NOTES & DISCLAIMERS: For Dacey. Title from the Ryan Adams song. Thanks to each other and Shana. All made up for entertainment only.

WHEN THE STARS GO BLUE

Two weeks after Justin's thirtieth birthday he realizes he's tired. The last album is still doing well, which surprises Justin because it was also critically acclaimed. He has everything he's ever wanted. Except.

He keeps thinking about a song he wrote called "The Lies I Told That I Believed When I Said Them," and one particular line. "We will always be friends and we will always stay in touch." He was too chickenshit to put it on an album.

He wants to call JC.

He calls Lance to get the number when he finds out JC left LA and no one Justin knows can tell him where JC is. Lance's office is on the top floor of a seventy-story building. Lance owns the building. Justin and JC made more money from NSYNC because they wrote songs but Lance is richer than all of them combined now. Lance's empire, Justin thinks.

Lance waves at Justin as Justin enters the room. Justin's not trying to overhear Lance's phone conversation but there's no other sound in the room. Something about Lance's daughter, the oldest one. Lance has two daughters and Justin's assistant sends gifts to them on their birthdays. Justin can't remember the oldest girl's name. He remembers Lance's wife's name, but she's his ex-wife now and so that doesn't help.

Justin leans forward as he sits down, leans back again in the chair. He notices that the pictures on Lance's desk are of the girls alone and the ones hanging on the wall where everyone can see are Lance with the two girls. They have Lance's eyes. Justin is pretty sure the oldest is only four, because he remembers that she was born exactly seven months after Lance's wedding. Justin had just heard from Joey, he thinks, that Lance was dating a girl when he got the invitation. A small family wedding, and it happened only two weeks after Justin got the invitation. Joey was the best man, the bride had a maid of honor and there were no other attendants. Justin accidentally sat on the bride's side of the church and stayed there during the service because he saw JC in the second row, on the groom's side. Justin thinks Lance had sex with the bride only enough times for the two girls to be conceived, but he stops himself because he really has no idea.

Lance finally hangs up and holds up his hand before Justin can speak. Lance taps a button on his phone and says, "Carl, I'm about to go. I'll be available but I'll have the girls with me." Lance puts his hand down and says to Justin, "You want JC's number."

"Which is why I called." And Lance set up this meeting.

Lance looks away and picks up one of the framed photos from his desk. He runs his fingers over the frame. "Some kindergartner pushed my little girl over on the playground today and kicked dirt in her face. For no reason at all. Fuckin' cruelty of children." Lance pauses. "Our job, or really, my job as a parent is to try and teach my kids that they can't have everything they want. Can't just reach out and take and expect no consequences."

Justin opens his mouth to object. He gets it, he understands the little metaphor that Lance is working. Justin watches Lance run his finger over the frame again and thinks maybe Lance isn't even thinking about Justin right now. Justin used to think JC was the love of Lance's life, and now he thinks he needs to revise that to one of three.

Lance says, "I need to go. I have to pick up Diana from her nanny and pick up Jamie at school. I hadn't planned that, so I'll be blunt. Do you know why JC left LA?"

Justin just shakes his head. He didn't know until two weeks ago that JC had left LA. He tried calling the number he had, tried his contacts in the industry but JC had disappeared. He called Lance and here he is, roped into this meeting.

Lance looks up and says, "JC was in love with Devlin Parke, they were in love." Parke was a hot up and coming singer songwriter type.

Justin says, "Parke died in a car accident nine, ten months ago."

Lance says, "Yes. JC left LA two weeks after the funeral. I'm telling you this because if you just want JC to produce something for you, after all this time, I'm not interested in telling you where he is."

Justin remembers when Lance and JC were in love. Remembers all the years of that and how it ended and he thinks he should have tried Joey first. Lance would protect JC to the death. Justin searches for the answer that would convince Lance and settles for the truth. "It's not about producing. I just. I want to talk to him."

Lance says, "Why?"

Justin says, "I don't know. I'm tired. I want to talk to him, Lance."

Lance gets up and starts packing his briefcase. He says, "You can't call him."

"Why not?" Justin stands up.

"Because he has all the ringers on his phones turned off. I'll give you the address, he wouldn't read your emails." Lance writes the address down in his girly handwriting and gives Justin a slip of paper. Lance walks to the door and looks back at Justin. "I'm leaving now, I need to pick up my daughter. That means you're leaving now, too."

*

JC keeps the shades pulled even though he knows it's unnecessarily dramatic. Every room in the house is always like that, always dark with just a hint of light peeking in around the edges. He marks another day off on his planner -- day sixteen, month nine -- and shakes his head at what his life has become.

A knock on the door, and he thinks it's somebody with his groceries, so he pulls on a pair of Devlin's flannel pants and walks down from his bedroom into the foyer. There's a peephole but he doesn't use it. When he pulls the door open, Justin's standing there with a bag of potato chips and a potted orchid.

"You still like these?" Justin asks, waving the chips.

JC takes off his glasses and taps them against his hip. "What are you doing?"

"Salt and vinegar, man. Trader Joe's. That's where I got the plant, too." He pauses. "Can I come in?"

JC takes a step back. "I don't think so."

"Hey." Justin lets the bag slide to his side. "Please?"

JC doesn't say anything, just leans to the side to let Justin walk into the house. He takes the plant from Justin's arms and plunks it down by the door. "Kitchen's this way." He watches Justin move through his house and thinks it's the most obscene thing he's ever seen.

In the kitchen, Justin puts the chips down by the sink. "Dark in here."

"Leave, if you don't like it."

Justin looks around. "Do you want me to leave?"

"I haven't seen you for three years. You can't fix that with an orchid."

*

Justin sits on the couch and looks out the window. It's been two hours since he got here, one hour and fifty-five minutes since JC walked out of the kitchen and went upstairs and he hasn't come back down. JC has a modest enough three story house in Portland, Oregon, on a pretty street with trees every ten feet. Justin doesn't know why he came here, but it feels more important than anything he's done in the last five years.

Justin opens the blinds more and watches a car drive by. This house was Devlin's, Justin thinks. He doesn't remember much about Devlin, but he thinks the kid was from Portland. He walks over to the mantel and starts looking at pictures when he hears JC behind him saying, "Why are you still here?"

JC sounds tired, too, so Justin says, "I wanted to talk to you. I'm tired, too." Justin turns around and there's JC, still in the same baggy flannel pants and glasses and gray streaks in his hair. JC's thirty-five, Justin thinks. He looks older somehow, except his skin is almost unlined and he's whippet thin but all muscle. Justin ignores a pain in his chest, he knows it's psychosomatic. It's just a memory.

JC says, "I'm not tired. I'm not interested in talking to you."

Justin sighs and sits back down on the couch. "What do I need to say to change that?"

JC laughs. Harsh and broken sounding. "Oh, fine. Let's play. Why don't you, why don't you tell me, tell me ..." JC trails off and rubs his eyes. "How did you find me?"

"Lance. Lance told me." Justin watches JC turn around once and head to the couch.

Justin looks at the pictures on the mantel and sees that they're mostly of Lance's daughters and Joey's three kids. A few of Chris, Joey and Lance, all recent. A blond man that Justin thinks is Devlin. One of JC's family. And one of Justin, a picture of Justin when he was twelve, and it's behind the other pictures. Justin guesses that's deserved.

He's not sure how long JC's been silent but JC suddenly says, "When you saw Lance, did you see Jamie and Dee? I haven't seen those two in a month and they grow up so fast."

JC, Justin thinks, is now trying small talk. Justin is about to suck at this. Justin says, "I just saw Lance. He had to pick up Jamie, I think, because of some thing at school. Nothing big, just usual kid stuff."

JC says, "Oh." A long pause and Justin can't bring himself to turn around. JC says, "Have you seen Joey's lately? JJ's almost five now, you know."

Justin says, "No. I haven't. I haven't seen Joey in two years." Trap sprung, Justin thinks. But it's what he should hear so he turns around so JC can say the next part to his face.

"You haven't seen any of us. You walked away and now you're tired and you hunt me down and I want you to leave."

Justin sighs and leaves.

*

"Sneak attack," JC says to himself, softly. He scoots up onto the kitchen counter. Lance's number flashes in JC's mind like lightning, but calling him would require too much effort. His bare feet dangle and bang against the cabinet with Devlin's pots and Devlin's pans. Devlin's cabinets, Devlin's house and Justin has no right, no right.

There's a drawer between the one with the silverware and the one with the hammer, where Devlin kept his cigarettes. JC slides off the counter and opens the drawer. Inside, there's a box of American Spirits, almost full. He picks up the pack and pulls out a cigarette, then puts it back. He wants to smoke it, but if he did, he'd smoke them all, and then there would be nothing left.

Another flash of lightning, but it's not a series of numbers. It's Justin on JC's bed, wearing jeans and bright red tennis shoes and the biggest smile JC had ever seen. JC licks at the sweat on his upper lip and thinks, he has no right.

Justin's a bastard, but JC's hungry and so he opens the bag of chips and takes a beer out of the refrigerator. There's a deck on the back of the house, an addition that Devlin had built on the spring before he died. They bought the furniture together on a Tuesday and their dog barked at it for an hour when they brought it home. She used to hate strangers and Portland. JC opens the sliding door and sees her drop a ball at Justin's feet and thinks she must be getting used to both.

"Jessie," JC whistles to the dog. She bounds over to him and rubs her head against his knee.

"She's pretty," Justin says, standing. "Brittany, right?"

JC tosses a couple of potato chips onto the ground. "You shouldn't have touched her."

Justin shields his eyes against the sun. "Sorry."

"Asshole."

"I'm sorry, JC."

"Fucking asshole," JC says, and Jessie begins to bark. "How do you think you can do this? How do you think this is okay?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know anything."

Justin's shoulders slump, just a little, and it's like JC's sixteen and seeing it for the first time again. "Jayce." He looks at JC with eyes the color of a waterfall. "I got lost. And I wanted to see you."

JC takes two steps towards Justin and sits on the grass. He holds the bag up.

Justin shakes his head at the offer. "I don't think so. But thanks." He waits until Jessie sprawls out on her back in front of JC, then sits, too. JC takes a sip of beer and passes the bottle to Justin, who drinks and then passes it back.

*

JC hasn't changed when he's naked. His legs are still long and all muscle, his back is still unmarked and his stomach is still flat. Justin has enough pictures of then and now, he knows he hasn't changed either. The bedroom is more crowded, now not just Lance and even Chris and Joey, but there's Devlin and years of silence. But JC rolls and breaks under Justin's hands and that's the same.

Beer, one shared laugh and Justin thinking he couldn't leave without one kiss. JC steered Justin to a guest bedroom and a bedspread that smells musty, like it's never been lifted from the sheets below. There are no pictures on the walls but Justin is just watching JC anyway.

JC claws at Justin's back as Justin thrusts in, and JC's tight, like he's never done this before, but of course he has, Justin was there at least once. Justin closes his eyes and opens them again and concentrates on feeling every bit of this. He needs to make it right now, this musty bedspread and faded lavender wallpaper, JC's hair streaked with gray by the temples and sweat making his neck a solid gleam in the half-light coming from the closed blinds. It needs to be right now and not the only other time they did this because Justin can't take it again if Lance walks in.

"No pain," Justin says and realizes he said it out loud. JC just grunts and Justin thinks, no pain this time, no fucking around. JC arches his back and his fingers will leave marks and Justin stops thinking. JC pushes and his heels drag on Justin's back. It's forever and from the first kiss it only takes half an hour.

They lie in the darkness and Justin watches JC breathe. In and out and Justin wonders if JC will fall asleep. They didn't get to this part last time, it was just screaming and Justin slammed the door and fell asleep alone in his own hotel room. He thinks he hasn't talked to anyone in the band since then, all the conversations since that night just words bouncing in rooms that were always too full.

JC falls asleep and Justin folds the bedspread over his naked form. Justin opens the blinds in the room and then goes through every room in the house, except the bedroom JC uses, and opens them one by one. Justin walks back to the room and puts on his pants and JC's still asleep. Justin walks down to the kitchen and finds Windex and paper towels.

He's cleaning the window in the living room, the one that covers half the wall facing the street when JC comes downstairs. JC's put the same clothes back on, the pants that are too big and can't have ever been something that JC bought for himself. JC says, "What are you doing?"

"Cleaning. Cleaning things up."

"Is that what this is about?" JC has his glasses back on and the setting sun makes them white disks and Justin can't see JC's eyes at all.

"No. I just think," Justin pauses and puts down the paper towel in his hand. It's almost black on the side that swept across the window. "I just think it would be nice for you to see out."

JC says, "Fuck you." JC takes off his glasses and rubs the lenses against his t-shirt. His eyes are flashing with anger. He puts them back on and his eyes disappear. "You think you know what's good for me?"

JC turns around and starts to walk back upstairs and Justin says, "Wait." JC stops but doesn't turn around. "Wait, JC, I want you to tell me. What, what do you need? I just." Justin sighs. "I just want, you know, things to be good for us. You matter to me."

JC stands on the third step. He doesn't say anything for a long time and there's a clock ticking away but Justin loses count at the one hundredth and fifth click. Finally JC says, "We shouldn't have done that. We had no right. You had no right to come here. I'm sorry, Justin." JC is looking somewhere off to Justin's right and Justin won't turn to see what JC sees.

"What, what do you want to do now?" Justin swallows and keeps staring at JC.

JC sighs and looks down at his feet. He says, "Same as last time. You should leave."

*

Jessie barks. She's JC's child and he can tell when she's hungry or when she needs to go out. She barks again and JC thinks she just sounds sad.

It only takes him a second to follow Justin out the door, but by the time he gets outside, Justin's gone. JC walks to the end of the driveway and looks down both sides of the street. It's dark, suddenly dark, and he can't see anything and he doesn't know which way to go. He glances back at the house, at the windows yellowed from the inside by artificial light, and heads north.

Four blocks and he has no idea what he's doing. He walks past houses that look like his, except that when he looks at them, he sees two people, always two people. An elderly couple watching television in the green house with the porch and two houses down, it's a woman helping her son with his homework. JC stops walking and just watches because he can't remember if his life was ever really like that, or if it was just something he wrote about in a song.

"Hey," JC hears. He squints and sees Justin step out from the shadows.

JC folds his arms across his chest. "Hi."

"Your mom ever do that?" Justin asks, inclining his head toward the house.

"Sometimes." JC watches the woman ruffle the boy's hair. "Lance said that Jamie's really good at math. He checks her homework every night, you know, but he said she never needs any help."

"How much did you love him?" Justin asks suddenly.

"More than you did." JC keeps looking at the house, looking straight ahead, not looking at Justin.

"Really?"

"Mmm."

Justin pauses, then sighs. "I just wanted you to see out."

JC stumbles, and he can't get to Justin fast enough. He presses his lips against Justin's throat and breathes. "I missed you."

Justin threads his fingers through JC's hair and pulls JC's head back, away, then gently slides JC's glasses off his face. He brushes one finger along JC's cheek. "Eyelash," he whispers, and then runs his finger across JC's lips.

"It hasn't been that long," JC says against Justin's skin.

Justin moves his hand down, over JC's face and neck and lets it rest over JC's heart. "Does it still hurt?"

JC's voice cracks before he opens his mouth, and then Justin's lips are on his and something in his chest glows warm and smooth. "It's okay," Justin says, and JC closes his eyes. It's the first time anything's been right in almost a year, his first taste of something that doesn't ache, and he wants to remember it.

When it's over, it's still in the air, and Justin takes JC's hand. "You're not wearing shoes."

JC flexes his toes. "I guess I'm not."

Justin kisses JC's cheek quickly and JC thinks Justin might be blushing. JC squeezes Justin's fingers and says, "We should go home."

*

Justin cleans windows in the morning, cleans every one of them. He goes outside and does the same. His arms ache, in a good way. Clean, he thinks. He has so much work to do, so many things to fix. But he was lost for a long time and now he's almost found so he thinks it's possible. Apologize, fix things, make things better. He could always do that and when he stopped paying attention, he fell off the map or something and everything got broken. He's figured this out with every swipe of the rag over old windows made clear.

He finishes and goes upstairs to JC's bedroom. JC is curled on his side, and the sun is coming in through the window. It's the last one to clean and Justin does it quietly, so JC doesn't wake up until it's all done. JC says, "I can hire someone to do that," squinting against the sun.

Justin laughs. "Well, sure, but, you know, I figured I could keep doing it for a while. Save you some money."

JC says, "Oh, good. An overgrown houseboy. What I always dreamed of." He grins and it's brighter than Justin remembered or ever saw. JC says, "Come back to bed," and Justin falls asleep against JC's chest. When he wakes up, the room is full of just the two of them and they eat and sleep again and the sun sets and rises and they still haven't stopped talking. Justin isn't tired at all.

THE END

Back to Stories