When a Tree Falls in a Forest
by Karen and LB
© 2002
It was a great party. Then again, most parties were great, at least to Lance. Good friends, good food, and especially good drinks--he didn't need much more. Especially when his four brothers were there to share in the festivities. There's Justin, schmoozing it up with Nelly and some girl Lance doesn't know; Chris and Joey, doing shots with Jessica Alba, and JC . . . JC making up some crazy dance while surrounded by belly-baring babes. And Steve getting it all on video. Someday, Lance knows, those tapes would come back to haunt them. But for now, he'll just toss back another Jack and Coke and take in the action.
A few drinks later and Lance is part of the action, sandwiched between Kelly Rowland and a publicist, bumping butts and singing along. He dances with everyone within touching distance--girls, guys, Joey, JC. They shut the place down, and as they pour onto the sidewalk it's Joey who suggests going to the all- night diner for breakfast, and who could say no? So they pile into a booth and Lance finds himself sitting across from JC, whose long legs keep knocking into Lance, and who smiles and apologizes and does it again, intentionally or not Lance doesn't know. He just plays along and soon the whole table is throwing napkins and playfully punching.
JC ducks from a flying napkin and grins at his companions. It always comes down to this. The five of them and their magical rapport. He gets teased a lot about saying things like he's married to his bandmates, but that's what it feels like to him. No one outside their circle can understand how truly close they are.
But the talk never turns serious, and when the food arrives they're still joking, still laughing, even as they pile into waiting SUVs and head back to the hotel, the sun just waiting below the horizon. It's here that they finally part, Justin, Joey, and Chris to one wing of the hotel, JC and Lance alone in another elevator. Lance leans against the far wall, humming quietly.
JC would never be able to say afterwards who made the first move. Maybe they both did. All he knows is that one moment they were leaning on their separate walls, and the next, they were kissing, hard and hot.
For the next few days, Lance tells himself over and over that it was just one of those drunken moments, that lots of guys probably have them and it means nothing. It means nothing because neither he nor JC is gay, right?
Fortunately, he doesn't have to face JC alone. Until nights later, when they're out again, and the night wears on, and they find themselves alone in another elevator, and the kiss is just as hot as before, just as sexy.
JC, surprisingly perhaps, given the life he's led, had never really thought about what it would be like to kiss another guy. And it's different. Definitely different. The feel of stubble against his face instead of smooth, soft skin. The feeling that he doesn't have to be quite so careful, doesn't have to worry about hurting Lance. He can be as rough, as hard as he wants. He wonders what it all means.
Lance tries not to think of it, think of the implications. It's just kissing, and everyone kisses. But not everyone kisses as good as JC. And that thought terrifies him.
JC wishes there were someone he could ask. But there's no one he could think of sitting down with and asking, "So, can you really, really like kissing a guy and still be straight?"
Lance finds himself wanting to kiss a girl, any girl, just to affirm the fact that he's straight. After all, if he can still kiss a girl then he's not gay. He thinks of all the girls he HAS kissed and how fun it was. But right now, he can't think of one girl he wants to kiss.
There's one more thing JC can't figure out: how to talk to Lance. Ever since this started happening, they seem to avoid each other. Except when they're making out. It's not like he plans their encounters--they just seem to happen. A lot. One minute they're silent, the next they're lip-locked, tongues wrestling, moist lips touching. But they never talk about it.
JC takes some time in the quiet room one day to think. He doesn't think he's gay. He doesn't want to kiss guys in general. Not Chris or Joey or Justin. Just Lance.
Lance didn't intend on walking in on JC; he was just looking for a place to be alone. "Oh, sorry. I didn't know anyone was in here."
"That's okay. I'm just . . . here."
"Yeah, I can see that. So what are you doing?"
"Thinking. I do that sometimes."
"I never knew. You think you know someone."
"Just because this is the Quiet Room doesn't mean I can't kick your ass. Quietly."
"Maybe we should ask for a separate room for that. We can have the Toy Room, the Quiet Room, and the Ass-Kicking Room."
"We'll put it in the rider for the next tour."
"Good. Chris will like that."
"Chris should be locked in there, some nights."
"You want to kick his ass? 'Cause I can call him in here right now."
"That's not what I meant."
"What did you mean?"
"Nothing. Just that some nights it would be good to have somewhere to lock him up. You know, to avoid getting bounced on by Mr. Hyper."
"Oh. So you don't want Chris to bounce on you?"
"This is the lamest conversation ever."
"Sorry. I'll just . . . go. You want anything?"
"You don't have to go. I just . . . couldn't figure out what we were talking about."
"We weren't talking about anything, really."
"We don't, lately, do we?"
"Did we ever?"
"Talk? Sure we did."
"So what do you want to talk about now?"
"Anything. How you're doin'. When friends talk they don't usually need, like, an agenda."
"We're guys. We're not supposed to talk."
"I guess I'm just stupid. I thought we'd been talking--all of us--for the last five years. Never mind. You know what? I'll go."
"Hey, what's going on?"
"Nothing. You just clearly don't want to be in the same room with me."
Emboldened, Lance takes a step closer. "What is your problem, dude?"
JC flops back onto the couch. "I don't know."
"Do you want to talk about it? Because you can't go onstage like that."
"We're guys," JC mocks. "We're not supposed to talk."
"Fine. Be that way." Lance heads for the door, puzzling over why he stayed this long.
"Lance, come back."
Lance closes the door and turns around slowly.
"Look, I'm sorry. I guess I'm a little freaked."
"About what? The show?"
"You know. The thing. The thing that keeps happening with us."
"Oh. The thing. I guess I've been thinking about that too."
"I just don't, I don't get it. And it's messing with our friendship."
"Maybe it is, a little. So what do we do about it?"
"If I knew that, I'd be doing it."
"You know, there's two of us here. We both, you know, did what we did."
"I know. But why? And how do we get past it?"
"We can pretend it didn't happen. Or we can own up to it."
"We've already tried pretending it didn't happen. It didn't work."
"So I guess we have to deal with it."
"It's always when we've been drinking. Do you think that's it? We just get, you know, affectionate when we're drinking?"
"Affectionate?" Lance asks with a chuckle, his face reddening. "I think it's a little more than that."
"You know what I mean." JC pauses. "You think it's something more?"
"I don't know. Do you?"
"I don't know either. Alls I know is I'm not gay."
Somewhat defensively, Lance fires back, "I'm not gay either."
"I know! That's what's so weird about all this."
"So I guess we should stop doing it."
"I never mean to do it, you know? It just, like, happens."
"I know. It's the booze."
"It's definitely the booze."
Which sounds good, but doesn't explain why later that night, both of them having carefully abstained from drinking, they find themselves on another elevator, mouths crashing together hungrily.
"Whoa," Lance says, breathless, pushing away from JC.
"Oh, man. Shit! Sorry. I didn't . . . I wasn't . . . " JC shakes his head, smiling shakily. "I guess that shoots down the booze theory."
"Yeah." Lance braces himself against the wall, panting, then pounces on JC again.
JC momentarily considers pushing Lance away, but he knows he doesn't really want to. Instead, he gives into whatever this, and they kiss all the way to their floor.
When the doors open, Lance pushes away again and runs a hand through his hair. "I'm, um, good night."
JC stands, stunned, for so long that the elevator doors close and three floors have passed before he shakes himself out of it. "Wow," he thinks over and over as he descends again. "Wow."
Lance has reached his room, but he has no memory of how he got there. He fumbles for his key and stands with his head against the door, unable to move, unable to think, barely able to breathe. Because the taste of JC's mouth is still on his lips and he realizes it was the best kiss he'd ever experienced.
The elevator doors slide open and JC steps out, spotting Lance at his door. "Lance," he calls softly. "You okay?"
Without moving, Lance shakes his head. "No."
JC walks over to not-quite-touching distance. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault. It's my fault."
"I think it's both of our faults."
"I shouldn't have kissed you."
"We kissed each other."
"I should have stopped you."
"You are not taking all the blame on yourself. I won't let you."
"I should have stopped myself."
"Lance. I hate to see you beat yourself up about this."
"What are you gonna do, kiss me? Because that's what I'd like to do."
"Not if it's going to upset you like this."
"Don't you get it? I WANT to kiss you. I LIKE kissing you."
JC moves closer and takes the key out of Lance's hand, opening the door and pushing Lance in. "We're not having this conversation in the hallway."
Lance stumbles into the room, but regains his balance quickly. He faces JC, but then looks around, not wanting to meet those sensual eyes and be drawn in again.
JC speaks simply, like a confused child. "I don't know why this is happening."
"I don't either. We're not gay."
"We're not. I don't look at other guys and think 'I want to kiss him.' Ever."
"Then why do I want to kiss you so badly?"
"Cause it's . . . " JC isn't sure what to say. Good? Sexy? "Hot."
"But you said we're not gay."
"I didn't say I understood it."
"JC, what are we gonna do about this?"
"I don't know. Why do you think I know?"
"Because you're older. You're supposed to know these things."
"Sorry. I'm useless."
"No, you're not. I just don't know what to do."
"I guess . . . we have to stop."
"Oh. Okay. If that's what you want."
JC looks down and mumbles, "Not really."
"So what are you saying?"
"I don't know. I'm really confused. But I know I like kissing you."
"Then we must be gay."
"Maybe we're bi."
Lance hugs himself. "Do you still think about girls?"
"Up until I started kissing you, I did. But like I told you, I don't THINK about guys, other guys. Only you."
"So maybe it's just some weird phase we're going through."
"Maybe. So, what do we do? See what happens or avoid each other?"
"What do you want to do? Really."
"I wanna . . . " JC says, his voice so low that Lance has to strain to hear him. "I wanna keep kissing you."
"I do too," Lance whispers back.
Wordlessly, JC steps closer, till he can feel the warmth of Lance's skin. He brings his mouth to Lance's, gently this time, with none of the almost violent hunger of their earlier kisses.
Initially Lance pulls back, but he quickly finds his resistance shattered by the magnetic current emanating from JC's body. He's drawn to JC as though he has no will of his own, and he surrenders completely as JC's soft kiss melts his defenses.
The kiss is long and sweet and every bit as hot as the more impassioned ones they'd shared on the elevator. When it ends, JC leans his forehead against Lance's. "I don't wanna give that up," he murmurs, huskily.
"We have to," Lance whispers back, breathless. "This is wrong."
"Then why does it feel right?"
"I don't know. I don't know anything right now. All I know is that I want to keep kissing you."
"Me too," JC says, leaning closer again. "It's like, it's like . . .perfect," he finishes, his lips moving against Lance's.
This time there's no hesitation. Lance kisses back willingly, his lips touching JC's again and again, the emotion welling inside like a balloon being slowly inflated.
JC's hands reach, as if of their own volition, to slide slowly up Lance's back from his waist to his shoulders as their kiss deepens and lingers.
Before this moment their kisses had been strictly physical, animalistic--there had been no real touching. But when Lance feels JC's hands on his back he shivers, because this has become about so much more than kissing.
JC's hands slip back down, gathering Lance closer so their bodies are pressed together tightly. And after the desperate hunger of their stolen kisses, this is a quiet, almost tender embrace.
"We should stop," blurts Lance, when they finally break for air.
"You keep saying that," JC breathes with a smile teasing at the corners of his mouth.
"I know." Lance can't help but smile back.
"But you're right. If we keep doing this, we'll want to do more. And neither of us are ready for that. Not yet, anyway."
"Yet?"
"Okay, maybe not ever. But I'm not ready to say never, either."
Lance nods. "I can live with that."
"I want to . . . I want to find out."
"I guess I do too. JC, do think . . . do you think we're gay?"
"Maybe. I...yeah. Maybe."
"Do you think that's wrong?"
"No. Just, I mean, different."
"Do you, um . . . do you think we can still be friends if we, you know, find out it's just a phase we're going through?"
"We will ALWAYS be friends."
Instead of kissing JC, Lance throws his arms around him and hugs him tightly. "That's the most important thing to me."
"Me, too. Nothing's going to change that."
"But that doesn't mean I don't still want to kiss you."
JC pushes Lance's away just far enough to look into his face. "Good."
Lance proceeds to demonstrate just how true his words are, and when he finally pulls away, he looks down. "You better go."
"Yeah. I better." JC releases Lance reluctantly. "But I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
"You better," Lance replies with a wink.
"You keep doing that and I'm not leaving."
Lance shuffles his feet and smiles. "Okay, I'll be good."
"You're making it har-- worse."
"Oh. I guess I better stop." He begins to walk JC to the door, hands in pockets to avoid temptation.
"Can I kiss you good night?"
"Okay. But just one kiss and I'm kicking you out."
"One kiss," JC agrees, his mouth already against Lance's. There's silence in the room. The only sound is their quiet breaths. And when they're done Lance has to remember to breathe at all.
"One kiss," JC repeats, then opens the door. "Good night, Lance."
"Good night, JC." He watches as JC strolls down the hall, then closes the door and walks to the bed. For the first time, he notices how big the bed is. How big and empty, and he wonders if someday the bed will be occupied by two sleeping boys.