Note: Thanks to those who have given me their opinions on this story. It means a lot to me, and I promise that I will answer every single one of your e-mails. Really, I will. Just give me a few days, okay? Thanks.

Dedication: To Ben, as always.

Disclaimer: No. *crosses her arms* I won't write it. I won't. Everyone knows that I don't own the boys of 'N Sync. And that I can only dream of knowing them. I don't want to be reminded of it. And apart from that: Nobody reads this anyway, so what's the point? Do you see any point in doing this? Wait a moment... - Did you actually read the disclaimer? *sing-song voice* Loser, loser! ;)

Just To Be With You... giving me the best day of my life...

Dido, Thank You

Wishful thinking I might be yours
Drifting on every step
I'm always drawn to the dark horse
Sweet sweet, oh nothing's said

And every dream, every, is just a dream after all

Heather Nova, Paper Cup

You know, you really should stop dressing in front of me. Don't you know what power you hold over me? I don't think I need any more images of you in half-naked states for my masturbation sessions... - Actually... Go ahead, show me that gorgeous body of yours! I promise I'll try not to stare. Okay, that's just plain impossible. I'll try not to be obvious while staring, how's that? Do we have a deal here, Justin? Of course, you're not going to answer that. How could you when all I'm doing is secretly talking to myself? Isn't that a sign for progressing age? In my case, it's more a sign for the side effects of unrequited love.

"Hey Josh?"

"Hmm?" Unhurriedly, JC looked up from the book he seemingly had been reading for the last twenty minutes - oh yes, his years of practice certainly paid off.

Justin got up from where he had been digging through his suitcase in search of a T-shirt to wear. "Could I borrow your blue shirt? The one with the red logo? I always loved that one." Of course I did, I love every single one of your clothes, especially when you're wearing them.

"Well... I guess, but I wore it yesterday, so..."

"Doesn't matter." That's the reason why I want to wear it today. But you wouldn't want to hear that, would you? Nope, you wouldn't.

JC shrugged. "Well, if you really want to..."


The older man closed the book and placed it on the nightstand of Justin's bed where he had been lying, then came to his feet and padded over to his own suitcase to retrieve the shirt for his friend, all the while secretly watching the half dressed curly-head. Soon, he had to direct his undivided attention at the task at hand, though: As always, his suitcase was a mess, or, as he would rather describe it: Creative chaos.

How long does it take you to find a shirt in a stuffed suitcase? Well, it depends. If you're lucky, then the shirt's the first thing you see when you open the lid. And if you're unlucky, then it's the last thing you get your hands on, when almost the whole content of you suitcase is already spread all over the floor. JC wasn't lucky. When one of the other guys knocked to tell them to get ready - judging by the rapid, almost techno-beat like knocking, it was Chris -, Justin had just joined JC in repacking his luggage, an apologetic look on his face.

Without bothering to turn around, the curly haired man yelled over his shoulder. "Give us a minute, we'll be out in no time at all."

The knocking didn't stop, if ever, it only increased in volume and speed.

Justin and JC, almost finished with the suitcase, exchanged a glance, half amused, half annoyed. "You know, if he keeps this up any longer, he'll have a heart attack. He's approaching old age, after all..."

The dark-haired man couldn't help but grin happily, not because of Justin's comment, but because of the bright smile covering his friend's face. "So what do you say? Do we save his life or do we let him have his share of time in the hospital?"

Justin frowned in thoughts. "That's hard to decide, don't you think so? If we save his life, he has to be forever grateful. We could force him to make us breakfast and stuff. But if he's in the hospital, we might get some time off.... Free time or a slave, free time or a slave..."

All of a sudden, the pounding at the door stopped, then, after a moment of odd silence, Lance's voice rang through the thick wood. "Justin! JC! Out! Now!"

Lance hardly ever used his authority to give orders, but when he did, nobody hesitated to obey immediately. So, only the tenth of a second later, both Justin and JC were out in the corridor, suitcases in their hands and all together about twenty minutes late.


"Look who decided to show up!"

Sprawled on the sofa, remote control in his left hand, Joey had already made himself comfortable in the living room of the bus.

"Sorry." the two lead singers of 'N Sync exclaimed in unison, then let their bags drop to the floor.

"What about breakfast?" Justin, leaning against the doorframe, looked around at the rest of the band, then noticed Lance's eyes on him. "What?" he asked slightly uncomfortable, this time directed at the green-eyed bass singer.

Lance shrugged. "Nothing. It's just that I thought I've already seen this shirt on JC."

"You did." the mentioned one confirmed nonchalantly. "I wore it yesterday."

"Oh, okay."

"So, what was that about breakfast?" Justin brought everyone's attention back to his first question.

"That's up to you, J. The rest of us already ate, but I think there's still some cereal left. Just look in the kitchen."

"K. You coming, Josh?" Not awaiting the answer, Justin bounced out of the living room, JC following closely behind.



The scream, though not earsplitting, echoed through the bus and caused JC to look up from the piece of paper he was currently scribbling on. Within a few seconds, he had crumbled it up and tossed it towards the garbage can, the blinking of an eye later, Justin was bursting into the kitchen.

"They're making me watch horror movies. Can you watch them with me? Please? Josh?"

Justin was no longer the fourteen-year old child, and he was aware of it. So was everyone else, especially JC - and boy, was he aware of it! But there were a few situations that could make Justin retreat to about half of his age, and one of those certain situations was whenever horror movies were concerned. He wasn't really afraid of them, but he just liked someone to hold his hand while watching. Or, more precisely, he liked JC to hold his hand while watching them. Not that the latter minded. It didn't even take the puppy dog face to make the older one stand up and follow the blonde out of the kitchen.

Lance, passing them on his way to get a soda, just grinned. "Have fun. Oh, and JC? Don't let him squash your hand, or you won't be able to hold your micro tonight."


And everything stands so still when you dance
Everything spins so fast
And the night's in a paper cup
When you want it to last

Heather Nova, Paper Cup

There are many things the media and the fans are right about, Josh. Like, you being beautiful, for example, or you being extremely talented and having an amazing voice. But there's one thing they're always wrong about: Me being the better dancer of the group. That's ridiculous. Have they ever watched you moving on stage, radiating energy and life?

Sometimes I hate you for it, because it's distracting me, you make it harder for me to focus on the show. Especially during This I Promise You: When you sing your part, I can hardly take my eyes off of you. You usually don't notice, 'cause you sing with your eyes closed, but when you do like you just did, then you give me this tender smile of yours, you know, the one that makes me go weak in the knees, wanting to become just another one of your adoring fans, and maybe I already am. I think some people notice my looks - actually, I'm surprised that not everyone sees it, I'm so imprudent sometimes -, but I really hope that no one became aware of what your smile's doing to me.

Another one of those "Shit, I think I missed my line because I was too busy watching my best friend's moves"-moments is - could it be anything else? - during Digital Getdown. Do I have to explain the cause of this distraction? Nah, I don't think so. Every groupie could answer the question just as good as I can, and the screams of the girls should tell you the same.

Oh, yes. Girls. Right. Shouldn't forget that you go for those, don't you? It's their love you want, not the love of your male best friend. This sucks, Josh, did I ever tell you that? Well, it does. Being your best friend is great, and I wouldn't trade it for anything. But sometimes it's not enough. When I see you work your body on stage, then it certainly isn't enough.

Okay, that was Mr. Horny talking now, don't listen to him. Not that you're able to listen to any of my inward ramblings. Anyway. I guess I just gotta get rid of Mr. Horny, and then I'll be completely happy. Because I have your love. Not the way I want to, but I still have it, and how could I wish for more when I am already one of the luckiest guys on earth, just because I'm your friend? Exactly: I couldn't. Because I already have everything you can possibly give me.


Lance's eyes were following him since the afternoon of the day. At first, JC had thought nothing of it, but after a while, it became hard to ignore the prying green eyes that seemed to follow his every move, but most of all - and that was the part which scared JC -, Lance seemed to take in every single one of the looks JC was giving Justin when he thought that no one would notice. During the day, the questioning expression Lance's eyes held had changed, and by now the Mississippian was smiling openly whenever JC dared to look at him.

Like just now, for example. It had been an all to familiar thing to do for JC, almost something he would call a daily routine: First, he would step out of the limo that brought them to the hotel after their show, and then he would turn around and watch Justin emerge, his gaze lingering on his friend while the curly head was still turned towards the inside of the limo, usually in order to throw some playful insult back at Joey. Only that this time, Lance had gotten out before JC and the latter didn't remember the bass singer's presence until it was too late. By then, the smiling and all too knowing green eyes had already seen what they weren't supposed to see.

It wasn't until they were out of the elevator and walking towards their rooms when Lance approached JC and Justin who were talking animatedly about an upcoming basketball game.

"Hey, Justin, JC, I know you always share a room when there aren't enough rooms for everyone to get a single, but JC and I kinda have to talk about some business, so I think it would be best if we changed the arrangements. It's only for tonight, though. Is that okay?"

JC inwardly tensed. Was this what he thought it was?

On Justin's face, a scowl appeared, but was quickly wiped off, not more than a fleeting indication of how he was feeling. "Can't Josh come to your room to talk, and then come back to our room later?"

"I don't know, Just." JC wanted to go back to Justin's and his own room, he really did, but he didn't know yet what to expect from his talk with Lance. "This might take quite some time, and I don't want you to not get enough sleep because of me. I might wake you up when I come back or something."

That's a little late, Josh, I am already lacking sleep because of you. "You know that I don't mind. And we always share a room."

"Yeah..." JC was ready to cave in, but Lance beat him to it.

"I think that would be okay, too. Just don't stay up, Curly, it probably will be a while until JC and I are finished."

"Could I come along?"

Oh God, please, no! Not that. Had JC been tense before, then this was nothing compared to how he felt after Justin's innocent request. But once again, Lance made the decision for him.

"I don't think that would be a good idea, Justin. Not that I would mind having you around, but you look as if you didn't get enough sleep last night. And I won't allow you to stay up for too long two days in a row."

The youngest of the three band members who still remained in the corridor - Joey and Chris had already left for their rooms, mumbling tired goodnights - hung his head in defeat, a tiny pout appearing on his face. For a much too short second, while dumping his luggage in their room, JC squeezed his younger friend's hand even though he felt uncomfortable knowing that Lance was waiting for him in the doorway, watching him.

And knowing.


The only thing that kept JC from freaking out and hiding somewhere where no one would ever be able to find him was the understanding smile that he was sure he had seen in Lance's eyes. If he hadn't imagined it.


No, I'm not saying that JC's the better dancer of the two - have you ever seen his hyperdance? You should, you really should. Be prepared for an aching risible muscle, though. Anyway, what did I try to say? Oh, yeah. I'm not saying that JC's the better dancer, that's only Justin's opinion. And I think it would be safe to say that he's a little biased, isn't he?
Once again, please excuse my mistakes. English's not my mother tongue.