| Wasted Time by destiny "Fuck you then!" Lance hurled the navy blue notebook across the room, anger and frustration consuming him. He didn't need this shit, not on the last day before he was to leave for Vancouver with Joey to film his movie. His fucking movie, the one he'd poured sweat and tears into. If JC wanted to leave things on a bitter note, well then fuck him all together. "Lance, come on. Don't be like that." Just like Justin to jump in and try to make things right. Lance wasn't taking it lightly, not this time. JC sat unmoving, a scowl across his face. "Let him go, Justin. If he wants to be a fucking baby, then let him. Let him run off and be a big movie star." He spun around in his chair, mashing his teeth together. The last thing he really wanted was to let Lance go off during a fight, but he couldn't take any more. The album had to be done soon, had to with the May tour date looming large. He was almost glad Lance and Joey would be gone for a while, give him some peace. "A baby?" Lance hissed, pulling his baseball cap down lower. "I'm a baby. You're the one whining about this goddamn album and how it's not going right, and you don't want any of us to help. You want to be the JC god again, and I swear, if you pull this shit again on this tour, I'm quitting." Justin's face dropped. "Lance, don't joke," he stammered, shaking his head. "Don't even say something like that, man." He jiggled his knee nervously, wishing Joey hadn't left with Chris to get them all some food because he really needed some backup. When Lance and JC went at it, it was pandemonium, pure chaos, an unstoppable train. JC's eyes flickered with annoyance as he shrugged. "Fucking quit then. You're only a bass, Lance. Don't forget that." The words were regretted immediately, and JC hung his head a bit lower, aggrivated that Lance had pushed him once again to that point, to the point of no return and the land of 'i'm sorries'. This time he had a feeling that 'i'm sorry' wouldn't cut it. He'd gone too far. Lance recoiled at the words, his heart fluttered at the hateful words. "Screw you," he whispered, grabbing his knapsack off the couch. "Fuck you and your goddamn high horse JC. Someday, someone's gonna knock your ass off and I hope I'm here to see it." He glanced at Justin who's eyes were wide with uncertainty and unrest, and a pained look that he witnessed such unfriendly words. "I'm outta here," he growled, yanking open the door. He heard Justin's voice call after him but was to incensed to answer. Bass indeed. They'd be the fucking shits without a good bass. He fumbled for his keys in the darkness of the parking lot, tired of fighting with JC constantly, exhausted from trying to make nice when JC didn't, sick of being ignored when it came to N Sync and recording. He was glad to have a six week break away, time to establish himself as something other than Mr. N Sync. He tore out of the parking lot, passing Chris and Joey on the way. He cursed loudly in the stillness of his vehicle and headed home to pack. ***************************************************************************************************************************************************** Day three of the shoot and Lance was already in better spirits. He'd carefully avoided all conversation about JC with Joey, which was nearly impossible due to the guy's natural peacemaking abilities. He'd grilled Lance all the way to Vancouver from Orlando, begging him to call JC and make up, trying to convince him that the group was still tight as ever and this tour wouldn't be the end. Lance finally put his headphones on to drown out the noise that was Joey, good hearted or not, it was bugging him. "That's good Lance," the director called through his bullhorn. "Now, let's take it from outside the train." Lance nodded and sighed as the make up assistant patted his face again. He was into acting, really into it, and could easily give up N Sync now. Especially with JC acting the fool, acting like he owned more than one fifth of the group just because he wrote the songs. That's what the latest fight had been about. Lance's song. JC didn't want to record it at all, not even give it a fucking chance. "Okay, let's get scene fifteen set up. We're ready on location." Lance shivered in the cool breeze. He waited patiently for set assistants to regroup and add props. He let his mind wander to the idea that maybe this would be it for N Sync, maybe it was time to let the hysteria fade away. It wasn't real, it wasn't fun, and while it was profitable, it wasn't in his heart anymore. He thought about what JC said, about him only being a bass, and maybe he was irreplacable, so fucking what? Anger started to rear it's head again and he scrunched up his nose, wishing they would call action. His character was supposed to jump on the train and he was a bit apprehensive about the actual jump "We're ready on cameras 2-6. On cue. Mark." Lance watched as the clacker snapped. "And action." He eyed the train and headed for it, hearing the small buzz in his ear cuing him to jump. His heart hammered inside of his chest, and the wheels were right there, and it was a long fucking way down...... That was it. Life snuffed out in the blink of an eye. Lance didn't feel the pain, or the fear, just floating away with a sadness and regret. He saw his body, bloodied and broken laying on the tracks. He saw the director fall to his knees in agony, and the on scene paramedics rush to him. He saw his co-star cry out in terror and Joey faint away. He cried in his death for what he witnessed, and wanted to comfort them, especially Joey. He watched as Joey came to, and followed the amblulance to the hospital, and watched as phone calls were made to his family, to Justin, Chris, then JC. And he saw JC sitting in the studio, fingers numb on the control board, gazing at the notebook that had been thrown at him just days earlier. He witnessed JC move into the studio with the notebook and plunk out the notes, singing along with the words that were written, his words, words that JC had said sucked and were no good and not worthy of recording. He saw JC break down and sob, and pray to the Lord, and to him and begged forgiveness. Lance wanted to hug him, hold him tightly and let him know it was okay, that he was in a better place, one where there was no hurt, a place where he understood humanity and the inconsequential little nothings that wasted precious time away. He obseved the way Justin came and got JC, picked him up off the floor, his own eyes red and swollen. He knew Justin would take care of JC, nurse him through the pain he'd go through, and need for him to repent for yelling at Lance, leaving things without making peace, wasting time with good friends when he should have appreciated it more. Lance knew wasted time, all to well. He hoped that his friends would learn from his mistake. |