This story is a present for one of my best friends who just happens to be gay. So what? B, you know that I don't care about your sexuality. You could be attracted to grizzlies, and I'd still love you just as much. Actually... No, don't go for grizzlies, okay? They might kill you, and I don't think I'd like that. Anyway. This is just another one of my attempts to convince you to come out to our friends and your parents. And, by the way: I still think that Eros Ramazzotti is cuter than Nek.


In case you didn't guess it by now: Yes, I'm a female. And, if you read the intro, then you know that this story is written for a friend. A few things might be slightly inaccurate, but as I am planning to let B read over it, I don't think that there will be any problem. Thoughts are written in italic. Now, onto the...


Don't we all just love doing this? Yes, we do. *yawns* So, here it goes. I don't know the boys of 'N Sync and I don't think I ever will. Their sexuality? Who knows? I don't. Especially not those of Justin Timberlake and Joshua Chasez. Okay, so that's it for the 'N Sync stuff. What else?
Oh, yeah. If you're underage, get out. Or make sure that you don't get caught. And if you get caught, don't blame it on me.
If you're offended by homosexual issues, then what the hell is your problem? And, apart from that, why are you checking out a site like this? You don't know? Thought so.

Just To Be With You...

...is giving me the best day of my life...

Dido, Thank You

Don't watch him. Need sleep. Have to be fit for tomorrow. Mustn't watch him sleep. Mustn't. Watch. Him. Sleep. - But I like watching him sleep. He's all curled up, looking so innocent, and all in all just like JC. Josh. There's only the real Joshua Scott Chasez there, no fake smiles for the fans or the media, only Joshua. You can't fake a smile in your sleep. And I like watching the real Joshua, the person he is when there's no one around, only the guys and me. Right, me, Justin. "Justin" as in "his best friend Justin Randall Timberlake". More specifically his straight best friend Justin Randall Timberlake. (Yeah, riiight.) Definitely not the Justin who likes to lie in his own bed, propped on his arms to have a better view at the bed on the other side of the room, at the person in there, to be more exact. Which just happens to be Josh himself. Straight Josh.

Lovesick sigh.

"I lie awake, I drive myself crazy, drive myself crazy, thinking of you..." No, that doesn't sound right. More like "...drive myself crazy, looking at you..." Shouldn't do that, though. I really need sleep. Another show tomorrow, I have to be well rested. As if there is any way I could sleep with you in the same hotel room, lying in a distance of exactly five feet twenty. I measured it earlier, you know. When you were in the bathroom, taking your shower. Bathroom... Maybe I would be able to sleep after getting rid of that slight bulge in my boxers... Right, let's give "thinking of you..." a whole new meaning, shall we? And then how about moaning out Josh's name and him hearing it? The walls are thin here. Yup, that would go really well. Wouldn't freak him out or anything. Not at all.

Another sigh, less lovesick and more depressed this time.

Damn, I really need someone to cheer me up right now. But it's 1 a.m. I can't call Britney in the middle of the night. Although... Wait a moment... It's already 10 where she is at the moment. Which means that I can call her. Good.

Trying his hardest to be quiet, Justin got up and grabbed the cell phone from his nightstand. Obviously, his hardest wasn't enough. In the bed next to him, the unmistakable sound of rustling sheets could be heard, then the voice of his best friend, muffled and unusually deep from sleepiness, floated through the room.


"Shh. Go back to sleep, Josh. I just gotta make a call."

Before he had even finished, an only half conscious JC had passed out again, picking up his dream where he had left it off.


"I'm not wearing this."

Arms crossed, Britney stood glaring at whoever happened to be in sight. Which, in that case, was her styling artist.

"We're doing a photo shoot for some teen magazine, not for the Playboy."

"Look, Britney,..." the woman tried to reason with her, but was cut short by the ringing of a cell phone. Without giving her a second look, Britney picked it up, took a quick look at the caller ID and immediately stepped out onto the balcony, closing the doors firmly behind her.

"Hey Just!" The earlier irritation was completely gone from her voice by now. "You better have a good reason to call me. Unless I'm wrong, it's about 1 a.m. where you are right now, so you should be in bed sleeping."

"I can't." was the whiny answer.

"And I bet I know why. Wanna talk about JC?"

"No. Let's talk about anything but him. Whatever helps to get him out of my head for at least one minute, or I'm going insane."

"You know, I really think you should tell him, J. Maybe after that, you'd be able to fall asleep again."

"I don't have problems falling asleep, Brit!"

"Then why are you calling me at a time like this and tell me that you can't fall asleep?"

"It's only when we're sharing a room. Otherwise, I'm asleep within a few minutes. After a short workout, that is."

She pulled a face. "I don't think I want to know what kind of workout you're talking about."

At the other end of the line, laughter could be heard. "Are you sure? Because I would just love to talk about it. Ya know, sharing my dirty fantasies, involving Josh, myself, lube and from time to time even a bed, with someone."

"I think it's time for me to end this conversation right now." she muttered under her breath, but loud enough for him to hear.

Immediately, the whine was back in Justin's voice. "No, pweeeaaase! I wuv you, Britty!"

Even if she couldn't see it, she knew exactly which expression he wore at the moment: Head bent, puppy dog eyes looking slightly upwards and lower lip sticking out in a childish pout. She couldn't help but giggle at the image. "Okay, I won't hang up on you, but you have to promise me that you won't give me any more details about your sex life than you already did."

"Oh, but..."

"Justin!" she cut him off in a stern tone.

"Okay, okay." He finally gave in, a mixture of defeat and amusement.

"Thanks. Now, if you don't want to talk about JC, then what should we talk about?"

"I get to choose the topic? That's so cool!"

"Yes, Mr. I-Just-Got-Back-To-Being-Four-Years-Old-Again, you can choose the topic. Now, what do you want to talk about?"

The line was silent for a short amount of time, then, in a small, timid voice, Justin could be heard again. "Okay, so maybe I do want to talk about Josh..."

She couldn't help but shake her head. "Boy, you've got it bad. Which brings me back to my patented line: Tell him."

"Are we quoting Celine Dion now?"

"Don't try to change the topic. You know it won't work."

"Sorry. But we talked about this a million times already."

"Yeah. But I still hope that someday, you'll switch on that brain that just has to be hidden somewhere under those curls of you and actually agree with me."

"And lose the best friendship I've ever had?"

"And either trade the best friendship you've ever had for something more or at least not having to hide a secret from that best friend of yours any longer."

"Brit, I can manage. I've done it for a very long time now. There are only two or three hours every month when it gets hard to deal with. Like just now, but it will pass."

She sighed. "I know, J. I'm just worried about you. I know that you're happy most of the time, but I think you'd be even happier if you told JC that you love him. He wouldn't hate you."

"I'm pretty sure that he wouldn't hate me, Brit, but things would change. He'd be embarrassed to change in front of me, I'd have to think twice about hugging him, stuff like that. And I like things the way they are."

"Now, that is a white lie!"

He grinned. "Okay, so maybe I wouldn't mind being able to kiss him, touch him, sleep with him..."

"Justin! I don't think I want to hear this."

"...in my arms,..." Justin finished in an innocent tone, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"My, aren't we corny tonight?"

"Well, you'd be corny too if you'd stand on a balcony with a great view over a city which I forgot the name of, the lights of this city beneath and the stars above you, the man of your dreams sleeping peacefully just a few feet away in the room you're sharing with him..."

"You've got it bad."

"And you're repeating yourself."

"I know. But it's still just as true, isn't it?"

Lovesick sigh. Again. "I guess it is..."

"Britney!" A third voice was interrupting the conversation, and the girl grimaced. "J, as much as I love talking to you, I just got my draft papers - in the figurative sense. Management probably wants to talk me into wearing some... I don't really know what to call it. Dress, maybe, but with much less cloth."

"Okay then. Just remember not to wear it if you don't want to."

"You bet. Bye Justin. Try to get some sleep, okay?"

"Will do. Ciao Bella."

Thousands of miles away from each other, two teenagers pressed the end button of their cell phones, both mentally preparing themselves. One for another long day, filled with photo shoots and interviews, the other for another far too short night that promised little sleep and much longing.


"When I woke up this morning / You were on my mind..." Is there anything more beautiful than waking up in the bed next to the one of the person you love most? Besides waking up in that person's bed, with that person in your arms, their body next to you, but that's beside the point because it will never happen. Only in my dreams. Come to think of it: In my dreams we're usually not sleeping. Okay, sleeping together, maybe. In the not-so-platonic sense. In the sense that includes ruffled sheets, stifled moans,... - Okay, I don't want to go there, not now, with you being just a few feet away. I don't want you waking up to the sound of me jerking off. Actually, I don't want you to wake up at all. Not now. I just want to watch you some more.

I think I could spend hours just watching over your sleep. The way your nostrils slightly move with every breath you take, the way you unconsciously tug at the corners of the blanket to wrap it closer around you, the way your curls are pressed against your head,... God, Justin, it's not fair for someone to be that cute, funny, beautiful, smart, breathtaking and not to mention sexy in one person. There has to be a law against it, like, I don't know... The Declaration of Independence, that's it. "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal,..." Created equal, yeah, right. Just look at you, and then tell me: How equal is that? Sure, you do have your flaws. But the thing that scares me most is that I even love every little flaw of yours.

Shit, he's stirring. Don't wake up yet. Just let me watch you a little longer, please. Don't... wake...

Trembling eyelashes. A heartfelt yawn. A sleepy smile. "Morning, Josh. What time is it?"

"Morning to you, too, Just. - Seven thirty."

"Do we have to get up?"

"Well, not immediately. The bus leaves in an hour, so it depends on how much time it will take you to get that mass of curls to behave."

Justin reached up, his hands fingering his hair. "I'm going to stay in bed a little longer. We'll spend about five hours in the bus anyway, so what's the point in spending time doing them? Might as well just use the bandana. - Where are you going?"

"Gotta shower. I'm all sweaty right now, my cover was too thick. I'll wake you up when I'm done, okay? Just go back to sleep till then."

All sweaty? Justin stared after his friend's retreating back, heard rather than saw him closing the door to the bathroom softly behind him.

Thanks, I really needed that now. Just the right thing to get rid of my morning wood: Having thoughts about what else could make you sweat. Yep, just what I need. Now I really can't go back to sleep. Damn, Josh. The things you're doing to my body and my mind...


First part... is finished now.
Next part... will be out in about a week.
Mistakes... must be excused. English's not my mother tongue.
Feedback... is more than just welcome.
Send it... to

© Zarah, 2001