Michael left us and Rachel leaned against me when Jeremy and Darien got up to get us more drinks. "So, what happened?"

"He wants me back." I said, not quite believing the words as they came out of my mouth.

She pulled away from me. "No!" she squealed.

"Yes!" I squealed back. "Can you stand it?"

"What did you say?"

"I said no. I said my life was great and I didn't need him."

"You did not," she rolled her eyes.

"I did! He managed to figure out that 'life is great' translates to 'I'm fucking a N Sync boy,' but other than that, he took it well." She giggled with me as the boys came back with our drinks, and we talked about nothing for a few minutes.

Suddenly I couldn't be there anymore. I needed to call JC and find out what was wrong, and sleep in my own bed. Darien wanted to share a cab with me, so I didn't dial the phone until I got out at my building, waving him off.

Not that Darien would care if I got JC on the phone, but I certainly wasn't going to say mushy things to him with D there and get teased about it tomorrow.

I got his voicemail and hung up, knowing if I let it ring long enough, he'd eventually answer. I called five times, walking up the steps to my apartment, no answer. Maybe it was off. Maybe he was really asleep. Maybe he was out at some club, picking up some hot young thing with no ex boyfriend baggage.

Maybe he was asleep on my couch. He didn't even stir as I opened the door, sprawled out face down on the sofa. The TV was on, MTV2 playing quietly, casting shadows over his body. There was an open bottle of wine on the coffee table, and I checked it as I moved over to him. Empty. This might be bad. Did he come here expecting to surprise me with Michael? He hadn't even called, but here he was.

I kneeled next to the sofa, stroking his hair carefully. "Jace," I whispered, and he stirred, turning his head to face me.

He looked awful. He'd been crying. A lot, by the looks of his bloodshot eyes.

"What's wrong, baby?" I asked him, and he blinked up at me.

"Where were you?" he yelled, sitting up. "I called, but he answered! So I came over here to scream at you, but you weren't here. Did you go to his place?"

Someone else answered my phone? Possible, I guess, I'd left it on the table when I was dancing. "We went out dancing. All of us." I reached out to touch him and he jerked away.

"Why didn't you call?"

"Because last time I saw you, you were a little pissed at me. Not that I did anything wrong. I didn't invite Michael. If I had, I would have told you."

"You looked really happy to see him," he pouted, not looking at me.

"I was," I admitted. "I haven't seen him for a long time, and I missed him."

"He wants you back," he muttered. "I could tell. He kept touching you."

They spent a lot of time looking at each other, didn't they?

"Yeah, that's why he came. That's what he wanted to tell me."

JC shut his eyes tightly, facing away from me, like I was going to hit him. Thank god I told Michael 'no'. I never would have been able to live through this.

"I told him 'no', Jace. I don't want him back. I told him my life was great."

He whipped his head around, staring at me. "What?" he whispered.

"I love you. Michael has some things going for him, but he's no international pop sensation."

He was supposed to laugh, but he didn't move, just looked at me for a long moment, tears standing in his eyes. "It would be easier if I wasn't an international phenomenon," he finally whispered.

"Fuck 'easy,' Jace. That's never been what this is about."

He tried to say something, but burst into tears instead, and I pulled him into my arms. "Aw, baby, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Shh… I love you, don't worry."

"I always worry!" he wailed, trying to catch his breath.

"I know," I said, trying not to laugh. "I should have thought of that, but I was pissed that you were pissed."

"Everyone was so fucking happy to see him. I wanted to see you, and you didn't even notice I was in the room." He was hiccupping, but the tears were thankfully brief. I would have promised him anything to make him stop crying.

I stroked his hair, feeling him relax against me. "We haven't seen him for a while. It was a nice surprise."

"Why is he so fucking cool?"

I settled back against the couch, still holding him tightly. "He's not. I just figured that out tonight. I begged him to take me back at the lowest point in my life and he wouldn't help me. He had reasons for that, but I don't think I can ever forgive him."

"He sucks," JC pouted, snuggling closer to me.

"He does," I agreed, planting a quick kiss on the top of his head. "Just because he's out doesn't make him better."

He was quiet for a second, holding me tightly. "I was so scared, James," he admitted in a whisper. "I was so sure you were going to go back to him."

"Why would I do that?"

"Why wouldn't you? He can give you a lot of things that I can't. You don't have to watch your every move with him."

"I am slowly growing to realize that being out isn't everything. Not to say that I want to sneak around for the rest of my life, but it's OK for the moment. What we have in secret is pretty fucking great."

He pressed his face against my chest, breathing against me for a second. "I love you. I suck at this jealousy thing. I'm sorry."

I grinned. "Ah, I feel very important tonight. Two hot guys fighting over me."

He whacked at me weakly. "Do you enjoy my pain? Bastard."

<JC>

He laughed, and I smiled against him, breathing him in. I was so sure this was over, that he was going to walk in with Michael and I was going to lose my mind. Or worse, he'd stumble in at dawn, looking well fucked and I wouldn't be able to stand that.

"You wouldn't have had to deal with that if you were out, ya know. If we were out, I would have introduced you as my boyfriend, and hung all over you so that Michael got the idea."

"You didn't even notice me in the room, James." I sounded like a whiny, petulant child. He sometimes made me feel like a greedy five year old, I wanted all his attention and all his love.

He snickered. "I was a bit shocked to see him, I must admit. But when I saw you, I would have introduced you as my boyfriend."

I believed him, lying here in his arms. He would have. It was all my fault that he couldn't, my band and my lack of courage.

He ran his hand down my arm, and his voice was quiet when he spoke again. "I'm not lecturing. I'm just saying."

"I know. You usually don't talk like that, did he make you think about… things? How it was to be out?"

"He did better than that, he threw a complete fit when he realized we were together and you weren't out."

I jumped away from him. Michael knew? James had rejected him and he knew about us? If he decided to get revenge, there it was. It was easy.

"Jace," James said. "It's OK. He won't tell anyone."

"Are you sure? Was he pissed off when you left him? I'd be pissed off if you rejected me. I'd want to get some revenge against the guy that stole you away."

"He was pissed because he was worried about me!" he growled. "He's fine. I trust him."

"I'm not sure that I do."

"Do I need to get your permission now before I tell people about us? You never told me I couldn't tell anyone."

"I never thought I needed to!" I yelled, and it hung there in the air between us.

"I have given up a lot for this relationship, Joshua."

He never called me 'Joshua'. No one did. Well, my mom.

Pay attention, JC.

"You have never asked me about it, and I haven't told you. It was my decision to make and I made it. But I have people in my life who worry about this, who think I made the wrong choice, and sometimes I need to tell them things."

"Who?" I asked, defensively. I should be apologizing, he looked so angry, but I couldn't, my fear was getting the best of me.

"My entire band. You have no idea what I've been through with Rachel over this. Now Michael. All people I trust. I'm not stupid. I'm not telling strangers on the street. That's your decision to make. I made mine by being with you."

I looked away from him, taking a deep breath. I loved him. I had to trust him to make the right decisions. He wouldn't do anything to hurt me. "I wish I could do it, James. I really do. I wish I could have the band and be out with you."

"I know. I'm not asking you to choose. I might, someday, but not right now." I shot him a panicked look and he held up his hands, helpless. "You have to give me that, Jace. I can't hide forever."

I couldn't bear the thought of that day. I knew it would come, and didn't know what I'd do.

He cupped my face in his hands, smiling at me. "Worrywart. It's not today. Today I chose you over Michael, as complicated as you might be." He kissed me, but I pulled away from him slightly.

"Rachel doesn't like me?" Why did this night suck so bad?

He sighed, slumping back against the couch. "Jace… it is three in the fucking morning. Do you ever stop worrying?"

"Not really," I admitted, picking up my wine glass and the bottle I'd finished, and taking them into the kitchen. It was Connor wine, Rachel's merlot, even. She'd given me a whole case of it for Christmas, and a pass to MOMA, and pink Barbie socks. She didn't like me? She and James had fought about me?

I was staring into the refrigerator, completely unable to remember what I was looking for, when I heard his voice behind me. "Water?" he suggested. That was it. I pulled out two bottles and tossed him one. "How much did you drink tonight?" he asked, tipping his head back and taking a long drink.

Fuck, I loved his neck. It was amazing, long and graceful, and he loved it when I kissed him there. There was a spot, right under his ear, that made him come undone.

"Jace," he said, smiling at me. "I asked you a question."

"You did," I nodded. "You have a great neck. Have I ever mentioned that?"

He laughed. At me, but I didn't care. I liked when he laughed at me when I didn't make sense. "You have. If you were anyone but JC fucking Chasez, I'd take that leap of logic to mean that you had quite a bit of alcohol, but you talk like that when you're sober. It's hard to tell with you sometimes."

The corkscrew with the cork still attached was sitting on the counter, and I held it up to him. "I broke it, so I was pretty far gone when I uncorked it."

"When did you get here?"

I took a drink of my water, considering. Show, hotel, drink at the bar, called James, went to a club with Chris and Justin for about ten minutes. It was a gay club, because Justin liked those, and somehow it was OK for him to go to them. Fucking Britney. I needed a high profile girlfriend, then I could do whatever the fuck I wanted. If I could get Rachel to dump Nick, that would work. "Think Rachel would dump Nick to be my pretend girlfriend?"

"No," he answered.

"Right. She hates me," I remembered and he laughed.

"Amazing. This time the logic took us full circle."

"I can concentrate on important things," I told him.

Sighing, he leaned against the counter. "Rachel loves you. She sees that I'm happy with you. At least she does now. It just took a little… convincing."

"Why?" I asked. I was too drunk to stand, so I sat at the kitchen table, and he joined me.

"She thought it was a crush, Jace. She thought it was funny and cute when it started, and she thought that I just liked the intrigue of it all. Then I told her that I loved you, and you loved me back and she didn't really believe me."

"Why not?"

"Why not? Because she didn't want to see me back in the closet."

"But you can't even do that. Everyone knows," I protested.

"Rachel was afraid that I might go back there. Not that I'd hide it, but that I'd start being ashamed of it again. You didn't know me then, Jace. Only Rachel did, she knows exactly what I went through. And she was afraid of you. She wasn't sure that you were really in love with me, maybe you just thought it was fun."

"Oh, yeah, that was fun," I muttered, thinking of the first weeks of our relationship, when I had no idea what I was feeling or doing, only that I couldn't stop. I was in far over my head and it scared the hell out of me. It still did, sometimes. Like tonight.

He snickered, taking another drink of his water. "Know when you convinced her?"

I shrugged. I had no idea. Hell, up until a few minutes ago, I didn't know I'd needed to convince her.

"Last Christmas, you called her, to ask what to get me." I nodded. I had, and we'd ended up on the phone for about an hour, laughing about James. "She was surprised at how well you knew me. You got me things she would have gotten me, hell, you gave her ideas on what I'd like. Even Michael was never able to do that."

"You're easy to buy for, James. Toys, books, art. Playing cards," I smiled. He loved games, and I bought him cards all the time, tacky souvenir decks in airports.

He kissed me, and I was surprised for a second, but then I held his head to mine, tasting the alcohol on his breath, smiling as he moaned lightly as our tongues met. "Michael never said that," he whispered against me.

"Said what?" I had to ask. What were we talking about? He grinned, moving away from me.

"You definitely had too much to drink. Michael said I was hard to buy for. Not so good with gifts, Michael. It never bothered me, but you know Rachel and Christmas."

"She's a freak," I laughed, and he nodded.

"So she appreciated that you wanted to get me cool gifts. That was when she thought that maybe this would be OK, that I wouldn't be unhappy being with you."

"Was she right?" I asked.

He reached out, stroking my face. "Yeah, she's right. I sometimes wish we could do things in public, but private is pretty good."

But how long would that last? How long was private going to be good enough? And when it wasn't, what would I do? The thought of life without him was unbearable. From the moment I'd seen him look at Michael, I'd been in a blind panic. Right now, he was sitting just inches away from me, touching my face, but he felt so far away.

I leaned my forehead on his shoulder, wrapping my arms around his waist and sighing as he stroked my back. "I'm not going anywhere," he told me.

"Yet," I had to add, and his fingers stilled against my spine.

"Yet," he admitted, his voice quiet. I had to bite my tongue to keep from sobbing. I didn't… he… how would I…

He returned to rubbing my back, and his voice was stronger. "Don't panic, Jace. Please. Let's enjoy each day."

"Don't you want more than that? Don't you want to be able to think beyond today? Hell, I don't know what's going to happen when the tour is over!" I yelled, sitting up.

He looked at me for a minute, then got up, taking our water bottles and throwing them away. "We're not having this conversation, JC. Not now. Not when we're drunk and tired and overwrought."

"When, then?"

Why was I pushing this? I didn't even know.

<JAMES>

I snapped. "Never," I growled. "You don't want to have this conversation. Because if I think about it too hard, you are not going to like what I have to say."

"Like what?" he pushed, and I just shook my head.

"No," I told him. "I'm not going to say things we'll both regret later."

Like I deserve to not be hidden. But dignity was sometimes overrated when I got him, and every minute we did have together was so good. I couldn't give up something so real and precious for a little thing like pride. Some day I would, it nagged at me more and more every day, but not right now. Maybe he'd get the courage to come out before my righteous indignation got the best of me and we'd live happily ever after.

Or monkeys might fly out of my butt.

I turned away from him, rinsing out his wine glass in the sink and placing it in the drainer, concentrating on each motion, trying not to think about anything else.

Run the water.

JC in ten years, twenty, grey in his curls, the wire rimmed glasses that made him look so smart and so fuckable, curled up in a chair next to an open window, looking up with a familiar smile when he saw me enter the room. Our room, our chair, our life.

Rinse glass.

"Hey, honey, how was your day?" "Great. Perfect. They fixed the cable. Glad you're home, what are you making me for dinner?"

Even in my fantasies, he wouldn't know how to cook.

I placed the glass carefully in the dish drainer, staring at it for a long moment.

I'd make dinner and he'd pour the wine and we'd talk about our days, recording and writing and producing, but the best part would be coming home to each other and knowing that would happen every day forever.

Suddenly his arms were around me, his body pressed up against mine tightly. "I'm sorry, James," he told me. "I don't know why I'm pushing."

I braced my arms against the edge of the sink, my head falling forward. "Please stop." Because I want it too bad. When I let myself think about more, it just hurts. I can have today and stolen moments and if I think beyond that it makes me too sad. We never talked beyond the moment. It was better that way. "Because it's not my fault that we are the way we are."

"I know," he whispered, sounding scared and sad. We just stood like that for a minute, until I could breathe again.

"Are you staying?" I asked him. Dangerous. He should go.

He answered me quickly. "Yes. Please."

"Do you have stuff tomorrow? Maybe you should go."

"I don't care. Please, James, I need to be with you. Just to sleep, I'm too exhausted for anything else, I just want…" His voice broke and he took a deep breath. "You. I just want you."

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