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amfiguree[N'sync] [Lambs, unrequited Basez] [G]
Your Song
Justin had asked you to write a song. “For Lance,” he’d said, “Write it for Lance.”
“Why?” You’d asked, half-fearing the answer. Justin knew exactly how to make things work for him and you had had no doubt that he would be able to coax you into helping him write the song in the end. Still…
“It’s our anniversary day after,” Justin had replied breezily. “We’ve been seeing each other for two years now. And I don’t have the time or inspiration to write him a song. But this would mean so much to him! I’ll owe you so big, Jace. Please?”
How could you refuse?
But later that night, when you picked up the pen, you felt an overwhelming sense of guilt, longing and regret coursing through every fibre of your being. Justin should be writing this, you couldn’t help thinking. And then, And Lance shouldn’t be tricked into thinking that Justin wrote this. I did.
And you felt even more guilt-ridden for that, because Lance was with Justin, and you had no right to think about him that way anymore. When he’d been a single, shy country boy in the group, that was acceptable. When you thought he was straight, even. Because then you couldn’t do anything about it. But now… now it was different. You worried that maybe one day you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands to yourself, and that would be a whole different story altogether.
Now that Lance was with Justin, he was off limits.
You often wondered, though, if Lance had ever known that you loved him the way you did.
You snapped out of your reverie, and went about your work. Your magic, as Justin called it. Something else the fans didn’t know was that you had finished all Justin’s songs. He’d started the first couple sentences, maybe, and you’d done the rest of the work. So when all HIS supposed songs became the album’s singles, you felt the slightest hint of indignation bubbling in your mind.
But then Lance stood up for your songs and told the board that they shoulda picked one of yours, hell, even two of your songs, for singles, instead of Justin’s, and even though Justin went moping around for a week after that, you couldn’t stop that small tinge of triumph and jubilance in the back of your mind.
You didn’t mind so much about Justin’s songs after that.
When you finally woke from yet another daydream, you forced yourself to concentrate on the paper, but found yourself slipping away into another fantasy, a past memory.
You found yourself thinking about all those past touches and friendly flirting that had taken place between yourself and Lance. You found yourself wondering if he ever remembered them the way you did. You thought of the day Lance came out, how the first person he had looked to for approval had been you, and you feel that shudder of gladness sweeping through your veins.
You think of the times Lance encouraged you, setting your fears at ease. You remember how he used to stroke your hair after you had grown it long, and murmur words of comfort when you suffered from insomnia, and you wanted to sleep so badly you could feel the desire gnawing intensely at your stomach and that simple play of words and hands on his part had sent you into dreamland, after even a truckload of sheep hadn’t worked.
Then you recollect the way he looked at you when he and Justin announced that they were together, and you remember, with a pang of jealousy and hurt, that the sparkle in his eyes had been so bright, so clear, that it had stung your eyes just to look at his joy.
You swallowed deeply, and tried to force the unpleasant memory out of your head and the only way to stop yourself from thinking was writing. When you had to hold your thoughts to process them so they couldn’t just fly by unnoticed. So you picked up a pen and began writing.
//It’s a little bit funny, this feeling inside
I’m not one of those who can easily hide
Oh I, don’t have much money but, boy if I did
I’d buy a big house where we both could live//
You laughed at yourself, then, because you were thinking of the conversation you had had with Lance a long time back, when you were still small fry in the world, and America had not yet even heard of N’sync.
You had asked him about his dream house and he had told you, down to the smallest detail. You had laughed about it and joked about it and then talked about your own. And Lance had listened with an interest so real and unforced that you felt happy he was spending his free time with you instead of with Justin or Joey.
//If I was a sculptor, but then again, no
Or a man who makes potions in a traveling show
Oh I know it’s not much but it’s the best I can do
My gift is my song and this one’s for you//
You sighed. Because you knew your words were true. There was nothing you could offer him but this song, because money was something he was not lacking in, and he had everything he could ever want at the tips of his fingers. A Backstreet Boys song played in your mind then, and you laughed. But my love is all I have to give, without you I don’t think I could live, I wish I could give the world to you, but love is all I have to give to you…
And what better way to express your love than through a song?
//And you can tell everybody this is your song
It may be quite simple but now that it’s done
I hope you don’t mind
I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words
How wonderful life is now you’re in the world//
You dropped your head in your hands, feeling like crying because everything was suddenly turning out so wrong, and you didn’t think you had the courage or the strength to finish the song. You wanted him so badly, and you couldn’t and wouldn’t ever have him. Justin had him. Justin, the golden boy. How could you compete with that? How could you even dream of trying?
But it was true, what you wrote in the song; how wonderful life is now you’re in the world. Because even though sometimes you wished that things were different – different so you wouldn’t have met Lance, wouldn’t have realized that you liked boys a lot more than girls, wouldn’t have fallen in love with someone who would and could never love you back – you knew, deep down, that you wouldn’t have it any other way. Because right now, even though he was with Justin, you had the honor of being one of his best friends, and you had the chance to meet and love this wonderful human being that most people could only dream of encountering.
And even though you didn’t have the slightest chance with him, you thanked god everyday for sending this angel your way, for allowing you the chance to know someone as wonderful as Lance Bass.
His smiles sent you spinning head over heels, his laughter sent you dizzy with happiness, his beautiful eyes set off a need so urgent in you, you never thought it was possible. His lips did terrible things to your mind and your concentration, his voice sent shivers of ecstasy down your spine, his touches drove you insane, and there was just no way you could ever dream of not wanting Lance, or not needing him, or not loving him.
//I sat on the roof and kicked off the moss
Well a few of these verses they got me quite cross
But the sun’s been quite kind while I wrote this song
It’s for people like you that keep it turned on//
You remembered, clearly, the night you sat on the roof together, wrapping your arms around each other to keep your balance and to keep away the cold. And you remember how your heart had raced and your eyes had lit up and your blood had boiled at the feeling of his warm breath against the crook of your neck as he rested his head on your shoulder.
Your brain had became a bit fuzzy suddenly, and you found yourself scribbling a few lines of nonsense, because you just didn’t know what you were doing. The only thing that was clear in your mind was the scent of Lance, the feel of his skin, the sound of his voice, the colour of his eyes… every little detail of him was imprinted in your mind, carved deeply into your heart.
//So excuse me forgetting but these things I do
You see I’ve forgotten if they’re green or they’re blue
Anyway the thing is what I really mean
Yours are the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen//
You got back your focus and managed to write a halfway coherent verse. The image swirling in your head was blinding your vision and you could hardly see the words you were writing; the image was vividly laid before your eyes.
Lance’s pale green eyes, his expressive gems, the dancing fire of passion, of concentration, of determination, that you so deeply admired. Then there were Justin’s deep blue eyes, and your brain merged them into one, as they were. And you could hardly tell the difference between them. And everything got too much and you wanted it to stop and you could feel your hand scribbling on the paper, but your brain was so messed up you couldn’t tell what you were writing about.
Only Lance’s eyes returned to you to haunt your every waking hour, your every sleeping dream. And now they returned again to disturb you as you continued with the song.
//And you can tell everybody this is your song
It may be quite simple but now that it’s done
I hope you don’t mind
I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words
How wonderful life is now you’re in the world
I hope you don’t mind
I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words
How wonderful life is now you’re in the world//
You couldn’t think to write after that, because the pain of not being with Lance clutched at your heart and gripped it so tightly you thought you had stopped breathing, that you were going to die because your heart wasn’t going to be able to keep beating through that intense pain.
So you lay your head on the table, your hands grasping your hair firmly as you cried. Your body shook from the intensity of your sobbing and you felt yourself slipping off the chair and onto the floor as you continued to weep blindly. You pressed your body harder onto the cold marble, feeling your tears cooling your hot cheeks. You continued to cry then, because you couldn’t stop, you didn’t want to, and all the while the memory of Lance’s soft hands stroking tenderly at your hair and his soft, soothing words murmured quietly in your ear, only served to urge on the tears.
When you woke up the next morning, you shivered, before realizing you were still on the cold, tiled floor. You picked yourself up gingerly, squeezing your eyes tightly shut for a moment because they were all dried out from your tears the night before. You glanced at the paper as you passed it, stopping dead in your tracks and picking it up.
You read through the song quickly, trying to ignore the stabbing pain of hot, white jealousy in your body. You slammed the paper back down on the table after making sure there were no mistakes and blinked back the tears that had found their way to your eyes. You felt surprised, because you thought you were all cried out, and it seemed impossible that you could have any tears left.
But then you thought about it, and you realized, that if you had a tear for every time Lance broke your heart, intentionally or otherwise, you still had many, many tears left to cry. For all the times he led you on and made you believe he might have loved you back, for all the times he hugged you but didn’t let you hug him back, for all the times he would shy away from you as though he was scared of you, for all the times he declined to spend any time with you, insisting Joey was better company… for all the times he blew you off when you flirted and made you feel stupid, for all the times he pretended not to notice you were hurt that he was ignoring you, for all the times he went around with Justin and pushed you aside… for the many, many reasons that you could still think of… You realized you still had plenty tears left to cry.
Later on, when Justin came over to collect the song, his hands reached out to take the paper from you, and you almost retracted the offer. This song was too personal, too… YOURS… to be given away. Unconsciously, you tightened your grip on the paper, and Justin looked at you curiously before you blushed, realizing what you were doing.
You looked at it once more, feeling the colour being sucked out of your cheeks. Your knees went weak as the impact of the words hit you once more and it was all you could do to remain standing. But, finally, you let the paper go, dropping it in Justin’s outstretched hands.
Because the song was too good for you. And Justin would take it to a height you could never dream to achieve. Just like he had done with Lance.
And no matter how much it hurt, you had to accept that.
When you received a call from an excited Lance later on that day, asking you over to their house at Justin’s invitation, your heart crumpled and you agreed, knowing that you were only going to hurt yourself more, but not having the heart to refuse.
Justin performed the song. He sang it beautifully. The pitch was right and the words were heartfelt… meaningful. The words you had written. And everytime Justin sang the chorus, you felt as though someone was squeezing your heart, wringing it and shredding it to bits, because YOU wanted to be the one singing to Lance, YOU wanted to be the one he loved and you wanted to tell him that you HAD written that song, that Justin just hadn’t had the time. God, how you wanted that.
Better still, Justin later invited you to the piano, his eyes begging you to play the song, to perform for them. Because, you supposed, he thought that you wanted part of the credit, a chance to sing your own song, and again, how could you refuse either of them? The hope in Lance’s eyes was enough to send you to your knees. How could you resist a dose of that?
So you walked up to the piano, your hands shaking, trembling, and you praying you wouldn’t screw up. Joey and Chris sat in a corner and laughed as Justin extended his hand to Lance, and Lance stood, smiling, ready to dance.
You sat then, and began to play, the chords flowing as though you had been meant only to play this song. And then you sang. The words came as though they were meant for your lips, and your lips only. Lance realized that, because midway through a dance step with Justin, he slowed, and came to a complete stop. You blushed, because you could feel his eyes fixed on your back, and you prayed for that unknown power to give you strength enough to continue.
So you sang. And sang. And sang. “I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words… how wonderful life is now you’re in the world.”
And when you finished you looked up shyly and there was Chris, Joey and Justin clapping wildly away, but all you could see was Lance, Lance who was standing looking completely dumbstruck, as if the song was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard in his life. Lance, who looked as though he had just been struck by lightning. Lance, who seemed to have been turned into a mute.
You smiled self-consciously, and sat down on the couch again, letting Chris and Joey mess up your hair, and tell you what a “damn good job” you’d done. You couldn’t look up anymore, because you’d either see Justin’s proud look, or Lance’s stunned one, and you felt you couldn’t bear either of them right now.
But then you felt Lance’s arms circle your waist and there was no way you could stop yourself from hugging him back. There were tears in your eyes when you pulled back, you knew, but you knew he wouldn’t notice it. All he saw was Justin as he turned away from you and flung himself into Justin’s arms.
And you felt that same prick of hurt as he turned his back on you, and you thought Joey probably noticed it, even though he remained silent. You ran your hand through your hair and stood, ready to leave, to end your ridiculous self-induced torture, when Justin fell on one knee, and smiled and said, “Lance, you make me the happiest man on Earth. You are my inspiration and I don’t want to live another day without you by my side. Say you’ll marry me?”
Lance made a choked sound, but couldn’t speak for joy, and threw himself into Justin’s ready-waiting arms. And then everything became one big blur because you were all hugging and crying and congratulating the new couple.
Only your tears were for a different cause.
And you thought that Chris had probably noticed it too.
Lance called you again, later on, after you had all left his house. You were quiet for a while, because you didn’t know what to say. Justin’s proposal had taken you by surprise as well, and there was no way you had been remotely prepared for it. It had winded you and there was a raw feeling in your gut that you couldn’t quite pinpoint.
But then he said, ever so softly, “I know you wrote that song.”
And you felt the panic system in your mind ringing warning bells loudly, but you didn’t know what to do. “I… um…”
But you suppose you didn’t have to say anything, because the next minute Lance whispered, “Thank you,” and quietly hung up.
You sat, listening to the dial tone for a while, before hanging up as well.
You think, now, that there was probably a chance that Lance was drunk and had no idea what he was talking about. Yet he sounded sober and wasn’t all giggly the way he was when he was drunk, so he might not have been.
But then it doesn’t really matter.
As long as Lance knows you wrote that song, you’re contented.
And as long as you know that every song you ever write will always be ‘his song’, you know that you will never run out of tears to cry.
But you think, you hope, you pray, that for now, you have had enough sleepless nights, filled with only the sound of your own wretched sobbing.
-fin-
Author’s Note: **The song used in this story is obviously ‘Your Song’ by Elton John. So... no, JC didn’t write it.
Your Song
Justin had asked you to write a song. “For Lance,” he’d said, “Write it for Lance.”
“Why?” You’d asked, half-fearing the answer. Justin knew exactly how to make things work for him and you had had no doubt that he would be able to coax you into helping him write the song in the end. Still…
“It’s our anniversary day after,” Justin had replied breezily. “We’ve been seeing each other for two years now. And I don’t have the time or inspiration to write him a song. But this would mean so much to him! I’ll owe you so big, Jace. Please?”
How could you refuse?
But later that night, when you picked up the pen, you felt an overwhelming sense of guilt, longing and regret coursing through every fibre of your being. Justin should be writing this, you couldn’t help thinking. And then, And Lance shouldn’t be tricked into thinking that Justin wrote this. I did.
And you felt even more guilt-ridden for that, because Lance was with Justin, and you had no right to think about him that way anymore. When he’d been a single, shy country boy in the group, that was acceptable. When you thought he was straight, even. Because then you couldn’t do anything about it. But now… now it was different. You worried that maybe one day you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands to yourself, and that would be a whole different story altogether.
Now that Lance was with Justin, he was off limits.
You often wondered, though, if Lance had ever known that you loved him the way you did.
You snapped out of your reverie, and went about your work. Your magic, as Justin called it. Something else the fans didn’t know was that you had finished all Justin’s songs. He’d started the first couple sentences, maybe, and you’d done the rest of the work. So when all HIS supposed songs became the album’s singles, you felt the slightest hint of indignation bubbling in your mind.
But then Lance stood up for your songs and told the board that they shoulda picked one of yours, hell, even two of your songs, for singles, instead of Justin’s, and even though Justin went moping around for a week after that, you couldn’t stop that small tinge of triumph and jubilance in the back of your mind.
You didn’t mind so much about Justin’s songs after that.
When you finally woke from yet another daydream, you forced yourself to concentrate on the paper, but found yourself slipping away into another fantasy, a past memory.
You found yourself thinking about all those past touches and friendly flirting that had taken place between yourself and Lance. You found yourself wondering if he ever remembered them the way you did. You thought of the day Lance came out, how the first person he had looked to for approval had been you, and you feel that shudder of gladness sweeping through your veins.
You think of the times Lance encouraged you, setting your fears at ease. You remember how he used to stroke your hair after you had grown it long, and murmur words of comfort when you suffered from insomnia, and you wanted to sleep so badly you could feel the desire gnawing intensely at your stomach and that simple play of words and hands on his part had sent you into dreamland, after even a truckload of sheep hadn’t worked.
Then you recollect the way he looked at you when he and Justin announced that they were together, and you remember, with a pang of jealousy and hurt, that the sparkle in his eyes had been so bright, so clear, that it had stung your eyes just to look at his joy.
You swallowed deeply, and tried to force the unpleasant memory out of your head and the only way to stop yourself from thinking was writing. When you had to hold your thoughts to process them so they couldn’t just fly by unnoticed. So you picked up a pen and began writing.
//It’s a little bit funny, this feeling inside
I’m not one of those who can easily hide
Oh I, don’t have much money but, boy if I did
I’d buy a big house where we both could live//
You laughed at yourself, then, because you were thinking of the conversation you had had with Lance a long time back, when you were still small fry in the world, and America had not yet even heard of N’sync.
You had asked him about his dream house and he had told you, down to the smallest detail. You had laughed about it and joked about it and then talked about your own. And Lance had listened with an interest so real and unforced that you felt happy he was spending his free time with you instead of with Justin or Joey.
//If I was a sculptor, but then again, no
Or a man who makes potions in a traveling show
Oh I know it’s not much but it’s the best I can do
My gift is my song and this one’s for you//
You sighed. Because you knew your words were true. There was nothing you could offer him but this song, because money was something he was not lacking in, and he had everything he could ever want at the tips of his fingers. A Backstreet Boys song played in your mind then, and you laughed. But my love is all I have to give, without you I don’t think I could live, I wish I could give the world to you, but love is all I have to give to you…
And what better way to express your love than through a song?
//And you can tell everybody this is your song
It may be quite simple but now that it’s done
I hope you don’t mind
I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words
How wonderful life is now you’re in the world//
You dropped your head in your hands, feeling like crying because everything was suddenly turning out so wrong, and you didn’t think you had the courage or the strength to finish the song. You wanted him so badly, and you couldn’t and wouldn’t ever have him. Justin had him. Justin, the golden boy. How could you compete with that? How could you even dream of trying?
But it was true, what you wrote in the song; how wonderful life is now you’re in the world. Because even though sometimes you wished that things were different – different so you wouldn’t have met Lance, wouldn’t have realized that you liked boys a lot more than girls, wouldn’t have fallen in love with someone who would and could never love you back – you knew, deep down, that you wouldn’t have it any other way. Because right now, even though he was with Justin, you had the honor of being one of his best friends, and you had the chance to meet and love this wonderful human being that most people could only dream of encountering.
And even though you didn’t have the slightest chance with him, you thanked god everyday for sending this angel your way, for allowing you the chance to know someone as wonderful as Lance Bass.
His smiles sent you spinning head over heels, his laughter sent you dizzy with happiness, his beautiful eyes set off a need so urgent in you, you never thought it was possible. His lips did terrible things to your mind and your concentration, his voice sent shivers of ecstasy down your spine, his touches drove you insane, and there was just no way you could ever dream of not wanting Lance, or not needing him, or not loving him.
//I sat on the roof and kicked off the moss
Well a few of these verses they got me quite cross
But the sun’s been quite kind while I wrote this song
It’s for people like you that keep it turned on//
You remembered, clearly, the night you sat on the roof together, wrapping your arms around each other to keep your balance and to keep away the cold. And you remember how your heart had raced and your eyes had lit up and your blood had boiled at the feeling of his warm breath against the crook of your neck as he rested his head on your shoulder.
Your brain had became a bit fuzzy suddenly, and you found yourself scribbling a few lines of nonsense, because you just didn’t know what you were doing. The only thing that was clear in your mind was the scent of Lance, the feel of his skin, the sound of his voice, the colour of his eyes… every little detail of him was imprinted in your mind, carved deeply into your heart.
//So excuse me forgetting but these things I do
You see I’ve forgotten if they’re green or they’re blue
Anyway the thing is what I really mean
Yours are the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen//
You got back your focus and managed to write a halfway coherent verse. The image swirling in your head was blinding your vision and you could hardly see the words you were writing; the image was vividly laid before your eyes.
Lance’s pale green eyes, his expressive gems, the dancing fire of passion, of concentration, of determination, that you so deeply admired. Then there were Justin’s deep blue eyes, and your brain merged them into one, as they were. And you could hardly tell the difference between them. And everything got too much and you wanted it to stop and you could feel your hand scribbling on the paper, but your brain was so messed up you couldn’t tell what you were writing about.
Only Lance’s eyes returned to you to haunt your every waking hour, your every sleeping dream. And now they returned again to disturb you as you continued with the song.
//And you can tell everybody this is your song
It may be quite simple but now that it’s done
I hope you don’t mind
I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words
How wonderful life is now you’re in the world
I hope you don’t mind
I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words
How wonderful life is now you’re in the world//
You couldn’t think to write after that, because the pain of not being with Lance clutched at your heart and gripped it so tightly you thought you had stopped breathing, that you were going to die because your heart wasn’t going to be able to keep beating through that intense pain.
So you lay your head on the table, your hands grasping your hair firmly as you cried. Your body shook from the intensity of your sobbing and you felt yourself slipping off the chair and onto the floor as you continued to weep blindly. You pressed your body harder onto the cold marble, feeling your tears cooling your hot cheeks. You continued to cry then, because you couldn’t stop, you didn’t want to, and all the while the memory of Lance’s soft hands stroking tenderly at your hair and his soft, soothing words murmured quietly in your ear, only served to urge on the tears.
When you woke up the next morning, you shivered, before realizing you were still on the cold, tiled floor. You picked yourself up gingerly, squeezing your eyes tightly shut for a moment because they were all dried out from your tears the night before. You glanced at the paper as you passed it, stopping dead in your tracks and picking it up.
You read through the song quickly, trying to ignore the stabbing pain of hot, white jealousy in your body. You slammed the paper back down on the table after making sure there were no mistakes and blinked back the tears that had found their way to your eyes. You felt surprised, because you thought you were all cried out, and it seemed impossible that you could have any tears left.
But then you thought about it, and you realized, that if you had a tear for every time Lance broke your heart, intentionally or otherwise, you still had many, many tears left to cry. For all the times he led you on and made you believe he might have loved you back, for all the times he hugged you but didn’t let you hug him back, for all the times he would shy away from you as though he was scared of you, for all the times he declined to spend any time with you, insisting Joey was better company… for all the times he blew you off when you flirted and made you feel stupid, for all the times he pretended not to notice you were hurt that he was ignoring you, for all the times he went around with Justin and pushed you aside… for the many, many reasons that you could still think of… You realized you still had plenty tears left to cry.
Later on, when Justin came over to collect the song, his hands reached out to take the paper from you, and you almost retracted the offer. This song was too personal, too… YOURS… to be given away. Unconsciously, you tightened your grip on the paper, and Justin looked at you curiously before you blushed, realizing what you were doing.
You looked at it once more, feeling the colour being sucked out of your cheeks. Your knees went weak as the impact of the words hit you once more and it was all you could do to remain standing. But, finally, you let the paper go, dropping it in Justin’s outstretched hands.
Because the song was too good for you. And Justin would take it to a height you could never dream to achieve. Just like he had done with Lance.
And no matter how much it hurt, you had to accept that.
When you received a call from an excited Lance later on that day, asking you over to their house at Justin’s invitation, your heart crumpled and you agreed, knowing that you were only going to hurt yourself more, but not having the heart to refuse.
Justin performed the song. He sang it beautifully. The pitch was right and the words were heartfelt… meaningful. The words you had written. And everytime Justin sang the chorus, you felt as though someone was squeezing your heart, wringing it and shredding it to bits, because YOU wanted to be the one singing to Lance, YOU wanted to be the one he loved and you wanted to tell him that you HAD written that song, that Justin just hadn’t had the time. God, how you wanted that.
Better still, Justin later invited you to the piano, his eyes begging you to play the song, to perform for them. Because, you supposed, he thought that you wanted part of the credit, a chance to sing your own song, and again, how could you refuse either of them? The hope in Lance’s eyes was enough to send you to your knees. How could you resist a dose of that?
So you walked up to the piano, your hands shaking, trembling, and you praying you wouldn’t screw up. Joey and Chris sat in a corner and laughed as Justin extended his hand to Lance, and Lance stood, smiling, ready to dance.
You sat then, and began to play, the chords flowing as though you had been meant only to play this song. And then you sang. The words came as though they were meant for your lips, and your lips only. Lance realized that, because midway through a dance step with Justin, he slowed, and came to a complete stop. You blushed, because you could feel his eyes fixed on your back, and you prayed for that unknown power to give you strength enough to continue.
So you sang. And sang. And sang. “I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words… how wonderful life is now you’re in the world.”
And when you finished you looked up shyly and there was Chris, Joey and Justin clapping wildly away, but all you could see was Lance, Lance who was standing looking completely dumbstruck, as if the song was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard in his life. Lance, who looked as though he had just been struck by lightning. Lance, who seemed to have been turned into a mute.
You smiled self-consciously, and sat down on the couch again, letting Chris and Joey mess up your hair, and tell you what a “damn good job” you’d done. You couldn’t look up anymore, because you’d either see Justin’s proud look, or Lance’s stunned one, and you felt you couldn’t bear either of them right now.
But then you felt Lance’s arms circle your waist and there was no way you could stop yourself from hugging him back. There were tears in your eyes when you pulled back, you knew, but you knew he wouldn’t notice it. All he saw was Justin as he turned away from you and flung himself into Justin’s arms.
And you felt that same prick of hurt as he turned his back on you, and you thought Joey probably noticed it, even though he remained silent. You ran your hand through your hair and stood, ready to leave, to end your ridiculous self-induced torture, when Justin fell on one knee, and smiled and said, “Lance, you make me the happiest man on Earth. You are my inspiration and I don’t want to live another day without you by my side. Say you’ll marry me?”
Lance made a choked sound, but couldn’t speak for joy, and threw himself into Justin’s ready-waiting arms. And then everything became one big blur because you were all hugging and crying and congratulating the new couple.
Only your tears were for a different cause.
And you thought that Chris had probably noticed it too.
Lance called you again, later on, after you had all left his house. You were quiet for a while, because you didn’t know what to say. Justin’s proposal had taken you by surprise as well, and there was no way you had been remotely prepared for it. It had winded you and there was a raw feeling in your gut that you couldn’t quite pinpoint.
But then he said, ever so softly, “I know you wrote that song.”
And you felt the panic system in your mind ringing warning bells loudly, but you didn’t know what to do. “I… um…”
But you suppose you didn’t have to say anything, because the next minute Lance whispered, “Thank you,” and quietly hung up.
You sat, listening to the dial tone for a while, before hanging up as well.
You think, now, that there was probably a chance that Lance was drunk and had no idea what he was talking about. Yet he sounded sober and wasn’t all giggly the way he was when he was drunk, so he might not have been.
But then it doesn’t really matter.
As long as Lance knows you wrote that song, you’re contented.
And as long as you know that every song you ever write will always be ‘his song’, you know that you will never run out of tears to cry.
But you think, you hope, you pray, that for now, you have had enough sleepless nights, filled with only the sound of your own wretched sobbing.
-fin-
Author’s Note: **The song used in this story is obviously ‘Your Song’ by Elton John. So... no, JC didn’t write it.
