Medley: Fear Factor
by Karen and LB
© 2002
This can't be happening, JC thought. All these years, and I've never once had stage fright.
It was true. But ever since they'd started joking onstage about JC being too scared to sing the last note of I Want You Back by himself, he'd felt it. And it was getting worse. And he didn't know what to do about it.
Back at the hotel, Lance has just gotten out of the shower and is selecting a shirt for the night's festivities. "JC, have you seen my white shirt?"
"Huh?" JC asks, foggily. "Your, um, what?"
"White . . . shirt. What's wrong with you, dude? You've been out of it since we left the arena."
"Nothing. Which white shirt? You have, like, a dozen."
"I only brought that one with me. You know, the one with the design."
"Yeah, I saw it in the closet."
Lance sifts through the hangers and locates the shirt in question, which had become sandwiched between two jackets. "Here you are. Come to daddy."
JC rolls his eyes. "You're confusing your clothes with your puppy."
"C'mon, you love this shirt and you know it."
"I love it on you. I don't, like, talk to it."
"But it's my lucky shirt. I have to talk to it."
"You're crazy. But I love you anyway."
"You don't believe me? Every time I wear this shirt I get lucky. With you."
"You don't need a shirt to get lucky with me."
"I'd get lucky if I was naked?"
JC pins Lance with a look. "What do you think?"
"I think I better put on this shirt now or we'll never get out of here."
"I have plans for you when we get back."
"Tell me about them on the way."
"I'd rather keep you guessing."
"So we make an appearance and then we leave, right?"
"Right," JC says, ignoring the shudder the word appearance causes.
Tonight Johnny is throwing a party to celebrate the tour kicking off and going well so far. The usual suspects are all there, and after an hour or so, the boys are congregated on chairs and sofas in the VIP lounge, talking about the show.
"We should keep changing the story," Chris is saying. "Like, do something a little different every night."
"We should just walk away and leave JC by himself," adds Joey.
"No, I know," interrupts Justin, "we should just let JC tell it and we all leave."
"I just said that."
"Um, guys?" JC interjects. "Not a good idea."
"Why not?" Lance asks.
"The audience. They want to see all of us."
"But it would be funny," says Justin. "Besides, they'd go wild with you up there all by yourself."
"I don't know. I'm more of a group . . . a team player."
"So be a team player and do this."
It's either say okay, or tell them about his fear. "Okay, we can try it."
"Cool. It'll be funny, man."
Lance watches the exchange silently, but in the back of his mind is the sense that JC is serious about not wanting to do it.
Through the rest of the party, going back to the hotel, making love with Lance, JC manages to block out his fears. But he's uncharacteristically sleepless long after Lance has drifted off.
There's a lot of energy that night--the boys give it their all, and when they finally get to sit for The Story, Lance watches JC, wiping his face with a towel and studying his friend as Chris begins this part of the show. And the banter goes on, until Chris announces that they're all leaving the stage to let JC finish. The crowd goes wild.
JC's sweating more than usual, and he gives the guys a panicked look as they leave the stage.
Before they're out of view, Lance looks back to see JC's face go unusually white.
JC looks out at the audience, at their happy, expectant faces. "I'm scared," he blurts.
A thousand cameras snap at JC's genuinely terrified expression. Backstage, Lance watches on one of the monitors. "C'mon, let's go back out."
"Nah, this is great," Joey says, as Chris starts goading JC.
"No, really, we gotta keep the show moving along."
"Okay, okay." The guys troop back onstage, and JC sings that final note. For the rest of the show, he can't shake that feeling of pure terror.
Back at the hotel, Lance approaches JC from behind and rubs his shoulders. "You want to talk about it?"
JC stiffens. "About what?"
"You're all tense. About the show."
"It's, it's nothing."
"It's something. You practically froze up there."
"That bad, huh?"
"You think no one noticed, but I did."
"It's so lame. Promise you won't laugh?"
"Scout's honor."
JC leads Lance over to the couch. Still not quite looking at Lance, he asks, "Have you, do you, like, ever . . . ?" Almost inaudibly, he finishes, "had stage fright?"
"Sure. The first time I sang with Attache, my knees wouldn't stop shaking. Wait a minute, you're not telling me you have stage fright NOW?"
JC nods solemnly. "I don't get it. I've never . . . And all of a sudden . . . "
Lance, as promised, doesn't laugh, but this is definitely not what he expected. "Tell me what happens."
"I just, I don't know, panic. I mean, once I get out there, once I get going, I'm mostly okay. Like, instinct takes over, you know? But, tonight, when you guys left the stage, I was, you know, freaked."
"It's never happened before. Why now?"
"I don't know. That's why it's so . . . bad."
Lance puts a soothing hand on JC's back and makes a slow, lazy circle with his palm. "We'll figure it out. We'll figure out what's freaking you out and fix it."
"We will? We can?"
Lance kisses JC's shoulder. "Yes. We can. You don't have to go through this alone."
JC rests his head against Lance's. "Thanks. Don't tell the other guys, okay?"
"I promise. Chris would never let you forget it."
"Never ever. He'd blurt it out in an interview and the whole world would know."
"If he did that, I'd make sure the next tour we have him dangling so high he'll pee his pants."
"My hero."
The next night, Lance watches JC closely, and when the show is over he studies the tape in the bus. One thing that strikes him is not only how genuinely terrified JC seems onstage by himself, but also how adorable he looks. Like he regressed fifteen years. So after the next show, Lance sits down with JC in their hotel room. "I was watching you."
"Did you like what you saw?" JC replies with false bravado.
"I loved what I saw. But I don't think you loved doing it."
JC's face crumbles. "What am I gonna do? What if it gets worse? If I can't perform, what do I have?"
"Hey . . . hey," Lance says calmly, his arm around JC's shoulders. "It's not gonna get worse. For some reason, it's freaking you out right now. But the fans don't notice and no one else seems to either. For all they know, it's part of the act. The only reason I know is because I know you better. So listen, this is what we're gonna do." He takes JC's hand and stands up.
JC looks up hopefully. "What?"
"Just come with me." In fifteen minutes they're back at the venue, and Lance speaks to the security team. He leads JC inside the arena, which is completely deserted. "We have an hour."
JC looks around. Empty, the place doesn't look so threatening.
Lance walks to the stage. "Not so scary, right?"
"Nope." Still, JC shivers when he mounts the stage.
"Okay, now I'm just going to sit over there, and you sing something." He points to a seat in the front row.
"I loved you forever, in lifetimes before . . . " JC starts out with confidence then starts to trail off, imagining the seats filled with screaming faces. Being a professional, he continues, "And I promise you never, will you hurt anymore . . . "
Lance leans forward on the edge of his seat, fingers tented under his chin. Everything seems fine. JC voice rings clear and strong. "Okay, now say something."
"I, um, like what?"
"Like anything. Tell me what you did today."
"Um, you know. I, um slept late and I went to sound check and I did the show . . . " The words are normal, but JC's expression gets more frightened, his voice more pinched, with every syllable.
"Keep going. Forget I'm here."
"You being here is fine. It's all those other people." JC sweeps his hand at the thousands of empty seats.
"Those other people are all strangers."
JC cringes. "Yeah, that's the point. All strangers. All staring at me. All waiting for me to screw up."
"We all screw up now and then. But we keep going and no one notices. No big deal."
"But what if they do notice? What if they realize how scared I am?"
"They'll think it's part of the act. Besides, you look really adorable when you're scared."
"They'll know. I'll know. What if I really CAN'T sing that last note? What then?"
"You always sing that last note. It's in here." Lance points to his chest.
"You don't understand. What if I can't? What if I open my mouth and nothing comes out? What if it's not just that last note?" JC can hear the panic in his voice, but he doesn't know how to stop it.
"Whoa, JC. Take a deep breath." In all the years he's known JC, he's never seen him tense up like this.
JC looks at Lance helplessly, his breath still coming in short pants. He can feel himself becoming lightheaded.
Lance bolts onto the stage and takes JC's by the shoulders. "Hey, easy. Breathe easy. In, out, in, out . . . "
As always, Lance's touch soothes JC, gives him something to focus on. He manages to bring his breathing back to something more normal, then looks up at Lance with an expression of almost childlike trust. "Help me?"
Wrapping his arms protectively around JC, Lance says, "You won't have to go through this alone." He pulls JC to the floor and sits cross- legged. "Tell me what happens. Tell me what you feel."
"It's like, I can't breathe all of a sudden. And my heart feels like it's gonna jump right out of my chest."
Lance takes JC's hands. "You know nothing will happen to you, right? You know that. Everyone who comes to our shows loves you. They came to see you."
"They did?"
"They did. They do. When you sing, everyone listens."
"No. All of us . . . Justin."
"Yes, all of us, but when you're out there center stage, all eyes are on you, darlin'."
"I guess that's what scares me. And it's worse because it's never happened before."
"I know. That's why I want to figure out why it's happening now. PopOdyssey was bigger than this and you were fine. Why now? What's going on now that's making you so insecure?"
"I don't know. Maybe I'm afraid that it's all going to be over. That this is it."
"Listen to me: This is NOT it. We're just taking a break. That's all. We are NOT over."
"You really believe that?"
"Yes." It's not just an answer to Lance, it's a statement of fact. "But you obviously don't. Or maybe . . . is that what you really want?"
"No! I want to believe. I'm just scared to."
"I know it seems like a long time, but we're all coming back. And this will give YOU a chance to do things you've been wanting to do."
"What if . . . " JC whispers. "What if something happens on your flight? What if you don't come back?"
Lance half laughs at the absurdity of the questions. "Shut . . . up! I AM coming back. Even if I have to circle the earth to get back here. Is that what this is REALLY about? You think I'm not coming back?"
"It's scary, being the one left behind."
"I'm not leaving you. I know it seems that way but I promise I'll call you every chance I get." Lance looks down and around at his body. He pulls off the ring from his finger and takes JC's hand. "Here, take this. You hold onto this until I come back."
JC's eyes widen. "Lance, I can't. You never take that off."
"That's the point. So I have to come back to get it back."
"I'll take good care of it for you."
"I know you will. I trust you. Now, stand up."
JC follows Lance's instruction silently.
"We're gonna try this again. I'm gonna sit over there, but this time I want you to picture this whole arena filled with fans."
"I was. That's when I got freaked."
"Okay, how about this. Close your eyes."
"This is stupid," JC grouses. But he does it.
"I know it's stupid. But that's the point. To make you feel relaxed. Now, picture all the fans sitting here."
"Okay," JC says, scrunching his eyes shut. "I'm picturing them."
Lance has taken his seat and waits a moment, then says, "Now open them and start talking."
JC starts talking first. "I can't think what to say. Four score and seven years ago . . . " His eyes pop open.
"Breathe, JC, breathe. Okay, so that's not working. How about you picture them in their underwear. How about . . . how about you picture ME in my underwear?"
"Underwear? I like that."
"I thought you would. Now try talking."
"I still can't think of anything to say. Um, Why was Tigger in the toilet?"
"I don't know, JC, why?" Lance singsongs.
JC giggles. "He was looking for Pooh!"
Lance laughs along. "See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"
"No. But I can't do this in the middle of a concert. Can I?"
"Do what? Talk? Tell jokes?"
"Picture you in your underwear."
"If it works."
JC smiles. "If they only knew."
"That's the beauty of it. Only you'll know."
JC looks troubled. "But, what if I have to talk-talk. Like, not the script."
Lance scratches his stubble. "Well, try it. Tell me what you had for dinner tonight."
"I, um, I don't know? Is that important? Should I know?" JC's voice starts taking on the panicky tone again.
"Hey, focus on me. Right here. Remember--underwear."
"Underwear?"
"Yeah. Uh . . . " Lance is beginning to see that drastic times call for drastic measures. "Like . . . " He stands, removes his shirt, kicks off his shoes, and takes off his pants. "This."
"OH. OH."
Now it's Lance who's nervous. "Yeah. Oh. Now say something. It's cold in here."
"I thought I was supposed to picture you naked."
"You are. Just do it quickly."
"But . . . you're not."
"Underwear. I, you know, said underwear. Oh, okay, if it'll help you get over your stage fright." In a flash, Lance's shorts join his pants on the floor. "NOW will you say something?"
JC smiles sweetly. "So, will you strip for me at every show?"
"No way. I'd scare off the kids. But I'll strip for you AFTER every show."
"Promise?"
"Promise. Now, I'm sitting here naked and this seat's cold. So can you PLEASE say something?"
JC closes his eyes and imagines the seats full of screaming fans. And one oasis of calm--Lance. Well, naked Lance. He opens his eyes and starts talking out of the blue. Not the scripted version, but his own thoughts.
It's as though a clogged faucet has just been opened. JC talks. And talks. And talks. And Lance listens to every word, as JC's face brightens and his eyes sparkle and he shines onstage like he has so many times before. And, as expected, Lance becomes incredibly aroused.
JC walks to the edge of the stage and sits down, smiling at Lance. "How'm I doing?"
Lance shifts in his seat and reaches for his shorts. "You're doing great."
"If you put those on, I might start getting scared again."
"Really?"
JC nods, his eyes wide.
"I wouldn't want you to get scared."
"And I really should show my . . . gratitude."
"How about you let me take the edge off?" He approaches JC, his erection in full view, and stands between JC's knees.
"Maybe I should take the edge off."
"Maybe you should take your shirt off."
Never taking his eyes from Lance's, JC unbuttons and removes his shirt.
Lance brushes JC's smooth chest lightly with his lips.
The cool air and Lance's mouth raise goose pimples on JC's arms and back. Lance presses soft kisses on JC's skin, and he soon finds his way over to one air-chilled nipple.
JC smooths his hands over Lance's arms and down his back, then slides them upward to cradle Lance's head against his chest. Lance sucks gently on the small peak, then takes it between his teeth and nips lightly before moving on to the other erect nipple. He can taste JC's pleasure and can feel his rapid heartbeat.
For the first time in days, an accelerated heartbeat and quick, shallow breathing are not a sign of trouble for JC. As Lance nibbles and licks his nipples, JC can feel the insistent, answering heat at his crotch.
Lance's hands, until now resting on JC's legs, slide inward toward the aching bulge. With deft fingers, he opens JC's pants and slips one hand inside to soothe the throbbing organ.
JC drops his head and kisses the top of Lance's head, smiling as the soft spikes tickle his face. Lance's strong fingers coax sensations from him that he never knew he could feel and the element of possible discovery in their surroundings adds to the excitement.
Backing away a few steps, Lance dips his head and flicks his tongue at the moist tip of JC's hardness. He almost forgets where they are as he covers the thick head with his lips.
JC's hands drop to the stage, supporting himself, as Lance performs his magic. He opens his eyes and takes in the arena. All those seats, which, in a matter of hours, will be filled with screaming fans. And he's not scared at all.
Lance reaches up and feels around until he finds the small peaks of JC's nipples once again. While alternating between rubbing and gently pinching them, he begins to take JC's length into his mouth with all the confidence he wants to convey to his lover.
JC lets out a sigh, and it echoes softly in the huge space. He's glad he wasn't louder. Then he stops thinking.
Lance slides his hands down to JC's waist as he takes in JC's entire length. He slides his lips up and down the thick erection, using his tongue to provide enticing friction.
JC lifts one hand to Lance's head, urging him on, guiding him. He closes his eyes again, not needing to see anything else but the stars behind his eyelids.
It's a moment Lance cherishes--the protective hand in his hair, the complete surrender of his lover. He can sense when JC is near climax as he has so many times before. And he loves it even more now.
JC explodes, falling back on the stage with a thud.
Lance holds JC, taking in all his lover has to offer, until he feels JC soften. He lifts his head and smiles, then hops on the stage and reclines on his side, his fingers tracing the trickle of sweat along JC's face.
JC opens his eyes slowly, gazing up at Lance. "Wow," he says with a lazy smile. "Wow."
"Still afraid?" Lance asks quietly.
"Right now, I'm not afraid of anything."
"So if this arena was filled with fans, that wouldn't scare you?"
JC glances around. "I think . . . I just need to remember this."
Lance nods. "My work here is done." He hops off the stage to retrieve his clothes.
JC grins. "Let's go back to the hotel. I think I've got some, um, work to do, too."
Smiling slyly, Lance responds, "All work and no play . . . "
The next night, when the guys leave the stage, JC's fear IS an act. When Chris suggests that he imagine the crowd in their underwear, he pictures Lance and smiles.