Chapter 21

Lance dropped his head into his hands and took a deep breath. Why was he letting JC get to him? Why was he sitting in this booth in this nameless club thinking of JC when he could be on the dance floor having a good time? Why was he going over every little detail of JC in his mind when he could be getting drunk? Why was he letting JC get to him?

Because you love him, that's why. Lance closed his eyes against his palms and shook his head. He knew it was true. No matter how much he tried to tell himself that he was hurt for the last time by Joshua Chasez, he knew he had not fallen out of love with him. He had not forgotten the smell of him, the sight of him, the sound of him. As much as he tried to push him out of his mind, his lithe frame somehow came creeping back in, settling at the forefront, begging to be thought about.

He took his head out of his hands long enough to glance at his watch and scan the floor for Joey. Seeing him in the center of the floor, women at his side, Lance grinned. At least Joey was having fun. At least Joey wasn't hung up on someone who hated him.

That's right, Lance told himself, Joey's not a loser like me. Joey wouldn't let someone hurt him like JC has hurt me. Joey wouldn't continuously set himself up for heartache by stealing glances, by pretending to be asleep so he could watch from under his eyelashes, to screw up in sound check just to hear someone's voice again. Joey wouldn't do all that, Joey would just move on.

Maybe that's what I should do, he thought. Move on. His green eyes scanned the room, seeing several nice looking men. Pausing briefly at each one, he sized them up. Too bulky, too short, too light, too dark, too blond. Not skinny enough, not lanky enough, not chiseled enough.

Lance sighed again, his head finding its way back to his hands. Pathetic. He was pathetic. He was flat out told by JC that he hated him. There was no reading it the wrong way, there was no maybe I heard it wrong. It was plain as day, “I hate you.” That's what he said, “I hate you.” Lance knew because he replayed the scene a million times in his mind, hoping there was something he missed. Some little gesture, some little body language that would contradict the words that came out of JC's mouth. Like maybe he was actually smiling when he said it, maybe he said it lovingly, maybe he had his damn fingers crossed, because then, it would automatically be a lie.

Joey took a long swallow from a bottle. He lowered the bottle, shaking his head. “Not much. Man, this place is jumping tonight.” He looked at Lance sideways, “So, this looks familiar.”

Joey motioned around him. “This. The club, the brooding in the booth. All we're missing is JC and Bobbi doing it on the dance floor.” Lance scowled at him and picked up his bottle. Joey grinned, “So, can't get him out of your mind, can you?”

Lance slammed the almost full bottle on the table, causing some of the liquor inside to escape the top. Absently wiping the side of the bottle, he spoke to Joey. “No, I can't. And did I tell you what the bastard did to me tonight?” He didn't wait for Joey's answer, “He came into my room, and tried talking to me.”

“Nothing! I didn't let him talk,” Lance sat back, awfully proud of himself. “I cut him off. God, Joey, I don't need his shit anymore! But that's not the best part.”

Lance ignored his tone of voice. “The best part is that he started telling me I shouldn't wear black, that it makes me look too pale! He told me I should wear white.”

Lance glanced down sheepishly, “I was wearing black. But that's not the point. The point is that he tells me he hates me like two days ago, and now he's telling me what to wear?”

Joey stood and grabbed Lance's arm. “Wait, I'm sorry. Look, sit down.” He sat back down and waited for Lance to do the same. He watched Lance expectantly, knowing he was thinking of what he wanted to say.

“Why would he tell me he hates me, Joe?” Lance toyed with the napkin on the table, pulling it into little balls and rubbing them between his fingers. “How could he hate me? We've been friends for so long, I hardly remember what it's like without him.” He sighed, “And then this. Then I have to go and fall in love with him, and he has to be straight…” his voice trailed off. After a minute of silence, he looked up at Joey. “And there's these moments, Joey, these moments when I actually forget everything that he said to me, forget that he said he hated me, and I think there may be a chance for us. I think that maybe JC might like me like that, too.” The corner of his mouth twisted up into a sad smile. “Stupid, right?”

Joey wanted to tell Lance that it wasn't stupid. He wanted to tell him that he, Chris, and Justin thought the same thing. He wanted to tell him lies, he wanted to tell him that he knew for a fact that JC was in love with him, too, that JC wanted the same things he did. But he couldn't. After being so sure that JC had feelings for Lance, even Joey was beginning to doubt himself. Locking them together in a room sure as hell didn't help anything, in fact, it made things worse.

But there were little things. Like how Lance thought JC was singing to him during their concert. Like how JC was even moodier than before around Lance. Like how JC was telling Lance what to wear. Like how it seemed that JC was reaching out to Lance.

Joey leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “I don't think it's stupid, Lance,” he told him. “I see what you mean, actually.” Lance turned his green eyes on Joey and Joey grinned. “Why do you think we locked you guys in that room? It wasn't so he could hurt you, Lance. We thought that JC just might return your feelings, and that locking you two up was a push in that direction.”

Lance sat back, and blew his breath out harshly. He mulled over what Joey had said, and regret began to overtake his features. “Oh my God,” he breathed, “do you really think that's why he came to my room tonight?”

Lance banged his head on the table, “I am so stupid!” He looked up at Joey, “If I would have only listened to him instead of going on about how I didn't need his shit anymore.” He shook his head, “I should have listened to him.”

Joey lifted one shoulder in response. “Well, you partly listened to him.” Lance cocked an eyebrow at him and he grinned as he lifted his beer to his lips, “You changed your shirt.”


	Inner Reflection \| home back to Secret Desires Chapter 21 THE LESS WE KNOW, THE MORE WE SUSPECT. *H. W. SHAW CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - FAMILIARITY Lance dropped his head into his hands and took a deep breath. Why was he letting JC get to him? Why was he sitting in this booth in this nameless club thinking of JC when he could be on the dance floor having a good time? Why was he going over every little detail of JC in his mind when he could be getting drunk? Why was he letting JC get to him? Because you love him, that's why. Lance closed his eyes against his palms and shook his head. He knew it was true. No matter how much he tried to tell himself that he was hurt for the last time by Joshua Chasez, he knew he had not fallen out of love with him. He had not forgotten the smell of him, the sight of him, the sound of him. As much as he tried to push him out of his mind, his lithe frame somehow came creeping back in, settling at the forefront, begging to be thought about. He took his head out of his hands long enough to glance at his watch and scan the floor for Joey. Seeing him in the center of the floor, women at his side, Lance grinned. At least Joey was having fun. At least Joey wasn't hung up on someone who hated him. That's right, Lance told himself, Joey's not a loser like me. Joey wouldn't let someone hurt him like JC has hurt me. Joey wouldn't continuously set himself up for heartache by stealing glances, by pretending to be asleep so he could watch from under his eyelashes, to screw up in sound check just to hear someone's voice again. Joey wouldn't do all that, Joey would just move on. Maybe that's what I should do, he thought. Move on. His green eyes scanned the room, seeing several nice looking men. Pausing briefly at each one, he sized them up. Too bulky, too short, too light, too dark, too blond. Not skinny enough, not lanky enough, not chiseled enough. Not JC. Lance sighed again, his head finding its way back to his hands. Pathetic. He was pathetic. He was flat out told by JC that he hated him. There was no reading it the wrong way, there was no maybe I heard it wrong. It was plain as day, “I hate you.” That's what he said, “I hate you.” Lance knew because he replayed the scene a million times in his mind, hoping there was something he missed. Some little gesture, some little body language that would contradict the words that came out of JC's mouth. Like maybe he was actually smiling when he said it, maybe he said it lovingly, maybe he had his damn fingers crossed, because then, it would automatically be a lie. He felt the booth shift under him and he knew Joey had returned to the table. Peering at him through his fingers, he spoke. “What's up, Joey?” Joey took a long swallow from a bottle. He lowered the bottle, shaking his head. “Not much. Man, this place is jumping tonight.” He looked at Lance sideways, “So, this looks familiar.” Lance lowered his hands, “Okay, I'll bite. What looks familiar?” Joey motioned around him. “This. The club, the brooding in the booth. All we're missing is JC and Bobbi doing it on the dance floor.” Lance scowled at him and picked up his bottle. Joey grinned, “So, can't get him out of your mind, can you?” Lance slammed the almost full bottle on the table, causing some of the liquor inside to escape the top. Absently wiping the side of the bottle, he spoke to Joey. “No, I can't. And did I tell you what the bastard did to me tonight?” He didn't wait for Joey's answer, “He came into my room, and tried talking to me.” Joey shrugged, “So? What did he say?” “Nothing! I didn't let him talk,” Lance sat back, awfully proud of himself. “I cut him off. God, Joey, I don't need his shit anymore! But that's not the best part.” “Oh, please tell me,” Joey deadpanned. Lance ignored his tone of voice. “The best part is that he started telling me I shouldn't wear black, that it makes me look too pale! He told me I should wear white.” Joey was confused, “But, Lance, you're not wearing black, why would he say that to you?” Lance glanced down sheepishly, “I was wearing black. But that's not the point. The point is that he tells me he hates me like two days ago, and now he's telling me what to wear?” Joey grinned, “Let me get this straight. JC tells you not to wear black, so you changed, and you think that's not the point?” Lance rolled his eyes, “Joey, move on from the shirt, would you?” Joey laughed, “No. Come on, Lance. You are so whipped and you're not even dating him!” Lance scowled again and began to stand up from the booth. “Forget it,” he muttered. “I'm going home.” Joey stood and grabbed Lance's arm. “Wait, I'm sorry. Look, sit down.” He sat back down and waited for Lance to do the same. He watched Lance expectantly, knowing he was thinking of what he wanted to say. “Why would he tell me he hates me, Joe?” Lance toyed with the napkin on the table, pulling it into little balls and rubbing them between his fingers. “How could he hate me? We've been friends for so long, I hardly remember what it's like without him.” He sighed, “And then this. Then I have to go and fall in love with him, and he has to be straight…” his voice trailed off. After a minute of silence, he looked up at Joey. “And there's these moments, Joey, these moments when I actually forget everything that he said to me, forget that he said he hated me, and I think there may be a chance for us. I think that maybe JC might like me like that, too.” The corner of his mouth twisted up into a sad smile. “Stupid, right?” Joey wanted to tell Lance that it wasn't stupid. He wanted to tell him that he, Chris, and Justin thought the same thing. He wanted to tell him lies, he wanted to tell him that he knew for a fact that JC was in love with him, too, that JC wanted the same things he did. But he couldn't. After being so sure that JC had feelings for Lance, even Joey was beginning to doubt himself. Locking them together in a room sure as hell didn't help anything, in fact, it made things worse. But there were little things. Like how Lance thought JC was singing to him during their concert. Like how JC was even moodier than before around Lance. Like how JC was telling Lance what to wear. Like how it seemed that JC was reaching out to Lance. Joey leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “I don't think it's stupid, Lance,” he told him. “I see what you mean, actually.” Lance turned his green eyes on Joey and Joey grinned. “Why do you think we locked you guys in that room? It wasn't so he could hurt you, Lance. We thought that JC just might return your feelings, and that locking you two up was a push in that direction.” Lance snorted, “It was a push, alright, just not the way we wanted him to go.” Joey sat back, “I know, and I was wrong. But I still think there may be something there. I don't think he hates you, Lance.” “Then why hasn't he apologized, Joey?” Lance exploded, “Why hasn't he taken it back?” “Maybe because you kept interrupting him,” Joey said softly. Lance sat back, and blew his breath out harshly. He mulled over what Joey had said, and regret began to overtake his features. “Oh my God,” he breathed, “do you really think that's why he came to my room tonight?” Joey shrugged, “You have a better explanation?” Lance banged his head on the table, “I am so stupid!” He looked up at Joey, “If I would have only listened to him instead of going on about how I didn't need his shit anymore.” He shook his head, “I should have listened to him.” Joey lifted one shoulder in response. “Well, you partly listened to him.” Lance cocked an eyebrow at him and he grinned as he lifted his beer to his lips, “You changed your shirt.”