When Lance first joined the band he always
thought there was something seriously odd about Justin and JC. They were always
touching, for one thing; always in constant contact with each other; an amalgam
of skin and long, lean bodies. They often slept together, too. One day, after
Lance walked in on them curled together on the sofa, he asked Chris if they were
together and Chris just laughed and patted him on the head. Lance scowled. On the NSA tour, through a half-opened door,
Lance saw them kissing. Saw JC's long fingers tangled in Justin's curls. Saw
tongues licking and slipping into wet lips and hot mouths. Lance found he
couldn't look either of them in the eye for weeks. He tried to talk to Joey, too. Joey
laughed and said, It's just one of those things. You'll understand one day Lance thinks he does understand now, finally. He watches them from the covert shadows of the
passage. Justin is lying on top of JC and their long legs are entwined. JC
traces patterns on his back with feathered fingers. They're kissing; soft lips fused by slick
tongues. Justin's hand trails absently up and down JC's side. They are both in
constant, fluid movement. Lance looks and sees Justin break the kiss but not
move; their foreheads are still pressed together. He sees the look that passes
between them; the soft glow in their eyes. Friendship,
Lance thinks; deep, untainted
friendship and affection and suddenly he feels
cynical and dirty for ever thinking otherwise. Justin smiles and Lance sees a
slice of pink tongue before they're kissing again. Lance turns away. He gets it, finally. It's not
about sex, or lust or desire; it's pure and it's sweet and it's...completely
platonic; the truest form of friendship he's ever seen. Lance can't watch them anymore without feeling
the sweetness turn saccharine in his mouth and a flush of envy stain his
thoughts. He hears mellifluous laughter and walks away, hungry and craving for
an intimacy that is theirs' alone.
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