Heart Condition
by Karen and LB
© 2002
Inspired by Lance's nonappearance at the AMAs.
"Come anyway. Come for me."
"You know I'd go anywhere for you, but please don't ask me to do this."
"Is it really so much to ask? We'll get a few days in LA, hang out at my house, oh, and go to the awards show. No big."
"How 'bout I come out after the show and we hang out. I just don't want to be there and watch us lose again."
"What if we don't? We won last year."
"I just don't feel like going. Isn't that enough? Besides, you know I love Justin like a brother, but it's really his show."
"It is? Gee, I must have missed the memo."
"Okay, maybe that was a little harsh, but I just don't see the point in being there."
"Fine. You know what, Lance? Do whatever the hell you want. You will anyway."
Lance suppresses his anger. He's not about to tell JC the real reason he can't go. Not now. Not when he's acting like this. "You don't have to be like that. It's one lousy show."
"Unlike when you want to do something."
"I never force you to do anything, and you know it. Why are you making a big deal about this one show? You know I'm coming out that weekend for the People's Choice Awards. I'll see you then."
"Until you decide THAT's just another lousy show."
"You know what? Maybe you're right. Maybe I shouldn't come at all." Lance grabs his jacket and keys and storms out of JC's house without looking back.
JC stares at the door, hearing the echo of its slam in his ears. The echo of Lance's words in his ears. It seems like they fight about everything these days.
******
"He'll get over it, Lance," states Laura, as she tosses the salad.
"You can call him after the show," adds Beth.
"He was so mad when he left."
"Maybe you should have told him," says Beth.
"He would have stayed."
"Would that have been such a bad thing?"
"Yes. He should be there--accepting the award HE earned. He put so much into that album."
"You did too."
"And I would be there if I could."
Laura sighs. She's heard this argument too many times since JC left. "You and JC are both crazy--he should have stayed and you should have gone. There WILL be other awards."
"It's a new year, Laura. After all that happened last year, JC needs something. He was so down about the whole September 11 thing. Winning an award would be so great. Winning for songs that he wrote, that he contributed to. Shit, I wish I could be there."
"I know, hon, but better to take care of this now so when the tour starts up you won't have to worry."
Lance knows Laura is right, but it doesn't quell the pain he feels when he remembers how he stormed off and left JC to wonder.
*****
JC stares out the window of his LA house. The show is tonight, and he hasn't talked to Lance since they fought about it two nights ago back home. Reaching for his keys, he heads for the door. He's got a full afternoon--lunch, meeting with the stylist and then off to do the red carpet. He wonders what he'll say when the reporters ask where Lance is. Halfway out the door, he stops and, on an impulse, pulls out his two-way. He quickly puts in Lance's number and his message. "I'm sorry." Then, feeling slightly better, he closes the door and goes to his car.
As Lance waits, magazine in hand, his mind wanders. He's been on the same page for the past ten minutes without realizing it. He'd turned off all electronic devices, but he wants so badly to call JC, to apologize, to wish him well, to just hear his voice. Ten minutes feels like hours.
*****
JC keeps checking his cell phone, his pager, even his home voicemail until Chris accuses him of "turning into Lance." Every time he checks, he gets more frustrated, more upset. He really blew it this time, for Lance not even to respond. Even a "that's not good enough" would be better than silence.
By the time Lance gets home, it's too late to call. JC would already be having his hair done. Beth decides to order in and she and Laura park themselves in front of the TV, watching Entertainment Tonight to see if they'll show any of the red carpet. Lance's mother calls to check on him, and he reassures her for the hundredth time that he's fine. It's not until he settles on the couch with his friends, a large pizza and soft drinks on the table in front of them, that he checks his two-way and sees the two words that really do make his heart swoon. "Shit."
"What's wrong?" Beth asks, reaching for a slice.
"JC. I knew I should have called."
"You couldn't, remember?"
"I know. I should have checked my pager, though."
"You can call him as soon as the show's over. Look, it's starting." Lance watches intently and waits for the camera to pan the audience-- there: Justin and Brit, Chris . . . and there he is. Lance wants to leap through the screen, to put his arms around JC and tell him how sorry he was that he left things so bad. Please win, he prays.
It helps, having Tony here. Catching up with an old friend takes JC's mind off how messed up things are with Lance. A little. The ache is still there. They've never left things bad like this for so long. They've never not responded to an overture.
Laura and Beth cheer when they see the boys present an award. "They look gooooood," remarks Beth. JC looks great, to Lance. But sad. He can tell something's bothering his boyfriend, and he knows what that is. Not long after, there's a shot of them in the audience and Lance sees that Tony Lucca is seated next to JC. Good, at least he has someone to hang out with. Someone else. Someone who doesn't piss him off. He knows a lot of the tension lately is his own fault.
The evening wears on. When they lose in their first category, JC thinks bitterly that Lance was right. What's the point? The only thing that keeps his interest is the performers. Some of the acts are great, some JC could take or leave, but he and Tony keep up a running commentary. When their second category comes up, JC feels a pessimistic certainty that they're going to lose, again. Proving Lance right again. He watches mechanically as Chris and Rebecca banter, then finally look in the envelope.
Lance's heart sank after they lost the first award. They should have won. They worked so hard on that album. But so did the other groups, he supposes. He knows JC is disappointed. He can feel it. He can imagine the conversation they'd have as Lance comforts him and tells him awards don't matter, it's the fans that matter and they love the album. And their friends and family love it. Lance fidgets throughout the show, through even Britney's performance, waiting for the next award. JC sits there, coolly, but Lance knows how anxious he must be on the inside. When their name is announced, all three friends shout, "YES!" and jump from the couch, hugging and bouncing, until they hear the boos. It's a bittersweet moment.
Yeah, they won, but hugging Tony and Chris and Justin in no way makes up for not being able to hug Lance. They start to walk up on stage and it's only then that JC realizes they're being booed. And it only gets worse when Justin shoots his mouth off.
After Lance hushes everyone, they stare in stunned silence as JC glares into the camera. Lance has never seen JC so openly angered in public before. It's bad enough they lost, but to get booed? He knows Justin was just trying to make light of it, but Justin is not always the best PR person, and Lance fears his bandmate only made the situation worse. He wonders if there will be any backlash after this. But those thoughts are pushed aside by the one that's foremost in his mind: He HAS to speak to JC. Of course, this also HAS to be a three- hour show.
JC watches Justin turn into someone he doesn't even know, prancing around and flashing peace-signs like some frat boy on TRL. Now, more than ever, he wishes Lance were here. He always knows what to say.
Lance, Beth, and Laura watch until the show ends, hoping to catch another glimpse of the boys. But after they accepted the award they weren't shown again. Finally, at 11:00, Lance announces, "I have to call him."
"I'll be in my room if you need anything," Beth says, hugging him tightly. "And . . . congratulations."
"Thanks." Lance hugs her back, and then hugs Laura, who heads to the guest room. Lance decides to call from his own room, needing as much privacy as possible. He dials JC's cell and waits, figuring he must be at one of the many afterparties.
JC is lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling when his cell phone rings. He sits up, trying to remember where he left the instrument, following the sound to his discarded pants. He catches the phone just in time to keep it from going to voicemail and answers without even consulting the display. "Hello?"
"I'm sorry."
"Lance," JC breathes. "Me too."
"Are you okay?"
"I will be. I am."
"I'm sorry I wasn't there tonight when . . . that was really stupid of them to boo like that."
JC sinks back down onto the bed. "You, you would have known how to handle them."
"No one could have handled them. You did the best you could. I just hated seeing you so upset."
"I missed you. I'm sorry. I'm not saying that to make you feel bad about not being there. I just . . . really miss you."
"I miss you too. I wish I could fly out there right now."
"You can. With the time difference if you left now you'd already be here."
"You think Johnny would let me use his jet?"
"He's probably partied just enough that he would."
"You'd be asleep by the time I got there."
"For you, I'd wake up. So, what'd you, um, do today?"
"I, um, I . . . " Lance sits back against the headboard and runs his hand nervously through his hair, even though he knows JC can't see him.
"What's wrong, Lance?"
"It's nothing. That's the important thing. It's really nothing. I had to, um, you know, go for an EKG. But it was just a routine thing. See, I knew if I told you you'd want to stay here instead of going to the awards."
JC clutches the phone. "Damned right I would have. Was . . . was something wrong? Did you feel sick? Are you okay?"
"No," Lance states firmly. "I'm NOT sick. They just want to make sure everything's okay before the tour starts up again. I even said they were being silly but then my mom found out and she insisted, and you know how she gets. She'll never push me to do anything but she just has that look. And absolutely nothing is wrong. They said everything's fine. But I couldn't tell you because I wanted you to go to the awards because you earned that."
"You're more important to me that some award. You know that, right?"
"I...I know. But it was important that you be there, too. This really was just a routine thing, no big deal. The fans needed you to be there."
"You still, you could have told me. We've got to figure out how not to fight so much, you know?"
"I know. I hate fighting. It's stupid. I love you, you know."
"I love you, too. So let's talk more, okay? Instead of blowing up at each other?"
"Deal. But if I tell you something's okay, you'll believe me, right?"
"I'll believe you because I trust you. But it's hard not to worry. At least a little."
"I'd be disappointed if you didn't worry," jokes Lance.
"And can I spoil you when you DO get out here?"
After a pause, Lance says, "Okay. If you HAVE to." But he's smiling.
"So, okay. I'm going to spoil you. What are you going to do to me?"
"Ohhhh, I see how this works. Okay, I'll . . . give you a backrub."
"Yeah? What would you do if you were here right now."
"I'd, um . . . kiss you."
"Yeah? Tell me how you're kissing me."
Lance gets more comfortable on the bed, drawing his knees up. "Um, first just with my lips. I'd do that a couple of times. But then I'd, um, lick your lips. I can't believe I'm saying this over the phone."
"I wish you were here doing it. But since all we've got is the phone . . . " JC lets his voice slip into a sexier tone. "When you lick my lips, they part and I breathe your air."
Lance can't hide his smile, despite how strange this is to him. JC has always been the more expressive one, and Lance tends to internalize everything. But if this is the only thing they've got right now, and it's so good to hear JC's voice no matter what he's saying, Lance decides to play along. "Uh . . . my tongue slips in your mouth and you know, I'm still kissing you, but with my tongue now."
JC closes his eyes, imagining Lance hovering over him. "You taste so good. I suck your tongue deeper into my mouth and run my own along it."
Lance takes a deep breath. "I'm sliding my hands under your shirt and playing with your . . . nipples."
JC slips his hand under his shirt and caresses a nipple. "Mmm. That's nice. I'm kissing my way down to your throat and pulling your shirt up."
Lance lifts his shirt and bites his lower lip. "I'm pinching your nipples just a little. Now, I'm licking them."
JC moistens his fingers in his mouth and resumes caressing his nipple. "I'm pulling your shirt off, and my hands are all over you. My mouth is moving up your neck and I'm licking your ear, nibbling on your earlobe."
Lance touches his earlobe without thinking about it, imagining JC's hot mouth there. His other hand wanders his chest, sending a shiver up his spine. "I'm sucking gently, then licking my way down to your stomach. I love your abs."
"Hey! That tickles!" JC says, completely into the fantasy. "I run my hands through your hair, cradling your head against me." JC runs his fingers lightly over his abs.
Lance's hand travels from his ear to his hair, and he turns his head from side to side, as he would if JC's hand was there instead. "Now I'm moving lower, to your hard, um, you know."
Pushing his sweat pants down, JC wraps his hand around his own erection. "Mmmm. You feel so good, baby."
"I'm, um, taking it in my mouth."
"Wait. I'm shifting myself around on the bed and pulling off your pants, so I can do you, too." Lance hesitates, then removes his pants and lays back down. "I'm so hard."
"Mmmm. You are. All for me."
"For you," Lance repeats with a sigh as he touches his burning erection.
JC starts pumping his fist over his erection. "I'm taking you as deep into my mouth as I can."
Lance wraps his hand around his hardness and strokes it slowly, the way he knows JC would with his mouth. "It feels so good."
"I'm stroking you with my tongue and my mouth moves up and down."
Lance's hand does as described and he arches his back. "I'm, um, licking your, um balls."
"Feels so good," JC says, breathlessly, fist pumping faster. "You're getting close, I can tell."
"You make me so hard," Lance grunts, stroking himself firmer and faster.
"I'm gonna explode."
Lance strokes faster, panting into the phone, until he finally comes. The phone slips from his shoulder as he finds release. JC manages to hang onto the phone as his orgasm washes over him. He can still hear Lance's rapid breathing, as if at a distance.
Lance wipes his forehead with his shirt and recovers the phone. "I'm sorry, I dropped the phone."
JC laughs. "We're gonna need headsets if we keep this up."
"If we don't spend so much time apart we won't have to keep this up."
"So, when are you coming out here?"
"As soon as I can get a flight?"
"Good answer."
"I have to be at Sundance, but I'll see you on Sunday."
"I can't wait."
"Well, you'll have to wait at least a few minutes because I don't think I could handle another round so soon."
"I meant seeing you, not just sex."
"Oh. That too. And JC, I really am sorry I didn't tell you."
"As long as you're okay . . . "
"I'm fine. Better than fine now."
"Good. I'm still gonna spoil you when you get here."
"I expect a big box of Krispy Kremes waiting for me."
"There WILL be cream."
"Oh my goodness. You expect me to sleep after that?"
"Sweet dreams, baby."
And that's exactly what Lance has. No, there's nothing wrong with his heart--nothing at all. Except that it's filled with love.