Date: Fri, 24 Sep 2004 05:10:00 -0700 (PDT)
From: Michael Bryan <mzbryan2003@yahoo.com>
Subject: JC and the Actor (Chapter 38)

JC and the Actor, Chapter 38, Copyright 2004
----------

The following story is entirely a work of fiction.  It is not meant to
imply anything about the sexuality or the personal lives of the members of
NSYNC, or any other celebrities mentioned.  If you are underage, or if it
is illegal to read sexually explicit gay material where you live, don't
read this.

Sooooooo sorry for the long delay, but hear it is, Chapter 38, complete and
unabridged.  This is actually the longest chapter, to date, so hopefully
that will make up a bit for the story's absence over the past couple of
months.  It hardly seems possible that over a year has gone by since this
story began.  Thanks to everyone for sticking around 'til the end.  Please
continue to send your comments to mzbryan2003@yahoo.com.  Two more chapters
to follow!

----------

Chapter 38

	"The film really turned out to be great, Nate," Bobby said.  "I'm
glad you are having so much success."  I still couldn't believe I was
standing in front of him.

	"Thank you," I said, not having anything else to say beyond that.

	"Oh, you must have worked on 'The Edge' with Nate," Edward said,
starting to piece things together.  I wondered how much he was going to
remember.

	"Yeah," Bobby said, turning back to Edward.  "Feels like it was a
long time ago though."  He turned back to face me.  "I've grown up a lot
since then."  It felt like it was my turn to say something, though my mind
was temporarily devoid of thoughts.

	"Your hair is longer," I offered, immediately wondering why I had
said something so stupid.

	"Um, yeah," he laughed awkwardly, running his hand through his
choppy blond locks.  Someone called for Bobby, and he jumped up, maybe
eager to leave.  I couldn't tell.  "Hey," he said to Edward.  "Want to meet
Jude Law?"

	"Wow," Edward said, suddenly enthusiastic.  I cast a suspicious
look at him, wondering when he had decided to get into a good mood, and
when he had decided to care about celebrities.  "You don't think he would
mind?"

	"No, he's great," Bobby said.  "Come on."

	"Uh, Edward, we have to be getting back to town.  I have a
rehearsal this afternoon."  I half-turned to walk away, assuming Edward
would say good-bye and follow behind.  To my continued surprise, he just
stood there, looking back and forth between Bobby and me.

	"Hey," Bobby began, "most of us here are staying in London.  Edward
can catch a ride back with one of us if he wants.  That way he could spend
the day seeing how a movie is made"

	"That would be great," Edward said, turning to me with a hopeful
gaze.  I briefly wondered if I had taken the wrong brother from New
Hampshire.  This kid was confusing the hell out of me.

	"Um, yeah, I guess that would be fine," I found myself saying,
realizing that I was more interested in leaving then engaging in any
further conversation.  I watched the two young men walk towards the
trailers in the distance.  At quick glance one might assume they were
brothers, same height, same build, same coloring.

	I was driven back to London, my head spinning.  In reality, not
much had happened.  I had simply run into someone I used to know.  It was
bound to happen.  It shouldn't really matter.  It certainly wasn't as if
any old feeling had come back to me.  If anything, seeing Bobby just made
me remember how much I had hurt JC, making me hate myself a little.

	I wanted to be upset with Edward for some reason, but again, I
really had no reason to be.  People in grief frequently found more comfort
in strangers.  And Edward and Bobby were similar in age.  Going to an art
school, I assumed that Edward must have had a lot of gay friends, but I
couldn't recall him ever mentioning one of them.  I told myself just to
forget about it and focus on my play.  I pulled out my script, flipping it
open to the first page.  Why, I have no idea.  I had memorized the entire
play years ago in college.

----------

	Rehearsal went off without a hitch.  I genuinely liked the people I
was working with, and they seemed to feel the same way about me.  I had
worried that they might be a little resentful of my celebrity, or that they
might think that I was a New York theater snob, but I was happy to see that
none of that seemed to be the case.  It was early evening when I returned
back to the townhouse.  I had momentarily forgotten about seeing Bobby, and
was really looking forward to seeing JC.  I took that to be a sure sign of
being in love.  Sitting in a famous London theater, practicing the role of
a lifetime, and hoping it would end soon so I could run home to see my
favorite pop star.

	Hearing no response when I called out his name from the foyer, I
hurried up the stairs, hoping that JC wasn't on the third floor again.
"Josh," I said softly, knocking on the bedroom door and opening it at the
same time.

	"Oh, shit," JC yelped, quickly turning away from me.

	"Sorry, sorry," I found myself saying, stepping back out of the
room and closing the door faster than I knew I could.  I was totally
confused as to what I was supposed to be doing.  What was the proper
etiquette for accidentally surprising your boyfriend while he was
masturbating?

	I walked down the hall, to the balcony overlooking the foyer down
below.  I grasped the railing and started to chuckle.  It was half out of
embarrassment; half out of thinking about how mortified JC must be at the
moment.  I heard the bedroom door open and could feel pure humiliation
shuffling toward me, even without turning around.  I bit my bottom lip
hard, telling myself that I had to handle this tactfully and maturely.  I
turned around to see JC standing with his back against the wall, his hands
in his pockets, his cheeks red.

	"Please don't say anything," he said, looking down at the floor.

	"Ok," I said, not really sure what I would say anyway.  I decided
to walk over to him, and leaned down to give him a soft kiss on the cheek.
"I'm glad you're home," I said, heading back to the bedroom to shower and
change.

 	Minutes later, I was staring into the mirror, running my fingers
through my wet hair, convinced that it felt thinner even though everyone
said that it wasn't.  There was a small knock on the door, followed by JC's
meek request to enter.

	"Sure," I said, and he stepped inside, the fog from the shower
quickly dissipating into the bedroom.  "What's up?" I asked him, turning
around, leaning back against the counter, a towel wrapped around my waist.

	"I, um, I don't want you to think that I do that often."

	"Josh, it's none of my business."

	"It is," he said.  "I don't want you to think that you don't
satisfy me or something."

	"Honestly, the thought didn't cross my mind."

	"It was just that, well, I don't really even know.  I was just
wandering around the house and suddenly, uh..."

	"Something came up?" I said, a slightly mischievous smile spreading
across my face.

	"Yeah," he laughed.  "And you weren't here and I just thought that
no real harm would come of it."

	"Well, I'm here now," I said, raising an eyebrow.

	"I didn't exactly finish," JC said quietly, pushing his lips
together and looking up at me from his turned down face.  ----------

	JC rolled off of me, panting beside me, his fingertips lightly
moving up and down his chest.  "Oh man," he sighed, his other hand moving
across his face.  "God, I needed that."

	"You've been saying that a lot lately." I said, slowing my own
breath, turning my head to look at him.

	"It's this house," he said, facing me as well.  "Can't you feel
it?"

	"Honestly?" I asked.  He nodded.  "Uh, no, I don't feel anything
different here."

	"You must just not be in touch with the spiritual world," he said,
looking back up at the ceiling before closing his eyes.

	"And you are?" I asked.

	"Obviously," he answered.  "I've been walking around this place
with a hard-on for weeks."

	"And you think that's because of the ghosts," I said in total
disbelief.

	"I just wonder who used to live here," he said.  "Must have been
someone with a lot of passion."  JC seemed to be happy thinking about horny
spirits lingering around, so I didn't want to rain on his parade too much.
I was more of the opinion that he was just going through a horny period
himself, but hell, over the past year I had learned that I was wrong about
a lot of things.

	The chimes from downstairs began to ring, signaling that it was
nine in the evening.  Edward still wasn't home.  "Edward didn't come back
this afternoon, did he?" I asked JC.

	"No, I haven't seen him," JC said.  "Wait.  Where is he?"

	"Um," I said, scratching my head.  "You probably aren't going to
believe this, but he's with Bobby."

	"What?" JC said, turning on his side, propping his head up with his
elbow.  "Bobby, as in..."

	"Yeah," I said flatly.  "Turns out he is working on the set I went
to visit my friend Tim at."

	"So, you talked to him," JC said, looking away from me.  I reached
out and slid my hand up his smooth, well-defined arm.

	"Josh, please don't get upset.  There was nothing I could do.  I
literally just said 'hi' and then tried to leave.  The problem is that
Edward suddenly got the great idea to spend the day with him."

	"Why?" JC said, knitting his eyebrows together.  "Didn't he know
who he was?"

	"I guess not," I said.  "Josh, I'm so sorry to even be bringing him
up."

	"It's ok," JC said.  "I know you didn't plan it.  And besides,
Edward could use a friend out here his own age."

	"That wouldn't bother you?" I asked.  "If Bobby was around."

	"Of course it would," he said, rolling onto his back again.  "I'm
just trying to think of Edward.

	"I don't deserve you," I said, smiling, though I knew he wasn't
looking at me.

	"Probably not," JC said.  "But I love you just the same."

	JC fell asleep around midnight, finally exhausted after another
round of lovemaking.  I, on the other hand, was wide-awake, wondering where
the hell Edward was.  It was nearly one in the morning when I heard the
front door opening, and I exited the bedroom, making my way downstairs.  I
ran into Edward on the staircase.  He seemed drunk.  Drunk but happy.
"Where have you been?" I asked, obstructing him from going further up the
stairs.  "I was really getting worried."

	"I was at Gay," he laughed, mostly to himself.  "That's actually
the name of the club.  Gay."  He laughed again.

	"You were there with Bobby?"

	"Yeah, it was so much fun.  He was so much fun."  Edward was
beaming through his drunkenness.

	"Edward, I don't know if Bobby said anything to you, but I think
you should know that he's the reason JC and I broke up last winter."

	"Oh, I knew that," Edward said, waving his hand.  "I remember him
from your apartment.  Even then I wondered who that cute guy was."

	"Well, if you know, then you obviously also know that you can't see
him again."

	"What are you talking about?" Edward said as though he couldn't
possibly understand where I was coming from.  "We're going to meet tomorrow
night in town."  He scratched his head.  "I wonder if I should go
shopping," he said to himself.  I was about to start a protest when I
realized that it was pretty pointless to lecture someone who was
intoxicated.

	"We'll talk tomorrow," I said.  "Get some rest."  I went back up
the stairs, Edward following close behind.  I watched him pad his way down
the hall to his room.  He couldn't walk in a straight line, but at least he
didn't seem completely miserable.

	The next morning I awoke to find myself alone in bed.  I pulled
back the sheets, hopped off the bed and gave my body a long stretch.  I
pulled on a white tank-top and made my way downstairs.  JC was sitting at
the kitchen table, spooning cereal into his mouth with one hand, flipping
through my script with the other.  "Mornin'," I said, taking a bowl from
the cabinet.

	"This guy is so gay," JC said, turning the page, referencing the
character I was playing.

	"It's not explicit," I said, sitting down.

	"And what's with his constant going to the movies?"

	"He does go to the movies," I said, smiling a little, listening to
JC's interpretation of 'The Glass Menagerie.'

	"Yeah, well, he's going somewhere else afterward," he laughed.  He
closed the script and looked up at me.  "How do you do this?" he asked,
suddenly very serious.

	"What do you mean?" I asked.  "Act?"

	"How do you create a character?  How do you take these lines and
turn them into a living, breathing person?  A person with a past and with
hopes and dreams?"

	"Well," I began, "there are a lot of different styles of acting.
Personally, I try to approach my roles more intellectually rather than
instinctively.  I try to figure out what makes this person the way he is
and then I start to put the pieces together, like a puzzle."

	"You must be really smart," he said, still with a serious tone.  I
found myself blushing and had to look away.  JC was able to deliver a
compliment without any sense of jealousy.  "When NSYNC took its first
break, I thought about becoming an actor."  He shook his head.  "I'm glad I
didn't."

	"Why do you say that?" I asked him.  "I think you would be a good
actor."

	"Nah," he said, pushing his bowl away from him.  "I would have just
been saying lines.  You obviously put a lot more thought into it."

	"Josh, if you're ever interested in doing it, I could help you.  I
could teach you."  The idea was intriguing to me.  I had never worked as an
acting coach, but I new that I would love my student.

	"Maybe someday," he said.  "Did Edward come back last night."

	"Drunk off his ass," I said, rolling my eyes.  "I'm really starting
to think we are in over our heads here.  I don't know what to do with a
drunken teenager."

	"He's under a lot of stress," JC reasoned.  Apparently Edward's
occasional drunken escapades weren't that impressive to him.

	"Are you planning on being the 'good cop' the whole time he is
here?" I said with a laugh.  We both heard footsteps coming down the stairs
and quickly scrambled to start talking about something else.

	"Isn't that something?" JC laughed as Edward entered the kitchen.
"I totally didn't realize there was a dishwasher in here."  Edward raised
one of his eyebrows at JC, and slumped into a chair.

	"Hangover?" I asked, handing him a cereal bowl.

	"Just tired," he said.  "Is there a plumber or somebody on the
third floor?"

	"No, but there is a..."

	"It's just old pipes," I said, interrupting JC.  I didn't want to
fill Edward's head with thoughts of ghosts clamoring around the house.
"Edward, we have to talk about you and Bobby."

	"Isn't it a little early for that?" he said, pouring cereal into
his bowl, seemingly deciding against it, and pushing it away from him.  "I
just met him yesterday."

	"Edward, you're not paying attention to the back-story here, and I
just don't want you to get hurt."

	"How would I get hurt?" he asked, looking up at me.

	"I don't want you being used to get some sort of revenge on me."

	"Jeez," he said.  "Conceited much?"

	"Edward," JC interjected.  "Nate is just trying to explain..."

	"God," Edward interrupted.  "I can't believe that you are making
this about you."  He was getting noticeably angry with me and I wasn't
prepared for it.  "Did it ever occur to you that Bobby might just like me?
And that I might like him?  You act like Bobby is just going to live out
the rest of his life dreaming about the one time he got to blow you."

	"Edward," I yelled, looking at JC.  His eyes were cast toward the
table.  "I know you're trying to upset me here for some reason, but who do
you think you are hurting, talking like that?"

	"I'm sorry," Edward said to JC, pushing himself away from the table
and standing up.  He turned back to me.  "You're not my father, and you've
only decided to be my brother, what, like a few months ago?  Don't fucking
tell me what I can and can't do."  He stormed out of the kitchen, the
sounds of his steps only being silenced by the slamming of the front door.

	"What the fuck was that?" I asked.  JC looked as dumbfounded as I
did.  "I'm making millions of dollars, am internationally famous, and for
what?  To listen to shit like that?"  I threw up my hands and moved to
leave the kitchen, but realized I really had no place to go.

	"It's ok," JC said.

	"No, it's really not."  I was yelling, but not at JC.  "Josh, maybe
it's all true.  By nature I am selfish.  I do put myself first and maybe
this new persona I've adopted of trying to become 'man of the year' just
isn't going to work."

	"I don't think I'm following you," he said.  It surprised me that
all this time JC was sitting calmly at the kitchen table.  Usually I was
able to get him as excited as I was.

	"I'm saying I'm getting so sick of just one problem after another.
When you take a look at my life, everything is perfect and yet here I am,
still having to put up with bullshit."

	"The bullshit doesn't go away just because we become rich and
famous," JC said.  "I should tell you about a cousin of mine."

	"Josh, I just don't want drama in my life anymore.  I just want to
act, be with you, and travel.  That's the life I've worked for.  Christ,
it's the life I had even before I was famous.  I don't want to be some
fucked up kid's father anymore."

	"Ok," JC said, his eyes looking a bit alarmed.  "Why don't you just
try to calm down?"  He stood up and walked toward me.  In the time it took
him to reach me I realized that I was in the middle of having a small
breakdown.  It had happened before.  Artists were prone to them.  As JC put
his arms around me I realized that I probably wasn't making much sense, and
that I was yelling about things I didn't really intend to.

	"I'm sorry," I said, grasping him tightly around me.  "I don't know
what's happening.  I just feel very overwhelmed all of the sudden."

	"It's ok," JC said quietly, his hand reaching up and touching the
back of my head.  "You just be the little drama queen you need to be."

	"Thanks," I laughed, feeling moisture moving down my cheeks.  I was
crying.  In the past few months I really thought I had changed.  I was
happy with the brother I had been to Edward, and really thought I was
making up for the time we lost.  I felt his loss and truthfully wanted to
help him.  His coldness had left me feeling totally empty.

	"Maybe you want to skip rehearsals today," JC said.

	"No," I said, wiping my face.  "I have to get back to doing what it
is I do.  I have to be able to give this my all.  This play has to become
my life.  I have to approach it the way I used to approach my work."

	"Used to?" JC said.  "I wasn't aware that you had been slacking
off."

	"Please," I started.  "When I think of that last film I did I
cringe.  I was totally off my game."

	"I doubt anyone will notice that," he said.

	"Probably not," I said.  "It's so easy to fake it in a movie.  But
I know and it makes me sick."  I had to stop this ranting, but I also felt
that I had to make some point out of it.  I didn't want JC to just think I
was nuts.

	"I think this thing with Edward and Bobby is just stirring up a
whole lot of emotions in you," JC said.

	"I'm not interested in Bobby," I said.  "You do know that, right?"
JC nodded.  "I really just think that Edward is going to get hurt.  I just
don't believe that Bobby's intentions are legitimate."

	"Come on, Nate," JC shrugged.  "You really think the guy is so hung
up on you that now he's planning on using your brother just to get closer
to you, or to get back at you."  I had to admit it sounded a bit
narcissistic, but it is what I thought.

	"I guess not," I lied.

	"When you think about it, what's the worst that could rally happen?
So Edward screws around with Bobby for a while.  It's bound to happen
sooner or later and then he'll move on to someone else."

	"You make it sound so easy," I said, squinting my eyes at him and
smirking a bit.  "You used to be quite a little whore, weren't you?"

	"That's a tale for another day," JC said, smiling shyly and walking
back to the table.  He took his bowl and placed it into the sink.  I had to
start getting ready for today's rehearsals, so I decided to table the
discussion for now, and hurry back upstairs to get ready.  Maybe I could
just relax and see how everything played out.  Maybe I was overreacting.
Then again, maybe I wasn't.

----------

	Another month and my relationship with Edward had pretty much
stayed the same.  I came and went.  He came and went.  Not being his
father, I decided to stop trying to act like one, and so I through myself
into my work, living and breathing character.  I had started losing weight
to accentuate the characters meekness and my hair was now cut in a more
traditional, 1940s style.  As promised, I went to Miami with JC to
celebrate his 29th birthday with his friends and family.  I didn't as of
yet have the funds to buy him a Miami condominium as he had done for me,
but I did come up with a custom made watch for him that cost more than
average three-bedroom home.

	Back in London, I stood inside our bedroom closet.  "I never
thought I would be able to borrow your clothes," I laughed, looking through
his clothes.

	"Be honest," JC laughed.  "That's really the reason you are doing
all of this, right?  I've seen the way you look at my D&G jeans."

	"When are we supposed to be there?" I asked, opting for my own
clothes.

	"Beats me, I'm just the boy-bitch that follows you around to these
things."

	"Josh," I laughed.  "You don't follow, you accompany."

	"Gee, thanks," he smirked.

	"Anyway, I think I said we would stop by around eight, so I guess
that gives us until nine."

	"You know," JC began.  "I may even enjoy this party.  I mean,
Gwyneth is married to a rock star."

	"Maybe you and the Coldplay guy can do a collaboration or
something."

	"I highly doubt that," JC said, rolling his eyes.  "Remember, I'm
the guy who writes songs about women pretending to be lesbians."

	"Yeah," I laughed.  "What was that all about?"  I left the bedroom
and walked over to Edward's room, tapping on the door quietly.

	"Enter," Edward said.  I opened the door to find him hurriedly
walking around his room, buttoning his jeans and fastening his wristwatch.
It was the one I had given him.

	"Are you sure you don't want to come?" I asked.  "Gwyneth said she
would love to meet you.  Even her husband sounded intrigued when he heard
you were going to Julliard."

	"Used to go," Edward said under his breath.

	"What?" I asked.

	"Nothing," he said, shrugging me off.  "I can't go tonight.  I'm
going to some play with Bobby."

	"Oh," I said, trying to pretend that I didn't find this situation
totally absurd.  "Ok then, well, have fun."  I turned to walk out, then had
another thought and turned back.  "Edward, you don't think I am mad at you
for anything, do you?"

	"No," he said.

	"I mean, you can at least slightly understand that this whole
situation makes me a bit uncomfortable."

	"I can," he said.  "But this is my life.  I can't not like someone
just because you used to know them."

	"I agree," I said.  "Just look out for yourself.  Don't forget that
this is all still new to you."

	"I won't," he said, tilting his head toward me.  Was that a smile?
I think it was.  I turned away and headed back to my bedroom.

	"We're not dull and boring," JC was saying into his cell phone.
"We do a lot of exciting things.  Tonight?  Well, tonight we're going to a
dinner party at Gwyneth Paltrow's.  I know.  Justin would shit himself if
he knew I was hanging out with Coldplay."  JC looked at me and mouthed that
it was Lance on the other line.  "No," he answered Lance.  "I don't think
the party has a chance of turning into an orgy."  He rolled his eyes at me.
"Ok, got to go.  Yes.  Yes, I'll call you when I decide to stop acting like
a tired old housewife."  He snapped his phone closed with a laugh.  "You
don't think we've become boring, do you?" JC asked me.

	"Of course not," I said.  "What?  Just because we enjoy quiet
evenings at home and intimate dinner parties - that makes us boring?"

	"I don't think so either," JC said confidently.  He sat down on the
bed.  "I mean, it's not like we haven't done all of that wild stuff."

	"Exactly," I said.

	"We've been pretty wild in our day," he said, sounding a bit like
he was trying to convince himself.

	"Absolutely," I chirped.  He sat quietly for a moment, scratching
the back of his neck.  "Nate, when was the last time we had sex somewhere
other than this bed?"  I thought back to our time on the stairs when I
first arrived in London.

	"I guess, like, two months ago," I said.

	"What do you think that is in gay years?" he smiled.  I laughed
too.  "We have to be careful, Nate," he said, standing up and stretching
his long arms over his head.  "First it's only on the bed, then it's only
weekends and before you know it, we don't touch each other at all anymore."

	I laughed again, though this time it was because I was a bit
uncomfortable.  "I think we're still a little bit away from that day."  We
were still making love almost daily, because of the ghosts JC would
probably say.

	"I don't know," he said sarcastically with a wink before exiting
the bedroom.  He left and I stood there wondering if our relationship was
already in need of spicing up.  I knew he was just kidding around, and I
knew that Lance was probably the last person on Earth you should take
advice from.  Still, the idea had been planted, and in my mind the idea was
quickly becoming a challenge.  I grabbed a few things, switched off the
light to the bedroom and hurried down the stairs.  I had come to a
decision.  There was really no other solution.  I was going to fuck JC at
Gwyneth Paltrow's party.

----------

	We sat in the back of the car, being driven to Gwyneth Paltrow's
house just outside of London.  Gwyneth and I had met a few weeks ago for
lunch when she indicated to me through my agent that she wanted me to play
opposite her in the film that was to be her "comeback" since having her
daughter a couple of years ago.  I took an instant liking to her, and for
lack of anything better to do, agreed to make the film.  Production would
probably begin in London in the early spring, and I was assured that
filming would not conflict with my nightly theater performances.

	"I think I figured something out about Edward," I said as the car
hummed along.

	"And what is that?" JC asked, feigning interest.  He always seemed
a bit on edge when we hung out with so called "artists."

	"I mean, naturally I know he is upset about his grandmother and all
that, but I think he's largely just going through some growing pains.  You
know, this thing with Bobby is really his first gay experience, so he's
probably banking a lot more on it than a reasonable person would."

	"Us boys do go crazy over each other, don't we?" JC smiled.

	"I guess I just have to resign myself that this is all going to
happen.  I know Edward will get his heart-broken, but I guess he needs to
go through that."

	"Why are you so sure he will have his heart broken?" JC asked,
shifting in his seat.

	"I just am," I said, looking out the window.  It was just a feeling
I had, and I didn't really know what to do with it.  I tried to think back.
Were my hunches ever correct?  I knew that I was wrong about a lot of
things, but I had always felt that I was a good judge of character.  Of
course I also knew that I used to think about Bobby differently than I did
now.

The car approached the large mansion and judging by the many cars
surrounding it, I realized that this wasn't going to be the intimate dinner
party I thought it was.  Our driver opened the door and we stepped out.  I
could hear JC draw his breath a bit tightly and I asked him if he was ok.

	"I always feel really stupid around these people," he said, his
honesty shocking me a bit.  "Suddenly it's like I'm some musician with a
high school diploma."

	"Josh," I began.  "First of all, isn't Gwyneth's husband a musician
with a high school diploma?"  He nodded.  "I mean come on, half of the
people in there barely made it through high school.  Don't be fooled by all
of this, just because now they all talk with psuedo-English accents and
talk about 'brilliant' directors and the end of civilization."  I placed my
hand on his shoulder.  Part of me understood that he was used to hanging
around the Paris Hiltons and Tara Reids of the world, but another part of
me wanted him to know that he could hold his own with anyone.  "Trust me, I
would guess that most of them hadn't seen a table setting with more than
one fork before the age of twenty-one."

	"Ok," he laughed.  "I get it, I'm just as good as them."  His grin
always made him look all of twelve, and once again I couldn't think of one
reason why anyone wouldn't love him.  We headed to the front door and rang
the bell.  While waiting for someone to answer the door JC leaned over and
whispered into my ear, "You know, you're a bit of a snob."

	"It's not my fault that I had a privileged upbringing," I smiled,
meaning for it to be a joke, but knowing it sounded a bit bitchy.  "Of
course," I continued, recovering, "One might say that my father's
committing of adultery and keeping it a secret until the mother of his
bastard child died wasn't the classiest of things to do."  JC chuckled a
bit and pulled me briefly toward him.

"The world is such a mess," he said, lightly kissing my cheek before the
door opened and Gwyneth's face appeared in the doorway.

----------

	"He's adorable," Gwyneth said.  "Very quiet."  We were standing in
the kitchen where I was helping her place vegetables on a platter.  It was
kind of funny that she did all of her own cooking, but being a cooking
enthusiast myself, I could quite understand.  "Those eyes," she continued.
"Who has eyes like that?"

	"He's terrific," I agreed with a smile.  She asked me why he hadn't
ventured into acting, and I told her that it was something that he was
thinking about.

	"He doesn't mind being here in London with you while you do the
play?" Gwyneth asked.

	"He doesn't seem to.  He has a lot of friends here and I think
he'll always have a special place for this country since they like his
music."

	"I do too," she said, leaning a bit closer.  "But don't tell Chris
that."  We went back out into the dining room where the second course of
Gwyneth's vegetarian extravaganza was about to begin.  I sat down next to
JC who was doing his best to talk to some woman I could tell he less than
cared for.  There were a lot of people at the dinner and the table was
quite large.  Some of the people were famous, others famous maybe in their
own minds.  I learned that even more people were coming later, more of
Chris' friends I was told.

	A couple of hours later, JC and I were sitting on a couch, holding
glasses of wine that we weren't drinking and watching the party grow more
animated and louder.  "You've got to be kidding me," JC groaned, signaling
his distaste of people well into their thirties dancing and growing louder
with alcohol.  I wasn't sure when the music had started but the party was
apparently now in full swing.

	It was always interesting to see people's reactions upon realizing
that JC and I were a couple.  There were those who looked completely
unimpressed, or at least gave the appearance of being unimpressed.  But
there were also those who couldn't conceal their surprise, with their nods
of acknowledgment or raised eyebrows.  People loved feeling that they were
part of a well-kept secret and I had to admit that this was a good one.
Yes, Hollywood's hottest young actor and NSYNC's blue-eyed hottie were gay,
and very into each other.

	"You guys look so bored," Gwyneth said, walking over to us.  "Not
having any fun?"

	"Don't be silly," I said.  "We're just watching the revelry."

	"I'm afraid to admit that a lot of these people make a lot of
noise, but remain uninteresting," She said with a sigh, looking back toward
them.

	"Ah, but you just admitted it," JC smiled.

	"What do you know?" Gwyneth smiled, looking at me with her eyes
widening.  "He talks."  She smiled again and walked back into the crowd,
not before telling us to get up and move around.

	"Sounds like a good idea," I said, standing up and looking down at
JC.  "Allow me to give you a tour," I said, extending my hand down to him.

	"Tour?" he repeated.  "You don't even know where you are."

	"Unimportant," I said as he took my hand and I pulled him up to me.
We quickly realized that the entire first floor of the house was jammed
full of people, and almost everyone wanted to talk to us.

	"Are you working on another album?"

	"When is your next film coming out?"

	"Didn't we meet at the Osbourne's Christmas party?"

	"We should try to find a project to work on together."

	My head was spinning and I had hardly drunk a thing.  I thought
about escaping upstairs, but realized that would be most inappropriate
given that the party did not extend up there.

	About a half-hour after we had left the couch, we found ourselves
in a crowded hallway, talking to two costume designers who seemed to think
that JC and I were going to be their new best friends.  "The fabric was so
light it looked like it would melt under the lights," one of them beamed.
I looked past them and saw a bathroom at the other side of the room.

	"I know nothing about fabric," JC said politely, hoping that would
end the conversation.

	"Know nothing about fabric?" the costume designer repeated.  "Well
let me give you a brief overview of the subject."  While I admittedly was
not listening, the man began what sounded like a history of the
relationship between human beings and clothing.

	A few minutes into the lesson I leaned over to JC and whispered,
"You see that powder room over there?"  I gestured with my head.

	"Mmhmm," he said under his breath, trying to pretend that he was
still paying attention to the costume designer.

	"Meet me there in five minutes," I said.

	"What?" he said, turning toward me briefly.

	"It's been a pleasure," I said to the two costume designers,
interrupting the one who persisted in talking.  "You'll excuse me, won't
you?"  I smiled graciously and hurried off into the crowd.  I knew that JC
was probably totally confused, but I also knew that he would find a way to
make an appearance five minutes from now.

	There was actually a bit of a line when I first arrived but soon
thereafter I was inside, wondering why I was doing this.  It was true that
I had this planned all along.  I wanted to remind JC that things would
never get boring between us.  I wanted him to know that we could still be
young and crazy.  It was also true that I was bored out of my mind at this
party, and was pretty sure that fooling around with JC would be more than
an adequate remedy for such a feeling.

	Five minutes later there was a light knock on the door, which
wasn't exactly easy to hear with all the noise coming from outside.  At
first a feeling of panic overwhelmed me.  What if it was some unfortunate
partygoer suffering from irritable bowel syndrome and desperately needing
to use the bathroom?  Surely there must be others, I thought.  I opened the
door a crack until I could clearly see the back of JC's head, his big brown
curls expertly arranged to look like he had just gotten out of bed.  I
opened the door a bit more, grabbed him by the back of his arm, and quickly
pulled him inside, locking the door quickly afterward.

	"Whoa," he laughed, as he stumbled inside.  "What's this all
about?" he asked.

	"This," I said, pushing him back against the wall and crushing my
lips against his.  They were warm and full, and quickly responsive.

	"Nate," he laughed through my kisses.  "What are you doing?  We
can't fool around here."  I could see in his eyes that he himself was
trying to come up with a reason why we couldn't.

	"Why not?" I asked, my tongue darting out and lightly licking his
lips.  "I'm sure the ghosts won't mind missing this show.  They can watch
tomorrow."  I started kissing him hard again, my hands sliding up his
taught sides.  He was wearing a red, long-sleeved shirt that was made to
look like it was inside out, and my hands quickly moved under it, feeling
the hard mounds of his abdomen, the incredibly white, unblemished skin of
his torso.

	"Someone's gonna know we're in here," he panted, sounding like he
knew he was losing the battle.  "I don't want to watch you get kicked out
of Gwyneth Paltrow's house."

	"What's life without a little bit of risk?" I laughed.  "Now take
your pants off."  He opened his mouth to protest, but then stopped and gave
a slight shrug.  He looked ready to play.  His hands moved slowly toward
his waist, his eyes locked on mine.  He unbuckled the large belt he was
wearing and slowly began unbuttoning his tight, button-fly jeans.  With
that accomplished he hooked his thumbs inside his boxer-briefs and began to
slide them, along with his jeans, down to his ankles, his eyes never
leaving mine, his lips fixed in a sly grin.  I looked down as his cock make
its first appearance of the night.  He wasn't hard, but the long, pale
shaft was already plumped and ready for action.

	"I'm guessing you're a little more excited than you want to let
on," I said with a grin.

	"Me?" he said innocently.  "Come on, Nate.  This isn't exactly
something we haven't done before."  He gave me a little wink, and I found
it hard to keep from giggling.  I wanted this moment to be sexy and hot,
but it was hard to act erotically with someone I knew so well.

	Trying to get myself more into character, I looked down at his cock
and asked him if that was for me.  "Yeah," he said with such a sly look I
wished I had a camera.  He was better at this than I was.  "Yeah, it's for
you," he said.

	"Well what do you want me to do with it?" I asked, as if I didn't
know.

	His cool blue eyes turned warm as he said, "I want you to suck it,
Nate.  I want you to suck my big cock."  I looked up at him, shocked to see
that he wasn't smiling.  Ok.  This was getting hot, and he was really good
at it.  I got down on my knees and lightly pressed my face into the crease
where his pelvis met his leg.  I kissed his soft skin, feeling his smooth
cock against my cheek as I moved lower, my tongue reaching out to lap at
his sack.  The skin was shaved smooth and the balls it covered were large
and hard.  I moved back and forth between them, my lips and tongue causing
the cock above them to rise to attention.

	I began licking at the base of his cock, my tongue running up the
sides before I made my way up and over it.  JC gasped a bit as I took his
mushroom-capped head into my mouth, my tongue running around the ridge that
separated it from the shaft.  His hands began to move through my hair and I
found myself taking him deeper and deeper, wanting to get as much of his
cock down my throat as I could.  God, this guy drove me crazy.  I could
have had a million lovers after JC, and no one would have turned me on this
much.  I was positive of that.

	I was moving back and forth on his cock quickly, my mind
temporarily devoid of any thoughts of where I was or that maybe I shouldn't
be planning on making this last all night.  His short pubes tickled my nose
as I deep-throated him a few times, inhaling his scent, salty, manly and
clean all at once.

	"Oh man," JC sighed from above.  "I'm gonna bust."  His warning set
off a reminder in my head and I slid my mouth off of his shaft, raising
myself back to a standing position.

	"Is that a bad thing?" he asked, suddenly looking very innocent.

	"No," I said, trying to catch my breath.  "I want you to cum, but
not 'til after I've fucked you."

	"But we can't," he said, becoming a bit apprehensive again and
looking toward the door.  "We don't have..."  His voice trailed off as I
pulled a small bottle of lube out of my pocket.  "You slut," he giggled
after a moment.  You had this planned all along?"

	"I said I wasn't boring," I laughed.  "I didn't say I was
spontaneous."  He stood there looking at the lube, his pants around his
ankles, his cock standing at attention below his tight shirt.  "Of course,
if you don't want to," I began, not sure if he was maybe just not in the
mood.

	He took a few deep breaths, looking back and forth between the door
and me.  "Are you sure the door is locked?" he asked.  I nodded.  "Then
fuck it," he said, the fire returning to his eyes.  "I mean, fuck me."

	We embraced again, our lips moving all over each other's faces, our
hands traveling all over each other's bodies.  I backed him up against the
large, porcelain white sink, and watched his hands move behind him and
grasp it tightly.  The room was classically Victorian, an interesting
backdrop to our perhaps more modern form of lovemaking.  I undid my own
pants, pushing them down toward my shoes and then rather awkwardly bent
down once again, this time to push my body between JC's slim,
lightly-haired legs.  I began to stand up again, letting my lips pass over
his balls and cock again as I made my way to a standing position and felt
his jeans and shoes press against my ass.  I lubed up my own, hard seven
inches and slid my hands over his slim thighs, cupping his smooth ass in my
hands as I rotated his hips for his hole to meet my cock.  His tiny,
perfect hole appeared, and ignited a familiar lust inside me as I slowly
spread it open with my fingers.  I moved the head of my cock up to it and
pushed lightly, quickly being met by the resistance of his tight hole.  JC
moved his own hard cock and balls out of the way so he could watch as I
pushed again, harder this time, feeling the head pop inside.  He took a
deep breath and was silent as I pushed my length inside him, watching the
lips of his anus slowly envelop me.  After a few moments he leaned his head
back against the mirror above the sink, closed his eyes, and expelled a
long, satisfied sigh.

	I began pumping inside him, our position dictating that I give only
small but quick thrusts, about half of my cock withdrawing from him each
time.  Before long he was an active participant once again, groaning
softly, leaning forward so that we could kiss.  The denim of his jeans felt
rough against my ass as I felt him squeeze himself tightly against me.
"Pull your shirt up," he said, wanting to see more of me as I pleasured his
ass.  I hiked my shirt up over my pecs which, despite my weight loss were
still large enough to hold it up.  He moaned again, his eyes intently
watching the muscles of my chest straining against him, the thin line of
dark hair trailing down my stomach and disappearing where our bodies became
one.  My own hands move under his shirt, pulling at the little hairs on his
pecs, pinching his pink, perfectly formed nipples.  "Oh yeah," he moaned,
rocking his hips harder against me.

	"You love being fucked, don't you?" I panted.

	"I love it when you fuck me," he panted.  His eyes were so intense,
his body caught in one continuous motion.

	"No one's ever fucked you this good, have they?" I asked, pumping
inside him, at this point trying to hold back from cumming.

	"Oh God, no," he moaned, his eyes closing and his head falling
backward.  He was grasping the sink tightly, his knuckles whitening.  With
one hand sliding up and down his back, I took my other hand and started
fiercely stroking his cock, which was still rock hard and drooling precum
down his stomach.  My cock was ready to explode, and with a final thrust I
started to unload inside him, my lips crushing against his, groaning into
his mouth to keep the people from outside hearing.  He kept rocking himself
hard against me, his hole feeling a bit like a vice, milking every last
drop out of me.  "Oh yeah, oh yeah," he moaned as I finished my orgasm,
never once taking my hand from his engorged cock.

	Fully spent and fully satiated, I tightened my grip on him,
determined to get him off as hard as I could.  Sweat was beading up on his
forehead as he continued to enjoy my cock inside of him.  He had completely
lost control of himself.  Now it was he who had no idea where he was, no
sense of space and time.  He cried out, a sure sign that he was going to
cum.  I pulled his cock toward my chest and urged him to give it all he
had.  He didn't disappoint as rope after rope of white-hot cum spit out of
his cock, warming my chest and traveling down toward where we were joined.
Thick cords of muscle pulsed out of his neck, as he squirmed and convulsed
beneath me, struggling for air, struggling to come back to reality.  When
he finally came back from wherever he had gone, he looked at me, fire in
his eyes, and reached out to kiss me.

	Slowly I pulled out of him as we set about cleaning ourselves up.
"What a mess," I laughed as I practically emptied the tissue box.  "We
probably should get out of here as quickly as we can."

	"Just a second," JC said, pulling up his pants and pulling out his
cell phone.  I thought it was certainly an odd time to be making a call,
but hey, uh, ok.  "Hey sport," he said into the phone.  I knew that was
something he called Lance from time to time.  JC was still trying to slow
his breathing.  "Just thought you should know, we aren't boring."  JC
smiled at me and clicked the phone closed.  I chuckled a bit.  This was the
life of the rich and famous.  The things we had to do to keep ourselves
entertained.

	Minutes later I had slipped back into the crowd, JC remaining
inside the bathroom a few minutes longer.  Part of me was waiting to be
greeted by applause or perhaps the police, but surprisingly, no one seemed
to have any idea of what we had just done.

	"Oh, there you are," Gwyneth said, hurrying over to me.  "I've been
looking for you."

	"I've been around," I said calmly.

	"Are you ok?" she asked.  "You look a little flushed.  Do you need
to step outside?"

	"No, no, I'm fine," I assured her.  Just had a rather exhausting
encounter," I said with a laugh.

	"Honestly," Gwyneth began.  "I swear to you I didn't want to invite
those two costume designers.  It's just that their designs are perfect for
our film.  But the two of them are simply dreadful and never seem to be
able to stop talking."

	I threw up my hands.  "What are you gonna do?" I said
sarcastically.  JC came up behind me, giving me a little pinch in the side
that made me jump a little.

	"You two probably want to get out here, right?" Gwyneth said.

	I started to nod my head in agreement as JC interjected, "Don't be
silly, we're having a great time and the party is just getting started."  I
looked at him like he was insane as he stopped one of the servers and
distributed flutes of champagne to Gwyneth, me and himself.  "To a fabulous
night," he said, raising his glass.  For as much as I seemed noticeably
shocked, Gwyneth seemed noticeably touched, and so we all raised our
glasses, clicked them together, and drank.  All in all, it was a good
evening.

----------

	Enveloped in darkness, we sat in the back of car, making our way
back home.  "That was fun," JC said.

	"It sure was," I answered.  I looked at JC sitting next to me,
looking out of the window.  He looked peaceful and content, and it occurred
to me that we really seemed to have a successful relationship.  Part of me
always looked at this relationship as something new.  A chance meeting with
a pop star.  Wasn't I the star-struck one in the beginning?  It was so
strange how things could change.  Now my name was, or would be soon, as
well known as his own.  Now I had people wondering what a famous, dramatic
actor was doing with a guy from a boy-band.  I remembered Maggie running up
to me, telling me that JC Chasez was coming to see our show.  Now he was
Josh.  He was someone I loved and slept next to.  He was someone I argued
with.  He was someone I talked about my problems with.

	We reentered the city, and for some reason my last encounter with
Edward popped into my head.  Something was annoying me about it, aside from
usual.  "Josh," I began, remembering what it was.  "Edward said something
strange earlier."

	"Strange?" JC repeated.  "You think that's unusual?"

	"When I mentioned that he went to Julliard, he said, 'used to go.'
He couldn't have been serious, right?"  JC's eyes widened a little and he
looked away, revealing that he knew something.  I folded one of my legs
under the other one and glared at him.  "Josh, what aren't you telling me?"

	"He told me not to say anything.  He said he would tell you when he
wanted to."  I was shocked, but didn't say anything.  I just kept staring
at him, indicating that he should continue.  "Ok," JC began.  "But don't
flip out.  Edward said that he was going to take a leave of absence from
school."

	"What?" I yelled.  "Is he fucking nuts?"

	"You said you wouldn't flip out," JC said, raising his hand for me
to quiet down.

	"No I didn't," I said.

	"Oh, that's right, I guess I was just hoping you wouldn't," he
smiled.  I was still staring at him and he continued.  "Apparently after
this Jude Law film is over, Bobby is going to start working on some film in
Italy.  He asked Edward to come with him, some bullshit about it being a
better education that college, and Edward seems to agree."

	"Do you know what I had to go through to get Edward to even go to
Julliard?" I said.  "Don't you remember that whole ordeal with my father?"

	"Yes," JC said.  "But what are you going to do?  The kid has a
crush."

	"This is fucking ridiculous!" I yelled, facing forward again.
"No," I said to myself.  "This is not going to happen."

	"Gee, you sounded just like your father when you said that," JC
said matter of factly.

	"Josh," I yelled.

	"Nate, you have to stop wanting to grandstand.  What are you going
to do?  Order Edward back to New York?  He'll tell you to fuck off again."

	"What am I supposed to do?" I retorted.  "Just sit back and watch
him piss his future away?"  I realized I was still shouting and tried to
lower my voice.  "Josh, what would you do?"

	"Really?" he asked.  He looked excited by the idea of giving me
advice.  If I was a reasonable person, I would probably listen to him.
Everything he had said up to this point had been calm, clear and correct.
Still, I wasn't known for being reasonable.

	"I would just talk to him calmly," JC said.  "I mean, just ask him
why he thinks this is a good idea, explain why you think it isn't, and then
let him make the final decision."

	"Then maybe we can change our last name to Walton," I suggested
sarcastically.

	"I don't get it," JC said.

	"Forget it," I said, looking out the window.  I was starting to
steam.  Sure I had been Edward's age once.  Sure I had made my share of
impulsive decisions.  But throughout my life, I always had a direction.
When I left home for college, I knew what it was I wanted to do, and I made
sure I did everything I had to in order to do it.  The hottest guys on
campus could not derail me.  I wouldn't even skip an acting class.

	We got home and made our way inside.  JC headed into the kitchen in
order to get some of what he called, "real food."  I should have been
exhausted considering the activities of the evening, but was still
wide-awake.  When I reached the top of the stairs I saw that the light was
still on in Edward's room.  I felt myself resisting the urge to barge into
his room and tell him what an ass he was making of himself.  That Bobby
would grow bored with him in a month and that he will have nothing to show
for it but a broken heart and a two semesters of college.  Instead, I
slowly walked toward his door, stopping outside of it, telling myself to
think about what I should say before I said it.

	Edward's laughter filtered through the door and I thought for a
moment that he was watching television until I remembered that there was no
TV in his room.  I raised my hand to knock when I heard another round of
laughter, though it was distinctly different from Edward's.  Oh my God, I
thought to myself.  He's in there with somebody.  He's in there with Bobby.
I leaned my head closer to the door, straining to hear what was going on.
What the hell was I doing?  Was it any of my business?  It didn't sound
like they were saying anything, which only worried me more.  I stepped a
bit to my left, stepping onto something which wasn't as nearly as startling
as realizing that it was JC's foot and that he was standing right next to
me, sandwich in hand, giving me a very disappointed expression.

	"Christ, Josh, you scared the hell out of me," I yelled in a
whisper.

	"Has it come to this?" he said.  He didn't look actually mad.  His
expression looked more like he had just realized that I was certifiably
insane.  "What the hell are you doing?"

	"Shhh," I whispered.  "He'll hear you."  JC took a bite of his
sandwich, his frown turning into a little smirk.  He lifted his shoulders,
took another bite, and pressed his ear to the door.  We both stood there,
face to face, the only movement being JC's jaw and the occasional rolling
of his eyes.  We could hear a lot of movement, but neither of them were
saying anything.

	"Come on," we eventually heard Edward say.

	"Would you just let me try," the other voice said.  It was
definitely Bobby.

	"I'm telling you it's not going to fit," Edward said.  He sounded a
bit exasperated.

	"Just relax, I'm going to do it very slowly."  JC stopped chewing
and we both pulled our heads away from the door.

	"Oh my God," he said quietly, his mouth full, his eyes wide.

	"You think they are..." I said, not even being able to find the
words to go on.  I didn't think Edward would go this far this quickly, but
I also didn't really know if there was anything I could do about it.  While
contemplating my predicament, we pressed our ears back to the door.

	"Would you just relax," Bobby pleaded.  "It's not going to make it
any easier if you keep complaining."

	"Ok, but be careful," Edward said.

	"This is crazy," I whispered.

	"I know," JC said.  "I don't know whether I should stop listening
or start jerking off."  JC must have suddenly remembered the characters in
our audio porno, because his funny little expression turned a bit more
serious.

	"Jesus, there's just no way," Edward yelled.  "It's just too
small."

	"Stop screaming like a women," Bobby said in response, sounding
irritated.  "I know I can get it in if you would just stay calm and let me
take my time."

	"He's pressuring him too much," I whispered.

	"Yeah, Edward should just tell him he's not a bottom," JC replied.
Before I had the chance to give JC a disparaging look, there was a loud
sound of some kind followed by Edward's pleas for Bobby to stop.  I became
alarmed and saw that JC was as well.

	"Should we do something?" I asked, this time really wanting his
advice.

	"Um, not sure," he said.  He must have finished his sandwich.

	"Stop!  Just stop it now, it's breaking," Edward pleaded.  A wave
of resignation washed over JC and I.  He nodded as my hand reached for the
door.  Someone had to put Bobby in his place.

	"What the hell is going on in here?" I yelled, ready to throw Bobby
out the second floor window, pushing the door open and stepping inside with
JC right next to me.

	"Oh, hey Nate," Edward said.  He was standing, watching Bobby jump
up and down on a suitcase on his bed.  "Would you mind telling this idiot
that suitcases have a limit to what they can hold?" he asked with a laugh,
pointing toward his suitcase.  I could see that it was significantly
over-packed.  "Damn it," he said looking at it more closely than glaring at
Bobby.  "See?  You tore part of the zipper off."

	"Sorry," Bobby said.  He had stopped jumping and pulling on the
suitcase and was sitting quietly on top of it.  I didn't know what to say.
I could feel my face turning a bit red, but at the moment there were so
many reasons why that could be happening that I just didn't know what to do
with myself.

	"Did you need something?" Edward asked, turning back to face me.  I
guess he was remembering that I had just barged into his room, looking like
I might kill someone.  "Were we making too much noise?"

	"No, no," I immediately responded, giving up an actually good
reason for barging in.  "It, uh, wasn't important.  We were just uh, um..."
I looked at JC, hoping that he would step in and say something, but he
wasn't paying any attention to either of us.  His eyes were fixed somewhere
else.  He was staring at Bobby, who was nervously looking back and forth
between him and the floor.

	"Oh," Edward started, his smile fading, realizing that the four
people in the room were connected in more ways than the obvious.  "This is
a bit awkward, I realize," he said, looking at JC.  "I didn't mean to..."

	"You didn't do anything wrong," JC interrupted, looking at Edward
and then back at Bobby.  "I don't think we were ever formally introduced,"
he said.  JC looked intense.  His speech was slow and methodical.  It was
him at his most mannish.

	"I'm Robert," Bobby said cautiously.  I guess he was trying not to
seem like a kid.

	"I know," JC said.  "I'm JC."  Only close friends could call him
Josh.  I could tell that Bobby was afraid to look away from him.  Afraid to
look at me.  I, on the other hand, had momentarily traveled to another
dimension.  One where there was no Bobby or Edward or even JC for that
matter.  One where it was just me, sitting on a big, white cloud, sipping a
margarita and listening to Otis Redding.

	"We're sorry to have barged in on you," JC said after a moment.  He
turned to Edward and smiled.  "You boys have a good night."  He turned
around and headed out of the room.  I was still standing there, perhaps
waiting for someone to carry me out.  "Uh, Nate?" JC called after me.

	"Yeah, sorry, coming," I said, coming back to reality.  I smiled
politely if antiseptically at Edward and Bobby and backed out of the room,
closing the door behind me.

	"That was a thousand dollar suitcase you just broke," I heard
Edward say.

	"I'll pay for it," Bobby said in response.  "I promise."

	JC and I stood in the hall momentarily before proceeding to our
bedroom.  The silence was palpable.  I didn't know what to say, but I knew
I had to say something.  "Josh," I began.

	"Don't say anything," JC said, spinning around and raising his
finger.  He looked completely serious.  "Just for a minute, don't say
anything."

	"Ok," I said, wondering if in doing so I had already disobeyed a
direct order.  JC pulled off his shirt, kicked off his shoes and took off
his jeans.  Standing in his black boxer-briefs with just his little 'Leo'
necklace around his neck, he walked into the bathroom closing the door
behind him.  I sat down on the bed, feeling like this was going to be a
giant setback.  Maybe seeing Bobby was going to bring up too many bad
feelings in JC's heart.  Maybe he really couldn't forgive me.  Seeing the
actual person I had cheated with.  Knowing that he wasn't just a name but a
living, breathing person with hair, eyes, a nose and a mouth.  The thought
was even making me sick, so I could only imagine what JC could be feeling.

	I waited a few minutes, then walked over to the bathroom and
knocked on the door.  "Josh," I called softly, hoping I was allowed to talk
again.  I opened up the door to see the back of him standing at the sink,
his white skin tightly hanging on his slim frame.  He was resting his hands
on the sink and I could see that his head was hanging down.  "Josh," I
called again.  There was a shake in his broad shoulders and a sound escaped
his lips.  I hurried over to him, positive that he was crying.  "Josh,
please talk to me," I said, placing my hand over his and moving him to face
me.  I noticed tears coming down his face, but quickly realized he wasn't
crying.  He was trying to stifle a laughing fit.

	"I guess we were mistaken about what was being packed in there," I
said, smiling, eliciting a loud rush of laughter.  He rested his head on my
shoulder and began to laugh uncontrollably.  Given the highly contagious
nature of laughter, I too had started to laugh my ass off, both of us
eventually falling onto the ground, clutching our stomachs.

	Minutes later, chuckles still escaping from us every few seconds,
we climbed into bed, thoroughly exhausted.  JC nuzzled up to me, his face
pressed into my chest, his arm around my waist.  "I just love you," he
said, quite to my surprise.

	"Your not mad?" I asked, wanting to know if there was still stuff
between us that needed resolving.

	"I'm not saying it didn't kill me to see him standing here, in my
house no less.  It's just that even when I try to get mad, all I can think
about is how much I love being with you.  How much I was still looking
forward to going to bed with you tonight."  His hand was traveling up and
down my side.  "Oh, I just can't fight it anymore," he said dramatically,
like a woman in a melodrama from the 1940s.  "You drive me crazy.  I just
can't get enough of you."  He pulled me toward him and kissed my lips,
rolling his body on top of mine, squeezing me between his slim but powerful
legs.

	"I feel exactly the same way," I said, kissing him back.  "I can
honestly tell you I've never loved someone this much.  No one."  We kissed
some more, until I could feel his sizeable erection pressing against my
stomach.  "Don't tell me you're all worked up again," I said with a smile.

	"Well, well," JC said, looking down at himself then back at me.
"Look at what we have here."

----------

	The next morning I sat in the kitchen, reading the morning paper
and sipping my coffee.  I could hear JC bounding down the stairs and he
entered the room.  "Good morning," he said cheerfully.  I folded down the
top of my newspaper to see him standing there, smiling.  He was wearing his
glasses, his hair tucked behind his ears, dressed in a light button-down
sweater and carrying a messenger bag.

	"All ready for school?" I asked, shaking my head and lifting the
top of the paper back up.

	"Not exactly," he said.  "Actually I'm going to the library."  I
was tempted to do a spit-take with my coffee, but instead lowered the paper
once again and asked him if he was serious.  "Yes I am," he replied.  "I'm
going to start researching the history of this house.  I'm going to find
out everything there is to know about it."  He was positively beaming and
looked very proud of himself.

	"Um, ok," I said, wondering when the last time could have been that
JC was in a library.  "Do you have all your pencils sharpened?"

	"I sure do," he said, pulling one out of his shirt pocket.  Lonnie,
JC's bodyguard, walked into the kitchen and said that he was ready when JC
was.  "Ok, gotta go," he told me.  See ya."

	"So long," I said.  "Oh, and if anyone there tries to take your
milk money, tell them they'll have to answer to me."  JC laughed, exiting
the kitchen.

	"Mornin'," I heard him say to Edward as he passed him on his way
out.  Edward walked into the kitchen and gave me a confused look.

	"When did Harry Potter move in?" he asked.

	"About an hour ago, I guess," I responded.  Edward sat down and I
wondered who was going to be the first person to bring up last night.  I
didn't want to reveal that JC told me about Edward's plans, but I also
wanted to talk about it with him.

	"You're probably wondering why I was packing last night?" Edward
said, making the first move.

	"I am curious," I said, putting down my newspaper.  Edward looked
tentative.  Like he didn't really want to talk but knew he had to.

	"I am thinking about taking some time off from school," he said.

	"Ok," I responded. Stay calm.  Stay calm.

	"Bobby was able to get me a job as a PA on the next film he's
doing.  It sounds like it would be a great opportunity to travel the world,
maybe clear my head."

	"Ok," I said again.  That sounded reasonable.  "But what about the
piano?" I asked.  "What about your own plans?"

	"I don't know," he said.  "It's just like, well, I kind of want to
escape myself for a while," he said.  "You know, like just stop doing
anything that I used to do."

	"I can understand that," I said.  "But if life teaches us anything,
it's that we cannot escape ourselves.  We're always there the second we
turn around."

	"You're right," he said.  "I just don't know.  I just seem to hate
everything right now."

	"Edward," I began, leaning a bit closer to him.  There was a shift
in him.  He was reminding me more and more of his old self.  "It's really
fine for you to be feeling the way you do right now," I said.  "It's been a
rough summer.  Hell, it's been a rough life.  All I can say is that, from
experience, I know that decisions made during times of instability are
usually bad ones.  It's fine to be confused about how you feel, but you
have to remember that actions have consequences."

	"I know what you're saying," he said.  "And I promise you that I'm
still thinking about it.  But I just wanted you to know about the
possibility."

	"Thanks for sharing," I said with a laugh.  I stood up, needing to
get to the theater.

	"I'm sorry I've been such a pain in the ass," he said, sitting back
in his chair.  I told him not to worry about it, standing behind him,
putting my hand on his shoulder.  .

----------

	"Don't take this the wrong way, but you seem a bit distracted
today, Nathaniel."  I looked into the eyes of my director, knowing that he
had just said something and that I should probably be responding.

	"I'm sorry," I said.  "I'm a bit distracted today.  What was it you
were saying?"  He laughed and slapped me on the knee before standing up.

	"Go home, Nathaniel," he said.  Most of the English people I
encountered were perfectly comfortable using my full name.  "You know this
part cold.  It's the other's I'm really worried about."  The other actors
in the play had probably collectively been in forty productions of
Shakespeare and many other roles in the West End.  There was really nothing
to worry about with any of us, but I knew the director had to feel like
there was some way he could help with our performances.  I thanked him,
went back to my dressing room to gather my things, and headed toward the
stage door.  Jimmy, my bodyguard accompanied me as I exited the building.
While fans had basically figured out my rehearsal schedule, a few were
already gathered outside the door and I took a moment to sign some
autographs.

	"Jimmy," I found myself saying.  "I think I need to be alone for a
few hours."  I knew what I was going to do, but couldn't so much as admit
it to myself.  "I think I'm just going to take the car myself and head
out."

	"That's not a good idea," Jimmy said.  "You could find yourself in
a real situation."

	"I'll be careful," I said, pulling my baseball cap lower over my
face and putting my hand out for the keys.  "You can get a taxi, right?"
Jimmy shrugged and handed me the keys.  He escorted me to the car and saw
me safely inside it until I was out on the street.  The feeling of being
alone in a car was intensely liberating.  I couldn't remember how many
months it had been since I had driven myself anywhere.  It was another
reminder of how my life had changed.

	The car seemed to be driving itself, but I knew where it was going.
I was about to do exactly what I knew I probably shouldn't be doing.  JC
would be mad as hell, but I couldn't help myself.  Confrontation was my
drug of choice.

	I pulled into the front of the Ritz, and had the valet take the
car.  People started staring from the moment I entered, but I figured that
in an establishment such as this, I was pretty safe from screaming teenage
girls.  I walked up to the front desk and a man walked over to ask if he
could help me.

	"I'm here to see Robert Rogers," I said.  "I'm not sure what room
he is in."  The man picked up the phone and asked whom he should say was
calling.  I was a bit hurt that he didn't seem to know who I was.  Didn't
he see that all of the people in the lobby were stealing glances at me
whenever they could?  "Nate Murray," I said in a flat voice.

	I wasn't even sure if Bobby would be in, but soon after the
concierge picked up the phone, he was talking to him, telling him that I
was downstairs.  The concierge closed the phone and gave me the room
number, pointing me toward the elevators.

	I entered the elevator thinking about how easily Bobby had given me
his room number.  He didn't refuse to see me.  He didn't even say that he
would meet me in the lobby.  Maybe my suspicions had been true all along.

	I knocked on the door, and Bobby opened it, smiling confidently.  I
thought it was cocky.  He was barefooted, dressed simply in a white t-shirt
and a pair of blue jeans.  "Well, well," he said.  "This feels oddly
familiar."

	"We're on opposite sides of the doors now," I said, brushing past
him and entering the room.  He closed the door and looked at me, his face
still locked in a smile.  "I've been waiting for this," he said.

	"Waiting for what?" I shot back.  Why was he pretending to know
everything I was about to say?

	"You're here to tell me to stay away from your brother.  That I'm
destroying his life, simply to get revenge on you."

	I felt a bit like the wind had been knocked out of my sails.  Bobby
knew that I loved drama and he was beating me to all of the good parts.  I
had to get the upper hand in this.  "Don't fuck around with my family,
Bobby," I warned.  "Is that what you are doing?"

	"God, you really are an egomaniac," Bobby said, walking across his
room and picking up a glass of water.  "I don't even remember what I saw in
you," he said, taking a sip.  I knew exactly what he had seen, but that was
beside the point.

	"Edward might be your age," I said, walking closer to him, "but
he's just a kid.  A kid who has gone through stuff you would never
understand.  He's vulnerable."

	"You never asked me anything about my life," Bobby said, putting
his glass down.  "Did you know that my mother died five years ago?"  He
glared at me. And I could feel my mouth drying up.  This wasn't going the
way I wanted it to.

	"No," I said.  "I'm sorry about that."

	"Edward and I have a lot in common," he said.  "We talk about stuff
you probably would never have even though to ask me about."

	"Bobby," I yelled.  "I don't even know you.  We hung out a few
times while making a movie.  We were having fun.  We fooled around.  Why do
you make it sound like we walked hand in hand on the beach, baring our
souls?"  I started thinking that maybe that is really what he had wanted.

	"You make it sound so simple," he said.  "Tell me, did JC take it
as lightly as you did?"

	"Don't even talk about him," I snapped, stepping close to him.  He
stepped back.  "What Josh and I have has been tried and tested.  It's a
real commitment.  So far all you have managed to do is get Edward to act
like a punk and drop out of school."

	"That was his decision," Bobby said.  "I merely gave him the
option."  He sounded a bit out of breath.  Was I making him nervous?  Part
of me wanted to strangle him, but another part of me still viewed this as
my own doing.  I created this current version of Bobby.

	"Tell me something," I began, trying to take a more tactful
approach.  "If it was Edward asking you to come with him, would you?"

	"What does that matter?" he shot back.  "I'm the one who is going
somewhere.  You know all about getting people to follow you places, don't
you?"

	"So what?" I asked.  "Is that what this is all about?  You're
trying to act like me?"

	"Be careful, Nate," Bobby warned.  "Blowing smoke so far up your
own ass can be dangerous."

	"Bobby," I started, shaking my head and rubbing my temples.  "I
don't want to banter like kids.  We're both adults, can we try and act like
it?"

	"Fine," Bobby said, taking a few more steps back from me to make
himself more comfortable.  I took another look at him, and realized I had
no idea what I was doing.  Why did I always jump off the handle like this,
especially when I seemed to be losing my touch?  Was I getting old?  I knew
that I wanted Bobby to break things off with Edward.  I also was getting
the feeling that there was a good chance that Edward would soon be coming
to his senses and would break things off on his own.  Still, to mind my own
business was to allow for chance, and I couldn't decide if I was willing to
do that.

	"Forget this," I said, wishing I had a long coat to pick up and
storm off with.  "I'm sorry I bothered you."  I headed toward the door,
swearing to myself that I would never do something like this again.

	"Wait!" Bobby yelled as I reached for the doorknob.

	"What?" I asked, whirling around.  He stared at me for a moment his
eyes looking large.

"Don't go," he said.

	"What?" I asked again.  What the hell was he doing now?

	"Why don't you stay?" he asked.  "We can talk.  We can order up
room service."

	"Bobby," I began, cocking my head.  "Why on Earth would I do that?"

	"Because," he said, cautiously walking toward me.  "Because I don't
think all of this would be upsetting you if you didn't still have feelings
for me."  He was standing in front of me now, and I could easily remember
him when we were friends.  When I thought that we might become more.

	"Bobby, you're misunderstanding me.  My concern is for Edward.
He's my brother, remember."

	"I know," he said.  "And he's a real nice kid."  He stepped up
close to me and placed his hand over mine.  "But I want a man, Nate."  He
leaned in closer.  "I want you."  His lips were suddenly moving toward mine
and instinctively I stepped backward, knocking my back into the door.
Bobby was still interested in me and he was using my brother to get closer.

	"Bobby," I yelled, moving my hands up to stop him from coming any
closer.  He opened his eyes and a look of horror and embarrassment mutually
occupied his face.

	"Nate, I'm sorry," he said.  "I honestly had no intention of
hurting Edward.  But I can't stop thinking about you.  He reminds me of you
in a lot of ways.  But he's not you."

	I was mad as hell, but didn't know where to place my anger.  I
didn't know whether to lash out against Bobby, whether to tell him what a
piece of shit he was for stringing my brother along while he tried to
figure out his own feelings for me.  Edward was so young and naïve.  He
would never get over this.  At the same time I seriously started to think
that Bobby might have a screw or two loose.  Had he really been thinking
about me all this year?  Did he really think there was a chance we were
going to become a couple.  It felt strange to feel this way, but I sort of
pitied him.

	"Bobby, listen to me very carefully," I began.  I was speaking
slowly so that he was sure to hear every word.  "I know that I wronged you,
but that was a long time ago.  You really have to move on with your life."

	"You're just never going to get what we could have had," he said,
his voice growing loud and emotional.  "You can't see what a team we could
be.  Do you know how far you could go in this business with my father
backing you?"

	"I'll take my chances on my own," I said, his tone irritating me.
"It may sound trivial now, but I've worked very hard to have the things
that I do.  I don't mind doing it."

	"You might find it very hard to get work in Hollywood if my father
turns on you," he said, breathing heavily.  He sounded desperate, like he
had played all of his cards.

	I clenched my jaw and took a deep breath.  "Are you threatening
me?" I asked, wondering if anyone would notice a short blond boy dropping
out of a twelfth story window at the Ritz.

	"Maybe I am," he said.  I could feel my fists tightening and I
started moving toward him.  He looked scared and started backing up,
tripping over an armchair and falling into it.

	"Listen to me, kid," I said, leaning over him and pushing my index
finger into his chest.  "It's time you fucking grew up.  Now I've tried to
be understanding and do all that sensitive gay man crap, but this is ending
right now.  Do you hear me?"  I pushed my finger harder against his chest.
He was scared.  He had bit off more than he could chew.

	"Yes," he said, wanting me very much to step away from him.  I had
put on the face of a crazed animal.  In real life I couldn't imagine how I
would back up anything I was saying, but I wasn't thought of as an
exceptional actor for nothing.

	"Now here is what you are going to do," I said.  "You are going to
call Edward and very nicely tell him that you don't think it's a good idea
that he go with you to Italy.  You are going to get him to go back to
school and then you are going to stay the fuck out of our lives until the
end of time.  You got all that?"

	"Yes," he said again.

	"I'm not kidding around," I said.  "You think you miss me now?
Wait and see how you feel when I'm purposely making every day of your life
a living hell."  I decided that I had scared him enough and I pulled away.
Bobby scrambled back to a standing position, looking at me like I might
pounce on him at any second.  I turned and walked toward the door.

	"Nate," he called as I opened the door.

	"Get a life," I said simply, slamming the door behind me.  I
stepped into the elevator and took a deep breath.  "That was intense," I
said to myself, reviewing the encounter in my head.  Something told me that
this would be the end of it.  Either that or I would come home one day to
find a rabbit stewing on my stove.  I knew that in a way I deserved all of
this, and strangely it felt good to be reminded of what a mistake I had
made.  It made it obvious that I would never do it again.

	Back in the lobby, I smiled politely at the tourists as I asked for
my car to be brought around.  I got into it and sped toward home, wondering
what anyone would think of all this.  Both JC and Edward thought that it
was obnoxious of me to think that Bobby still had his sights set on me.  It
was kind of funny.  Just when I had firmly started to believe I could be
wrong, I turned out to be right.

----------

	I was home before JC.  He walked into the living room about an hour
later, looking completely excited, like he was five and had just come back
from the zoo.  "I guess you had fun," I said, closing the magazine I was
looking through.

	"It was amazing," he said, hurrying over and sitting down next to
me.  Seeing him in his glasses I had to resist the urge to lean over and
bite him.  "I've never seen so many books.  And doing the research," he
continued, "it was like being on a treasure hunt, looking in different
sections, flipping through hundred year old newspapers..."

	"Sounds like you handled the library like a pro," I said.

	"Well, the librarian seemed pretty eager to help me," he said with
a laugh.  "But after a while I was fine on my own."

	"So will you be leaving the world of pop music to pursue a degree
in library science?"

	"Not exactly smart ass," he said, unbuckling his messenger bag.
"But take a look at these."  He handed me a large stack of photocopies.  I
asked him what they were and he told me that they were references to the
people that have lived in this house for the past two hundred years.

	"This must have taken forever," I said, flipping through the
papers.  "So did you find our ghost?"

	"Yes," he beamed, taking the papers back from me.  "Well, at first
I wasn't sure.  I had it narrowed down to a few possibilities, and then I
decided on this one."  He handed me a photocopy of a portrait of a
middle-aged man.  He had a strong-face behind his handlebar mustache.  "I
started thinking," JC continued.  "His name is George Rumsey and he lived
alone in this house in the 1860s.  He died in 1869.  A paper said that he
had hung himself from a rafter in the house."  JC placed his hand over mine
and squeezed it as he continued, knowing that would remind me of Liz.

	"Josh," I said, finding myself getting into this investigation.
"That big attic space on the third floor has rafters."

	"Exactly," he said.  "That's what really started to make me think
it was him.  Well that and..."

	"What?" I asked.

	"He was the only person to live here by himself as far as I can
tell.  All of the other references to the house were about families.  Don't
you think it was probably odd to remain a bachelor in the 1860s?"

	"You think George Rumsey was a big queer?" I asked, wondering if
that was a leap in logic, or actually a plausible hypothesis.

	"Look at this," he said, showing me another photocopy.  "He ran an
obviously successful business with this guy, Harold Smith."

	"Obviously his lover," I said, thinking I was making a joke.

	"Well, he too never seems to have gotten married and here's the
really weird part.  He disappeared two months after George killed himself.
There was no mention of him ever again."

	"Weird," I said.  I wanted to make a joke about JC getting
nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, but he looked so enthusiastic, that I knew
I should stop joking around.  Besides, I didn't think JC had any intentions
of going public with his tale of gay ghosts causing his libido to
dramatically increase.  "So maybe the ghost is Harold, coming to look for
George."

	"Actually, I think they are both here.  When you think about it,
the noises sound like more than one person at times, don't they?"

	"Yeah," I said, "but Josh, I mean, people know that this house has
been haunted, don't you think someone else would have come up with this
theory?"

	"Maybe not," he said.  "I mean, maybe George was a bit of a weirdo
or something.  There was really no mention of him aside from his obituary.
He might have just slipped through the cracks."  He put his arm around me
and squeezed me against him.  "Isn't this exciting?" he asked, staring at
the picture of the deceased George Rumsey.

	"Hmm," I said, looking at the picture.  "So this is the guy who has
been making you exhaust me every night."

	"As if I wouldn't want to do that anyway," he said, smacking his
lips against my cheek and ruffling my hair.  "But seriously, here's what
I'm thinking.  This is the place where George and Harold did the, practiced
the, uh, what did they call it back then?"

	"The love that dare not speak its name?" I asked, wanting to laugh
for some reason.

	"Yeah, that," he said.  "They were totally in love, but could only
be together in secret.  George probably couldn't take it anymore and killed
himself.  Harold probably started to think that death was the only way they
could be together, and so he took his life too."

	"They were a regular gay Romeo and Juliet," I said.

	"Be serious," he said.  "It's kind of sad and beautiful at the same
time."

	"Josh, it's a really good explanation," I said.  "But I guess we
can never know for sure.  I mean, how come I never feel the stuff you say
you feel?"  I laughed a little.  "How come I'm not walking around with a
constant erection?"

	"I told you," he chided.  "You're not tuned into the spiritual
world.  You think with your head too much, not with your heart."  Maybe
that was the fundamental difference between us, I thought.  I needed things
to make sense and be purposeful.  Right away I was searching for the holes
in his argument, the ambiguities that could never be resolved.  No one
could ever really know what happened to Harold.  He could have very well
got on a boat and sailed to India.  JC was different.  He needed to feel
good and believe he was doing what was right.  That's probably what made
him come back to me.

	JC looked at me, noticing my uneasiness.  "I know it's a bit
hoakey," he said.  "But just think about it.  We know the house is haunted.
We know they are inspiring certain, uh, reactions in us.  Don't you think
my explanation is good?  I don't think old straight ghosts would be
interested in us."

	"Josh, I absolutely think it is reasonable, but it's, well, uh,
creepy to think about it too much.  If you're right, it's like they are
watching us.  I don't think I want ghosts getting off by watching us fool
around."

	"I don't think that's what they are doing," he said, adjusting his
glasses.  "I think they want us to feel the passion that they had for each
other.  I think they are telling us to enjoy the things that they
couldn't."  JC turned his head down for a second, thinking about what he
had just said.  Sure a lot of people knew about the two of us.  But there
were plenty who didn't as well.

	"Well," I said, slapping him on the knee and standing up.  "Should
we go upstairs and make them proud?"

	"Shouldn't we have dinner?" JC asked, placing his papers neatly
onto the coffee table.

	"Oh, I guess," I said.

	Later that night, after we had made love, JC rested his head on my
chest, his fingers lightly dancing across my thigh.  We had heard Edward
come in earlier, but he didn't come to our room.  I half-expected him to
burst in and tell me how much he hated me for what I said to Bobby, but
maybe life was taking a less dramatic turn.  Or maybe he just hadn't seen
Bobby today.  "Nate," JC said, his hand traveling up my stomach, tracing
the lines of my chest with his index finger.  "Would you want to stop
living if I died?"

	"What?" I asked, looking down at him, his mass of curls falling in
several directions.

	"You heard me," he said.  "I want us to have a life filled with the
love and passion that George and Harold shared."

	"Um, Josh, not to burst your bubble or anything, but things didn't
end too well for George and Harold."

	Ignoring me, he continued.  "When you got sick last year, I didn't
think I was going to be able to go on."

	"But you would have," I said, wondering why I had said it.  It was
my intellect, rearing its ugly head again.  Why didn't I just say yes, that
I would jump off a building if anything ever happened to him?  JC didn't
say anything for a while and I couldn't tell if he was upset or not.
"Josh," I said, trying to recover, "this conversation is just too morbid.
I don't even want to think about any of this.  It really creeps me out."

	"I'm sorry," he said, breathing softly.  "My mind is just racing."

	"Just calm yourself and try to go to sleep," I said.  Maybe
libraries weren't a good idea for JC.  "The ghosts seem to be quiet
tonight."

"We're supposed to be able to live the life that they couldn't, right?"  He
looked up to me, his eyes wide, pale and blue, even in the darkness.

	"Sure," I said, my hand cradling his face.  "Look around.  We have
friends and family who love us.  All the parts of us.  We go to sleep and
wake up with each other every day."  It seemed weird to be comparing
ourselves to these dead people as though they were almost acquaintances of
some kind.  I wasn't sure if I would ever be completely sold on the idea.
"We're a million years away from the life that George and Harold had."

	"Are we?" JC asked, closing his eyes and snuggling close to me.

----------

	The next morning I sat in the kitchen, reading the paper, wondering
why every morning I got up, went into the kitchen and started to read the
paper.  Did I used to do this in New York?  "You're up early," I said,
watching Edward walk into the kitchen.  He was already showered and
dressed.

	"I'm such a wreck," he said, pacing back and forth.  "I have to
find out if I can still start the semester even though I've missed a week,
but I have to friggin wait until New York wakes up."

	"You're going back to school?" I asked, raising my eyebrows, trying
to contain my excitement.

	"Well, I'm not going to Italy," he said, as though it was the last
thing he would possibly want to do.

	"Why not?" I asked again.

	"I don't know what I was thinking," he said.  "It was so weird.  I
spent all day long yesterday thinking to myself: I don't want to work on a
movie.  I want to be back in New York.  I want to see my friends."

	"I can understand that," I said.

	"Yeah, well, then last night, I go out with Bobby to tell him that
I'm having second thoughts, and he gives me this big bullshit speech about
how things are moving too fast between us, and how he doesn't think I
should go with him because he doesn't want to be responsible for the big
decisions I make in my life.  I mean what kind of crap is that?"

	I didn't know what to say.  I wanted to stand up and do a little
dance, but I didn't think it would be appreciated.  I also wanted to
commend Bobby on a job apparently well done.  I stayed quiet.

	"It's funny," Edward continued.  "The whole time I was under the
impression that I was the naïve one, but it wasn't true.  At least I knew
exactly what I was doing."

	"So what did you say to him?" I asked.

	"I said fine.  I told him I understood.  I mean, what's the point
of telling him I wasn't going to go anyway when he was sitting there
telling me I couldn't come?  I guess it helped in a way, though.  After I
left him, everything became so clear.  It's like I got my spirit back or
something."

	"I can't tell you how glad I am to hear that," I said.  Whether
Edward realized it or not, he had been going through something this summer,
and now he was coming out of it.

	"Nate, I'm sorry I've been such an asshole this summer.  You've
done nothing but try to help me and I was totally unappreciative.  Part of
me had started to think that if everyone I loved was sooner or later going
to die, it was better just to push everyone away."

	"Edward, please don't apologize.  We all go through stages or
problems or whatever you want to call them.  The point is that the people
that love you stick by you no matter what.  And I'm still here."  Edward
smiled and looked down at the floor.  "Oh, and by the way," I began, his
eyes looking back up at me.  "You don't have to worry about me, see, I plan
on living forever."

	"I hope so," he said, shifting on his feet.  "I should go pack the
rest of my stuff.  If everything goes alright, I think I will have to fly
out tonight."

	"Do what you've got to do, kid," I said.  "Just remember that I'm
always here and that JC and I have more money than God, so really, there's
nothing we can't fix for you."  Edward laughed and I did as well.

	"I didn't sleep with Bobby," Edward said suddenly, catching me a
bit off guard.

	"That's not really any of my business," I assured him.

	"Something about it just didn't seem right," he said.  "I guess I
knew that I wasn't in love.  I guess it's pretty lame that I think I should
be."

	"There's nothing wrong with holding out for the best," I said.

	"And love is the best, right?" he asked, once again looking like
the innocent that he was.

	"Absolutely."

----------

	JC and I stood outside our rented mansion, waving goodbye as the
taxi drove off with my brother, a Julliard student in his second year.  The
school hadn't given him any problems about returning, and so JC and I
hurriedly helped him to get ready for his late night flight back to New
York.  We promised that we would all get together for Thanksgiving, but
that if that proved too difficult we would all meet up again when my play
opened in early December.

	"We're not parents, anymore," JC said, turning to me, the taxi no
longer in view.  He was pretending to be sad but was unable to conceal the
fact that he really was.

	"Nope," I said, taking a deep breath and looking out into the
nighttime sky.  Autumn was just around the corner.  "It's just you and me
now."  JC looked at me hesitantly.  "Oh, right," I sighed.  "And George and
Harold, of course."  JC smiled at me and we headed back into the mansion,
eager to see what the coming days would bring.

----------

	Time started moving quickly after Edward's departure.  It was
almost like reading a story that suddenly skips several months without any
explanation.  Before we knew it, it was almost New Year's.  There had been
no more word from Bobby and Edward was doing well.  He had come with my
parents to the opening night of my play, looking more satisfied than I had
ever seen him.  He had chosen to keep a gay tradition alive by coming out
to my parents on Thanksgiving, a holiday that JC and I decided not to
celebrate while we were in London.  Maybe it was just because it seemed
silly to do so in a foreign country.  Maybe it was because it was a
reminder of last Thanksgiving.

	My dad seemed to be doing well with the fact that he now had two
gay sons, a sure sign of the changing times.  My play opened to a sold out
audience and the show looked like it would remain sold out throughout the
year.  When the marquis had gone up at the theater, showing the name of the
play with my name looming above it, I almost started to cry.  More so than
seeing my name on a movie poster, this is what I had always dreamed of.

	The reviews for the show and myself were great, and I was proud of
the performances I was delivering each night, my mind free to concentrate
once again.  As luck, or I should say, Hollywood would have it, my second
film opened around the same time as the play, and did well commercially and
critically.  "It's your 'Man in the Iron Mask'," people would joke,
referencing the film Leonardo DiCaprio made after the gigantic success of
'Titanic.'

	JC spent a couple of more months hanging out, doing different
little things, enjoying the rest after working pretty much non-stop since
he had become a Mouseketeer.  Then, in the beginning of November, he
arrived at some decision and set about starting another solo record.  He
started flying back and forth between London, New York, LA and Florida,
meeting with producers, writing songs and recording.  He seemed to be
taking even more time with this record than he had with the last, wanting
each and every song to be as good as it possibly could.  While we never
spent that much time apart, we had grown more independent from each other,
which I had to look at as being a good thing.  We were both hard at work,
doing the things we loved.

	JC and I were sitting in a fancy London restaurant, tucked
privately in a corner, having a pre-New Year's Eve party of our own,
knowing that there wouldn't be too much time for intimacy tomorrow at this
gigantic party being thrown by an English fashion magazine.  We discussed
the usual types of things.  How are work was going and where we should go
if we were able to fit in a vacation in January.  "Somewhere warm," I
begged.  "Someplace really warm."  I hadn't been able to escape anywhere in
quite a while.  Our condo in Miami was becoming a memory.

	"Have you thought about your New Year's resolution?" JC asked,
sipping his champagne.  He had been a bit quieter for the past few days.

	"Yes," I said.  "I am promising never to have dinner with Angelina
Jolie again," I laughed.  "People say she's great, but she just scares the
hell out of me."  JC rolled his eyes and placed his glass back down on the
table while I chuckled quietly to myself.

	"Well," he said, folding his arms and leaning over the table a bit.
"I've made one too and it's kind of a big deal."

	"What is it?" I asked.  He certainly had my attention.

	"It kind of involves you too, so I'm really hoping you will be on
board with it."

	"Josh, tell me."

	"Ok," he said.  "But I want you to know that I've given this a lot
of thought.  I've made list after list of all of the pros and cons, but I
keep coming to the same conclusion.  It just really feels like it's the
right thing to do, and the right time to do it."

	"Tell me." I said, again.

	JC leaned even closer, the light of the candles flickering across
his face.  "I've decided to come out publicly, and I think that you should
too."

	I dropped the fork I didn't realize I was holding, the sound of it
startling me as it hit my plate.  I looked into JC's eyes, waiting for him
to say that he was kidding and that we should order dessert.  He was
looking right back at me, his eyes filled with warmth, excitement and maybe
a pinch of apprehension.  He was completely serious.


To be continued