It's another photo shoot, and Chris wonders why he bothers. He's tucked on the side; no one's bothering with him. The photographer is quite concerned with Justin's smile and the look in JC's eyes, and Lance nudges him, rolls his eyes. Joey's in the other corner, radiating warmth like no one else can.

"JC, smile for me, gorgeous." JC poses and grins.

Chris purposely doesn't smile for what seems like an hour. There are times that the somber glare comes to him without effort, but everyone's laughing at JC's goofy grin and he really wants to join in. He realizes, five minutes later, that he could have. No one cares what he does.

"Justin, give us some of that pretty boy attitude." Justin pouts and looks up, eyelashes batting.

Chris is struck, not for the first time, with the knowledge that what he's doing doesn't matter at all. He doesn't have to smile pretty, doesn't have a prettyboy attitude. He's just Chris.

"Lance. Yeah, that's it. Lovely." Lance drops his bored look and smiles, really smiles, cocking his head to the side, and his face transforms.

Chris is scowling, now. The whole thing has moved past a test into reality, and he's feeling every one of his twenty nine years. He looks down, not doing anything, and the photographer never even notices, screaming at Joey this time.

Chris shakes the bad mood off easily enough. It's something he's had practice with. He's looking forward to the concert tonight, reminding himself that he's always been the cynical one, the one with dreads, braids, weirdly colored sunglasses. Not a pretty boy, ever. He makes up crazy stories in interviews, while the others spout out their carefully prepared answers with earnest looks. PR has stopped telling him what to say.

Makeup for that night's concert is stressful, in a way Chris isn't used to. He's grown used to feeling like the old one, knows that he gets tired a little sooner, parties a little less. He's not used to feeling like he's not attractive, though, and his reflection in the mirror seems too large, the tiny wrinkles by his eyes more noticeable.

He requests more eyeliner, baring his teeth in the mirror as his makeup girl rummages through her kit. He can do scary tonight, he thinks, pumping himself up, getting more excited than usual. He's anxious for the screaming crowd.

The blazing lights slam into him, and he rides the wave of the noise. It feels good, and they're perfect. Even the sweat feels right. He blinks, glares out into the crowd. He doesn't usually look for the signs.

JC: Get Down With Me Tonight

He's scanning the crowd, while he thanks god for muscle memory. It's almost like a high, the perfect synchronization Wade's drilled into them. JC's glowing, bouncing in front, all graceful arms and wild eyes. Chris thinks that he'd make signs for such a creature.

Lance: Get Naked

Chris remembers Much Music, when Rick pointed out all the signs. There was one that requested Lance get naked, and Chris had laughed while Joey yanked Lance's shirt up. The "Lance Get Naked" sign was a fixture now. He remembered smiling at a pretty girl in the front of the crowd, who cried just because he waved at her.

Joey: I want your dirty pop

They walked up to the front of the stage, and Chris thought about picking one of the girls. He could tell Lonnie at their next costume change and the girl would be backstage and waiting for him, all breathless and squirmy. He changed his mind, when the pretty blonde he was eyeing in the second row screamed Justin's name, waving and screeching.

Chris was glad when the night was over. The screaming started to hurt his ears, and the pyro hurt his eyes. The bus seemed like a sanctuary, the darkness of his bunk, the fabric softener scented sheets and maybe a drink or two to make sleeping easier.

Backstage, JC smacked him on the butt, grinning. "You were good tonight."

Joey grabbed him, snugging him to his side and rubbing his knuckles through his hair. It wasn't really rough, Joey couldn't hurt anyone.

Lance was on his other side, peering at down at him, as Joey let him go. "I like the extra eyeliner. Makes you look pretty."

Justin was gulping down water, and turned to look at Chris. "Not pretty. He's a badass, and he knows it. He doesn't need no stinking prettyboys."

"Huh. I need you jerks." And Chris didn't care anymore.

~end~