Coming Home

By:  Lara

Lance stared out the window of the airplane, seeing nothing in the dark but knowing that the clouds were out there. He wished he could stand on them, bounce from puff to puff as he pushed the jet along, urging it faster, harder. They had to go faster. He couldn’t be late. JC needed him.

Lance stared down at his fingers, nails bitten to the quick. He had been so proud; they had looked cared for and manicured. That was before the call from Joey.

“He’s in the hospital, Lance. They don’t know if he’ll make it. Do you, uh, want me to keep you updated?”

Of course not. Updates weren’t enough. JC needed him, and this was a final call for help. It amazed Lance how quickly the world could be fooled with a few well-placed calls to the media. Lance Bass was coming home from Russia because his sponsors had failed him. He didn’t have the money. What a joke. He had been careful, and he could have easily gotten the money. Not to mention the four very wealthy friends he had who would have put themselves in the poorhouse to give him his dream. Because that’s how tight they were. 

By the time Lance walked in the doors of the hospital, it was noon. He hadn’t slept in what felt like days, and hadn’t showered in at least two days. He didn’t care. His baby needed him. “Lance!” Justin said, astonished. He jumped up and hugged Lance, only wrinkling his nose slightly at the smell of days’ old Lance. “I…” Justin bit his lip as he pulled away. “I’m sorry.”

Lance shoved Justin away and looked around. Joey’s smile was a beacon of comfort, and Lance wrapped himself in the warm arms. “He’s hanging on. He hung on for you, dude.”

“Joey, what if…”

“Shh…” Joey whispered.

Lance looked over Joey’s shoulder at Justin, who was sitting with Chris’ arm around him. “How could you do this?” Lance snapped.

“NOT here.” Joey took Lance by the arm and dragged him to a tiny room that they had been given to sleep in. The three men had lived at the hospital since everything had started three days earlier.

Chris shut the door. “Lance, it’s not Justin’s fault. He didn’t MAKE JC do the drugs or drink the alcohol or go out on the ledge or even get in his damn car.”

“It was YOUR fucking party, Justin. You should have been a better host!” Lance yelled. “Since when does JC even DO coke?”

“Since about three weeks ago,” Justin answered softly, looking down at his shoes.

Lance stopped, shocked. He knew Justin wouldn’t lie to him. Not about this. “What?”

“He begged to try it. I know you don’t like it. Hell, I don’t like it, and rarely do it myself,” Justin insisted. “And I never thought HE’D want to. But he asked, and it’s always around at the parties, so he tried it. I watched him, Lance, I watched him that first time. He seemed okay. Later on he said it wasn’t a big deal. I never thought…” Justin swallowed hard. “I never thought he’d lie to me.”

“So what happened at the party?” Lance demanded, his eyes a little less like ice as he looked at Justin.

“No one knows,” Joey said softly. “It all just kinda happened.”

“He was writing fucking SONG lyrics on his arm with a KNIFE, Joey!” Lance screamed. “How could no one notice that?”

“I’m sorry!” Justin yelled back. “I know I was supposed to take care of him! He’s been my best friend since forever and I fucked up!”

“Justin!” Chris hissed, pulling Justin into a hug.

Lance dropped to his knees by Justin, pulling Justin from Chris’ embrace and into his own. “I know, J. I know it’s not your fault. He’s a grown man. He doesn’t need a babysitter.”

“What if he dies?” Justin sobbed on Lance’s shoulder, and Lance was reminded yet again of how young they all really were.

“He won’t. I won’t let him,” Lance promised, his hand running over Justin’s short hair. 

Lance slowly opened the door, swallowing down the lunch from three days earlier that threatened to come up his esophagus. The figure on the bed wasn’t JC. It wasn’t the body of the man he loved, the body that he worshipped and knew as well as his own. The body on the bed was thin and brittle, with wires and tubes running in and out and everywhere. Monitors flowed and alarms beeped. But JC didn’t move. The dark hair was flat and dull against the pillowcase, and the blue eyes were closed. Lance allowed his gaze to slide down JC’s left arm. Thankfully the bandages covered everything.

Lance sat down and stared for a long time, then picked up JC’s right hand. He brought the pale gauze-like skin up to his lips and kissed it. It didn’t even SMELL like JC. It smelled…like medicine. “Baby,” Lance whispered. His eyes closed and he didn’t even fight the tears. “You told me to go, you know. You said you’d be fine. You’d right, and you’d produce, and when I came back, we’d all be stronger than ever. You said you’d wait for me to come home.” Lance openly sobbed. “I’m home now, and you did wait. But come back with me, babe.” 

“You should take a shower,” Joey whispered in Lance’s ear an hour later, and Lance jumped awake.

“Screw you.” Lance yawned and stretched.

“Seriously, dude, you reek,” Joey said with a faint trace of his old grin. “Really. They have a shower for us. JC knows you’re here. He…he won’t go without you. And the doctors think some of the readings look good.”

“The doctors think he could probably open his eyes right now if he really wanted to,” Chris said gently. “For some reason he’s just not.”

“Dammit.” Lance got up and followed Joey out of the room.

They were right; a shower felt great. He resumed his place by JC’s bedside, and the others mercifully left them alone. He held JC’s hand, talking to him occasionally, and finally getting the nerve to fight his way past all the monitors and wires to kiss the pale cheek and touch the pink lips.

He was twirling the ring on his finger when a weak voice said. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Lance blinked hard and looked up. “Joey called me,” he said in a hoarse voice. “I came home.”

“How?”

“The press thinks the sponsors didn’t come up with the money,” Lance said. He reached for JC’s hand, but JC slowly moved it away.

“It makes you sound bad.”

“Well, I’ll get over it.”

“You…you were supposed to go into space and be a brave hero.”

“I can be a brave hero on Earth,” Lance said with a tiny smile. A tear leaked from JC’s eye.

“I’m a coward.” JC looked away. “I couldn’t handle you being gone, and I freaked.”

“Josh…”

“I didn’t eat, and I let myself go. I drank too much and then the coke…”

“Josh, I don’t wanna hear it.”

“You NEED to hear it.” JC’s voice was surprisingly strong. “Soon everyone and their mother will be in here, and I won’t have the chance. I was too weak to deal with life without you. Nothing was enough, and I felt like I was losing everything. I freaked. I just couldn’t be alone anymore. Everything was falling apart. You were gone, Justin was off doing his thing…I…I fell hard. The coke just made it go away. You deserve someone braver than me, Lance, and I’ll tell the world what happened so no one thinks you’re a failure.”

“Josh, I don’t WANT anyone else. I love you. We made a promise, remember? I promised to come back and you promised to wait. Well, I’m back, and you’re waiting.”

“I can’t. I made you give up your dream.”

“You’re my dream, baby.” Lance looked at the face he loved. “You were my first love, and the first man I gave my body to and the first man I wanted to see forever with. Space is space…it’ll be there for eternity,” Lance said with a shrug. “Baby, you frightened me. How am I supposed to get on without YOU?”

“You did in Russia,” JC said in a tiny voice.

“Yeah, but I knew I was coming home to you. That you were waiting for me. If I didn’t know that…I think I would have gone up and made sure never to come back down.”

“I’m messed up, Lance,” JC said, beginning to cry.

“Stop…you’ll work yourself up. I’m here, JC, and it can only get better, okay? Maybe…maybe we should go to therapy or something.”

“Not you.”

“Yeah, me, too. I’m with you for the long haul, Chasez. We do everything together from now on.”

“I’m sorry I did this to you,” JC whispered.

“I’m sorry you did this to YOU,” Lance whispered.

JC reached over again and took Lance’s hand. Lance closed his eyes and let out a sigh. “The words to the song…it was about you.”

“I’d rather you didn’t tattoo your love songs to me on your skin,” Lance said, and JC gave his first smile.

“I’m so glad you’re home.”

“So am I, baby. This is where I belong.”

The End

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