:: Echoes :: Fly ~Did you know...it was all going to go so wrong for you And did you see it was all going to be so right for me Why did we tell you then You were always the golden boy then And that you'd never lose that light in your eyes~ Lance is there. Through the haze of sleep you can hear him...smell him. The dip in the bed is real and the hand that slides across your flesh genuine. “Justin?” he says lowly. There is no mistaking the distinct rumble of his voice, or the pain that seems to smother it. You coerce your eyes open because you want him to make it right. You need Lance to push the loneliness of the night away and wrap you up in the shimmer of day. Rubbing at your face, you wonder how many times you’ve woken in his arms over the years. Hundreds perhaps. Every one a cherished memory. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he says as his hand drifts across your cheek. “I didn’t mean to blurt anything out, or for you to run.” “What’d you expect?” you snort bitterly. “You told me you had to love me. Like I was just an obligation. Like you weren’t given a choice.” “Life is full of choices,” he replies and there is no mistaking the double meaning dripping from his words. “Some we can live with, some we can’t.” “So it was a lie?” you murmur and already the well of tears are trying to escape. The sun blasts your eyes painfully and you turn away. “I relied on you for truth. I guess you were just one more person sucking off me.” Lance looks like you slapped him, And somewhere deep inside you’re glad. You’ve had enough of people raping you in every possible way. Enough of people hanging onto you like some life preserver. You’re only human, flesh and bone, something no one seems to remember. Not even the one person you thought would always remember. “What the hell?” Lance says, pacing your room with wild hands, hands that don’t seem to know where to go. “I loved you. I always loved and protected you the best I could!” “Because you had to, right? Because you had to protect the golden child? Is that it? Protecting the interest of the group?” You know the words are jaded even as they fly from your mouth, but it’s too late. They emerge with more feeling than you wish they carried, and Lance trembles. “You asshole,” he growls. “How can you say that to me? After all we’ve been through.” “Ah, but business is business right? And you‘re the master businessman. Everything cut and dry in a contract. Your life so neat and compact. So fucking organized you had to pencil me in for a fuck,” you say, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. You're on your feet, dressing in jerky motions and you hope that the tears burning your eyes will stay put. “Jesus Christ, who did this to you?” Lance whispers. “Justin? Who made you such a hard shell of a person? Where the hell is that kid I met all those years ago?” If it’s meant to be rhetorical, you don’t know it, because soon you’re screaming and pounding your fist into his chest. And that punch isn’t really meant for him--only for what you feel he represents. He tackles you to the bed and holds your arms over your head. Only then could you see the tears falling down his face and the anguish that sits so haphazardly in his eyes. “I’m not letting you do this,” he sniffles. “I won’t let you go.” You stare blankly and wonder what he means by that. Maybe he hadn’t meant to leave you at all. Maybe he just needed to breath. ~Hey you...did you ever realize what you'd become And did you see that it wasn't only me you were running from Did you know all the time but it never bothered you anyway Leading the blind while I stared out the steel in your eyes~ “I’m tired,” you told Lance one night in the middle of no where on that famed Pop Odyssey tour. “So tired.” He blew it off, not because he thought you weren’t speaking the truth, but because he thought you meant tired in that “I’ve-been-running-around-for-two-months-with-only-a-few-days-off-and-damn-wasn’t-it-a-long-day” tired. “Want some time alone?” he asked, and it was then you realized that you were alone. Truly alone. No one understood. No one could. That night you changed a little. Not on the outside, but on the inside. That night you decided to cling to Lance, let him lead you. Wasn’t it ironic, you thought, that he was as blind as you to the reality that surrounded you all. He mentioned it once, how the light in your eyes seemed to fade a little. How even children and animals, those who love so unconditionally, didn’t make you sparkle. He told you while you made love how distant you seemed. To his credit, he tried. He tried the only way he knew how. But he was never as emotionally available as you needed him to be. *************** That’s all history as he’s hovering over you with big tears dripping down to you. His eyes are like glass and you’re entranced. You think maybe if you could crawl inside them and see yourself as he sees you...well then life would make sense. Because you rely on him for that lens of safety. “You left me,” you say slowly. “You wanted out. You wanted out of me.” “Not true,” Lance sniffles and his grip loosens just a bit. “I just wanted to clarify things. Make sense of it all in my head. I never stopped loving you.” This confuses you. Makes you take pause because you have no idea what he means. All you know is your heart is shattered and your lungs hurt from his body weight. And now your face is wet from his tears which makes it so much worse. “Get off me,” you say softly. Maybe it’s a double meaning, you’re not sure. But his face is too pained and suddenly you wonder how you could have done it--how you could have made him cry. The guilt thing. You shake beneath him because it’s too much. Sanity is leaving on a one-way train and you realize you are alone. Even when you’re not. Even when the man you love more than life is sobbing for a you that isn‘t really there. ~The rain fell slow, down on all the roofs of uncertainty I thought of you and the years and all the sadness fell away from me And did you know...~ “Justin, can you like move faster?” It was Chris being playful, prodding you to let the nurses do their job and push Lance to the exit of the hospital where a car awaited him--shelter from the press and stray fans who managed to catch wind and bombard. But you were nervous and so worried--your mind a blur. Chris had finally driven you to find Lance--to see with your own eyes that he was alright--because you had been a mess. A total wreck, unable to function. You cemented your soul to him that night, swore to God and everything good that if Lance was alright you would behave. You would do whatever you had to in life to keep him. *************** Now he was here, begging for something. You don’t know what. But you know it’s something. Closure. He needs it. That’s why he’s here. All the years invested in each other are being placed in a scrapbook--one that’s reached it’s end. ~I never thought that you'd lose that light in your eyes~ It’s been a month or so and there’s nothing you can say when you step off the plane. You know he’s going to be there. He’s part of the Olympics too. There’s no way to avoid him anymore. You’re twenty-one now. A man in everyone’s eyes. A birthday you celebrated by sleeping all day and drinking alone all night. Everyone had tried and failed to get you to party. Everyone except Lance. His silence was the nail in your coffin. “You’ll be fine,” Britney said as she pecked your cheek and shoved an Energy Bar into your hand. “You’ll see him and fall in love all over again.” “Time heals,” Chris said when he swung by your house to pick you up. “You’ll see.” “Baby, just take those vitamins because you still look so tired,” your momma tells you via phone, and you’re wondering how the hell she knows what you look like because you haven’t seen her since Christmas. And you haven’t seen Lance since that night in your room. His tears finally stopped and when you refused to talk, he left, leaving you shaken and cold. Rehearsals are the first step back to whatever normal is. Chris plays the middle as much as he dares, shuttling plans and ideas between everyone. He understands that you can’t deal with hearing Lance‘s voice. You tell no one about the nights you sit in your bed and watch home movies though. Old movies of a tour bus that had seen better days--of cramped quarters and sharing rooms. Two stage outfits that your momma and Mrs. Bass washed in the hotel room tubs. You don’t think anyone would quite get it--why you sit and play them. You don’t cry--never cry--just watch with detached interest. Like it’s not you in those videos. Like maybe it’s not even Lance. But every so often someone catches an intimate moment. Only then do you look away. Only then, when you see Lance smile at you and blush, or when you see his fingers lace in yours, do you feel the tightness in your chest and the tremble of an impending sob. The videos make you warm somehow. So you sneak a few in your luggage. Just in case the nights haunt you. “You have ID?” Chris asks, dragging you back to the present. “Because we have a dozen security checks to go through.” You find it ironic that your face is plastered everywhere and still you’ll need identification. Irony is not your friend. “I got my license,” you tell him. “I have some stuff.” You hope that Britney remembered that. ************ “You have to pack, Justin,” she said. “Two days and you’ll be gone.” “I know,” you replied softly. “I know.” You were cross-legged on your bed with a box of tissues and a bag of Doritos watching American Pie, because Lance used to love that movie. He’d laugh out loud and mimic the infamous dance scene. And he’d tease you that Shannon Elizabeth was the only woman he’d ever look twice at. Seeing those pictures of him at Sundance did nothing to help your recovery. “She’s a girl,” Britney stressed, throwing the magazine away. “Lance doesn’t like girls remember?” Still, it hurt. A little more than you would have liked. Britney was the one who dragged out your suitcases and began to rummage through your drawers. She had been the one to organize the delivery of your plane tickets and she had called Chris to arrange transportation. So you hoped she remembered your wallet somewhere. **************** You get the shakes somewhere in the Salt Lake City terminal. Horrible shakes that could look really bad if the press catches it. And of course it’s a circus. You see Joey through the mess with Kelly at his side and Brianna in his arms. JC approaches from another angle with Em and some other girl you assume is one of her friends. Bodyguards are everywhere and your vision starts to blur. Chris grabs your arm and shakes you a little. “J? You alright? Need to go to the bathroom?” You nod because you’re a professional. You’re diamond shines--24/7. It’s the constant in your life. That one thing you can count on. He whispers and soon your through the door of the VIP bathroom. You lean against the wall and try to catch your breath. This is so much worse than anything you’ve ever felt. “Am I gonna die?” you ask Chris. “Because my heart feels like it’s going to explode. I can’t get my breath.” You’re scared and want to cry but you know there are fans waiting. And cameras poised to shoot. People with pens sharp as razors ready to catch you falling. Prepared to swipe your diamond for themselves. Chris looks kind of funny and then Joey is there. JC waves his hand in front of you and the world is tilting. Your vision comes and goes and somewhere in the crush that depletes the oxygen from your lungs, you think you see big green eyes--scared eyes and lips chanting your name. *************** “Baby, please wake up!” There’s no mistaking the sound of that voice. “Chris make him wake up!” It’s a panicked voice and suddenly you remember. You remember when Lance collapsed and you cried. You begged Chris to help him. You pleaded with anyone and everyone to help him. The deadly pressure pushed from your chest and you opened your eyes. There he was, hovering over you with terror in his expression and those tears. Tears again. “Justin!” he cries, clutching you to him. “Oh God!” People back off a little and you laugh. Something is different. Something is very different. Bubbles fill your chest where weights had been. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” you chant trying to break the death grip Lance has encompassed you with. “Medics are on their way,” JC says and he kneels by your side. “You passed out, man. Did you eat today?” Something stings your hip and you untangle yourself from Lance long enough to pull at the draw string of your sweats. In the rush of voices and commotion you manage to stand in front of the sink and peer down. Using your thumbs, you tug your sports-briefs down and its gone. Your diamond. It’s gone. Uncaring, you yank your pants all the way down to expose your flesh because you can’t believe what’s happening. “Oh Jesus, he’s lost it,” Joey says and he’s guarding the door. “Lance, talk to him. He’s naked!” But you don’t care. Your fingertip trails over your skin. It’s perfect, unblemished and pure. No hint of a diamond birthmark. No trace of it. “Lance!” you cry. “Lance!” He’s by your side in seconds. You take his hand and place it over your flesh. “It’s gone,” you say shakily. “It’s not there.” “What?” The tears are drying in his eyes and he kneels down moving his hand away. “Christ! What the hell? Where is it?” There’s bewilderment and a hum of more people entering the room. But you want to be alone with Lance. You want to take him in your arms and kiss him. You need to figure it all out. Lance knows before you even say it and he stands up, instinctively taking your hand. “Can you all give us a few minutes? Post Lonnie outside and we’ll get medical when we need them?” Chris nods because he understands and soon the restroom is empty. It’s the two of you, alone, together. Lance stares at you and you can see his soul. Just like always. It’s there again. “Your eyes,” he whispers. “My God, your eyes.” You chew on your thumb and sigh because you don’t care what it is about your eyes. The bubbles are rising and threatening to burst inside of you. But he’s insistent. So you turn to face the mirror and there it is, staring back at you. That light Lance said was gone. The sparkle of diamonds that were real. And true. You move closer and inspect. Lance is behind you staring with you, his arms wind around your waist and you know there is a lot to talk about But you know that you’re safe in his arms. ****************** ~Shine on you crazy diamond. And we'll bask in the shadow Of yesterday's triumph, And sail on the steel breeze. Come on you boy child, You winner and loser, Come on you miner for truth and delusion, and shine!~ You’re not the most popular N Syncer anymore. You’re popularity rates somewhere lower than Lance and a little higher than Chris. The media calls you names, says you’re a recluse, a hermit. They cry for your face and beg for dirt. They hover around your home and follow your car. You give them nothing. You give your fans everything. Lance is by your side. You watch him get the glory he deserves. You watch his diamond shine and revel in the fact that he’s yours. You move out of the mansion with Britney and into one of your own--one Lance shares. You stop taking those vitamins Dr. Kicho swears by because you’re a man and no longer reliant on your momma’s doctor. And you tell Britney you hate Guava juice. You smile more and the fans see it. You flip reporters off with a grin and the fans laugh. No one jumps on stage to attack you anymore--nor do they corner you in the local Wal-Mart and shred the clothes off you. You go back to being Justin Randall Timberlake, the little boy with the hope in his heart and voice of a bird. You return to roots that were stripped without consent. It’s your mind that explains it all. Now most of the pressure is gone and you can see clearly. You can see that fame was making you insane--pushing you into a cave. It’s clear when Lance holds you that he was afraid for your sanity. And couldn’t handle it. He’s only two years older. You hold Lance tighter and learn to fly. Friends are defined. Foes are ignored. You know that you and Lance will be together forever because you are each other’s everything. And in the hysteria of life, you shine once more, without the brand on your hip--and only the light in your eyes to guide your way to serenity. The End :: Echoes ::