Anti- No where

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Elevating his lungs with a huge sigh Lance squeezed his eyes shut and pulled the stiff sheets up over his ears, taking in the hotel smell of detergent and air-freshener.

 

He frantically tried to shut out the sounds of Joey and another miscellaneous girl. Passionate moans were heard from the retrograded room and sighs that could escalate into screams floated through the thin walls, a sound that certainly wasn’t unusual. Joey had a plentiful of girls. Nothing shocked Lance anymore, even when the intonation sounded much younger than eighteen or when there was more than one female vociferation.

 

Darkness consumed him as he waited out the duration until he vanquished wakefulness. He would austerely concentrate on blocking the outside sounds he would fall asleep with the beginnings of a migraine, and always before he had a chance of cogitation on how to emend his situation.

 

Each day for two years had consisted of JC and Lance standing in retreat to watch their friends gradually, and almost casually, destroy themselves. It was all they could do as reason was refused.

 

Joey would sleep all the hours God made, until he conquered his hangover, seizing the chance to let the girl of the night percolate into the oblivion of his mind. Justin had taken to wearing two layers of clothing to cover his deteriorating weight, the visual demon of heroin abuse. Even the excess drink didn’t balance out to give him a belly, as it would with most drinkers.

 

Justin looked ill and fans were watching him with scrutinising lasciviousness as they plastered web sites and message boards with memorandums for Justin to get well. Only so many times could the clichéd excuse of severe fatigue be taken as true.

 

Joey had convinced himself that he was contented with the consistent string of girls and drunken parties, and would shrug off anyone who would tell him otherwise. Even his smile was abating. He wasn’t as happy-go-lucky as he used to be until he got some alcohol in his blood that he was dependant on. He was also the one who got Justin hooked on all night clubbing expeditions, yet he exhibited a cipher of remorse. He would merely smirk smugly and state that Justin was a big boy.. “old enough to look after himself..”

 

At the rate Justin was going he wouldn’t live to see what old was. He also reacted badly to his baneful lifestyle. He became aloof and when an attempt to talk shone through, it was obscured by his incensed, brusque speech.

 

Chris was lucky in the sense that he didn’t have to witness the transpirings. He chose to ignore it all. He would pretend not to descry when Joey stumbled into their room, intoxicated beyond belief. He conveniently didn’t notice various girls slip out of the hotel or tour bus, or whatever their home was. He heard only what he wanted to and saw only the smiles and the good times that were becoming few and far between.

He had changed from the hyperactive Chris who would always tease and tickle, and metamorphosed into a quiet, subdued person of isolation. He would intermittently slip the ‘funny Chris’ hat back on for tv appearances, but even in interviews he spoke less. His progressing silence designed an amplitude of room for answers from Lance and JC. The responsibility of making jokes had been put upon them as it was mandatory to delude the outsiders into believing that they were all as happy as Larry.   

 

JC and Lance didn’t have open problems like the others but their troubles would escalate if secrets became prominent. It was ameliorate to prison their real lives away from prying eyes of media and fans, for JC and Lance were gay. JC and Lance were also together, a fact that could be career destroying. Lance wasn’t sure if that mattered anymore for it was Joey and Justin who were the leading initiators of the end of NSync. 

 

Not to say that Lance and JC were unconditionally disconsolate throughout their so-called lives. They were happy when it was just them in a room and they could forget every trouble around them and just be themselves.

 

            Lance lay back on JC’s chest and smiled as relaxing fingers threaded through his hair. The other arm wrapped itself around his midsection, grasping him close as if its proprietor were timorous of releasing him.

 

JC’s runaway imagination made him terrified that Lance would get mixed up with Joey’s increasingly bawd like ways or Justin’s drugs. He didn’t think he’d be able to survive if he lost Lance to the evils of fame, the miseries that most only heard about in the newspapers. JC believed the readers were lucky, all they had to do was to comprehend AJ in rehab and display commiserations for a meagrely distancing instant. JC and Lance were living it.

 

“This sucks” Lance said, unable to think of a better word to describe what he was feeling at that particular moment.

 

“What does?”

 

“This.. all of this.” Lance waved his arms around the room producing laughter from JC who had not seen his lover so animated in a long time.

“We’re stuck in a stupid hotel room with people who I thought were friends, but couldn’t be more distant.” Lance felt JC sigh behind him and nod in agreement.

 “We’re starin’ at the walls and callin’ up room service just to hear a different voice.”

 

JC smirked. “You had a conversation with the room service dude?”

 

“For a while” Lance grinned, his smile fading instantaneously as he recurred his recent convictions.

“Don’t you ever want out?” Lance asked, contorting away from JC’s tender grip in an organisation to turn around and look at him. JC shrugged sadly.

 

“I dunno. I mean I love singing and performing and everything, but.. I dunno.” He trailed off with a sigh as he realised he didn’t know how to really finish that sentence off.

“I just want  things to go back to way they were.. before Joey started drinking, and Justin got mixed up in all that shit.”

 

Lance nodded and relaxed back against JC’s chest, glad when the massaging fingers returned to his hair.

 

“Yanno, we should just up and quit. Start our own group.. call it Bass-miester and a freak” Lance joked, bursting into laughter as JC started tickling him.

“Ah stop it!” he yelled, prying JC’s fingers away from his waist. Lance twisted around in his seat and grabbed JC’s wrists, pulling his hands away to a safe distance from his ticklish spots.

“None of that!” he giggled, trying to catch his breath after the unexpected attack.

 

“What about this then?” JC said before leaning forward to kiss soft, inviting lips.

 

“Oh that’s allowed.” Lance smiled into the kiss, letting JC lay him back onto the couch. Lips gently caressed and nibbled on his neck, pulling away every so often as Lance giggled and scrunched up at ticklish touches. Lance always waited a few seconds before the loving kisses returned, but when they didn’t he frowned and looked up at his lover.

 

A light crimson of embarrassment tinted JC's cheeks. His eyes were wide, like a startled colt. Lance could pick out the darker scatterings of blue, illuminated by the main lighter colour. His pupils were still, scarily dead. He stared straight ahead in the direction of the door.

 

Lance assumed that one of the other guys had walked in on them mid-clinch, and that was the bully of JC’s distress. To an extent he was right. He imitated JC’s stare and found himself confronted by an ill looking Justin. Normally all three would have laughed the intrusion off and the typical joke; “get a room” would have been uttered. This time was different. Justin wasn’t smiling. He looked disgusted and JC looked frightened.

 

Each movement and expression blared a different emotion. Justin had narrowed his eyes into suspicious slits and his mouth was grim, turned down at the corners to create a look of disdain. Thick eyebrows knitted themselves together into a tight, angry frown and his stance had him placing a hand either side of the doorframe, trapping them.

 

“Uh.. hey Just” Lance choked out, wondering if all was needed were a few friendly words to bring out a smile, something not seen on Justin’s face of late.

 

“Fags” he spat as he drunkenly stumbled into the middle of the room, letting the door slam angrily behind him. JC slowly moved off of Lance. He was afraid that their position was giving the inebriated Justin more ammunition in his attack.

 

“Justin?” Lance asked, confused. Justin had never spoken to them like that, no matter how off his face he was with drugs and booze. He may have yelled at them for no apparent reason, but he had never been so disrespectful.

 

“Don’t talk to me fag.” As he blundered closer, the smell of alcohol and smoke became stronger for they oozed from his clothing, telling that he had pulled another night of clubbing.

 

“Justin you’re drunk.” Lance tried to sound confident but on the inside he was shaking and felt nauseated.

 

“I said don’t talk to me!” Justin screamed, his eyes not saying anything in means of emotion. They were just there. Drink and drugs trounced all the life from the once beautiful eyes. 

 

“Don’t talk to me” he repeated, this time much quieter. He leant over Lance as he swayed under the influence of the alcohol he was too young for. He leered with a threatening smirk causing Lance to press himself back into his seat, having no faith in Justin. He flinched as hands grabbed his shoulders, forcing him into a debauched kiss. Lance tried to tug his head away but Justin’s grip was too strong. Weight may have been lost, but muscles certainly weren’t. The kiss grew more light as JC started pulling Justin away. As tearful determination gripped him, JC angrily pictured Chris lying on his bed, listening to the commotion, but slackened in the falsification of slumber.

 

“Fuck off!” he yelled, shrugging JC off of him, sending him falling to the floor.

“I don’t want you!” He resumed kissing a panicked Lance, roughly nipping at his mouth and throat.

 

“Justin!” Lance cried, pushing at Justin’s shoulders, desperate to get him off. His arms burnt with pain as fingers pinched him in a tight grasp. He’d always known that drunks were unpredictable, but he never would have thought it off Justin.

 

“Get off me! Please Justin. Stop..” he begged, tears forming in his eyes as Justin’s hands grappled at his upper body. Fumbling fingers tore open Lance's shirt but were not deterred by incessant tugging. JC was determined to get him away from Lance.

 

“I wanna see what is so special that you have to disobey God..” Justin hissed, causing Lance to widen his eyes in surprise. His being gay had never been an issue before. Shock made both him and JC pause briefly in their struggles. The momentary stillness allowed Justin to have Lance fully pinned whilst he lathered him with rough, painful kisses. His violent ignorance told Lance that Justin thought he should pay the price for his sexual orientation.

 

Both Lance and JC were screaming for Justin to stop, neither strong enough to physically move him. Justin’s determination combined with whatever drugs he had taken seemed to give him the extra strength. JC soon didn’t have to bother with trying to pull Justin away, as he grew tired of Lance and climbed off him.

 

“You’re nothing.. both of you. Fucking fags. You’re goin’ to hell..” Justin spat at Lance, pure hatred in his speech and actions. He stormed off as best he could with heavy, drunken footsteps, leaving Lance and JC to recover from the shock and the pain that was both physical and emotional.

 

Lance sat in a stunned silence, falling into JC’s arms when he moved next to him.

 

“What the hell was that?” he whispered. He still had trouble believing that the same Justin who he had once been so close to, had attacked him.

 

“Drugs” JC stated simply and sadly, knowing they had lost their brother to the evil of narcotics.

 

“Fuck” Lance cried. He hated to use that word and only seemed to do so only in the extremities of pathos. Normally JC would wrap Lance up in a hug and tell him everything would be ok, but he couldn’t do that this time. Everything wasn’t going to be ok. In Lance's own words, everything was well and truly fucked.

 

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            “That’s it.. I want out.. I fucking want out!”

 

JC gaped up from his book as a frantic Lance charged into their hotel room, already sporting the beginnings of a black eye.

 

“What the hell happened?” JC asked, springing up from his previously relaxed position on the bed. In seconds he was at Lance’s side, holding the tainted face in his hand, tilting it slightly so he could assess the damage.

 

“Justin happened..” Lance said, scowling. His features were dark and bore an unprecedented anger to the boy who once used to be his best friend.

 

“What did he do?” JC soothed. He had calmed himself in order for his thoughts to be unmixed. Now he had the task of endeavouring to relax Lance so he could extract the full story from him without interruptions of revenge or threats to leave.

 

“I dunno.. it was as sudden as the other night. He just hit out.. man I don’t even remember!” he cried, still shaken and rightfully so.

 

“Where is he now?” JC frowned, feeling his blood boil as he thought of someone hurting the man he loved. He took deep breaths to get back to his once tranquil state of mind. Violence could not be fixed with violence, although at that moment JC was undoubted that it was all he had.

 

“Dunno. In his room I guess..” Lance shrugged and made his way to the bathroom, pottering about to find a damp cloth to put on his aching eye.

 

“I’m gonna talk to him” JC said in an authoritative announcement, not exceptionally surprised when Lance pulled him back. Lance always had hated confrontation.

 

“Leave it. There’s no reasoning with him and you know it. You’d get a better reception from a broken tv..” Lance said quietly, his speech accompanied by a small smile as he attempted to lighten both of their moods and the situation in whole. It worked as JC returned the grin, more so smiling in relief that Lance had assuaged himself. He pulled Lance into a tight embrace and laughed as Lance jokingly yelped from the squeezes. 

 

“Ok I’ll leave it.. but only cuz you asked me too.”

 

Lance nodded. “And because you always do what I say..” he replied in mock serious tone. JC laughed, his anger gone. He was always amazed that Lance could cheer him up even in his worst mood.

 

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            JC had left Lance sleeping soundly. The stresses of surrounding troubles were taking their toll on him, adding to his tiredness. It had forced him to admit it best in trying to minimise some of his fatigue with a brief nap.

 

He quietly slipped out of their hotel room and made his way down the hall, trying to keep composure as his leading emotion. Sliding into the dark stuffy room he discovered a half naked Justin lying on his side on his dirty, unmade bed. He sighed and walked all the way in, likening his movements to when he was a child and would slink into his parents room at Christmas to hunt for presents.

 

Cigarettes were scattered over the sheets, having left small burnt holes in their wake and ash lay sprinkled over his naked arms and torso. Cinder remains could be received in clarity due to Justin’s cadaverous pale complexion and correlated newspaper print.

 

JC stepped over empty beer bottles and rubbish that had accumulated into unbearable conditions. Litter hid a pool of sick that he couldn’t help wincing at, but ignored it, instead turning his attention to Justin.

 

He reached out to shake the assumed sleeping figure into wakefulness. Fingers brushed a bare shoulder with a feather light touch before they recoiled in confusion. Justin’s skin was cold, yet the temperature was high.

 

JC tenderly rubbed his fingers down the arm just to check that he was not imagining things. He wasn’t. Justin was ice cold. JC felt his heart pound harder until it hurt. He gently pushed at Justin’s shoulder to turn him onto his back where he flopped over easily like a rag doll. His face was of a powder white illuminating the frosty blue tinge that framed his lips.

 

JC took a step back and just stared, praying to see a movement in Justin’s chest. Nothing. JC forced himself to reach out and prod just under his jaw, feeling for where the pulse would normally be at its strongest. Nothing.

 

JC suddenly felt his breaths become jittery and expeditious making him dizzy. He could sense the bile rising up in his throat and tried to resist the powerful urge to throw up. He slowly backed away towards the doorframe. His frightened eyes not once blinked, nor did they leave the lifeless Justin. It wasn’t until he was at a distance that he squeezed his eyes shut. He begged that when he opened them he would be faced with Justin sitting up on the bed, grinning and teasing him over something or another.

 

Everything would all have been a dream and he could reinact the closing credits of the Wizard of Oz. The reveries wouldn’t just have syncopated Justin’s death but the past two years. JC would wake up and Justin would be there having not turned to drugs in the severity of attempting to enjoy himself. Joey would be there, the same happy-go-lucky guy he was when NSync had first come together. Chris would be there, teasing and tickling and bouncing off the walls like always.

 

JC took a deep breath to prepare himself before he suddenly made his eyes fly open as fast and wide as humanly possible. He gripped the sides of the doorframe as he felt his knees buckle under him at the sight of the lifeless figure on the bed.

 

With his last bit of strength he made himself grab the door handle and pull the door shut in a last act of discreet respect for Justin. When he was outside he allowed himself to fall back against the wall. He slid down it until he felt the hard floor catch him. He pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged them tight like a frightened child would, and cried.

 

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            It had almost been a year since Justin’s sudden, but not entirely unexpected death and the shock had forced the remaining friends back to healthy lives.

 

Joey had not gone on a drunken performance for eight months and didn't have any plans to return to that dangerous lifestyle. He was gradually building up his career as an actor and his first mainstream movie was close to finished. Other scripts were also in the pipeline, causing Joey to re-establish his insouciant demeanour.

 

Chris was proving himself as a talented singer and songwriter, giving the proverbial finger to executives who had decided to take his song off of the final NSync album. Rumours also had it that the powers that be, were in talks to put his newest release up for a prestigious Grammy nomination. Chris was determined to win it for the group.. at least a last ambition would then be fulfilled.

 

JC and Lance were the lucky ones who had returned to complete normalcy. The house they shared was perfect, their marriage plans were perfect and the adoption agency they were with, was perfect.

 

Their lives now were a stark contrast to their sufferings a little over ten months ago. Both agreed that they had never been happier, just that it was remorseful that it took a tragedy for the better life to happen. 

 

Occasionally each would blame themselves for not fixing things sooner. They would then realise they had to look to the future instead of dwelling on the pains of the past, and at last they could be themselves. The veneer had been broken, and the surface of the personalities scratched to allow their real dispositions to shine through.

 

Although they knew they couldn’t have everything, their one wish they would carry forever would be for the happiness to come sooner, in time to save Justin. That way things truly would have been perfect.

 

Fin.