Ready or Not This was Justin's worst nightmare.  To be outed.  In the middle of a tour.  On the day of a concert.  In East Bumfuck.  In the heart of the bible belt.  Lance identified as the boyfriend. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" he said, staring at the picture on Page 6 of the New York Post.  It had been taken three nights ago when they had flown into New York for Rosie.  They had taken the opportunity to go out in the big city and he had too much to drink. Justin had spent the night flirting.  And drinking.  Dancing with anyone who would go out on the floor with him, the buzz of the alcohol increasing the fluidity of his moves, making him feel like liquid, feeling eyes on him admiring his lean, sinuous body.  And drinking more.  By the end of the night, he was wasted and leaning on Lance for support.  The two had made it out a side door, glancing down the alley, hoping no fans found them before Lonnie and the limo. Justin giggled, "You are so pretty, Lance.  I wanna kiss you." He leaned toward the other man and lost his balance, pinning Lance to the wall.  Justin was breathing hard and the lust in his eyes was evident even in the dark shadows.  Lance tried to raise his arms to push Justin away but the younger boy was pressing them to his side. "What the fuck, Justin.  What if someone..." The words were cut off by a sloppy, drunken kiss.  Lance knew this was all wrong but didn't seem able to stop it.  Hell, this was what he had always wanted. Just not here.  Not now.  Not when Justin wouldn't remember this in the morning. Lonnie arrived then and dragged Justin's ass into the limo, glowering as only he could.  Justin threw back his head and felt everything start to spin.  The romance was gone as he threw up all over the leather, earning him more filthy looks.  He didn't remember much beyond that.  Only that he felt like shit in the morning.  And that he had kissed Lance and wanted more. Lance watched Justin rocking back and forth, whimpering, cursing himself and his stupidity.  Lance slid in next to him and rubbed his back gently.  Justin fell silent and turned to look at him.  He knew he should be sorry for what he did, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it.  The picture brought back the feeling from that night— desire, acting on feelings he had hidden for so long.  They didn't talk about the kiss, just buried it and pretended that it didn't happen.  Now it was there for the whole world to see. "Do you think they'll see it here?" Justin asked. Lance sighed.  Justin was so naive sometimes.  "Yeah, I think they'll see it.  Especially since MTV News just showed it.  Johnny tried to squash it but they all said it was too big to be the last kids on the block. Ha, ha." Justin looked terrified.  He was so confused about everything— his feelings, Lance's reaction, the fans' reaction.  Shit, he was about as confused as he could get and he had no clue where to start to untangle the mess.  His shoulders slumped and he started to shake with sobs.  Lance went back to rubbing his back. "Jus, we need to talk." Lance's voice was calming, that low, deep sound that comforted Justin.  He nodded and wiped the tears. "Where do we start?" Justin asked.  His voice and demeanor were childlike, a trick he often used to manipulate people into helping him.  It wasn't a trick this time.  It was real.  He felt like a child begging the adult to take charge. "We start with the kiss.  What did it mean to you?" Lance asked.  His face gave no indication of the turmoil he was in.  He dreaded hearing Justin say that it was a drunken joke.  But what the hell would it mean for the group if it wasn't? Justin was afraid to say anything.  What if he told Lance the truth and Lance laughed or rejected him or got angry?  Justin had an amazingly frail ego and he was sure if Lance did any of those things, he would collapse.  He needed to say something.  Lance was just staring and he knew Lance would wait forever.  " It meant... I... love you," he finally said.  His eyes dropped to the floor, finding the bits of dust totally engrossing. "Me, too," Lance said so softly that Justin wasn't sure he heard correctly.  He looked up quizzically and Lance repeated it, a smile cementing it as truth.  Then he leaned in and sought Justin's lips for a non-drunken, non-accidental kiss.  When he ended it, Justin sighed with pleasure. "OK, that was good, very good.  What's next?" he asked. "This is serious.  So do we or don't we deny what they're saying?  He read the caption aloud— `So which two boyband members were seen kissing outside of The Tunnel Tuesday night?  Want to tell us something?' The question is do we?" "Shit, Lance, we don't even know where we're going ourselves.  How do we tell them?" "Look, you're right, but the fans deserve some honesty." Justin snorted, "Sure, we are exactly what we say we are— prude-y little, fun loving, clean-cut all- American boys.  No sex, no drugs, and no rock and roll.  Uh-huh. Honesty is something in short supply around here.  It's all calculated to help us maintain our fan base, not to expose who we really are, remember?" Lance looked hurt.  "OK, whatever.  We all know you stand to lose the most.  Those screaming teenies may not like homosexuality in their idol.  Do what you have to do.  Look, I'm tired.  I gotta go." Justin sat and watched him go.  He was annoyed.  Sure, he loved Lance.  That didn't mean he wanted the whole world to know.  So what are you going to do?  Because you only have two choices.  Say no, the picture was fake or fudged or whatever it takes to discredit it. Lance gets hurt, dumps you out of a relationship that's barely started,  and you go back to keeping your feelings for him to yourself. Or say yes, we are gay and we love each other and tough on you. Sorta the Eminem stance.  Of course, you ain't Eminem and the fallout might be more than the group could tolerate.  The teenies might be going for the tougher Justin look, but even they have their limits. And you better believe their parents do.  No more allowance for NSYNC cds.  Wouldn't want their evil ways to rub off, do you honey? Justin remained sunk in misery, options running through his head, one crazier than the next.  He didn't know how long he'd been there when the door banged open and the other four members of the band stormed in.  Well, actually, three stormed in and Lance dragged in, bringing up the reluctant rear.  Joey, Chris, and JC stood over him, disgust written plainly on their faces. "Well, asshole, now what?" "Shut up, JC.  Think I don't feel bad about this?" The defensive tone was there.  Justin felt guilty enough.  Lance, sweet Lance, sat down next to him, prepared to take half the blame for something that wasn't his fault.  Justin looked shocked for a moment, knowing in his heart he could never be that strong. "OK," Lance said, "we fucked up.  The question is what next?" He said it with an air of authority that startled everyone.  That was usually JC's job.  Chris's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Um, guys, something you want to tell us?" Lance remained silent.  It was up to Justin.  Lance had already made that clear.  Justin squirmed, wishing he was anywhere but here, anyone but Justin Timberlake.  "We are together— I think," he said, once again staring at the floor.  When he heard the gasps, he looked up quickly, "It just happened.  The kiss–well, I was drunk— but I did mean it." "Shit," Joey breathed.  The other two stared, hoping they had heard wrong.  But body language doesn't lie and they were definitely together.  The two leaned unconsciously into one another and Lance rested his hand on the small of Justin's back. Chris spoke first, "I could get furious but it won't get us anywhere.  We need a plan.  We need to minimize the damage if that's possible.  Any suggestions." JC started, "Say it's a fake and keep this to yourselves like every other damn thing we have to keep secret."  Joey nodded tentatively, not sure but with no alternatives to offer. "Tell the truth," Lance said with conviction.  "Look, they keep saying the boyband thing is ending.  Let's go out with some integrity at least.  I just got finished mixing up my stories on at least two interviews and I'm sick of it." Chris was pissed.  "Ending, they said, not being killed.  You two will kill us." "I thought we always said what great fans we have.  That we hope they would respect us enough to accept us as we are.  They ain't happy about the shaved look or the scruff or Britney, but they're still buying records." "Lance, man," JC said quietly, "this ain't hair.  This is sin with a capital S to a lot of people.  Have you even talked to your parents?" Justin looked stunned. He wondered why his mother hadn't called. Stricken, he mumbled, "Be right back," and left. Lance nodded, "Yeah, they're cool.  They don't know about Justin but they know I'm gay.  They love me.  It's the bottom line." "Well, the teeny parents don't necessarily love us, so..." JC let the thought hang. They talked some more, waiting for Justin and in the end, it was Joey and Lance against Chris and JC.  The decision would be Justin's and they all swore to support the final answer. Twenty minutes later, Justin returned, tears staining his cheeks and Lance's heart dropped.  Justin sat as close as he could and grabbed Lance's hand.  Four pairs of eyes focused on him and waited. "She says she loves me and she'll support whatever we decide to do." He was so grateful. His mom meant everything to him. "If she can accept us, why can't others?" "Your mom..." JC started to explain, "Never mind. What are we gonna do? We only have till soundcheck, like three hours from now. Justin, it's up to you. You have the deciding vote. We'll all go for whatever the decision is— truth or lie." Justin shook his head, "I can't. I can't decide." Lance squeezed his hand, "It's not an option. You have to choose— now— so we can make plans." He wished he was noble enough to talk Justin into lying but he just didn't want to keep playing the head games with the media, to see who could outsmart whom. He just wanted the lies to be over. Justin looked around the room and realized no one was breathing, waiting for the answer that would determine their future or his. He stared into Lance's face and whispered, "I'm sorry." Lance looked like he'd been punched. With a quick breath, he stood and turned away before anyone could see the tears. He mumbled, "I'll be back in a few." The others watched his disappearing back, not sure what to do next. JC went to the phone and dialed Johnny's cell phone. The conversation was simple. JC told him of their decision and their manager said Theresa would be up in a few to start the spin. Justin threw his head back and closed his eyes. He had sacrificed himself and Lance for the good of the group. At least he had messed up. Lance didn't deserve this and now would probably hate him. Life really sucked sometimes. If only their fans could see this. Lance came back with Theresa and they all sat quietly as she explained how to handle it. For now, they were going to stress the Justin-was-drunk-and-didn't-know-what-he-was-doing angle. Beyond that deny, deny, deny. Make sure everybody laughed a lot and touched like they always did. She warned Justin and Lance not to act stand-offish toward one another. No changes to the show. Business as usual. The meeting broke up and Lance and Justin were left alone, ostensibly to rest up for the show. Lance threw himself on his bed and covered his eyes with his arm. He felt the bed sink as Justin sat down. He sighed, "Go away, Justin, please just go away." "Try to understand, Lance, I did it for the group. We can still be together, just not in the open." "You seriously believe that? You think every fucking reporter isn't smelling blood and closing in for the kill? They'll watch us constantly. Forget it, Justin. I wasn't kidding about not wanting to lie anymore. So let's forget the whole `us' idea." "Please don't do this, Lance. I know I fucked up but please..." he cried. Lance could hear the tears but resisted the urge to give in. He couldn't torture himself with a secret relationship. It was better to end it before it really went anywhere. "No, Justin, no. We both made choices. Now we live with the consequences." As hard as it was, he turned his back to Justin and stayed that way even when he felt Justin get up and leave the room. Justin went to find JC. He knocked quietly and pushed the door open. JC was writing as usual. He looked up, pissed at the interruption. But he couldn't stand the desolation on Justin's face and he softened, "Come lie down, J." He patted the bed. Justin crawled in next to JC and stared at the ceiling. "Did I do the wrong thing, C?  It feels wrong and Lance is hurt and I'm hurt and we don't know..." JC jumped off the bed and grabbed Justin's hand. He pulled the curtain aside and stared out at the parking lot. Usually, it was filled with teens, screaming at every movement in every window, and waving signs with "I love...". Today, adults mixed into the crowd and there was a tension that was palpable. The signs were different, too. "No fags for our children. Homosexuality is a sin. NSYNC is `N- SIN." "Repent Justin and Lance." Justin's eyes widened. Of all of them, he was the one who needed almost constant attention and approval. It was a standard joke that J never let anyone share the spotlight. The thought that he might not be loved was horrifying. "Does that answer your question?" JC asked in a quiet voice. This isn't New York, baby." Justin hugged himself. Shit. What would happen tonight? He was afraid of the fans sometimes when they reached and grabbed but at least it was because they loved him. What if they hated him? Then what? The questions swirled in an anxious stew, his nerves tingling, the fear driving through him in an adrenaline rush. JC reached him just as he fainted, catching him, and throwing him onto the bed. When Justin came to, he looked around, disoriented. "What happened, C?" "You passed out. Listen, baby, close your eyes and breathe slow. Try not to think." JC directed. Justin followed his voice and relaxed a little, but the fear about tonight was still there. They held a press conference before soundcheck and Justin remained uncharacteristically out of the limelight. Lance sat next to him on Theresa's instruction but there was clearly an aloofness that hadn't been there before. The other three tried gamely to pull the lie off but it was obvious that something wasn't right. Theresa's instructions were hard to follow. No one felt like laughing or playing or touching like they usually did. Reporters asked question after question, rephrasing the most important one at least five different ways. On the fifth try, Justin snapped and took the mike, "Look, we have answered that question four other times. No, there is no relationship-. Yes, I did kiss him– as a joke — when I was drunk. I'm sorry I got drunk and I'm sorry people are upset. I hope that those people will not ruin the show for everyone." At the end of the statement, he pushed his chair back, stood, and left the room. He was closely followed by the other four. Luckily, they hadn't stayed long enough to let the press see the pain on Lance's face. Once they were alone, Joey, Chris, and JC congratulated Justin on taking the offensive. Lance couldn't be found. He was back at the room when Justin caught up. "Are you ever going to talk to me again?" "Yes," Lance answered, weariness in his voice, "just not today. I just want today to be finished." Justin threw himself down. He had seen the parking lot. He had answered the questions, questions that made him feel dirty and sinful. He had heard the approval from management and the guys for how he handled himself. So why did he still feel like he had done the wrong thing? Why did his heart ache for Lance and himself? Why did he feel like a coward, a loser? Two hours later, the questions were still there and when he saw the pain in Lance's eyes, he wanted to scream and take everything back. Too late, the committee in his head sneered. Too late to make it OK. Too late to change anything. It was time for the show. They ran the gauntlet as usual. But it felt different. There was anger and hate and judgement mixed in with the teeny screams. The security was tight and the crowd stayed back. Once on the bus, Justin slumped into the seat and watched as angry protesters shook their fists and yelled vile words. Tears streamed down. Most of it was directed at him and it hurt. He wiped the tears, trying to get control. Lance sat apart and watched Justin. It was sad to see. Lance had experienced homophobia and knew its power to create a sense of disgust for yourself, to make you hate yourself for who you are. He closed his eyes and prayed for all of them. He prayed to a  loving God, not the one who would damn the kind of love he and Justin could have had.. The bus pulled up and Justin froze. They were here, too, waving their signs and yelling messages of hate. Lance came over and took his hand. "Jus, c'mon man, it's time to go." Justin turned haunted eyes to Lance. "How can this be? How can people be so hateful?" Lance shrugged, "Let's go." He yanked Jus and pushed him out the door in front of him. Justin tripped but was caught by Dre before he fell. "Too bad you didn't break your leg, you fucking fag." He shivered and moved faster. Somehow today the distance between the bus and the arena seemed endless. All he could hear were words— vile words— directed at them. He bit his lip, trying to hold back the tears. They fell into the quiet room and collapsed. All of them were stunned. How could they go on? The question was on everyone's mind. Lance spoke, his sadness obvious, "If we cancel the show, we let hate win. Please. I've lost enough today. Let's not lose everything." Each of them nodded and then focused on Justin. "Well, J, it's your call again," JC said. "You and Lance are the main targets. We know how Lance feels. Do we go or cancel?" "Go," he whispered over the terror. Their entrance was muted. It reminded them of their early shows when they were unknown. There was clapping but not the frenzied screaming that they had come to expect. There were even a few moments of silence. During one of those changes, "Fags!!" rang out and Justin stiffened.  He remained silent until Chris came over and kissed his cheek. There was strained laughter and Justin smiled, a pale imitation of his usual grin, and launched into the next song. An undercurrent was in the arena and their bodyguards were arching, trying to see everywhere at once. The worst thing so far were the boos when ever Justin sang the word girl. He shuddered , knowing what song was coming up. No changes. That's what Theresa had said. The music for "Tearing Up My Heart" started and Justin hesitated. The smile was gone. He looked at the others and he knew he had to continue. Once the steps started, he let himself get lost in the dance and the words. He was operating on automatic, so he didn't consciously wiggle his fingers at the audience or consciously lean out to the first row or consciously stress the words when he sang the line, "If you want me, girl, let me know." He didn't see the rock sail through the air from his right side and he didn't react fast enough to Joey's shouted warning, so he staggered when it hit his temple hard enough to draw blood. He dropped the mike and stared stupidly at the weapon. No one moved as he knelt down and picked it up. He unwrapped the note and opened it. He read it and looked out at the audience. "This says I should die for being a faggot. That I should burn in hell for my sins," he said, his voice soft and trembling. His four bandmates moved closer and formed a wall around him. JC motioned to security to stay calm. Tears were running freely down Justin's cheeks.  He scanned the stunned audience.  Even the hatemongers with signs had lowered them and stood in silence.  "I lied.  I am gay.  I do love Lance and he hope he still loves me.  I lied to protect the group." There was a rumble and a low noise of displeasure.  He put up his hand.  "Please just listen.  Yesterday, you thought I wasn't gay.  You loved me and the group and our records and some of you even loved my `girlfriend' Britney.  Today you're angry and hateful and want to hurt us.  Why? I don't get it. We're the same people we were only one day ago." "You're sinners," a clear voice yelled from the back. "Are we?  Who do we hurt?  We love each other and love isn't sinful. I hurt Lance today when I lied.  That's a sin.  That was a terrible thing to do because he doesn't deserve it.  He is a kind, loving man and I hope he is as forgiving as I think he is," Justin answered, his voice breaking.  He couldn't say anything else.  He knew he would break down if he even tried. Lance moved next to Justin and took his hand.  Justin turned to face him and when Lance smiled, Justin threw his arms around the older blond and buried his face in his neck.  Lance whispered, "Pretty balls-y, baby boy." A single person began to clap and then one by one, others joined in. It wasn't the entire audience but it was enough to give them hope. They joined in a circle, still brothers, the same people, only not the fake dolls that would sell records.  And if this was the end, they would go out as they came in — real people. The End. * BACK *