Date: Thu, 27 Jul 2000 15:07:57 EDT
From: Scotty T <thepoetboy@hotmail.com>
Subject: Mirrors-8

Here's part 8, the second last instalment of Mirrors.

After Mirrors 9, I'll work on BIA until it reaches it's conclusion, and
then I'll disappear indefinitely.  I still intend to do a fourth story, but
it may be a long time since offline projects are just plain better for me
at this stage.  So I'll write the fourth story, get it completely done, and
then start posting instalments.  That'll save on complaints about a slow
posting schedule, right? :)

Thanks go out to DLS and Danny-boy.  DLS for being a cool friend, and Dan
for .  . . well, quite frankly, for the pie.  Even though he gave some away
to . .  . that girl.  And thanks to Sheldon for . . . I'll figure that out
later.

Emails are always loved!  Questions/comments/raves/ripping my heart out/all
of the above.  thepoetboy@hotmail.com

And the standard stuff, copywrite to this story is mine, this has nothing
to do with the real boys of NSYNC, Eric's opinions are not necessarily my
own, yada yada yada.

***

Part 8

It took hours, but eventually we fell asleep on the bed, still not having
moved or spoken.  My dreams were empty -- black voids between times of
wasted sleep.  No rest came of it, and I woke up more tired than I had been
before I slept.

***

His head is still on my chest.  He's been watching me sleep.

"Morning," I say in my head, before I realize that he can't hear me
anymore.
  The room is cold, except for where he's pressed against me.  I wipe my
eyes, and yawn.

I don't want to face those eyes, to see what I've taken from them.

Like it or not, sink or swim, I'm an individual now.  A single being,
finally exposed to the loneliness and alienation of society -- and it's not
like life was easy to begin with.

"I have to get to the booth," I say, out loud this time.

"You're not going anywhere," he says quietly.

I finally let my eyes meet his.  "What?"

"Before, I could keep an eye on you, make sure you were eating and getting
things done.  I could trust you to take care of yourself."

"Trust doesn't come through spying."

He shrugs, his hand on my chest is protectively placed.  "When the
alternative is letting you kill yourself again, it's the closest thing you
can get."  He turns away.  "I can't live without you, Eric."

"That part is over."

He pushes on my chest, using it to sit up on the bed.  "I don't mean in my
head.  I can accept that being gone, even though I don't like it.  I mean
you, here, in my life.  There's no way I'm giving you a chance to ruin
that."

"I'm still here."

"And you're going to fucking stay here."

I sit up as well, feeling the tiredness of each muscle.  "I've got work to
do."

"You've already called in sick."

***

So we sat there for the morning.  Breakfast and lunch were delivered.
Suzie made attempts to figure out what was going on -- even she could feel
the change in the air -- but the wall of silence forced her back, and she
left us alone.

Lance, however, was never one to be held back by walls.

***

Josh opens the door, letting Lance into the room.  I'm leaning against the
headboard of the bed, staring at the tv that I wasn't allowed to watch.
Another one of Josh's commandments.

Lance's broad smile slips away quickly when he sees the grimness in Josh's
face, the set of his jaw.  The blond's head tilts a bit, and his hand
touches Josh's chest, pushing him back against the wall.  He stares into
Josh's eyes before Josh turns away.

Understanding plays across Lance's face.  He has seen Josh look at him,
rather than through.

"We've got to go, Josh," he says.  "The new harnesses are in, we've got to
be fitted."

Sailing.  The new harnesses had been the talk of the boys -- finally they'd
have a comfortable way to soar over the audience.  I can remember being
part of the flight countless times, it's always been my favourite part,
even if I was just perched in someone else's mind.

"I can't leave, Scoop."

Lance puts a hand on Josh's shoulder.  "I'll stay with him, Josh.  Don't
worry.  I'll run down for my fitting when you get back."

Josh's eyes register the offer and he smiles a bit in thanks before looking
over at me with mourning eyes.  "I'll be back, Eric."  He says it firmly,
avoiding the thought that maybe he wouldn't return.  But I know him too
well, I can read his thoughts just by his movements, the set of his jaw.

Lance moves to lie down beside me on the bed as Josh leaves the room.

***

Josh was gone for a two hours.  His harness had arrived in horrible shape,
and they'd spent ages refitting it for him.  When he came through the door,
Lance had to run down to catch his own fitting before the designers left.

And when Josh came back, he wrapped himself around me, like a sweater, both
of us feeling the need to hold the other after what had felt like a century
long separation.

***

"It doesn't mean I don't love you, Josh."

"I know," he says quietly.

I hug him again.  He's lying with his head on my chest, listening to my
heart beat
  that second pulse that used to occupy a comforting spot in the back of
his thoughts.

Lunch has come and gone, and he hasn't forgiven me for it yet.  I'd eaten
less than half of what was prepared for me.  We both know that the future
held a long conversation with the nurse, but the future isn't now, so it
takes a minor place in our thoughts.

"Because I do love you," I whisper, "more than I love anything in this
world."

"I know."

"I just need to keep my thoughts my own.  For now."

Now he's quiet.  I can feel his ear pressed against me, under the weight of
the rest of his head.

"I can help," he says.

"I just need time."

"If you didn't keep pushing me away, I could help.  Given the chance, I
could make sure you knew that I wasn't that guy -- hell, I could make you
forget him entirely."

I stare at the ceiling, the dull beige of hotel paint.  "You're talking
about programming me, Josh."

He pushes himself up until he's on his hands and knees beside me, staring
into my eyes.  I turn away to look at the door.

"I am not and you know it.  It's no different than therapy, it's just
faster.  You don't have to keep all this crap to yourself, and the two of
us would deal with it faster than you can alone."  His hand is on my chin,
turning my head and forcing me to meet his gaze.  "I just want to help."

I study those eyes and their odd, almond shape.  My shoulder rolls, trying
to work out a stiffness that had been building.  "Sometimes it's better to
be broken for a while.  Being alright isn't all it's cracked up to be.
When do you learn more, when everything's perfect or when there's something
wrong?"

"So you're slitting your own wrists just to learn something?"

My voice deepens, as it does whenever I'm pushed to the point where my
temper kicks in.  And it has kicked in.  "I'm not damn well slitting my
wrists.  I'm nursing my fucking wounds here.  After what I've been through
I have the right to do this."

He laughs, a short hurtful burst.  "What you've been through?  Other than
the rape you've set yourself up for every single thing you've been through
has been because you haven't asked for help.  You've pulled away from
nurses, laughed in the face of therapy and you won't even let me in."

I put a hand on his shoulder and push him back, far enough that I had room
to breathe.  He's just a few decibels short of yelling.

"Who says I have to let people in?  Where's the contract that says that I
promise to let every jack ass from the street into my head to tinker around
and attempt some repairs?"

His eyes are narrow, but they soften under my glare.  He sighs deeply and
settles down to sit cross legged on the bed.  "For most people, that's just
a part of what love is."

I pull myself back from the anger and force my voice to settle.  "Since
when was I most people?"

There's a half grin on his face.  "Never."

"Then just give me some time.  That's all I'm asking."

"Then just eat the food you're given -- that's all I'm asking."

I flop back onto the pillows.  "It makes my stomach hurt."

He scoots closer and lays his hand on the offending stomach.  "After all
you've done to it, I'm not surprised it hurts a bit."

"If she'd just let me work my way up to full meals rather than starting out
on these mammoth meals, I could deal."

"Mammoth?  Justin could eat four times that much in one sitting."

I smirk.  "Wait until he gets a bit older and his metabolism changes.  Then
he'll start to look like that Backstreet Boy."

"Which one?"

"The blond guy."

"Nick?  Nick's not fat.  He's just not as buff as the others.  He's their
Joey."  Josh smiles.  "And it can be tough keeping as gorgeous as me when
you're eating road food all the time."

I raised an eyebrow.  "And yet you're trying to force it down my throat?"

"Eric, you could stand to put on twenty pounds or more."  He pinches my
stomach and gets nothing but skin.

I laugh.  "Point taken."

"We good here then?"

"Not quite."

He sighs again.  "What else?"

"I don't think I've been kissed in hours."

This time he raises an eyebrow.  "You're okay with that?"

"As long as the hands don't travel anywhere too interesting, I think it's
okay."  I smile.

***

Remember that I did already reveal my ending.  I've already told you this
is a love story, and hinted that there was a happy ending somewhere beneath
it all.  I just wanted that reminder set in place before we continue, cause
there's still some rough ground to cover.

***

I step out of the shower and I can already hear the voices in the next
room.  There's some kind of argument going on.  I try to ignore it since
it's Josh's business and not mine, but I'm so used to hearing all of his
talks, and worries, and battles that I can't help myself.

Eventually I give up preening, trying to get ready for the fancy dinner out
Josh has promised me, and press my ear to the door.

"Now he's keeping you from rehearsals?  This is going too far, JC, too damn
far."  I recognise Justin's voice.  "What the hell is the big deal anyway?
He's sound crew.  I know you've been friends or something, but he's pulling
you away from the group.  He's got issues, I know, but where are your
priorities, boy?"

There's a silence and a rustling.  I can hear Josh going through drawers,
probably still picking an outfit.

Josh says something too low for me to hear, but Justin's reply is clearly
audible.

"This is our career, man!  Forget the friendship angle, this is our job!"

"I can't make the rehearsal, that's it.  Final."

"Management's gonna be furious."

"They can go fuck themselves."

There's a stunned silence, not just out there, but in the bathroom too.

And then, eventually.  "What?"

"Rehearse without me tonight."

"What's going on with you, Josh?  This ain't like you."

There was another silence, and then a quiet voice.  "He needs me, Justin."

"He'll still need you after the rehearsal.  What's the rush?"

Something else is said that I can't hear, and another pause comes.  This
time there's not even any sound of movement.

"He's a guy, Josh."

Josh laughs.  "I've noticed."

I smile too, mostly at the drop in volume that came with Justin's last
words.

"What about all the girls you've paraded past us?"

Josh laughs, a short and awkward laugh.  "A guy is permitted some choice."

Justin's voice comes with a grin in it.  "Does Scoop know?  I always
thought he had a bit of a thing for you."

"Is he gay?"

"Oh, come on.  Like you didn't notice."

"He and I tried dating for a while.  Didn't really work out."

"But you love this guy?"

"Eric," he says, reinforcing that I have a name.  "And yeah.  I think he's
the one I've been looking for."

"And you'll still keep up with the babe watching?"

"Yeah."

"Then take your man out to dinner.  I'll catch you later."

***

I'm buttoning my shirt, with Josh's chin perched on my shoulder and his
arms around my waist.  My eyes are on him more than the buttons.

"When does the rehearsal start?"

"About an hour."

"We can be back within an hour and a half."

He kisses my neck.  I'm not used to the feeling of his chin being smooth.
"I don't want to go."

"I really should be in the booth for it."

"Sound's not a part of it.  Just stage work, and trying the new flight
rig."

"Then we'll get you there a half hour late."

"I don't want to go."  He's nuzzling my neck.  Somehow I don't think we'll
last long in a public restaurant anyway.

"And I don't want to get between you and your career."

"You're not.  We're entitled to a few skipped rehearsals."

"Then let's save a skip for something worth skipping for."

He smiles, looking back into the mirror to meet my eyes.  "Like what?"

"The wedding, birth of our fourth child.  Your cremation.  That sort of
stuff."

"I get to die first?"

"Wouldn't this conversation be better over wine at the restaurant?"

He nods and pulls me to the door.

***

The switch to friendship mode at the restaurant was easy.  We'd done it
before, and we'd do it again.  Over and over for years.  The trick was to
flirt with the waitress, presuming it was a she.  And Josh was more than
trained in the art of flirting with members of the opposite sex.

And I was secure enough to not mind.  Too much.

I made sure to just try not to flirt with the surrounding males too
obviously.  Though I couldn't avoid it entirely -- Josh couldn't have all
the fun.  He didn't even comment on the fact that I ate less than half of
my meal.

I wanted to try running back to the hotel, since it would really have been
faster than a cab, but Josh insisted.

***

"So you'll be in the front row?" he calls through the bathroom door.

I find it sweet that he goes in there to change, though I do regret missing
the show.  "That'll be a dead give away to the rest of the guys."

"What's your point?"  He comes out of the bathroom in his rehearsal wear.
It really shoes off his lines and muscles, and I don't even try not to
stare.  That makes his smile just widen.

"I'll be in the booth.  I have some work to catch up on since I apparently
called in sick today."

"Just so long as you're watching."

I run my hand along his stomach, feeling the bumps.  "I'll be there,
gorgeous.  Don't you worry."

"It'll be strange to not see the show from up there."

I laugh and walk to the door, holding it open for him.  "It'll be strange
to only see it from there."

He kisses my cheek on his way past.

***

We seemed happy, but part of it was forced.  We were trying to be as happy
as we could be in the given circumstances.  I was lonely.  Whether he was
beside me or on the other end of the venue, I was lonely.

And that sound booth seemed colder than it ever had before.  It didn't take
long before I gave up on my work entirely, turned on some of the stage mics
and put them on the booth speakers.  The voices seemed disembodied,
unconnected to the people I could see moving below.

I could also still see the workers above the empty audience, still
connecting cables and wires for the flight part of the show.  It did look
better than the old set up, much subtler.  The lights didn't pick up as
much on the thinner wires, and the harnesses were barely noticeable through
the guys' outfits.  Lance kept having to adjust his though, since the fit
was never tailored to him.

I noticed Justin was looking up towards the booth more so than usual.  But
it looked like a smile on that tiny face, so I didn't give it much thought.

They practised their dancing for two hours before the call was finally made
that they were ready for take off.  I listened as Sailing came onto a
portable CD player on stage, watched as some simple lifts were tried with
the gear as the song looped.

And then watched as the guys finally tried the normal choreography to the
song.  This was the point where I really missed the connection with Joshua.
To feel the thrill in his mind as his feet left the ground was something
I'd grown to love.  He was always a bit nervous before take off, but once
he got into it, the feeling was amazing.

You could tell by their reserved movements that they didn't quite trust the
new system yet.  And that would take time, I knew.  If it was my body
hooked into one of those, I'd have been shaking in fear, even though I have
no real fear of heights.

And so, I was there that night, watching the rehearsal.  I was there as the
song looped.

I laughed when Lance's harness slipped and he let out a yell before he
started laughing too.  I was there as the first cable broke, sending the
blond boy spinning.

I watched everyone scrambling to get him down, listened as he yelled and as
the others tried to keep him calm as he hung sixty feet above the empty
seats.

I was watching, with Josh's terrified mind pushing at every one of my
doors, as Lance's only remaining cable snapped.

I was there.

***

End Part 8.


I'm not normally known as cliffhangers, but this was the only good way to
split up the last two parts. :) thepoetboy@hotmail.com