Unperfect
by Karen and LB
© 2002
Inspired by Driven. And other things.
Another interview, another production assistant telling them where to sit.
"Okay, let's have Justin and JC in the front. And Chris. And Lance and Joey on the stools."
"Oh, I'm not funny like Justin and Chris," JC interjects. "You should put me in back."
"You'll be fine."
Lance takes his seat in the back, wondering not for the first time why JC is so insecure. He has the best voice in the group and can dance like nobody's business. But as soon as a mic is shoved in his face his eyes are all over the place.
"So, who's the best dancer?" the interviewer asks. The guys interrupt each other to tease Joey about his hammy dancing and Lance about his big jazz hands, but when someone says JC, JC quickly deflects the compliment to Justin.
Again, Lance makes note, and in the coming weeks the self-deprecation continues. Once, during rehearsal, Lance watches as JC walks to the wall, cursing himself for some imagined misstep. And again, he wonders what JC sees that no one else sees. Why he can't see and hear how talented he is.
Every night after rehearsal, JC goes home and wonders why they even put up with him. It's a joke, him being here, trying to do this. He's always known this, but it gets harder and harder to keep covering.
One night, at dinner, Lance confronts JC. "Why are you always so down on yourself? You've got like the best voice."
"Oh, no. I'm just . . . I'm okay, I guess. You--you've got a gift. And Justin."
"So do you." They're talking quietly, Chris, Joey, and Justin busy trying to grab fries off each other's plates. "Yours is a gift--make no mistake."
"Oh, um, thanks, man. But, no. I'm just . . . a guy."
"You're a guy with a lot of talent. Can't you hear it?"
Uncomfortable, wanting to change the subject, JC says, "Yeah, sure. You getting dessert?"
"Um, yeah." Lance decides not to push it. For some reason, JC has some weird insecurity issues. Lance just wishes there was something he could do to help JC feel more confident.
One day, he approaches Justin. "When you were on the Mickey Mouse Club, did JC ever act strange?"
"Every day, dude."
"No, that's not what I meant," Lance says, laughing. "I mean, like, when you would rehearse, would he be all down on himself?"
"Oh, that kind of weird. Yeah, all the time."
"Why does he do that?"
"I don't know. But it was like no matter what anyone told him, he still thought he sucked."
"He still does that. I don't get it. Even when we watch the tapes, he can't see how good he lo . . . I mean sounds."
"It's like, he goes through these ups and downs. Sometimes he's fine, sometimes, he just doesn't see it."
"What do you think triggers it?"
"I think," Justin pauses, trying to find the right words. "I think not believing in himself is, like, his natural state. And once in a while, something gets through to him to make him believe for a while."
"That's crazy. He's got more talent in his pinky than most people have their whole lives. So why do you think he's so down on himself right now? Everyone loves him. Girls go crazy for him."
"I know that. You know that. It's convincing him that's the problem."
Bewildered, Lance carries Justin's words with him the rest of the week, through recording sessions, dance rehearsals, and interviews. He listens as JC reprimands himself, counting the number of times his bandmate uses the word "suck" in reference to himself. Then, during one recording session, a reporter shows up and while each guy waits his turn in the booth, she sits down for a one on one.
A few weeks later, the boys are sent advance copies of the magazine. They gather around a table, teasing one another about the photos and their answers. Only JC doesn't really join in, sitting quietly and reading the entire article.
"If you could be someone else for a day, who would it be," read the article. "JC," was Lance's answer. "To know what it feels like to sing like that."
Blinking, JC looks up from the page and looks hard at Lance, who's laughing with Joey and Justin. He looks down again, frowning, and reads the lines again, and his expression relaxes a little.
Momentarily sensing he's being watched, Lance looks up and over at JC, but his bandmate's head is buried in the magazine. "Hey, C," Joey yells, "you gonna sign these things or what?" Joey is referring to the stack of posters that have just landed on the table, waiting for their signatures. Lance picks up a marker and begins to sign, passing the poster to Justin when he's done.
JC joins his friends at the table and finds a marker. As he signs the poster and hands it to Lance, he smiles tentatively.
Lance smiles back, puzzled, but appreciative of the attention nonetheless. After a few moments of monotonous signing, Chris starts to sing, "I'm signing POS-TERS! I'm signing POS-TERS!"
"'Cause I'm s'posed ta!" Justin fires back.
"Posters are so cooooooooool!" Joey shrieks. When there's a moment of silence, Joey adds, "Your turn, C."
"Um, um, you're acting like a fool?" JC says, uncertainly.
"C'mon, C, get it into it, dude," Chris chastises, swatting JC over the head with an 8x10.
I can't even do this right, JC thinks as he quietly signs more photos. But then Lance's words in the article come back to him and he relaxes. "Posters are so cool? You're a total tool," he says with a smile.
"Sing, it, C," orders Justin. Lance watches expectantly, silently encouraging JC.
JC takes a deep breath and meets Lance's eyes as if drawn to them. Then he casts his own eyes upwards and sings, operatically, "You're a total tool."
Everyone laughs, but Lance quickly throws in, as deep as his voice can go, "'N Sync rules."
They all laugh, then, and for the first time in a long time, JC really feels like one of the group instead of feeling like he's outside looking in.
The next day, they have another rehearsal, and once again, they sing "I Drive Myself Crazy." After JC belts out his part, Lance steps back and exclaims, "Wow."
"What? Did I screw up? I was flat, wasn't I?"
"No. That was perfect."
"Yeah, C," Justin says, nodding. "That was great. Why you stressing?"
"I just, you know, want it to be perfect. I don't wanna let you guys down."
"You never do." Lance surprises himself as the words tumble out of his mouth.
JC glances over at Lance, remembering as well the words in the article. "I do. All the time. But thanks."
Lance remains silent for the rest of the rehearsal, worried he's said too much . . . or not enough. As they pack up their stuff he turns to JC and says, "You really were great today."
"Aw, no. I still have so much work to do."
"No way. I wish I could hit notes like that."
JC concentrates on packing his bag, tucking the magazine he'd read earlier into one side. "You hit amazing notes."
"But I don't have your range. When you hit those notes, it's like the whole room vibrates."
Smiling in embarrassment but still pleased, JC asks, "Are you my fan club president?"
"Yeah. But does that mean I get backstage passes and stuff?"
"Okay, as long as you don't sell them on eBay."
"There goes my ticket to fame and fortune."
"Dude, no one's gonna get famous off of me."
Lance straightens, arms folded across his chest. "Why can't you believe how good you are?"
JC sits down and looks up at Lance. "Why does it matter so much to you?"
Aware that the rest of the guys have headed out, Lance starts to fidget. "Doesn't it matter to you?"
"I . . . it matters to me that you said what you said."
"Really? Why?"
"It was a nice thing to say. Even though I can't imagine why anyone would want to be me."
The heat rises in Lance's cheeks as he realizes just what JC is talking about. "Oh, that. Um, you know, I just thought it would be, like, cool to sing like that for a day."
"Like what?"
"Like, um, an angel."
JC looks down at the floor for a long moment. "You really think that?"
Lance shifts from foot to foot. "Yeah, I do."
"Wow. That's . . . wow."
"It's stupid."
JC gets up and grabs his bag. "That's what I thought."
"You're not stupid. What I said was stupid. I mean, I believe it--you DO sing like an angel. It just sounded so . . . corny."
JC turns back. "Corny is . . . good sometimes."
Lance shrugs and smiles, embarrassed that they had to have this conversation at all, glad that they did. "I guess."
"I know you think it's all stupid, but it really does, um, mean something, what you said."
Deciding to risk it, Lance replies, "I just don't get why you don't hear how good you are. When you sing, I get chill bumps."
"I guess I just compare myself to everyone else. You and Chris, you're so unique. Justin is . . . Justin. I just, I just sing."
"You do not--your voice has this really amazing sound. Like no one else. You have to stop comparing yourself and just listen." Excited, Lance goes to the tape player and pops in a cassette. "Just listen." He pushes Play, and soon JC's voice rings out.
JC listens, but watches Lance's reaction more than he actually pays attention to his own voice. Lance seems to be hearing something different. Special.
Lance bobs his head and stares at the floor until the song ends, and then he takes the tape out of the player and holds it in his hands like it's a precious museum piece. "Did you hear it?"
"No. But I could SEE it. In your face."
"Oh, um, then you should be more confident."
"Because you believe in me?"
"I do, but that's not why you should be more confident. You should believe in yourself."
"I'm not sure I know how."
"You just have to believe that people love you."
"Love me?"
Mortified, Lance turns his back and gathers his belongings as quickly as possible, while muttering, "Yeah."
"Don't--you don't have to go."
Lance stands still, his heart pounding. "Why should I stay?"
"Cause I need you?"
"For what? To tell you how good you are when you should already know that?"
"I need you to help me know it."
"I just hope someday you realize it. How great you are."
"You're, um, pretty great yourself."
Lance shrugs. "We're all great. That's why we're famous."
"Lance? Why do you care so much what I think of myself?"
"I care about you. I don't like to see you so hard on yourself."
"I just want to be good. I want everything to be perfect."
"It's not always going to be. But you're as close to perfect as you can get."
"Nah, I'm just, you know, ME."
"Um, I like that. I like that you're not perfect. I mean, you sing perfectly. But you're, um, cute when you're all insecure about it."
JC looks up, reddening. "Cute? I thought I was just annoying you."
"It's annoying that you don't believe in yourself, but, um, you're also, you know, cute about it." Lance slings his bag over his shoulder, too embarrassed to say anymore.
"You're kinda cute yourself, worrying about me."
Lance ducks his head and passes through the doorway. "I better go."
"Oh. Okay. Um, bye."
"I'll see you tomorrow." Confused and embarrassed, Lance walks silently through the hallways of the studio toward the exit.
JC checks his bag once more, making sure he has the magazine. He heads for his car and home, where he showers and changes, then settles down with the magazine again.
The next day they're scheduled to practice with the flying rigs. Lance and Joey are already there, messing around with the harnesses. This is part of touring Lance loves--getting to try different things like flying.
When JC arrives, he immediately joins them, examining the harness with interest. "Hey, Joey. Hey, Lance." He smiles tentatively.
Lance flips upside down, laughing. "Hey."
"Looks like fun," JC comments as he starts fitting himself into the contraption.
"It is."
"What are you three doing?" Anthony's voice rings across the stage. "Did I tell you you could do that?"
All three freeze guiltily and JC grabs Lance mid-flip, stilling him.
It's not Ant-nee's voice that startles Lance, it's the touch of JC's hands on his body that sends the heat to his face. But it's Joey who saves him from further embarrassment.
"We were just messing around," he says.
"Well, stop messing. These things could be dangerous without proper supervision."
"Sorry," JC mutters, feeling guilty and trapped and about five years old. He releases Lance.
Strangely disappointed, Lance regains his balance as Anthony lowers them to the stage. "Can we at least wait till everyone's here so I don't have to repeat my spiel?"
"Well, if Chris and Justin weren't LATE . . . " Joey mock-grouses.
"Yeah, if only they were perfect, like us," JC giggles, meeting Lance's eyes.
Lance winks back, enjoying their private joke. Enjoying that they share something. Wanting to share more.
All day, JC finds himself thinking twice before he puts himself down, biting back the comments, meeting Lance's eyes. It feels good to have someone on his side, someone who sees his insecurities and likes him anyway.
Lance senses JC fighting his self-deprecation, and he's proud of him for being able to abstain from making derogatory remarks. In fact, after a particularly show-stopping moment on stage, Lance watches as JC beams proudly for having hit his high note.
At the end of rehearsal, as they're gathering their things, JC approaches Lance. Staring at his feet, he mutters, "Want to get something to eat later?"
Lance's face brightens. "Sure!" he answers, a little too enthusiastically. "I have to go make some calls, but say around eight?"
JC looks up, a little surprised at the success of his suggestion. "Yeah, eight would be good."
At home, Lance tries to convince himself this is not a date. This is NOT a date. But he keeps smiling every time he thinks about it. About being alone with JC. JC and his perfect body and his perfect voice.
JC stands in front of his mirror, cataloguing all his faults. The too-big nose, the skinny body, the dorky hair. Why would Lance even want to be seen with him? He sighs, picks up his jacket, and heads out the door.
Lance is on the phone when the call comes from the gate, and he presses the buzzer, trying to calm his nerves as he ends his phone conversation and checks his outfit one more time. He tries not to eye JC too closely as he opens the door, but he can't help noticing the trace of a very pleasant smelling cologne. "Let me just grab a jacket."
"That's a cool shirt," JC manages, as they walk to his car. "Oh, where do you wanna go? Pizza? Burgers?"
"Let's do burgers." Lance smiles to himself at the compliment. It's one of his favorite shirts, but he didn't expect JC to notice.
"Burgers it is," JC agrees as he pulls the car out of the driveway and heads for the gate. "It was fun doing the flying today, huh?"
"That was so cool. It's gonna be a blast!"
"I thought Chris was gonna faint or something."
"I still cannot believe he has such a big fear of heights. We weren't even that high today."
"I guess when you have a fear like that, it's no matter what."
"Like how you feel about the way you sing?"
"That's not a fear. At least I don't think so."
Lance decides to not push it. After all, he wants JC to relax and have fun, not be reminded of how insecure he is. The place JC drives to is loud and crowded enough for them to go unnoticed. After they order, Lance looks around and asks, "So how's everything going otherwise? You interested in anyone?"
JC jumps a little at the question. "Me, um, well . . . " He stares at the ketchup bottle intently. "Maybe I am."
"Yeah? Who?"
"I can't . . . " JC says, turning his attention to the salt and pepper. "I don't want to jinx it, you know? And they probably wouldn't feel the same, anyway."
"How do you know that unless you ask?"
"They could have anyone."
"Are they going out with someone now?"
"I don't think so. No, they aren't."
"Then why don't you ask her?"
"Why would, um, they want me?"
Lance runs a hand through his hair and stares out the window. "Um, because you're, you know, cool and stuff."
"You're the only one who thinks so."
"Maybe she does too."
JC is very relieved when the food arrives. "So, what about you? Got your eye on anyone?"
"I thought we were talking about you."
"We talked about me."
"Okay, if you say so."
"What? It's boring just going on about myself."
"No, I like talking about you."
JC rolls his eyes. "What else do you need to know?"
"Who is she?"
"I told you I can't tell you that."
"Okay. I won't push it. But whoever she is, she's lucky."
"They could do so much better."
Resisting the urge to take JC's hand, Lance simply asks, "Better than you? Dude, I wish you could see what everyone else sees."
"You make me feel like that could be true." JC says, then freezes, hearing the words coming out of his own mouth.
Lance swallows hard, wondering how far he should take this, then decides to take a chance. "It is."
JC meets Lance's eyes. "Lance? Are . . . ? Do . . . ? Do you mean?"
"I . . . yes. I am."
"Wow. I . . . ME?"
"Yeah. You."
"But you COULD have anyone."
"I don't want anyone. I want someone special."
JC opens his mouth to speak a couple of times, but nothing comes out. Finally he manages, "I just wanna be . . . good enough for you."
Lance glances around, then lowers his voice. "You're more than I could ever ask for. I'm the one who should be worried."
"No way."
"Way. Look, can we go somewhere and talk? Someplace, you know, more private?"
JC throws his napkin on the table. "Yes. Oh, yes."
Lance tosses some money between their plates and the two boys head to the parking lot. Lance chews his nails nervously, now that the fantasy of being with JC is about to become a reality.
JC doesn't really remember driving, but he clearly has, because they're approaching Lance's gate. "Is this okay?
"Yeah. It's fine." Lance feels more secure at his home turf, but he's still very nervous. Once inside, he glances at the answering machine and motions for JC to make himself comfortable. "You want something to drink?"
"Uh, yeah, uh, please," JC says, realizing how dry his mouth feels.
Lance trots to the kitchen and returns with two Mike's Hard Lemonades. He takes a seat next to JC and takes a long, cool sip. "So, um, here we are."
"Yeah. Here we are," JC echoes. It would have seemed silly, but his expression is serious and a little puzzled. "How did we get here?"
"You drove. Remember?"
"You know what I mean. Like how did we go from being friends one minute to maybe-more in the next?"
"Is that what's happening?"
"I thought so. I'm sorry if I, like, didn't understand . . . "
"No, you're right. I just . . . wasn't sure."
JC laughs. "One of us oughtta be sure."
JC's laughter breaks the tension, and Lance joins in. "Yeah, I guess you're right about that, too."
"I just can't believe you could like, well, ME."
"JC, I can't believe you just said that. How can I convince you how special you are?"
"Just, I don't know. Keep doing what you're doing. You don't know what it means to me."
"You mean telling you how great you are? And how sweet you are? And how . . . um, hot you are?" He mumbles this last part, his face turning a shade of red not found in nature.
JC is doing a pretty good job of matching Lance's unnatural shade. "Wow. I always thought YOU were all those things."
"Me? You mean you . . . me . . . we . . . ?"
JC nods. "Yes. We."
"This is weird. What do we do about it?"
"You could kiss me."
"Me? Kiss . . . you? Oh, wow. Um, I'd, um, you know, like that. Are you sure about this?"
JC nods wordlessly.
Lance puts down his drink and moves over to the couch. His heart is pounding so wildly he's sure JC can hear it. He doesn't want this to be awkward or stressful. He's wanted to do this for so long, and now that the moment has arrived he doesn't want to blow it. He wants only to show JC how much he cares about him. So he takes a deep breath and moves closer to JC, then cautiously takes his hand. "I've wanted to do this for a long time."
"Me, too," JC says softly, using Lance's hand to draw Lance closer. "I just never thought it could happen," he adds, reaching up with his other hand to touch Lance's face in wonder.
The touch sends an enticing chill through Lance, and as he closes his eyes and presses his lips against JC's, he almost doesn't believe it's really happening.
The kiss is everything JC had hoped it would be. Sweet and delicious and hot all at once.
Lance is completely lost in the moment. Every sense is completely tuned to the kiss. He can taste the tart lemon from the drink, he can hear their twin heartbeats, he can feel the hidden passion in JC's lips. He can feel JC's insecurities start to melt away.
JC rubs his thumb across the back of Lance's hand as he relaxes into the kiss. As each moment passes, he feels more certain that this isn't a dream, it isn't a mistake.
When he senses that they both need to come up for air, Lance pulls back and studies JC's face for any sign of disgust. "That was, um, great."
A smile slowly spreads over JC's face, lifting his lips and crinkling his eyes. "Yeah," he says, still touching Lance's face, cradling it now. "More."
"Are you sure?"
"Very, very sure."
Before he can stop himself, Lance kisses JC again, this time more passionately, and boldly presses his body closer so their thighs are touching and Lance can feel the heat in the small space that separates them.
JC forgets all about not feeling good enough or smart enough or perfect enough for Lance and just allows himself to enjoy this moment, this kiss.
Lance finds his hands moving to JC's waist, wrapping around his back and pulling him closer. He tries to still the twitching in his groin, but it seems to have taken on a life of its own.
JC lets Lance pull him closer, melting into Lance's arms. If he could climb into Lance's lap, he would.
His conscience gets the better of Lance, and he gently pushes against JC's chest. "Maybe we should stop."
"Oh," JC says, pulling back, embarrassed. "Um, sorry."
"It's not you. It's me. If we keep doing this, I, um, you know, I'm . . . we better stop."
"While we can," JC agrees, then blurts, "You're so sexy."
"I am not!" Lance exclaims, then laughs nervously. Then quietly: "But you're hot. Really hot."
"I am not!" JC echoes. "We're not very good at this, are we?"
"No, we're not." Lance takes JC's hands once again. "Look . . . I really like you. I just don't want to mess this up."
"I . . . okay." JC straightens. "So, I'll . . . I'll see you tomorrow?"
"You don't have to go."
"I, um, don't want to be in your way."
"You're not in the way. I thought this was, you know, a date."
A smile plays around JC's lips. "Is that what this is? It kinda didn't start out that way."
"No, but it kinda turned into one, didn't it?"
"Yeah. How'd that happen?"
"I think I kissed you."
"I think you did. Anyone ever tell you you're a good kisser?"
"Not really," Lance replies, smiling. "Anyone ever tell you that?"
"Not really."
Without even thinking about it, JC takes Lance's hand. "You are, you know."
"So are you. Really good. Like, a pro."
"Nah." JC looks down, then looks up hopefully. "Really?"
"Really. You're the best kisser."
Years of habit almost bring JC to deny the compliment, but he stops himself. "I never expected to be kissing you tonight."
"Me neither. But I'm glad we did."
"Yeah," JC says, squeezing Lance's hand. "Really glad."
"So you'll stay? Watch a movie? Play some Nintendo?"
"I'll stay as long as you want."
"Well, then park yourself here and I'll go get us some popcorn." He sneaks in a quick kiss, smiles, and heads to the kitchen, secure in the knowledge that JC will be there when he returns.
JC settles more comfortably into the couch. He can't quite believe that he ended up here. After all his fears, his insecurities, the boy he wanted wanted him. And even more important, believed in him. JC looks up as Lance comes back into the room, feeling again as he had felt for so long, as he knew now he would continue to feel, a sense of wonder that yet another of his dreams had come true.