JC had taken to staring with soulful eyes. He’d taken to gazing at every available opportunity. It wasn’t something he was particularly proud of. Nor did he try to stop. It was something beyond him. An unnatural pull that tugged at him everyday. It was Lance. If someone was to take notice and ask him *why*, he knew there would be no solid answer. JC supposed it could be the way Lance blushed when he was embarrassed. Or maybe it was the way he danced impulsively without a lick of rhythm. Then again, it could have been the eyes. The mirror straight to Lance’s soul. The way they flickered when he lied. Or brightened when he was excited. The way they seemed to turn yellow when he was angry, or a dark shade of evergreen when he was horny. JC could write a book on Lance’s eyes alone. So it was no wonder he found himself the victim of many restless dreams and pained photo shoots where he was so close to Lance he could drown. It was no wonder that Justin pinched his arm everytime he deemed a look too intimate. And in the darkness of his mind, he could hear Justin’s hissy little voice slithering into his ear. “Stop with the fucking looks, man. It’s not helping the cause.” He wanted to slap Justin, quite honestly. Just have at him. What did that kid know? Exactly nothing. He thought he knew, but really, he hadn’t a clue. And each time he got a pinch and a preach, he responded with the same smug smile -- the one that said very clearly “FUCK OFF”. Only Justin never did. “You okay there JC?” It was Lance. It was always Lance asking him how he was, or what he was doing. It was always Lance who stared at his artwork like he *got* it. Or agreed to listen to his opera CD's when no one else would even give it a chance. It was always Lance who left the nasty comments home when he wore outrageous outfits, choosing instead to shrug and drag and hysterically laughing Chris and Justin from the room. Always Lance caring about his feelings. It was really no wonder, then, when JC had taken off for the weekend to the Arizona desert, speeding on the pin straight roads with the dry wind whipping his hair around. He had Bach blasting on the stereo and Lance on his mind. It was an ache in his gut telling him to remain far away until he could control his feelings. Until he could rope them back down and let them pass. While it seemed unfair to him, it was the best. And JC was nothing if not intuitive when it came to what was best for the group. So he let the road guide him to clarity. At least what he *hoped* would be clarity. Time away from those haunting eyes and playful smile. The spa, ironically, was one of Bobbee’s favorites.  She had recommended it -- practically pushed him out the door mumbling about his ever-loving sullen nature of late and something about getting a hair cut. He was just about fed up with her antics. Snorting sourly, he slid a new CD into his player and sighed.  He thought she would make a good match with Justin with their condescending comments and tisking mannerisms. The long road lead him from his bitter feelings up to the building he held reservations to. The spa itself was exclusive, posh in every way possible. But of course, he thought, because Bobbee never did anything half way. Once settled in his room, JC had time to think. Time to wonder exactly what he was going to do. How he could manage to go on with the enormous secret biting at him day in and out. Could he be in love with Lance? Could God perpetrate such a cruel trick on him? Could his life be altered in such an outrageous way to make him stop being in pain about it? All questions without answer, JC snorted as he made his way out to the sprawling botanical garden out back. He threw on sunglasses and a baseball cap -- not for security, but for his own shame. To cover himself so he didn’t have to meet the gaze of any passers by, most of whom he recognized from television and movie line ups. Most just as famous as he was, only not as solemn. His sandaled feet moved quickly through the winding paths, and he barely looked up to glance at the several species of cactus and desert flowers that adorned the trail. The horizon was full of mesas and mountains, but JC noticed none of them. All he saw was Lance. In every bloom. In every flowering cactus. In the beauty of the deserts calm. It frustrated him. He didn’t ask for such feelings, and wanted to brush them away. Simply deny they existed. Create a barrier that no one could penetrate. “GOD!” he hissed, climbing off the trail a bit to find true seclusion. To ask for a semblance of peace to take him to a place where he could be happy. Content. Not in love with Lance. A shadow fell over him, shunning the sunlight, and JC blinked up. An elderly man stood before him. His clothes were tattered and his chin unshaven. He stood silently for several minutes, shielding JC from the sun. “I can help you,” the man finally said with a smile. “Help me what?” JC queried, his insides shaking just a bit. Cautious that this man seemed to see right through him. The old man paused to squat in the sand. “With a certain green-eyed boy you seem to want.” JC froze, his hands mid-air in protest, his heart thudding dully in his chest. How? How did this stranger know? A dry wind whistled across his face and JC shuddered. “I. I don’t know what. Um. What you could mean.” “Don’t you?” the man laughed, standing up. “I’m wise beyond what you could even dare comprehend, Joshua. I can see things clearly and brightly. I can feel the heat surging through your body at each image you dream of him. Of touching his lips, his body. Of having him plunge into your body. Writhing in sweat, hmm? Having those darling eyes stare right into you?” It tore at JC’s insides to even think such a thing could happen, to dare dream of a perfect night. He thought, in that instant, that maybe, just maybe, one night with Lance would cure the odd fascination he held. The idea piqued his curiosity. Dove into his mind and settled there with possibility. A terribly simple solution to have Lance for one night. One delicious night. But it was crazy, what this man spoke of, and JC shook his head as he began to walk away. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he growled, adjusting his baseball cap. His feet carried him away, and he stopped when the man called to him. “I can help you, Joshua. I can make it worth your while.” “How?” JC barked. The man stared with eerie eyes, with eyes that seemed to have no soul. “A trade,” he offered. “A small trade.” “Money?” JC snorted bitterly. They were all after money, a lesson he‘d learned painfully. “You know who I am, obviously. You want my money? Well forget it.” He wandered a few feet, and his heart was suddenly heavy. The shimmer of hope he’d held extinguished. It was foolish to even entertain such an idea, but still. “Not money, Joshua,” the man called after him. “A little deal is all. No money needed.” JC stopped and turned slowly, his blue eyes narrowed in the bright sun. “Then what?” he asked quietly, already conjuring up thoughts of Lance again. “I’ll give Lance to you for one night. One night you’ll have to get him to turn his heart to you. If he does, I shall take care of the little things. The girlfriend and the publicity. I shall protect the relationship for so long as it lasts.” “What’s the catch?” JC folded his arms over his chest, and tried to control the shiver that racked up inside him. “There’s always a catch.” Devil’s eyes batted back at him, and a fierce wind whipped sand up at his face. JC blinked and lowered his head to avoid it, and a demonic boom echoed through his ears. “You’ll surrender your voice if it can’t be done.” JC’s throat constricted, cutting off emotions and feeling. Severing his lifeline momentarily as he imagined life without his voice -- without the very thing that brought him so much pleasure. “You’re insane,” he gasped, when air finally managed to force through. “Insane. I’m not surrendering my voice.” He shook his head and laughed, throwing his hands up. “You can’t take my voice anyway! You’re just a crazy old man who is talking shit!” The man nodded slowly as the wind calmed. “I see,” he said, his voice returning to normal. “I understand.” He stood and smiled, his hands outstretched. “I’ll be here all weekend. If you change your mind, let me know.” JC lifted his face to the sky and let his eyes close, sure the Arizona heat was driving his sanity away. Positive that whatever he had seen was a sham. He headed back to his room where he was in dire need of some sleep -- some deep slumber to wipe the madness from his body. As he dug for his room card, he thought -- pondered what this man was saying. Weirded out that he knew of his feelings for Lance. Knowing Lance was one thing -- the price of celebrity. But to actually suspect the feelings. It rattled JC, and he dug through this bag for some Halcion. Some assurance he would indeed sleep. A downer to keep his eyes and mind closed. And as he stripped his clothes and crawled under the cool sheets, haunting jade eyes flitted past him. Daring him to take the man up on his offer. Challenging him to surrender to potentially harmful feelings. “I will, Lance,” he mumbled sleepily, curling on his side. “I will.” continue menu