So when I woke up yesterday, and it was snowing, I ran outside doing somersaults as the big, fat, wet flakes hit my face. They felt like the wet kisses that he would be giving me when I saw him tomorrow.

He always returns to me with a storm. After the band broke up, we didn't see each other for months. When he finally stumbled back to Orlando from the tiring movie shoot in Vancouver, it was raining. When I moved back to Maryland, it hailed the day he moved in with me.

So this afternoon, after yesterday had left me a snowy gift, he will be coming home to spend the rest of Christmas with me.

I've already opened my Christmas present from him. He told me I could open it without him, but when I sat in front of the tree this morning, I almost didn't. I wanted him to be here to open presents with me. So I opened one gift, and left the rest for when he gets here.

That one gift was a sterling silver bracelet -- the word 'forever' inscribed on it.

He has never promised me that much before. Sure, we've been together for a long time, but for almost as long we weren't allowed to be honest about it. All that 'image' bullshit that went with being who we were.

He was always better about keeping up his image than I was. After all, I have the fashion sense of flaming hot gay man, which I am, so not many were surprised when I came out. But for Joey -- the flirt, the ladies man -- it was different. It was hard when he stopped playing the game -- everyone was upset at him for lying about it, even though I had lied too.

Turns out though, that it helped his acting career. Independent film makers were lining up to give him roles. And we're not talking about shmucks who just happen to have film equipment, we're talking Sundance Film Festival. We're talking mere steps away from the role that could win him an Oscar.

The film critics have been holding their breaths this week -- his film came out this weekend for Christmas, and everybody is saying the same words. "Best Actor." So we have even more reason to celebrate, besides Christmas. And I am actually going to cook for him. He doesn't know that yet though. Tonight we eat Angel Hair pasta with a Portabello Mushroom and Garlic sauce. He'll probably drop to his knees and blow me on the spot when he walks in the door and smells what I'm cooking.

He deserves this though. For what he's always done for me. Always allowed me alone time at my piano to write, politely shutting himself in the basement to read or watch a movie whenever I need complete concentration. For cooking for me all the time, even when I come home late from the studio. For allowing me to love him the way I always wanted to.

It got dark. I didn't start to worry yet, though. It was Christmas after all, people were bound to be traveling, flights were bound to be late, traffic was bound to be horrible. I sat at the couch in the living room, and listened to our a capella version of 'O Holy Night' for the kabillionth time.

It's funny, how this recording turned out. It's really hard to hear Joey's part, even though I know he comes through loud and clear when we sing it live. That's just one thing on the very long list of stuff that bugged me when we were Nsync. Joey was always somewhere in the background, barely heard.

He sure showed them though.

8 o'clock rolled around, and worry mode kicked in. I stopped staring out the window, and paced the house, praying to he who is omnipotent to send Joey home. I sat and turned on the TV, and flipped through bad Christmas specials. The only things worth watching were "Scrooged," and adaptation of the Christmas Carol with Bill Murray, and a rerun of the Disney special we did years ago.

I couldn't believe that they were still showing it. Not that I minded. I remembered being very happy during the taping. And it shows -- both Joey and I bounced around the stage like fucking pogo sticks, while the other three seemed to just be willing themselves through it.

It ended though, and I sat through 'It's a Wonderful Life' and the first part of 'Rudolf the Red-nosed reindeer' before turning off the TV, clearing dinner off the table, and reaching up in the top shelf of the pantry for the spiced rum I knew was there.

It was almost midnight, Christmas was almost over. I looked at the unopened presents under the tree, then to the bracelet on my wrist. I gulped the rum and thought about putting it in some eggnog, but decided against it. I didn't understand what was happening. I didn't understand why he hadn't come home. He hadn't called and I hadn't heard about any plane crashes or serious car accidents on the news. Why the hell would he leave me here alone, on Christmas of all days?

I walked outside, to try and clear my head, to keep the rum from burning me up too fast. The suburban streets were crunchy with ice, and I heard a train in the distance. The night was clear and I could see more stars than I could count.

It is possible that the world stopped just long enough to hear the sound of my heart breaking, followed by the whoosh and crash of an almost empty rum bottle being thrown and breaking against the cold street.

I walked back in the house, still not letting myself cry, and slipped the bracelet off my wrist. I placed it on the dining room table, next to the candle I had left burning all day. I went to our room, slipped off my clothes and crawled into our bed, tears finally falling as I clutched his pillow.

My only hope was that the bracelet would find it's way back to my wrist -- that a stray lover would finally walk into the house, pick it up, and place it back where it belongs, and beg for forgiveness.

End.

Originally written as an *Mprov on 12/25/00, with the words a capella, Christmas Carol, portabello, omnipotent.