*This story is what we in 'the biz' call 'Slash'. In simplest of terms, it deals with men who love men. If you do not love men who love men, because they are not loving women then please leave. Also, if your local laws prohibit you from reading this type of material, (especially you under 18-ers)we suggest not reading this. Consider yourself warned and if you choose to continue...enjoy the story.Thanks--mgmt.*

Green
© 2001
By Emma

He could pinpoint the exact moment that he realized he was falling love with him; he knew what he was wearing, what he had eaten for breakfast that day, and what they had scheduled for the next week as far as appearances and such. But he couldn’t say what it was that made him fall in the first place. And that bothered him. It was his first thought when he woke up in the morning and his last thought before he went to bed at night, not that he slept very much anymore. It had been affecting that too. When he did sleep his dreams were weird consisting of miles and miles of hills in various shades of green. His problem occupied his mind during interviews and more than once he’d been nudged by JC when he hadn’t been paying attention only to ask an oh-so-intelligent ‘huh?’ with a blank look on his face. This was becoming a serious problem. He began to study his friend, hoping that the other man’s actions would give him a small clue, something to work with. But they didn’t and his sessions of deep-thought were becoming noticeable to the others in the group.

“You okay, man?” JC had asked, appearing out of nowhere behind him one day on the bus. He had watched as his friend slid his lanky form onto the bench across the table from him, not knowing how to answer.

“Yeah, why?”

JC had shrugged, turning his blue eyes toward the window to study the scenery whizzing by at seventy miles an hour. He had thought that was the end of it, but a few minutes later JC had turned those eyes on him, those eyes that had a knack for seeing into the very depths of everyone’s soul, and studied him. “Something’s up with you, that’s all.” He’d said, another shrug lifting his shoulders. “You’re not the same. You’re quieter than you used to be.” A pause. “And none of us thought that would ever happen.”

He had stared at JC for a moment, wondering if he should say something, deciding against it for more than one reason. JC was as open-minded as the next person, but he didn’t really know how the older man would react to the fact that he was in love with another member of the group. JC’d probably grill him, trying to figure out who it was, and that wasn’t something he was ready to reveal yet. So he had just shrugged and turned his eyes out the window, pretending to watch the cars pass by but really watching JC watch him. His friend frowned, his eyes narrowing as he shot a look towards the other occupant of the front area. Then he stood up and was gone as suddenly as he had appeared.

The other occupant of the front area. The one who was causing him all this grief: the one who made him disappear into his mind for hours at a time, struggling to sort out feelings that he had no right having. He studied him through the window now, sitting on couch tap-tap-tapping away at the laptop that he was never without. Was he working on FreeLance business? Writing in a journal? Lance was so possessive of his computer, never letting it out of his sight on the bus, never letting anyone use it unless he was sitting right there. The southerner said in his soft-spoken way that it was because he didn’t want anything to happen to it, but he didn’t think that was the whole truth. He was pretty sure that the man whose reflection he was so carefully studying had secrets saved in the memory of the small gray machine.

The sun streamed through the window and kissed Lance’s pale skin, and he found himself thinking that he would give anything to be able to kiss the soft spot where his jaw met his neck, or the hollow of his throat right underneath his Adam’s apple that he hated so much. With a groan he slapped his hands down on the table and pushed himself up so quickly that Lance looked up in surprise. He staggered towards the bunks, his mind a jumble of thoughts of kissing Lance, of Lance in his bed, of Lance… He thought that the blonde man might have said something but he was too far into his mental state to hear him. He climbed into the narrow space his called home while they were on the road and burrowed deep into his blankets, wrapping them around him so that only his nose and mouth were exposed. He buried his face in his pillow, trying to find a spot that didn’t still have the smell of Lance lingering from when he had slept in his bunk because Justin and Chris had thought it would be fun to play a game ‘let’s hide all of Lance’s bedding and see if he gets mad.’

But he hadn’t gotten mad. He never got mad. He just smiled that infuriatingly patient smile of his, shook his head, and found a solution to his problem. Maybe that was the reason he was falling for the pale man. He thought about that, discarding it after a moment. It was one of the things that he had come to love, but it wasn’t the thing that had caused him to fall head over heels. He thought about the confusion he had seen on Lance’s face when he’d stood from the table and he wanted to go back out there and tell him what was going on, how he had somehow fallen completely and utterly in love with him, just to erase the look of not-knowing he saw there. But, he knew what Lance would do. He would smile softly and say ‘thank you.’ Then his eyes would darken and he would look away and tell him that he was flattered but…But. It was the but that always stopped him from confessing everything every time he saw him. And it was the thought of the look that would replace the confusion that made him bite his tongue even harder. Behind him the curtain to his bunk slid open a couple of inches and he bit his lip from groaning out loud. He managed to groan anyway, and a moment later a hand touched his covered arm and began to stroke it lightly.

“Joe?”

Oh God, it was him. He rolled over and pulled the blanket off his head so he could see Lance. “What?” He asked, his words harsher than he had intended. Lance frowned, ducking his head, and he sighed. “What do you want, Lance?”

“Are you okay?” Lance asked softly, raising his head so that his green eyes met Joe’s brown ones.

“Yeah…” He trailed off, knowing that if he continued to speak he would spill everything.

“Okay…” Lance trailed off and slid the curtain closed again.

Joey turned back over, trying and failing to keep a sudden rush of tears from spilling over. He gulped for air after a moment of muffled sobs then buried his head in the pillow again. This had to end. One way or another, this had to end. He couldn’t go on living with the fact that he was in love with his best friend and nothing was ever going to come of it.

“Do you…Are you…?” Lance’s voice came from behind him again, and Joey jumped. Lance was still there. He quickly wiped away any evidence of tears before turning over once more. Lance’s eyes widened at the sight of his face and Joey knew he hadn’t done a good enough job. “What the hell is going on, Joe?”

“Nothing.” Joey answered sullenly, staring at the bottom of the bunk above him.

“Bullshit.” Lance said fiercely and Joey smiled sadly. Lance was always thought of as the ‘good’ one, the one that girls could be proud to bring home to mama. Truth was, he swore like a sailor and was damn proud of that. Just one more thing to love about him. “Tell me what’s happening to you?” Lance said softly. “You used to tell me everything. We used to be best friends. What happened?”

I fell in love with you, Joey silently told him. “We’re still best friends.” He said, wishing he sounded more convincing.

“Are we?” Lance challenged.

“Do you not want to be?” Joey sat up and swung his legs over the edge, his brown eyes boring into Lance. He watched as the younger man jumped up and sat next to him, so close that their thighs almost touched and Joey could feel the heat of his skin through his jeans.

“I want you to tell me what’s wrong.” Lance said stubbornly. “Did I do something?” Just like Lance to always think it was his fault.

“No.” That was the only answer he could give. It wasn’t a lie. Lance hadn’t done anything…except be him.

“Then what? I thought we told each other everything.”

“What about you?” Joey said. “You’re always writing in your computer, and it can’t always be FreeLance stuff. What are you writing about?” Well, that wasn’t petty or anything, Joe, he admonished silently.

Lance stared at his hands, lacing and unlacing his fingers. “You.” He answered softly a long moment later. He looked up at him, his green eyes shining with embarrassment. “I write about you.”

Joey raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t been expecting that answer. “Me?” He finally croaked out. “Why?”

Lance laughed, a harsh laugh that held no mirth, and hopped down from the bunk. “Forget it.” He said shortly before turning and walking back to the front of the bus. Joey watched him leave, confused about what had just happened. Lance had come to see what was wrong with him, right? So, why was he all of a sudden so defensive? That didn’t make sense. But nothing made sense to him anymore. He was about to go see if Lance was alright when he reappeared, his laptop under his arm. He placed it on the bunk next to Joey, running his hand over the top of it. “This…” He paused and swallowed hard. “This is where I keep the things that I can’t tell you. But, you’re right. If we truly were best friends you would know everything. Read what I opened for you, then you’ll know everything.” He looked at Joey then, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “Just don’t hate me when you’re done.” Then he was gone.

Joey stared at the computer for a while before sliding into his bunk and pulling the curtain closed. He pulled it onto his lap and opened it to find a word document opened and ready for him. Taking a deep breath, he started to read.

Lance

Joey stared in shock at the words in front of him. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. Lance was never supposed to feel the same way. “Lance!” He shouted, pulling his curtain open again. A moment later, he appeared in the hallway, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He stood there looking at the floor while Joey studied him. “Lance,” Joey said, more softly this time. “Look at me.” He ordered when the younger man still didn’t look up. Lance’s head flew up and defiant sparks flew from his eyes. Joey raised an eyebrow and Lance’s eyes softened and he ducked his head again.

“Do you hate me?” He asked, so softly that he could hardly be heard over the roar of the bus engines.

“Is this some sort of sick joke, Lance?” Joey asked.

Lance’s shoulders slumped and he leaned forward until his head rested on the bunk. “I’m sorry, Joe.” He finally said. “I never meant to fall in love with you. It just happened. Please don’t hate me.”

Hate him? Joey was confused. How could he hate him? His mouth fell open when he realized that the way he was attacking Lance at the moment must make him think that he was disgusted by him. Oh god…how far from the truth was that? Joey reached out and softly touched the back of Lance’s neck, running his fingers lightly over the downy soft hair there. Lance inhaled sharply but didn’t move, and Joey’s fingers moved to that soft spot where Lance’s jaw met his neck. Lance still didn’t move, and he didn’t exhale either. His skin was starting to get flushed from holding his breath, and Joey was worried that his friend was going to pass out. He had to do something about that. He leaned forward until his mouth was barely inches from Lance’s neck, hesitating before closing the distance and placing his lips against Lance’s smooth skin.

Lance exhaled, his breath coming out in a long, tortured rush of air. “Don’t.” His voice was a harsh whisper and Joe pulled away in surprise.

“Lance,” he started, but he was stopped with a wave of the other man’s hand.

“Don’t kiss me because you feel sorry for me or because you think that’s the right thing to do or something.” Lance straightened and ran a hand through the short spikes on his head.

“Lance,” Joey started again.

“I understand if you don’t want to talk to me anymore.” Lance continued. “You’ve been pulling away for a while anyway, at least this way I’ll know why so it’s no big deal.” He turned to go and Joey chuckled. “You don’t have to laugh at me, Joe. It’s actually not that funny.”

“I’m not laughing at you, Lance.” Joey said, another chuckle bubbling up in his throat. Lance turned around and raised an eyebrow. “I’m not, I swear. You don’t understand.” Joey paused, swallowing another wave of laughter. He needed to be serious now. He needed to make Lance understand. “Lance, do you know why I haven’t been the same around you lately?”

“No.”

Of course he didn’t. Because Joey hadn’t told anybody. But it was time now. It was now or never. “I’ve been trying to figure out how it was possible that I had fallen in love with someone. I mean, you know how I am…” Lance’s head fell, and Joey realized that Lance still wasn’t getting it. He reached over and placed his hand under Lance’s chin, lifting it so he could see into the eyes he loved. “Lance,” He began but he was interrupted by Lance pulling his head out of Joey’s hand.

“I’m sorry to dump this on you now, then.” He said dejectedly. “Whoever she is…she’s lucky, Joe.” He turned again to leave and this time Joey let him go.

He pulled his legs back onto his bunk and slid the curtain shut. The only light came from Lance’s still open computer. Joey read Lance’s words again, trying to figure out how he had been so clueless to his friend’s feelings. Hindsight is twenty/twenty. That was the saying right? It was the truth though. Looking back, Joey could remember the way that Lance would cling to him during each hug, as if when he let go the world would drop out from underneath him and he needed Joey’s strength to hold him up. If Lance only knew that Joey had felt the same. He slapped his hand against his forehead. What the hell was his problem? Lance had been standing right in front of him and that had been the perfect opportunity to tell him that it was him he had fallen in love with. Not a girl. But Lance hadn’t given him the chance. Something that was completely unlike him. He was the one that everyone went to when they had a problem because they knew that he would listen carefully and give good advice. But Lance hadn’t even tried to listen tonight. It was as if he had resigned himself to the fact that Joey would never return his feelings. That pissed him off. He could feel the heat of anger creeping up his neck and Joey knew that his face was getting flushed. He opened a new document on Lance’s computer and began to type, his fingers flying furiously over the keyboard in an effort to get all the words out of his head and onto the screen.

January 15th, 1999

Joey slammed the cover down on the computer and climbed out of his bunk, storming down the short hall and into the front of the bus. He found Lance just where he knew he would be, sitting at the table, staring out the window. He placed the machine on the table in front of him, not surprised when Lance didn’t turn to look at him. He knew that the blonde man had seen his approach in the window. “You never gave me a chance to talk.” He said simply, gesturing to the computer. “It’s your turn to read what I wrote.” Then he turned and walked to the back of the bus, throwing himself on the couch next to JC. He shook his head when the older man started to speak and JC fell silent, turning his attention back to the movie he was watching. Joey tried to pay attention, but his mind was on the man in front. Would he come find him? Or would he delete everything that Joey had written? The wait was killing him.

He started tapping out a rhythm on his legs to a song that could only be heard in his head, and JC reached out and wrapped a firm hand around his stopping the slapping sound. Joey looked at him, annoyance lining his face.

“He’ll come.” JC said simply before releasing his hand and returning his eyes to the TV.

Joey’s jaw dropped and he started to ask how JC knew what was going on. But then he was there. Lance stood there in the doorway, his eyes darkened to emerald with emotion. He stared at Joey for a moment before making his way to the couch and sitting beside him, so close that their thighs touched. Joey was afraid to look at him, afraid that it was a dream and he was going to wake up and it would all disappear. Then Lance’s hand found it’s way to Joey’s and he wrapped his fingers around it, letting their clasped fists rest on Joey’s thigh. Joey exhaled breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, and Lance leaned over and rested his head on his shoulder, turning his face in so that his breath was hot on Joey’s neck. Next to them, JC settled himself more comfortably into the cushions of the couch and smiled.

A year later at an interview for some magazine or another’s Valentine’s Day issue, when asked what he thought of when he thought of love, Joey reached underneath the table and squeezed the hand resting on his leg before answering. “Green.” He said. “I think of green.”