Chris.

Chris nodded and took a sip of his beer. He glanced over at JC and gave a tiny smile that JC did not return. JC still remembered that day last week when he had actually really disliked Chris, just for a moment. He touched his fingers to the pager on his belt and waited to hear what Chris would say.

“I know you’re all mad at me and I know that I maybe screwed up, just a little, when I didn’t return your calls, C. I’m sorry for that and I wanted to call.” JC relaxed, believing that Chris was sorry and glad to know he had at least been thought about. “But I’m not sorry that I wasn’t here this last week or so. I mean, not that I don’t care. Actually, it’s the opposite of that. But I really think, and I’m sorry, but you two,” he pointed at Joey and Justin, “are going about this all wrong. I’m serious,” he continued, cutting off the loud protests. “JC’s a pretty guy. Believe me, I’m aware of that.” JC looked down and stirred his soup, feeling a flutter that had nothing to do with nausea. “But, despite all outward indicators, he’s not actually a girl.”

JC’s head snapped up and he felt his eyes bulging. Justin had dropped his spoon and had one hand over his mouth, but JC couldn’t tell if he was laughing or not. Joey had sat back in his chair and was regarding Chris with curiosity.

“Fine then. He’s not a girl-“

Justin grinned sideways at JC. “I kinda figured that out when he kept flashing his dick at me when I first got here.”

“-so tell me, Chris,” Joey continued. “What do you think he is?”

Chris didn’t look at JC at all. JC had to remind himself not to hold his breath. “I think he’s a 25 year old guy who totally fucked up the most adult relationship he’s ever had and now feels like shit about it.” JC licked his spoon and focused on not letting his hands tremble. “I think he got in over his head with a woman that he’d rather be friends with and didn’t know what to do about it so he hid behind his friends and waited until she got sick and tired of his cowardice and ended things herself.” JC scraped with the edge of his spoon at a piece of potato that had hardened itself to the lip of his bowl. He could feel the other two guys staring at him, probably waiting to take any cues he might give. “I think that he’s someone who needs to mourn his own stupidity for awhile and you guys are screwing with his healing vibe by coming in and babying him and telling him that he’s wonderful and did nothing wrong and he’s making himself sick over it because he knows he’s wrong and wants to wallow for awhile and you won’t let him.” JC smiled and used his spoon to nudge a pea in his bowl closer to a piece of corn. Chris stopped talking and room was quiet except for the sounds of JC’s spoon, matchmaking the vegetables in the bottom of his bowl.

“C?” Joey. Joey probably felt like crap, wondering if he’d maybe gone and ruined JC’s chances of ever healing his broken heart.

JC looked up and met Chris’s dark, assessing gaze before glancing away at his other friends. He loved them all so much. His stomach fluttered again, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to throw up.

He dropped his spoon into his bowl and rubbed his hands together. “I think,” he said slowly. “I think that you guys are the best friends I could’ve ever hoped to have, ever. I totally don’t deserve you, and, but thank you for coming to help me when I didn’t think I could help myself. But.” He sighed.

Justin nodded and Joey glared once more at Chris before he nodded, too. Then they both left the room to go pack.

~..~

It was six days later and Chris had come into the music room to listen to the “chainsaw” track that JC was finally writing lyrics for. JC knew he had about another half hour before Chris chased him out to vacuum (since Chris had told the maid to take a week off) or do laundry or go golfing or something. JC didn’t like golfing, but he loved the clothes and he loved golf carts. Chris let him dress himself and didn’t act embarrassed to be seen with him like Justin always did. He even always let JC drive, though he also occasionally insisted that JC at least try using the expensive clubs that Justin had told him last Christmas were from Jonathan and Steven.

Chris was rocking in the nice leather office chair and staring at the ceiling. “You know what this song sounds like? It sounds like something N.E.R.D. would do.”

JC blushed. “Really?”

“Yeah. Like, you’re taking what could be a bad situation, and wrapping a little humor around it.” Chris sat forward and looked at JC. “I like it when you don’t always take yourself so seriously.” JC nodded and adjusted a control that added in a horn effect. “Oh, hey, that’s cool.”

“I’d wanna get, like, actual horns for that.”

“Yeah. Good call.”

JC worked in silence for a few minutes before clearing his throat. “Hey Chris?”

“Mmm?”

“How did you know?” Chris raised an eyebrow. “About Bobbie. And me. I mean, I don’t remember ever talking to you about it.”

Chris pushed with one foot and spun his chair around, dragging a toe across the carpet. “Justin called me.” JC rolled his eyes and waved a hand at him. “Well, yeah, and the time we were all in town, not on tour, but the time before that, Bobbie asked me if you were cheating on her.”

JC’s hands froze, hovering above the sound board. He closed his eyes and swallowed, reminding himself that it was plenty warm in the room. Just yesterday, Chris had watched as he set the thermostat at 72 degrees and they’d both agreed to keep it there.

Chris rolled closer and nudged his leg with one foot. “Listen, JC, hey. I don’t think she really thought that, like, that you were someone who could do that. I just think she was really confused, like, why you were pulling away from her a little at a time. I mean, you maybe didn’t talk to us too much about it, but I’m a smart guy. Compared to some of you children, I’m practically a genius.” He grinned cheekily. “Kidding, of course. But I can piece together what’s going on when armed with those hints and the fact that one of my friends is spending all of his time with us and not with his sex-ay girlfriend.” He pushed off of JC and spun again. “Hell, I think Justin spent more time with Britney last year than you did with Bobbie, and that’s saying something.”

“Figures,” JC muttered, going back to playing with the sound levels. “And they both kicked us to the curb.”

“Women are the smarter species, my friend.”

“Uh, Chris, I don’t think women are actually an entire different species.”

“And you just proved my point right there.” Chris shoved with both feet and sent his chair careening across the room until it hit the wall with a thunk, almost pitching him out of his seat. He dropped his head back until he was looking at JC upside down. “Are you sure you’re not at least partly a girl? Maybe I should check.” JC rolled his eyes and grinned down at his work. “And, you know, just a thought, but Timberlake had to quit chicks altogether and go back to guys to help him get over his pain.” Chris pretended to clean his nails, which looked really odd since he had to arch his back over the arm of the chair to see since he was still upside down. “Just sayin’.”

JC saved his work and went to go swim. The May weather had stabilized to the usual Southern California perfect cloudless skies and warm days and he wanted to take advantage of it while he could. He remembered how it had been a few weeks ago when it had rained.

~..~

JC was splashing his face in his bathroom, trying to forget another night of disturbing dreams, this time where all the people he had ever thought he loved, even Lance, had accused him of increasingly awful things, and threw rotten fruit at his head, until they turned to each other and had an orgy that he had been forced to watch, when Chris came into the room and said, “You have a fucking weird-ass house, Chasez.”

JC jumped and hit his naked hip hard against the marble countertop. He pressed one hand to what he was sure would be a bruise and turned to glare. “Good morning, Chris. Thank you for knocking. And for totally, you know, respecting my right to be naked and alone in my bathroom.”

Chris shrugged and didn’t even pretend not to be checking him out as he closed the toilet and sat on the lid. “Oh, since when are you the modesty police? Please.” And managed to roll his eyes without looking away from JC.

After he dried his face, JC tried to be casual as he held his towel at waist level and asked, “My house?”

“Totally. Because first the outside, you know? Freaky and all mirrored angles and weird. And then the inside. Where to even begin? Your house is like the special needs brainchild of every decorator who ever worked for ‘Trading Spaces.’ You got the Hildi music room with shit attached to the walls and the Frank kitchen with fake mosaics painted everywhere and the Vern everything else all zen and stuff. And I bet you anything whoever did this bedroom was totally lusting after Doug’s kinky gay self with the red on white color scheme and porn hanging on every wall. How do you walk around here everyday with a straight face?”

JC cocked an eyebrow and asked through his laughter, “Straight?” They both laughed together for another minute and then JC dropped his towel. “And it’s not porn, it’s art.”

Chris’s eyes went right to his cock, as JC had known they would, and Chris was still smiling, though not with the same humor, as he said, “Riiiiight. Only you, JC. Only you could decorate an LA mansion on a whacked-out budget and then swear up and down that it came out exactly the way you wanted it to.”

“What can I say?” JC asked as he walked out of the bathroom, flashing his bare ass for all it was worth. “My house is me and I am it. My house is where I like to be and it looks like all my dreams.”

“…the fuck?” he heard behind him and grinned to himself.

~..~

After going somewhat provocative and cryptic on Chris, he knew that he would have a few days to himself while Chris figured out what to do next. He called Lance in Russia and listened sympathetically as Lance told stories of medieval torture tests and boring bar menus and having to learn how to negotiate all over again in a whole new language. Then JC told his story and Lance stopped complaining about Russia and started complaining about his friends.

“This is totally unfair. I go away to have the adventure and you all wait until I’m gone to get really interesting.”

JC slid down the wall to sit on the kitchen floor and covered his face with his free hand. “It may be interesting to you, but it’s also messed up. I feel terrible, you know? I should be, like, arrested and fined or something. There should be laws against sucking so hard at dating and friendship.”

“Dang,” Lance drawled. “Poor little JC.”

“Shut up!” JC protested weakly.

“Listen, buddy. I’m not sure what you expected. You screwed up. It happens. Now what are you going to do about it? Or wait, a better question is what do you want? You need to decide that first.”

“I was sort of hoping you could help me with that,” he said in a small voice. “I’m not sure where to start.”

“JC…” Lance sighed and JC could tell he was going to give in. Lance could never resist giving advice.

“No one knows me better than you, Lance.” If Lance had been there, JC would probably have been batting his lashes right then.

“All right, fine.” JC smiled happily. “I think, and this is just my opinion ‘cause I’m not going to make your choices for you, but I think you should start with Bobbie. Justin and Joey are probably not mad at you like you think they are. In fact, I’m willing to be that they’re just sad about the whole situation, you know? I know for a fact that Justin’s convinced that he’s the one that sucks since he didn’t notice that you were in trouble a long time ago. But, anyway, start with her. She’s probably totally ready to forgive you since it sounds like y’all are still friends. But I can tell that you feel like you need to do something for her.”

“Yeah, maybe,” JC sighed.

“I honestly don’t think you need to or even can make up for anything, but maybe you can make a good start on some kind of new friendship with her. If that’s what you really want. Just my opinion.”

“’K,” JC leaned forward to rest his head on his bent knees, feeling one of the patches on his pants brush and catch against the material of his t-shirt.

“And can I just say that you are the only person I’ve ever met who honestly has a real shot at staying friends with so many of his ex’s?”

“That’s not true,” JC said with a smile. “I think that you’re a pretty irreplaceable friend, yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah. Kiss-ass.”

JC grinned into his jeans. “Now, what about Chris?”

“Oh no,” Lance protested, laughing. “You can kiss my ass all you want, but you are not dragging me into anything between you two horny monkeys. Maybe I am a good ex, but I’m not even near to being that much of a saint.” Lance paused. “Though I do want all the details later.”

JC’s forehead wrinkled as he stared at his bare toes. He wiggled them a little wondering if he should paint them again. It had been awhile since he felt like he could get away with that. “I’m sorry, but, what?”

If anything, Lance laughed harder. “I wish I could see you right now. You’re so cute when you’re trying to play dumb.”

JC pressed his face harder against his knees. Later he would probably have a denim pattern embossed on his cheek, but right now he wanted to hide for a while.

~..~

At a loss for one big thing to do for Bobbie, JC settled on doing lots of little things. First, he sent her flowers at work, which wasn’t exactly original but Bobbie had once told him, again with her clichés, that flowers were a guaranteed daylong smile. Second, he had her car picked up from the employee lot and detailed and then brought back before she was supposed to leave at 5pm. He got an emotional call from her that evening where she screamed at him because she had thought it’d been stolen when she went to run an errand that afternoon, thanked him profusely and then demanded his copy of her car keys back. JC just hoped none of the guys would hear about that particular incident.

Next, he sent Bobbie’s favorite designer to her home on a Saturday so she could be measured for an outfit of her choice. Bobbie, always the persuasive one, had the designer call JC to tell him that she had ordered a diamond studded leather outfit that would cost more than JC’s newest car. JC had choked and, not knowing what else to do, signed off on the design. Bobbie let him stew about it for a full night and then called the next morning to say she was kidding and had just asked for a blouse to match a skirt JC had bought her when they had first started dating. JC knew that meant he was officially forgiven and happily took her out to brunch.

For Justin, he begged, borrowed and pleaded and got both Justin and his new boyfriend tickets to the next basketball playoff game in Los Angeles. Justin was a little sniffly on the phone when he called JC to thank him and they both ended up getting sappy and promising that they loved each other madly, and then promising to never mention the phone call again.

For Joey, he had a tougher time because Joey refused to admit that JC had put him to any trouble at all. JC pointed out the emergency plane flight and all the work done around his house and the fact that JC should’ve been more mature and told Joey in the beginning that he really didn’t need or want more than a hug and how it really all could’ve worked out much better than it had. Joey got JC to admit that self-analysis isn’t a skill that everyone should have to be good at all the time and they called it a draw. JC realized later that the phone call itself probably did more good than any vacation or fancy dinner or extravagant gift could’ve ever done.

Which only left Chris.

~..~

JC went up to bed that night and found a book lying on his pillow. It was a children’s book called, “The Big Orange Splot” by Daniel Manus Pinkwater, in immaculate condition and signed by the author. JC sat down heavily, heart pounding, clutching the thin book in his hands.

“What I want to know is what the hell is a ‘splot’ anyway?”

JC blinked up at Chris who was leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed and looking like he didn’t have a care in the world. JC was so happy that he couldn’t even move.

He beamed at Chris. “When I was a kid and would ask my mom that, she always asked me what I thought it meant.”

“And?”

“I said that I thought it was a combination between a splash and a spot.”

One corner of Chris’s mouth lifted in a quirky grin and for a moment JC had to fight down the urge to run over and lick at the edges of that smile, smoothing it out with his tongue. “Sounds good to me,” Chris finally said. He came into the room and took the book from JC’s hands, looking briefly at the vividly illustrated pages. “So. Tell me a story, Joshua C. What’s the deal with this book?”

“Only if you tell me how you found it.”

Chris shrugged like it didn’t matter to him either way, but his hands as he handed the book back were steady and careful. “That thing you said about your house the other day. It sounded like a quote or something, you know? And, by the way, can I just reiterate for the three millionth time how weird you are? Anyway. So I surfed Google with what I could remember of your quote and found the title to that book somewhere in all of the top results that came up. I called around to a couple of bookstores and then called your mom.”

At that moment, JC didn’t think that his grin could’ve gotten any wider. He was certain that his heart was trying to tell him something with the crazy fluttering it was doing in his chest. “You called my mom?”

Chris flopped down onto the bed next to JC. “Shut up,” he said, looking away. “I’ll have you know that me and your mother get along just fine.”

JC reached over and brushed one hand across Chris’s shoulder and was gratified to see a little shiver. “Sure, I know that. Just, yeah. Go on.”

Chris rolled around until he lay perpendicular across the bed with his head near JC’s hip. “Yeah, so, anyway, I found out from your mom that you had some sort of unnatural attachment to that book when you were a little one. And, long story short, I ended up buying three copies.”

JC ignored for the moment that Chris hadn’t just purchased any three copies since the one he currently held had to have been searched out. “Three?! Why three?”

“Well, I figured that what was so good for you as a munchkin must be something that Brianna would like someday, right?”

”Aww, Unka Chris,” JC crowed and Chris elbowed him in the hip. “So, what about the third one?”

Chris looked down and picked at the seam in JC’s bedspread. “I, uh, I sent it to my mom so she could have it for her grandkids. ‘Cause…she likes stuff like that, and yeah.” They sat together in silence while JC wondered how to express how completely, fiercely lovable Chris was at that moment without forever wounding Chris’s pride, but then Chris cleared his throat. “’The Big Orange Splot,’ JC. Tell me.”

JC brushed his fingers across the cover of the book, tracing the edges of the titular splot and smiling in reminiscence. “Did you read it?”

Chris grunted. “Yeah. Cute story.”

“I guess it is. To me, as a weird, arty first grader, who would continue to grow up and be a weird, arty second grader and then, well, you get the picture, it was more like a…hmm…more like a mission statement.”

“What were you, a mini-Jerry Maguire?”

JC grinned. “I dunno. Maybe. But just, the whole theme of the book. The guy lives in a neighborhood of plain, boring, cookie-cutter houses and then one day, a happy accident happens and bam!, the big spot, or ha!, splot appears on his roof. And he says, “what the hell?” and paints his house just a riot of colors, just getting it all out there, expressing his every inner dream, and doesn’t give a crap that the rest of the people think he’s weird and out of it. But then, when the people complain, one-by-one, he instead talks them into going back and painting their houses to be an expression of their dreams. I kind of always wanted to be that guy, you know? Yeah, I’m weird, I’m out of it, I even kind of look funny, see how he has that moustache? But most of all, I want to be happy. I want to be the guy living out his happy ending. Who maybe even helps other people find their happy endings. And, okay, I probably sound like a freak right now. Please, feel free to shut me up any-“

Chris effectively shut JC up by pressing up and…kissing him.

Chris was kissing him.

JC was so surprised that his teeth clamped shut on his tongue and he jumped back with a yelp. Chris’s eyes widened in shock for a second before he saw JC dab at the tip of his tongue with his thumb and then they were both laughing.

Chris rolled over and sat up. He took the small book that JC was still cradling and set it on the nightstand and then watched quietly as JC tried to stick his tongue out and see with crossed eyes if it was bleeding. Chris narrowed his dark eyes and then stretched his own tongue out to touch the sore, but unbroken, tip of JC’s and JC’s breath caught in his throat. He moaned a little and then pressed forward until their lips were touching and moving. His small injury seemed to heighten the sensations in his mouth and he soon found himself gripping handfuls of Chris’s shirt, stretching the material out of proportion.

They broke apart for breath after several long, hot, sweet moments. JC opened his eyes and looked up to see Chris’s alert and heavy gaze focused entirely upon him. He shivered with delight and realized that he didn’t feel the slightest bit distracted.

~..~

Much, much later, the phone rang. JC opened sleepy eyes to see Chris, who was laying mostly on top of him, reach over and answer. JC closed his eyes, only to have to open again when Chris thrust the phone into his hand grunting, “Lance. Somthin’ ‘bout details.”

JC sighed and kissed the top of Chris’s head before rolling out of bed and taking the phone with him into the bathroom. He closed the door and leaned against the counter. “Hey, man, what’s up?”

Lance’s delighted laughter carried over the phone lines quite well and JC winced and had to hold the handset away from his head for a moment.

“You so owe me a story,” was the first coherent thing JC could make out.

JC grinned at his reflection, taking note of all the little signs of well-laid happiness that lingered around his mouth and neck. Though the biggest change was the open and aware look in his eyes. “Yeah, I bet I do.”

“Ah ha! You bagged the old man,” Lance laughed again.

“Lance, you know I love you, but-“

“But right now you want to crawl back into bed with your brand new Chris. I got it.”

JC chuckled and didn’t try to deny it. “I promise to call you later and tell you the dirty.”

“Sounds good. Sweet dreams.”

“Hey, Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“Is it too much to ask for happily ever after, do you think?”

“JC, for you? I never expected anything less.”

JC murmured good night and clicked off the phone. He stood quietly in the bathroom, thinking one more time about things worth believing in and being happy where you lived. Then he smiled widely to himself and went back to Chris.

~..~

More Than a Feeling

Well it’s more than a feeling
When I hear that old song they used to play
And I begin dreaming
‘Til I see Marianne walk away