It was something we intended to share.

And some people wonder why we've never added it to our set list. One reason -- JC refuses to sing it in public, except in the way we originally wanted it recorded. With my voice crashing, thrashing, making love with his. Not Justin's.

The week we were supposed to record it, JC and I woke up every morning singing that song. He'd get in the shower and leave the door open, so I could lay in bed and warm up my voice with the first verse.

He'd sing his part from the shower, the notes echoing off the wall like pure energy. You're the only one, that I'll give this heart to. Yeah, and he meant it too.

I'd be up and stripping off my boxers, and then step in the shower with him as our voices joined during the bridge. He'd place his hands on my hips, and I'd positively melt. I'd place my mouth on his shoulder, and he'd shiver.

We'd finish, all smiles, and he'd reach up and start shampooing my hair. Sometimes we'd hear a thump on the wall, Chris sounding his annoyed, yet supportive approval.

After showering, we'd start again, our voices striving for the harmony we had in our relationship. Sometimes I'd fall into a fit of giggles over JC's intensity (you've seen the faces he pulls!), and our morning rehearsal would end in a whirlwind of kisses.

"You know, Joe," he said. "I'm still convinced that this song was written for us."

I swatted his behind. "You're such a sap."

"Maybe. But you still love me."

"Of course."

Down at breakfast, Jusin rolled his eyes at our blatant mushiness. "I'll be SO glad when we finish recording this song," he said. "Then you two will have no excuse to get all kissy in front of the rest of us."

"Aw, Justin," I said. "You know you like watching." I batted my eyelashes at him, and received a whap on the arm from JC.

I turned to him and gave him a big wet kiss, provoking a chorus of ewww"'s from the other three.

"Joe, I think you've just made me lose my appetite," commented Chris, and pushed his plate of waffles toward the center of the table.

"Can I have those then?" Lance asked, fork already skewering a syruped piece.

"Hands off Scoop," Justin said. "Those waffles have my name on them."

Justin and Lance shreded the waffles with their forks in a scramble to get a fair share.

"Hey!" Chris said. "What if I was just kidding?"

"Too late," Justin said with a mouthful.

JC smirked at me while he drank his coffee. "And they complain about having too put up with us."

"Yeah," I said and glared at the guilty parties.

In the studio that day, JC played at the piano while we worked out the harder parts of the harmony.

"I think you attack that line too quietly. Don't act so gun-shy -- I won't bite," he said.

"I like it when you bite," I said. Josh rolled his eyes.

"Seriously though. Sing it like you did in the shower this morning."

"Will you scrub my back while I do it?" I asked.

JC laughed and stood up, put his arms around me and rubbed my back. "Maybe," he said.

I leaned in to kiss him and heard the cough of the guy in the soundbooth. I pecked him quickly and we separated.

"How about we record a bit?" JC said, and motioned to the sound guy.

He nodded, and a light came on, letting us know that we were recording.

"That's When I'll Stop Loving You, practice session," JC said. At the piano his fingers slid across the keys, transfixing me to the point that I almost missed my cue.

We recorded a couple of times like this, each one nearly flawless, except one that I flubbed the chorus on. The other guys began to filter in as JC made a copy of our session.

Chris had a worried look on his face, and Lance wouldn't look me in the eye. Justin mouth was flattened in a faint smirk, but it disappeared as JC walked out of the sound booth.

"What's up guys?" JC asked.

Lance looked up, red beginning to creep across his cheekbones. He opened his mouth, but stopped, not finding the words.

"They're having Justin sing your part, Joe," Chris blurted. He put a hand on my shoulder.

"What?" I said. I felt bile creeping up into my throat.

"What are you talking about?" JC asked, his voice taking a curt, no-nonsense tone.

"They want Justin to sing Joey's part," Lance said and excused himself from the room.

"Who wants Justin to sing Joey's part?" JC asked.

"The label," Justin said and plopped down at the piano.

"And that's their final say?"

"Yup. Final decision. Do not pass go, do not collect $200 -- the whole shebang," Chris said.

I was speechless and merely trying to keep myself from breaking down on the spot. I turned to JC and sniffled. "I've, uh, got to go now," I said and headed for the door.

"Joey, don't leave," JC said. He had grabbed at my wrist, but I didn't turn around. "Joey, look at me."

I turned my head just a bit, revealing the wetness in my eyes that I couldn't hold back. He stepped closer to me and put a hand on my back. He led us back to our room, where he punched at the walls and I sobbed on the furniture.

So there it is. My fire was stolen. The grandest of love songs ripped from my throat by people who cared more about how they can market us rather than who we are.

JC still sits at his piano sometimes, lights low, candle wax dripping off a silver candelabra, and plays it for me, the way he played it in the studio.

Thank God we decided to make a recording. I don't think I could stand it if we hadn't, because I haven't been able to sing the song since.

Sure, I could record the backing vocals with Lance and Chris, but notice that you don't hear me very well. I'm in the background. I might as well not be there.

And I will always be there, you will always have all my love And thank God for JC. Thank you everyday that I can wake up and have him there with me. One of these days, JC, one of these days they'll hear us, and they'll know.

End.

Originally written as an *Mprov on 12/7/00, with the words gun-shy, shebang, candle wax.