"I Hate You ... Please Don't Go" by Destiny The anger came in sheets .. not pretty flowered sheets that eased one into slumber, but cold manly sheets that made one feel tiny and cold. The way of the anger escaped her mind as she endured the wrath of the most publicly innocent celebrity around ... Lance Bass. It started sweetly enough with rose petals and rainbows ... gifts for no reason and romance galore. It started as most relationships do ... with eagerness and fondness that aches to be captured in a bottle but can't. The rages were never seen. The rages were occasionally heard but never witnessed. She wouldn't believe it if someone told her how hateful those pale gentle eyes could be ... how unfeeling and malicious. He was anything but on the outside. She supposed it was the alcohol ... the demon beast of celebrity folks. She wondered why she hadn't noticed his penchant for the stuff at first. A bottle of wine at dinner followed by a nightcap seemed perfectly normal to her. It must have been the unseen drinking that pushed his buttons. Justin had seen it. Justin had been on the receiving end of a shiner during a drunken fit. Justin never told anyone ... and never warned her. Still, Lance was love. It oozed from his pores like some sticky honey that she wanted to lap up like a kitten. Sex was incredible ... slow and steady one moment ... hot and sultry the next. He moved over her body like a waterfall cascading her desires with his expertise. The anguish almost didn't matter during those times. The kindness showed through and she felt safe and warm in his strong arms. The arms could be mean too, though. His forearms were bulky and muscled and could pin her easily. That's when his beautiful eyes turned stormy and mean. That's when she trembled in fear. That's when she prayed Justin or JC would walk in and stop the insanity. And they always did. ******************************************************************************************************************** "What's that?" he asked one night at a faceless hotel in the middle of nowhere USA. "What's what?" she replied as she removed her make-up in the bathroom mirror. "That red mark," he growled, dropping his face towel to the tile. "On your neck." "I dunno," she shrugged, moving closer to peer at it. "A hickey from you maybe?" The steely eyes met her reflection and she cowered instantly. "Lance, it's nothing. Allergies from my necklace maybe." He was silent as he moved closer. His malty breath made her cringe and she wondered how many beers he'd consumed at the post party. "I hate you," he hissed angrily, leaving the bathroom. Tears formed a wall behind her eyes but she dared not shed them. Tears made him mad and sad all at once. The sad she could deal with ... it was the mad she feared. "Why do you say that?" she asked quietly as she shed her concert attire. "Why do you say you hate me?" He stared at her from the middle of the bed where he lay naked scratching his stomach absently. "I don't know," he admitted, refusing to meet her eyes. "Don't you love me anymore?" she queried, quite afraid of the reply. "Because I love you Lance. I do." She pulled his sweatshirt over her head and knelt down beside him. "You can't love me," he grimaced, pausing to roll over on his stomach. "I hate you. I don't deserve you." She sighed and touched his shoulder hesitantly. "You just need help is all. We all could use a little help in life." His skin was clammy and cold and she felt him tense under her fingertips. "A fucking shrink?" he scoffed shrugging her hand away. "I'm in fucking N Sync. You don't think this might leak out and plaster my face over every tabloid in America? I'd be the Robert Downey fucking Jr. of pop." "No, he's in trouble for drugs," she reminded him, ever watchful for a hateful mood swing to kick in. "You just have drinking and anger problems." She pulled back as he spun around, leaping up to grab her arms. "Excuse me?" he glared. The rage had begun. As carefully as she stepped ... it wasn't careful enough. The alcohol had kicked its wickedness into the southern man and hell was about to break loose. Thank God Justin was next door. He couldn't sleep through Lance's fits. He'd saunter in after a few moments and break it all up. She flinched as the table was overturned and the chair was flung across the room. She marveled at the strength of his arms as he ripped things off walls and sent them crashing about. She ducked as a telephone flew toward her head. And then Justin was there, bleary eyed and tired. "Lance quit." And Lance did ... he always did when Justin arrived. He'd collapse the floor in a puddle of tears and 'i'm sorries' and reach blindly for whoever was closer. Sometimes she would have to leave and spend the night in Justin or JC's room, leaving them to bunk with him for the night. Sometimes she would find power deep inside and rock him until his sobs stopped and he fell asleep. Sometimes she cried herself to sleep wondering why she'd fallen in love with such instability. This night she chose to stay, herding Justin back to his room with a hug and a thank you. He went reluctantly stepping over the broken phone and he left the connecting door open ... "just in case". She held Lance in bed as his tears soaked through the sweatshirt and she kissed his flattened hair and whispered how much she loved him. Lance in turn vowed to get help and faced her with red rimmed eyes and a heart broken face. "I hate you but please don't go." He begged. She frowned but knew what he meant. Alcohol had a way of making him speak like that. The cycle was over for the night. //back//