Hardly Seen (1/1)
Kaelie, I'm sorry. I stole part of your title.
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Lance only happened to see it because he was late coming back from the bathroom. Carl, the sound tech, had stressed that it was *very important* that they stay on schedule, that no one deviate from what was on said schedule because Phil Collins was *very busy*, and that meant no breaks except for the ones that were written down: ten minutes every four hours.
Well, screw that. His bladder was illiterate. The second coffee that morning had been a bad idea.
So there was Lance, zipping his jacket back up and hurrying down the hall to the studio, when he heard it.
"They all know."
That was Justin. Lance checked his watch. Okay, so he still had two minutes before Carl started yelling and his face went all red. He could spare at least thirty seconds, right?
"No they don't," JC said quietly, and Lance thought, okay, maybe a minute.
Lance counted to ten in his head, and peeked around the corner. JC and Justin were standing there, talking quietly - so quietly, in fact, that if Lance hadn't been happening to hurry by, he wouldn't have heard a word.
"Yes they do." Justin looked absolutely miserable - not pouty, the way he usually did; miserable, like he'd just heard back from Chuck about his grades or he'd been in a meeting with Lou and a new stylist. The last time Justin had had a meeting with a new stylist, he'd gotten gel in his hair to go with the bleach. "It's all my fault. I'm so *bad* at this, C. I can't-" He stopped, started playing with the ring on his index finger. "I don't get why we have to hide," he muttered, and something kicked on in the back of Lance's head.
Okay. So. Weird turn of phrase. Maybe he meant--
"You know why we do," JC said, still quiet, and no, that wasn't a weird turn of phrase, not at all. "Your mom would have me killed. Chris would just kill me himself. Lou would throw me out of the group." He tugged on Justin's hand and tried to smile. "We have a list, remember?"
Justin didn't say anything, just shrugged and didn't meet JC's eyes.
"Hey." JC tugged on Justin's hand a little harder. "*Hey*," he said again, and Justin looked up. "When you turn 18-"
"Things won't be different," Justin muttered. "I'll still be a kid, and Lou'll still be there."
"Maybe," JC said, shrugging. "Maybe he won't. But you won't be a kid. And no, we probably won't be able to tell the entire world right away, but our friends, our families, the people we love-" He put his fingers through Justin's. "We can tell them," he said, and the look Justin shot him was so tender Lance had to blink and look away.
"You promise?" Justin said.
"I never promise anything," JC said, raising an eyebrow, trying to sound arch and sarcastic. But then Justin started giggling, and JC murmured something that sounded suspiciously like "I love you", and Lance had to look away at that, too.
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Lance only happened to see it because he was late coming back from the bathroom. Carl, the sound tech, had stressed that it was *very important* that they stay on schedule, that no one deviate from what was on said schedule because Phil Collins was *very busy*, and that meant no breaks except for the ones that were written down: ten minutes every four hours.
Well, screw that. His bladder was illiterate. The second coffee that morning had been a bad idea.
So there was Lance, zipping his jacket back up and hurrying down the hall to the studio, when he heard it.
"They all know."
That was Justin. Lance checked his watch. Okay, so he still had two minutes before Carl started yelling and his face went all red. He could spare at least thirty seconds, right?
"No they don't," JC said quietly, and Lance thought, okay, maybe a minute.
Lance counted to ten in his head, and peeked around the corner. JC and Justin were standing there, talking quietly - so quietly, in fact, that if Lance hadn't been happening to hurry by, he wouldn't have heard a word.
"Yes they do." Justin looked absolutely miserable - not pouty, the way he usually did; miserable, like he'd just heard back from Chuck about his grades or he'd been in a meeting with Lou and a new stylist. The last time Justin had had a meeting with a new stylist, he'd gotten gel in his hair to go with the bleach. "It's all my fault. I'm so *bad* at this, C. I can't-" He stopped, started playing with the ring on his index finger. "I don't get why we have to hide," he muttered, and something kicked on in the back of Lance's head.
Okay. So. Weird turn of phrase. Maybe he meant--
"You know why we do," JC said, still quiet, and no, that wasn't a weird turn of phrase, not at all. "Your mom would have me killed. Chris would just kill me himself. Lou would throw me out of the group." He tugged on Justin's hand and tried to smile. "We have a list, remember?"
Justin didn't say anything, just shrugged and didn't meet JC's eyes.
"Hey." JC tugged on Justin's hand a little harder. "*Hey*," he said again, and Justin looked up. "When you turn 18-"
"Things won't be different," Justin muttered. "I'll still be a kid, and Lou'll still be there."
"Maybe," JC said, shrugging. "Maybe he won't. But you won't be a kid. And no, we probably won't be able to tell the entire world right away, but our friends, our families, the people we love-" He put his fingers through Justin's. "We can tell them," he said, and the look Justin shot him was so tender Lance had to blink and look away.
"You promise?" Justin said.
"I never promise anything," JC said, raising an eyebrow, trying to sound arch and sarcastic. But then Justin started giggling, and JC murmured something that sounded suspiciously like "I love you", and Lance had to look away at that, too.