He started to sigh and then was gripped by panic. 7:36 a.m.! He jerked up so quickly it made his head spin. The callboy lay next to him, sleeping deeply. "Get up!" Justin shook him wildly.

The callboy opened his eyes and sat up, probably used to waking up quickly.

"You have to get out of here!" Justin leaped out of bed and ran over to the door, pressing his ear against it. He already heard the faint mumble of Joey's voice in the hallway, strolling around looking for coffee.

He spun around and saw the callboy slipping into his clothes. "Get out of here!"

"I'm going, I'm going," the boy mumbled, wiping his eyes and lifting his jacket off the back of a chair.

There was a sharp knock at the door. Justin spun around to face it again. Lance's knock.

Justin tried to sound cheery. "Just a minute."

"Come on, Justin, we're blowing this joint."

"I'm coming. Just..." Justin searched around and found his pants, yanking them on so quickly he almost lost his balance. "Just give me a minute. I'll meet you in your room."

"K."

Justin found his shirt half crumpled under the bed and smelled it. Nope, he definitely couldn't wear that again. He threw it across the room, the shirt landing perfectly in his suitcase. He found a clean one on the chair and slipped into it.

The boy just stood there for a minute, watching him. "What?" Justin said.

"Just...that's it?"

"You have the money. What else?"

The boy shrugged. "I don't know. I could eat something."

Justin found a fifty in the pocket of his pants and pressed it into the boy's palm. "Here. Go eat. Just get out of here."

The boy sauntered to the door and opened it, exposing the whole 'N Sync crew lugging their suitcases down the hallway. Justin saw Lance, Joey, JC's arm, the stylist behind them. All of them stopped in unison, gawking at the boy in the doorway. The callboy kept going, unaffected, letting the door swing shut behind him.

Justin had enough time to say "shit!" through gritted teeth before Lance caught the door and opened it. Lance's mouth was open a bit, his eyes wide. "Uh, who was that?"

"Nothing." Justin grabbed the rest of his stuff - a Rolling Stone and a stray pair of socks - and shoved it in his suitcase. "That was nothing."

"You mean nobody," he heard Chris say from behind Lance.

"Yeah. Nobody. Whatever. I'm coming."

No one moved. Justin felt their eyes on him as he zipped up his suitcase and hauled it off the chair. Lance stayed pressed against the door, his hand on the knob. Chris was behind him with a similar expression, Joey behind Chris making a noise that was a cross between laughter and the word "shit," JC behind him....

Justin slid into his leather jacket. "Let's go already." He knew his hair was still shooting out from his head at crazy angles, his eyes betraying exactly what had happened.

They started moving when he reached the door, all of them except JC, who paused for a moment. Justin felt JC's eyes burning into him, judging him, accusing him. JC knew exactly what that was all about. He wanted to grab JC, shake him, tell him that it was only because he couldn't stand to be alone with nothing to think about but him. Instead he fell in line in front of JC and behind Joey, walking with his head down as he followed them to the elevator.

On the elevator, watching the tour manager check out, walking through the lobby, there was nothing but casual banter. Justin felt the tension coming from behind him, hovering over him. He stared at the back of their stylist's head, trying to avoid JC's eyes. He still felt them, as surely as if he were being burned with two bright laser beams.

The driver was waiting for them at the front door with the bus. Sometimes there were fans there, teenagers who had waited patiently since the break of dawn waiting for them to leave. But through some act of God, there weren't any. They strode out single file and piled on, all five of them, crossing the sidewalk like The Beatles in "A Hard Day's Night."

Lance threw his suitcase on his bunk and still managed to hurry back in time to get the couch. "Where are we going now?"

"Los Angeles, dolt," Chris said.

"Well, I don't know. We go so many places it's hard to remember."

Justin waited for the space to get back to his bunk and slid through the first chance he got. The area was dark, the floors and walls carpeted thick brown, the curtains heavy and blocking out most of the sunlight. He didn't need to be up front to know what was going to happen. The tour manager would stick his head in and say something about Justin. "Someone talk to him," he'd say. Then Lance would volunteer.

Justin crawled up in his bunk and pulled the curtain shut, already on his back when he slid out of his jacket and threw it towards his feet. He felt the bus lurch like a sick stomach, pulling away from the curb and heading into urban sprawl. The urban sprawl would soon turn into long, anonymous roads, faceless highways leading to the next arena where they'd get out and do it all again, trying to make it special, trying to make it worth fifty bucks.

Fifty bucks. That was how much it cost him to get the callboy something to eat.

He needed to shower. He needed to sleep. The exhaustion never seemed to go away, to the point where it was a constant part of his life, like being thirsty or working out. It weighed down his limbs, filled his brain with static, messed with his perception. He remembered a line from Fight Club, the last movie he and JC had watched together. When you have insomnia, everything is a copy of a copy of a copy.

He'd slept so fitfully for the last two weeks that sometimes he dreamed he couldn't get to sleep, then woke up thinking he was sleeping, never quite sure if he'd really slept or if he'd just imagined he had. Without JC there to mark each transition, wrapping around him as he fell asleep and kissing him as he awoke, it was hard to tell.

JC. He was in the next room but it seemed so far away. He knew they were supposed to be getting along, for the sake of the band. Their duty to perform went way beyond getting on stage and singing "Bye Bye Bye" 200 times a year. But JC seemed so unforgiving. Every time Justin looked in his eyes all he saw was pain and hate and anger. He wondered if the barrier could ever be broken.

It wasn't that he didn't try. He'd phoned JC every night for a week, after they'd all settled down in their rooms, or on the bus when he knew JC had his cell phone on and whispered into the pillow. But it just seemed to drive him farther away.

He felt a presence on the other side of the curtain and knew it was Lance. He pulled it away and saw Lance standing there smiling.

"Mind if I come in?" he asked.

Justin yanked the curtain back farther and curled up his legs, giving Lance room to climb up and sit cross legged.

"I know," Justin said. "You don't have to tell me. They're really pissed at me for getting that guy. It looks bad and people might find out and...."

Lance uncurled himself and laid down a little, propping himself up on his elbow. "It's not that, you know." His eyes were intent. "It has nothing to do with the group or management. It has to do with us, worrying about you."

Justin stared into the pillow. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Lance patted his leg. "I know why you're doing this. You don't have to explain it. It's all about JC, right?"

Justin shrugged but felt tears behind his eyes, threatening to spill.

"But you have to understand that this is exactly why he's so pissed at you. You're doing stuff like that to try to get over him but at the same time you're ruining it even more. You know that, right?"

Justin shrugged again and felt tears burning his eyes.

"The more you do stuff like that, the more you guarantee that he's never going to talk to you again. At least not more than he has to."

"I know," Justin said quietly.

"Really? Because it doesn't seem like you do."

"I do." Justin traced the edge of the pillow with his finger, trying to hold it together, willing himself not to cry again.

But Lance ruined it. "Come here," he said, sliding up and wrapping his arms awkwardly around Justin.

"I'm such an idiot," he mumbled.

"No you're not. You just need to learn how to face things."

That was a deep comment, even for Lance. It was the sort of comment he'd fall asleep tonight thinking about if he fell asleep alone. He dreaded falling asleep alone, but realized that was Lance's point.

Justin sniffled. "Maybe you should sleep with me tonight."

Lance's face was buried in Justin's shoulder, but Justin felt him jerk a little with laughter. "That's, like, the last thing we need."

"No kidding."

"Boy band breaks up from lurid love triangle."

"We should get Joey or Chris involved," Justin said. "Then we'd have a love square."

"What shape has five sides? I don't know. Love stop sign."

"A stop sign has eight," Justin said.

"Well, whatever." Lance sat up and ran a hand through his hair. "You going to sleep?"

"Yeah. Wake me up when we get there."

"Will do." Lance swung his legs over the bunk and dropped down, drawing the curtain closed and heading back to the couch.

Justin fell asleep to the sounds of the guys in the next room. He knew they were playing Tekken Tag Tournament. Their tour manager had managed to snag them a Playstation2 when the rest of the world was paying thousands of dollars for one on Ebay. Three days before he'd played JC, and JC had kicked his ass. Justin couldn't help but wonder if there was more meaning behind it.

He slept until he felt the tour bus stop and woke up automatically, rolling over and peeking out the window. He saw the back of the arena - what was it called again? - slate gray and plain and anonymous. Sound check, check in, eat, come back, perform. Lather, rinse, repeat.

He dropped out of his bunk and wandered into the main room. He still hadn't showered. He'd have to do that quickly after sound check. The other guys were already filing out of the bus, stepping into the fresh air and afternoon sun. JC led, Lance trailed behind, probably hanging back to wake up Justin if he needed to.

Lance smiled at him a little. Justin fell in line and walked toward the main door, the sun already glaring through the windows.

"I forgot my sunglasses," Justin said. "Hang on." He headed back to his bunk and found them quickly in his suitcase, tucked into the side pocket. He put them on and walked through the bus again, seeing the heads of everyone waiting outside.

When he descended the steps he immediately noticed a blonde girl with a cute body a few feet away smiling like a Cheshire cat. A promoter? He watched carefully as JC smiled and strode over to her, wrapping his arms around her and giving her a deep, open mouth kiss.

Justin felt his jaw drop.

"I don't know," Lance said quickly. "I don't know."

JC put his arm around the girl and steered her toward the bus. "This is Alicia," he said. "I've been writing to her for awhile."

Everyone was quiet. "Hi," Alicia said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Justin imagined a knife suddenly appearing in his hands so he could plunge it into her chest. Or maybe a gun. A gun would be better. Cleaner.

"Is this like a...are you...what are you...." It was hard to make Joey stammer, but he was the only one with the courage to even speak.

"We're just going to hang out while I'm in town," JC said. "We dated in high school. We're just going to catch up a little."

Justin wracked his brain. Alicia. Alicia. He didn't remember an Alicia. If JC dated her, he would have mentioned it.

A girl?

When Justin had to pin a label on himself, he figured he was probably bisexual leaning heavier toward gay. But JC? JC was gay. Gay, gay, gay.

A girl?!

"Let's go," Justin said sharply, taking the final step and heading across the parking lot. "We don't have all day."

The 'N Sync entourage followed him - tour manager, tour manager's assistant, three stylists, two equipment guys (with more on the way), three security guys and four band members, three of them straight shooters and the fourth fucking with Justin's head.

Inside Justin dropped his sunglasses on an amp and looked at Lance. "Sure you don't want to sleep with me?"

"Yes."

"Too bad, because I'd fuck just about anything that would stay still right now."

"Oh, thanks," Lance replied, but Justin didn't stay to listen. He walked up on stage and scanned the empty seats. Tonight they would be filled with screaming fans, people with banners, girls who knew every single word of their songs, every public detail of their lives. Fans who loved him best and JC second.

He had to hang onto the anger. He knew that much. When the rage subsided, it would just be a dull ache, a bone-crunching pain that made it hard to even breath. He looked down and saw JC pressed against the girl, his fingers rubbing against the back of her hand. Justin knew what this was all about. He wasn't stupid. Part of him wanted to declare war. The other part wanted to jump off the stage and run to JC, tugging at his shirt, crying and begging him to come back. But he'd already tried that.

He noticed a microphone at the edge of the stage and walked over to it. "Is this thing on?"

The equipment guy nodded.

"Great." Justin unhooked it and sang into it. "I don't want to be a fool for you, just another player in your game for two. It might sound crazy but it ain't no lie...."

He couldn't bring himself to say the rest. He heard Joey from behind the speakers, oblivious, yell out "Bye bye bye!" in his Mr. Magoo voice.

He put the microphone back on the stand and looked over. JC's arms were still around the girl but he was watching Justin curiously. Justin stepped back and gave him the finger.

If the girl didn't know they'd been dating, she did now, and Justin was glad.

third and final installment, Forgiven....