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Rainee > Fiction > Bright Lights
You'll find something that's enough to keep you
But if the bright lights don't receive you
You should turn yourself around and come on home
- matchbox twenty -
"I just miss… belonging to something, you know?"
Chris swirled his spoon slowly in the Styrofoam cup of rainbow sherbet sitting before him on the table. "I mean, it was the guys and Dani, for the longest. That was it, that was my life. And my family. And then when things went sour with Dani, the guys were right there for me, but now… I dunno anymore. I guess it just seemed like, back then, we all needed each other. No matter how much the spotlight was on one person, everyone played a part. And now… I'm useless. Unnecessary. Officially. And it fuckin' sucks, you know that?"
The blue face across from him nodded, tilting his head sympathetically. He looked over his shoulder and pointed at his compatriots, who were busy posing for pictures; then pointed back at himself, and rested a hand over his chest.
"Exactly. It's not just a job, after that long with somebody. It's a piece of your life. Piece of your heart. And it's hard to lose." Chris looked down and took another bite of his sherbet. "I just don't know what to do with myself anymore."
The Blue Man rested his chin on his hand thoughtfully, before standing up and holding up one finger to his forehead.
"What? You got a better plan than me sitting here eating ice cream and feeling sorry for myself?"
The Blue Man held up a hand in caution, then pointed carefully at a specific spot on the back of his chair. Chris leaned forward to peer at it. "What's there?"
Blue proceeded to pat Chris heartily on the back and walk away. He stared a moment longer at the back of the chair, and was just about to sit up and continue sulking when the seat was abruptly filled with a bright green t-shirt with three hot pink stripes down the front.
Chris jumped back, flabbergasted. "The hell are you doing in Vegas?"
"I had a show, man." JC grinned. "What, you don't even know when we're in the same town anymore? You didn't even come see me? I'm hurt, Chris, I'm gonna die of heartbreak over here!"
Chris rolled his eyes dramatically. "My gravest apologies for not reading your Palm Pilot more closely, bro. Siddown, have some ice cream."
He instinctively shoved the sherbet toward JC, who pushed it back to him. "Man, are you ever gonna stop trying to feed the rest of us? We've got more money than you now, give the daddy complex a rest."
Chris looked taken aback, but took his sherbet. JC leaned back in his chair. "Did you catch this show? They're awesome, huh?"
"Yeah, lot of fun. That toilet paper bit was a stroke of genius." Chris finished the confection and tossed the cup and spoon into the nearest trash can. "So what grand new venture are you about to embark on?"
"Not jack shit. It's lovely." JC giggled softly, and Chris vaguely felt a warm smile cross his own face. "I got no plans, Stan. Just gonna float around for a while, see what parties I get invited to. How about yourself?"
Chris grinned. "You know me, man. That's all I ever do." He rested his chin on his hand. "Good to see you relax, though. You've been too busy lately."
"What's the matter?" JC was frowning softly, his brow crinkled.
"What do you mean?"
"Something's up. You're acting… off, and you were all deep in thought when I got here. What's wrong?"
Chris frowned sharply. "Nothing, man, I just didn't—"
"Chris, you were talking to a Blue Man. You were having a deep conversation with a Blue Man. We've met them before, and you immediately started pantomiming lewd acts on Lance's left arm and trying to get them to join in. Don't you dare tell me you're OK."
Chris shut his eyes momentarily, before looking back at the lines of people waiting for ice cream. "When's the last time you talked to J?"
"Justin? Uhh… I dunno, a week or two? Why?"
Chris closed his eyes. "Been about a month for me. Just… fuck, I remember when we couldn't get away from each other for a week or two. And I loved it. And now I barely even see y'all anymore, and it's just like you said, I want to take care of you. But you don't need it anymore. And now it's not that I want you to take care of me but I need to be taking care of y'all or I just… that's all I know how to do with myself, I've always been that person for everybody, and now I'm not. Nobody needs me anymore and now I have to just back off and I don't know how."
The diatribe was out before he even realized he was saying it, and the next thing Chris felt was JC's hand resting on his cheek. "Ohh, Chris," he cooed, in a tone that should have been irritating but somehow wasn't. "That's not all people need you for, though. Us especially. That's just all you're used to. You just have to readjust to the things we do need you for now." JC smiled and tilted his head slightly. "Advice, usually. You've seen it all, you know? God, you're so much smarter than me it almost hurts. And if you tell me something's so, or if I ask you something and you give me an answer, I believe you. Because I know you've taken care of me for a long time, and you want what's best for me. Just because we don't need you for every little thing anymore doesn't mean we need you any less."
"You can pay people for that shit." Chris's sullen demeanor was refusing to shake loose. "That's just it, I don't know how to be around for advice or whatever the hell. I'm fucking clingy, I'll admit it. And even if y'all are around, you're not around enough. I just… feel like I'm losing my grip on shit, everything I lean on is running away from me for greener pastures as fast as it fucking can." He stood up and pushed away from the table. "And you know what? I don't care anymore. All I've done all my life is lose shit I care about. I might as well go the hell home and wait for my mom to disown me."
"Damn it, Kirkpatrick, don't start this with me." JC stood up as well, grabbing Chris by the wrist. "You've been through too much shit in your life to fucking roll over and die because Justin's got his head up his ass. He's done this before, you didn't speak the entire last half of the No Strings tour, and he gets over it. Shit changes, and we change, and you change…" His voice softened as he reached for Chris's shoulders. "And the whole point of being friends is that we hold on no matter how much we change. If I wasn't gonna stick it out and make sure you get through this, I wouldn't have called you my brother for the last ten years."
They were silent for a long moment, Chris struggling to hold onto his anger as JC strained to soothe it away. The tension was only broken when JC grabbed Chris abruptly by the arm and started away from the ice cream parlor and back towards the strip. "What the fuck? What are you doing?"
"I'm feeding you some fucking caffeine!"
~
Between his love of all things camp and his relatively low public profile since the group went on break, Chris had no problem cruising the tourist traps of Las Vegas Boulevard. His slight discomfort and extreme confusion stemmed more from JC usually so reserved and privacy-minded bounding enthusiastically across the walkway leading across the Strip, dragging Chris behind.
"What is up with you, bro?" Chris didn't have the heart to jerk away, but he was highly concerned.
"Item number one I need you for!" JC spun around with a grin on his face. "Justin can't go in public this way, and Lance and Joey just want to booze and flirt. Who else am I supposed to get all touristy with?"
"Carlos?"
JC glared and punched Chris in the shoulder. "Los is under the impression that the media gives a flying shit what I'm up to. He won't let me go anywhere without at least six cameras and Eva."
"Yeah, what's up with her, anyway?"
"He also seems to be think our entire fanbase doesn't know I'm gay, and furthermore, that they'll be somehow disappointed by the confirmation of that little detail. Anyway, she's a sweetheart, fun to go places with. And she's got a real messy divorce going on, so it does her good to have someone to go places and do things with. But we're not all that close, just party buddies."
In the midst of this explanation, JC had tugged Chris quite a way north on the sidewalk. He slowed suddenly and released Chris's arm just as they passed the MGM Grand. "Voila! Welcome to nirvana, my friend."
When Chris looked up, he was greeted by the smiling face of a yellow M&M at least three times his height. "What… the fuck…"
JC looked so self-satisfied Chris thought he might burst in a shower of confetti and sequins right there on the street. "M&M World Las Vegas. And the Coca-Cola museum-slash-emporium is connected next door."
"C, I just had three scoops of rainbow sherbet. Do you even realize what a bad idea this is?"
JC's eyes widened. "Only three scoops? Shit, Chris, you're gonna go into a fucking coma in a second!" He shoved Chris inside roughly, aiming him at the nearest escalator. "Come on, the good shit's upstairs."
Chris was still too flustered to protest, and soon they were on the second floor, staring at a row of clear bins, stretching floor-to-ceiling, filled to the top with every imaginable shade of M&M half plain, half peanut.
"Jesus Horatio Christ."
"And He said, Let there be chocolate," JC intoned.
For the first time since JC had sat down with him at the Luxor, Chris smiled. Grinned, in fact. "And it was good."
15 minutes later, he was holding a plastic bag full of black and yellow M&Ms, waving it over his head in lieu of a Terrible Towel as JC put the finishing touches on a carefully layered bag of varying shades of pink and orange.
Chris couldn't help laughing. "A true work of art, bro. You should hang it up in your house."
JC giggled, bowing deeply. "Zees ees mon magnum opus," he crowed in the most ridiculous French accent he could muster. "Eeht reprehzenteses ze tragedy off ze human zoul!"
Chris looked at his own bag. "Mine represents fucking the AFC's shit all up."
JC grinned slyly. "Same difference."
"Like you give a shit about football." Chris looked around expectantly. "So where's this Coke emporium you mentioned?"
"Next door." JC headed back toward the front of the store. "It's actually a museum, with a bunch of old machines and ads and historical stuff. It's pretty awesome to see the evolution of the brand, as long as it's been around."
"Do they sell it?"
"By the assload."
"Sounds like my kinda place."
~
JC had placated Chris through the extensive exhibits with several bottles of the celebrated elixir. Between that and the decimation of both bags of candy, they were writing Coca-Cola jingles to the melody of "I Want It That Way" by the time they reached the top floor of the museum, where JC immediately darted to a counter in the back and requested something called an international sampler. At Chris's confused look, he grinned. "It's little tasters of their products from other countries. I've gotten them in Atlanta, but I think they have different flavors here."
He glanced up to Chris as he took the tray and was pleased to see a look of curiosity had replaced the previous puzzlement. "Dude, does that say ginger?"
Before JC could answer, Chris had grabbed the tiny glass and thrown back half of its contents. It was barely three seconds later that he spit it out, splatters appearing on the counter and narrowly missing JC and the unsuspecting server.
"…I've had that before," JC offered. "It's nasty."
"Thank you, Captain Obvious."
JC giggled softly as Chris wiped his tongue off on his sleeve. "Here, this is tangerine. It's really good, like Nehi but a little more tart. I've never tried the others, though."
Chris sipped the pale orange soda carefully, smacking his lips. "That is kinda tasty…"
They eventually went through a foreign root beer (deemed near flavorless by JC), bitters (which Chris downed on an impromptu $20 bet), and something simply labeled "fruit", which they spent 15 minutes trying to identify. "There was definitely mango there," JC argued as they headed back onto the Strip and he pushed Chris gently toward the New York New York. "And maybe some pomegranate, I'm not sure."
"It tasted like Hi-C to me," Chris countered. "Carbonated pink lemonade with some bananas."
"You have no culinary sense whatsoever."
"Sizzle, it's Coke. If I've never had a pomegranate, odds are they can't even spell it."
"Precisely. Next time we're in LA, I'm feeding you one, dammit. Hang a right here, we're going to the piano bar."
Chris rolled his eyes. "Do you need me around so you have a throat to shove some culture down?"
"No. I need you to sing the song I'm gonna play."
Chris came to a complete halt. "Fuck no, Chasez. Seriously, don't even. Fuck this."
"Fuck you. How long has it been since you sang for a crowd? You need this."
"I'm not singing Jodi in a Vegas piano bar."
"No, you're not. It's a ballad. And I know you know all the words. I'll even back you up on the chorus. Okay?" JC wrapped an arm around Chris's waist, his voice softening. "I just wanna hear you sing again, that's all."
Chris paused just long enough to mentally blame the sudden warmth in his cheeks on his doubtlessly skyrocketing blood sugar. "…sure, kid. If it'll shut you up."
JC grinned all the way to the Bar at Times Square. He greeted the pianist familiarly, and had a low conversation Chris couldn't quite overhear. A moment later, JC was dragging him toward the piano as the bartender flipped on his microphone.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a special treat this evening a surprise performance by two bona fide pop superstars! I'm sure you all fondly remember the amazing vocal feats of the pop supergroup *NSYNC…" The well-intoxicated crowd let out a few appreciative whoops. "…and tonight we'll be hearing from the founder and lead singer of our favorite band! Give it up for JC Chasez and Chris Kirkpatrick!"
JC bowed enthusiastically to the crowd Chris offered a meager wave. He started to lean on the piano, but JC patted the piano bench with a grin, so he sat.
"Thank you all so much…" JC adjusted the microphone to allow both of their voices to reach it. "We're gonna do a song tonight that means a whole lot to me… it's one of my favorites, and I hope you all love it as much as I do."
Chris was starting to panic, though he hid it well from the applauding crowd. The night had been fun so far, but unprepared performance in earnest, at least was not his thing. Looking at the eager crowd, he was very close to snatching JC's readied fingers from the keys and dragging him back out to the Strip.
Then he heard the opening strains of Falling.
He looked over his shoulder, flabbergasted, but JC's concentration was on the piano, a soft smile just barely visible on his face.
That was when the grand lesson of the evening finally dawned on him. He doesn't need me anymore… but here he is anyway. He doesn't need me. He just loves me.
JC paused briefly on the keys and gave Chris a smile too gentle and bashful to waste on cheering his big brother.
…he loves me.
Chris rested his hand on JC's knee, and they started to sing.
~
"Did you know you were the first person I came out to?"
"Well, yeah."
"There was a reason for that, you know."
Chris laughed softly, wrapping his arm a bit more tightly around JC's waist as they headed back toward the Luxor, where Chris had parked. "Well, I know that now, sure. You forget that subtlety doesn't work on me."
"Well, you're the psych major! I thought you'd figure me out!"
"Dude, I don't want to figure you out!" Chris shoved JC playfully towards the passenger side of the car. "You're fucking insane, I don't wanna know what makes you that way. I've got plenty of my own."
"Go sell crazy somewhere else, we're all full here!" JC giggled breathlessly, pulling his jacket a little tighter as he climbed into the car. "God, it's fuckin' cold for Vegas."
"It's fuckin' December, did you come here to work on your tan or something?" Chris punched JC in the shoulder. "So did I just have ‘I go both ways, please offer me dick' tattooed on my forehead, or what?"
"Pretty much." JC settled back as Chris started the car and headed out onto the beltway. "That and… well, I figured whether you liked guys had very little to do with it. Either you felt the same way or you didn't."
"I didn't." Chris studied his fingernails. "Not before, anyway. But… this meant a lot to me. Even if you hadn't meant it this way." He moved one hand from the wheel to rest on JC's. "That you cared enough to spend a whole night on me like that. And that you stuck around when you didn't have to."
"Of course I had to." JC scooted over to rest his head on Chris's shoulder. "You needed it."
"Yeah, but you di-"
JC rested a finger on Chris's lips, leaning up to kiss his cheek softly. "Of course I had to."
Chris smiled gently, easing off the beltway onto Tropicana. "Mm. Well, now it's 2:30 in the morning, and we need something to do."
JC lifted his eyes lazily to Chris's, one eyebrow arching slightly. "I could give you an idea or two."
"Oh, I've already got an idea." Chris chuckled softly and pulled into the parking lot of Wal-Mart. "Get out, we gotta go shopping."
"For what?"
"Condoms and toilet paper."
They ended up buying several cans of silly string as well, and a bottle of window paint, plus a sheet of scratch-and-sniff Strawberry Shortcake stickers JC had found. Thus armed, it was about 3:15 when they entered a neighborhood back up Tropicana and pulled up to a luxurious, Mediterranean-styled home. Chris gave a contented sigh as they climbed out of the car. "Now, this is the life."
JC grinned, shaking up his can of silly string and carefully analyzing one of the birch trees in the front yard. "It's good to have you back, Tricky."
The trees and shrubs were well papered and be-stringed, one front window had hearts and daisies completely covering it, and Chris had gotten as far as "I LIKE BO" on the next, when his Y was interrupted by the front door being thrown open and a booming voice. "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!"
They froze, looking at each other for a long, tense moment, before they both instinctually lunged, nailing a bathrobe-clad Lance to the nearly-frozen ground. "Get his arms!" JC shrieked, attempting to tie a toilet paper bow around his neck. Chris managed to restrain Lance just long enough for it to work, before covering his face liberally with blue and green silly string. They left him there in a sputtering mess as they darted for the car, Chris starting it and maneuvering them back to Tropicana faster than JC thought possible. They were in front of the hotel Chris had been staying at by the time they managed to stop laughing.
"Ohh… oh shit…" JC was staggering with laughter as he climbed out of the elevator. "…he's gonna murder us, you know that, right?"
Chris giggled softly, clutching JC's arm as they made their way into the room. "And it'll be worth it. Too bad we didn't have pictures."
JC sat down on the bed, offering only a sly smile as he pulled his picture phone out of his pocket.
Chris burst into giggles again, falling into JC's lap and flattening them both on the bed. "I love you, Joshua Chasez."
"You're just saying that because I bought you M&Ms."
"No I'm not." Chris sat up, his old childlike smile itself so rare lately now tempered with a gentle warmth. "I love you."
JC laughed briefly, lifting a hand to rest it on Chris's cheek. "You're nuts."
"Well, I was gonna buy you dinner first, but if you're offering…"
"It's four in the morning and you want to take me out for dinner-"
"This is Vegas. There's a 24-hour Tex Mex cantina down the block with video poker…"
"-instead of having sex?"
Chris stuck his tongue out. "Fine then. Just for that? No romance for you. We'll just do it like bunnies for the rest of the night."
"You are nuts," JC whispered, still grinning as he pulled Chris down over him.
"I must be nuts, if I love you."
"I love you, too, you know."
"Mm, I know. Now where'd you put the condoms?"