Gorgeous Love

By:  Gretchen

 

I stand in the doorway of the bedroom of the suite and just stare at you. You’re sleeping, and I wish I could join you, but I just can’t seem to find sleep today. The noise from the streets below is calling to me, reaching my ears, even twenty floors up. A glance at the windows confirms that they’re indeed shut, and I can only imagine how loud it must be on the streets. 

The commotion is for us. I can’t bear to go look out the windows, I already know what I’m going to see. Protestors, Bible bearers, angry young women, angry hate filled young men…possibly my parents. No, not that last one, I was just kidding. They may not agree, but they still love. 

These people - the ones on the streets waving banners that declare us sinners, chanting about how God hates fags - have nothing but hate. They don’t see us like we do. They see us as wrong. 

I watch the fading sun stream though the slit in the curtains and touch your cheek. It used to be that the sun would bring out the highlights in your hair, but now that it’s dyed dark, it just accentuates your paleness. I can’t wait for your movie to be over and for your hair to go back to normal.  

Ha. I’m thinking about your hair going back to normal when I know that nothing will ever be normal again.  

How did we get here? How did we slip up after so many years of being careful? How did we let ourselves get carried away like that? What were we thinking when we decided that a quick kiss in the back of the theater would go unnoticed? What were we thinking when we thought we’d be able to stop at that one kiss? 

“How’s he doing?”  

I jump, startled, as the voice comes seemingly out of nowhere. Turning around, I see your mother, her worried eyes on your frame as you lie peacefully in slumber. 

“Diane,” I say, my hand over my heart. “What are you doing here?” 

Her eyes don’t leave your face as she shrugs and whispers quietly, “Chris called us. He thought we’d want to know what happened before we heard it on the news.” 

I really don’t know what to say. Her and Jim know about us, of course, but I’ve never been in the position where I actually had to talk about us. I was never alone with her without Lance to act as interference between us. Suddenly, I wanted to run to him, wake him up, and make him hold me while we both spoke to his mom. 

Since I don’t know what to say, I simply nod. She sighs quietly and turns back to me. “How long has he been asleep?” 

I look back at the bed as Lance turns onto his back, throwing an arm above his head. “For a few hours.” I’m silent a minute before I add softly, “he needs it. He’s been up all night trying to figure things out.” 

It happened last night. Since then, neither of us had gotten much sleep, until now. Diane nodded and took my arm, leading me from the room. 

“How are you doing?” she asked, sitting me down on a couch and taking a seat next to me. 

I attempt a smile, and fail miserably. I slump into the cushions, letting my head drop to the couch. “This sucks,” I say. “We are so stupid.” 

Diane smiles at me, “No, you’re not, honey. You’re just in love.” 

Nodding, I reply, “I know.” She waits as if knowing there’s something I want to add, “It’s just…I love Lance so much, and I thought we’d have a few more years before we had to let anyone in. Before we had to worry about what people would think.” Sitting up, I look at her, “It hurts to think people see us as wrong.” 

She smiles sympathetically at me, “I know it does, JC. But you can’t let them take your love from you.” 

I suddenly feel the need to be moving, “They won’t,” I promise. Glancing at the door that leads to where you sleep, I say, “I just never knew our need for love could be so strong. Last night, after everything blew up, I needed Lance, more than I ever had before. I needed to know I still had his love.” I stop my words, suddenly remembering I’m talking to Lance’s mother, and realizing she may not want to hear about her son’s love for another man, no matter how much it was needed by me. 

But she’s smiling at me. Her eyes crinkle at the corners, and I see tears in them. “Don’t stop, JC,” she says, “don’t be ashamed of your love for Lance. Don’t let them take that from you, too.” She reaches out her hand, and I take it, stepping back to the couch, sitting down next to her. “Tell the world how you feel, JC. You can do that now, you don’t have to hide anymore.” 

I shake my head, my inner frustrations coming to the surface, “I’m scared,” I tell her, more honest in this moment than I’ve been my whole life. “I’m scared of what people will do to us, I’m scared of how people will react if Lance and I show up holding hands at the Grammy’s next year. I don’t want Lance to get hurt, Diane, and this is hurting him more than anything in the world.” 

She shakes her head at me, “You fear too much, JC.” 

“I fear everything that’s not Lance,” I whisper. 

Nothing is said for a long moment. My tears come to the surface, and I feel them roll down my face. I sniff loudly and after a minute, I feel Diane’s hand on my face. She cups my chin, forcing me to look at her.  

“You listen to me, Josh. What you and Lance have is real. I’ve never seen anything or anyone make Lance as happy as you have made him. You’re love is going to be tested, it’s going to be spit on, picked apart, put through the wringer, anything you can think of. What you have to remember is that in the end, it doesn’t matter what others think. It doesn’t matter how many people call what you have unnatural or ugly, because you will know in your heart it’s both natural and beautiful. You and Lance have a gorgeous love, Josh. Don’t lose that.” 

My eyes don’t waver from hers as she speaks. I see the love she feels for both Lance and I, and I find myself wishing this woman were my mother as well. Her words sink in, and I bite my lip to keep the tears at bay. 

Gorgeous love. I like the sound of that.  

After Diane leaves, I return to my place at the door. The moonlight has taken the place of the sun, and the noise from outside has diminished. Moving to the window, I can make out some protestors still out side, but I find that I don’t care as much as I did before. 

Slipping out of my clothes, I hurry to the bed, eager to join you in slumber, eager to be back at your side. I lay down and you turn to touch me, to hold me. You murmur words of love against my neck. 

“I love you,” is your sleepy quotation. 

Holding you close, I whisper, “I love you, too.” 

You smile and relax again, your breathing even. Even though I’m tired, sleep still alludes me, so I content myself by watching you. Your face is relaxed in your slumber, and I know you’re having peaceful dreams. Kissing your forehead, my mind wanders. 

All I have to give you, Lance, is my love. There is nothing more I can give to you, for you already have everything you want or need. I realize, for the first time, that my love is enough. 

When those first photos came in, those first phonecalls were put through, you reached for me. You didn’t push me away, you didn’t scream at me that it was my fault for thinking we could steal a quick kiss, you didn’t give me looks of death. You reached for me, because my love was all you needed to get though this time. And your love was enough for me, too. 

We’re going to make it through whatever the press, the fans, and the protestors have to throw at us. Because I know that out there, there are people who do support us, who will stand behind us, and that’s enough reason for me to tell the world that yes, I love you, James Lance Bass. 

I feel sleep coming on, and I don’t fight it. I let it take me to my dreams of you. 

Waking up, I feel eyes on me. I can still feel the weight of Lance in bed next to me, so I cautiously open my eyes.  

“Morning,” Lance drawls in his sexy morning voice. 

Glancing out the window, I see the fading orange light of dawn. “Morning.” 

He leans forward and kisses me on the lips, “I love you.” 

And I smile. Those three words are the anthem of this big, brilliant love that we have for each other. 

This gorgeous love.

The End

 

Tell Gretchen what you thought of this story!