JC hates feeling stupid, doesn't want to have to try to explain what he was thinking, so he stares out the window, watches the road trickle by. Lance tugs on his sleeve and JC thinks that maybe he would understand that miserable moment when you can't make the words in your head match the words in your mouth. Then Chris laughs, high and shrieky and JC shrugs Lance's hand away.

"Busy now." And JC is thankful that Lance doesn't bother to tell him that it's impossible for him to be busy in a moving limousine. The heat rising off the road makes everything hazy, and it's soothing.

Peace is short-lived, because Chris and Justin couldn't possibly sit still. JC is struck again by the unfairness of being saddled with Spazz as a nickname when the others were just far more spastic. He doesn't turn away from the window until they're back at their hotel.

Justin and Chris laugh at him in the elevator. It's not mean laughter, just at JC's expense. Again. They look at each other, and it's like a rehearsed chorus, something they've run through a few times before.

Just turns to Chris with an earnest grin. "Because... why , Chris?"

Chris beams, practically bounces off the ceiling with excitement. "Because... yeah, Justin."

He claps an arm around JC's shoulders, still laughing a little. JC doesn't want to lean into it, but he does, because it's almost a hug and that's exactly what he needs right now.

Chris's voice is low now. "S'ok, Spazz. We wouldn't love ya if you didn't flail around and look like a dork every now and then."

JC forces himself to smile.

JC loves being on stage, knows that when they're singing there's no one that can touch him. He bounces and preens, makes eye contact and adores every single person that pants breathlessly, starstruck and gaping.

When he has choreography and lyrics to guide him, there's no temptation to draw pictures with his hands or try to express exactly what he's thinking. There has to be something that can guide him like that through the rest of his life, and JC thinks that maybe Lance will know exactly what will help.

Lance grabs him after the concert, hugs him and peers determinedly into his face.

"Things okay?"

"Yeah." And JC pauses, cocks his head to the side. One hand rises, almost of its own volition. "What do you think of yoga?" There's a connection there, JC's got it in his head, but he can see Lance start to smile and realizes too late that it's another non sequitur.

Another fake smile. "Sorry man. Just thinking about exercise." Then he trips on Chris's scooter, abandoned and almost shoved out of the way. Lance's face softens and he grabs JC's arm.

"C'mon. We've got new DVD's, and Joey's making drinks tonight."

JC drinks a lot that night, enough that he can laugh when they call him Spazz, enough that it's funny even and the nickname seems sweet, the way it is when they call Lance Scoop.

JC sleeps a lot more than usual for the next couple days. When he's sprawled out on his bunk, his Discman pumping out soft jazz, he feels like maybe he has the ability to be graceful. The music does that to him, makes him feel soft and floaty. It gives him purpose, the same way that choreography does.

Snuggled into his pillow, almost happy, JC wishes their next interview could be about something other than his personal life or who he is. He thinks that if he could talk about music, he could be calm and cool like Justin and speak in perfectly modulated tones.

He's happy in his dreamworld until Lance pulls open his curtains, looking a little worried maybe, but more like he's lonely than anything else. Lance's face lights up when JC smiles, and JC loves him more in that moment than he ever thought possible.

Lance has never said so, but JC likes to think that he understands. Especially now, when Lance snuggles up next to him in his bunk, obviously hiding from the antics of Chris and Justin or maybe just from Joey's habit of sharing a few too many details.

Lance shifts though, scoots away from him and flips over, propping himself up on his elbows so he can make eye contact. JC has to fight the urge to look down, because Lance sees more than he should.

"You're sleeping too much." There's no accusation in the tone, only concern and maybe curiosity.

"Not sleeping, just chilling."

"You're too quiet."

"Didn't one of those 70's guru guys say something about silence speaking louder than words? Or someone like that? I never really thought about it, but maybe it does." JC thought for a moment and smiled, sitting upright suddenly. "Like wouldn't it be funny if a song used bits of silence? It'd make you appreciate the rest of it."

He started reaching for his notebook, fumbling for a pen, almost forgetting about Lance, until he hears the soft, rich laughter. Lance never giggles. JC sighs, because he can't seem to train himself out of the excitement and he thinks that maybe he shouldn't want to.

"Yeah. I'm being a spazz again, right?" His embarrassment seems to flavour the words, making them acid and bitter. He doesn't want to look at Lance, but he can't seem to help it. "Stupid, aren't I?"

Lance's laughter stops and his eyes look wide and shocked, like maybe he hadn't understood that exactly. He's sputtering out words but none of them make sense until he grabs JC.

"Stupid, JC? No one ever said you were stupid." Lance honestly looks like he's confused and it makes JC feel meanly beter.

"Yeah, being called Spazz is such a compliment." JC knows he's being unreasonable, but doesn't quite care. It's bothered him for a while, he thinks, and Lance is the only one who might possibly understand.

Chris, if he know, would call JC nothing else for the rest of his life, because to Chris, everyone is fair game. Justin wouldn't understand and JC has no desire at all to try to explain to the perfect Infant how mere mortals sometimes feel gawky and stupid. Joey would just look at him like he was being immature and tell him he needed to get laid.

Lance seems horrified. "C. No one thinks that you're stupid. It's like, entirely the opposite." He's painfully earnest. "You're like, funny. Funny like Chris can't be. And okay, yeah, you're spacey sometimes." He looks helpless. "It's just you."

JC sees that it makes sense to Lance, and that's enough. He's fine with being funny, especially when it makes Lance laugh and stop looking tired and lonely. So he smiles, lets his comprehension drift across his face because he knows Lance will believe it then, comforted when Lance smiles back.

"Better, Jayce?"

JC nods, hugs Lance and mumbles into his neck, "Because... yeah.", just to hear the rumble of Lance's laugh.

~end~