When Chris had first heard about Joey’s new dedication to his studio, he hadn’t believed it.  It sounded a little farfetched, but when Chris arrived, Joey was right where they said he’d been for weeks; down in the basement, sitting at the console and swiveling from right to left on his stool, as far as the headphones would allow him to move. 

The studio was nice, very Joey-like and completely unlike JC’s neat studio where there was absolutely no food, booze, or distractions allowed.  Joey’s place was also full of interesting items to look at; trashy tabloid magazines—the kind with aliens, bat-babies and the worlds fattest 3 year old—cds, dvds, and garbage.  

“Doesn’t your housekeeper ever come down here, you big slob?” he asked, and squeezed Joey from behind with both arms.  Hearing Joey squeal in panic was worth being toppled back onto the floor and pinned underneath Joey’s fat ass.  “Dude!” he wheezed, trying not to laugh.  “In the studio?  What would C say?” 

“He’d say quit sneaking up on me, you fucker,” Joey said, but got up and helped Chris to his feet.  “Besides.  Check it out,” he said, and gestured around.  “This is my place.”  Chris took a good look around for the first time and realized that the studio was set up with reels of film, tv monitors and vcrs.  The console looked similar to any other studio, but clearly the purpose of this one was very different. 

“Looks like you’re busy,” Chris commented, and ran his fingers across some of the buttons and levers.  “I sorta thought you’d be busy planning a wedding by now?” 

“Yeah.”  Joey shrugged.  He sorted through a stack of reels until he found the one he wanted.  “That’s kind of for the ladies to plan, y’know?  And anyhow, there’s no hurry.  We were talking about pushing it back again.” 

“Uh huh.”  Chris had run into Kelly a few days ago and when he’d asked about the wedding plans, she’d laughed and told him not to hold his breath. 

“But you’re still getting hitched, right?” 

“Sure, sure.  Come take a look at this.” 

Joey, as it turned out, had been trying his hand at making documentaries beyond the second Reel Nsync project.   The bits he showed Chris were pretty good, too, and he was even taking a film class.  As Joey worked, Chris looked through the shelves and shelves of videos, amazed by the sheer quantity of nsync footage shot by Joey himself. 

After he tired of looking around, he peeked over Joey’s shoulder and saw something that caught his eye.

“What’s that?”  It looked like Justin there, dancing across the screen. “Hey!”  He poked Joey’s pudgy side, hard, until Joey slid the headphones down around his neck and gave Chris an exasperated look. 

“What’s that?” he asked, and he may as well have just mentioned the wedding because Joey immediately went all twitchy and evasive. 

“Side project,” Joey replied.  “Can I have some of your soda?” 

“Get one of your own.”  Chris handed over the cup anyhow. “So, what’s the project?  Am I in it?” 

“Uh. Kind of,” Joey began slowly.  He tapped his fingers on the console and scratched at his sleeve.  “It’s nothing.  I don’t’ even know what I’m gonna do with it.”

Chris laughed, suddenly nervous.  “Shit, Joe.  You weren’t trying to make that amateur porn again, were you?” 

Joey flipped him the finger, but his face, made for smiling, remained serious.  “This is just practice, y’know?”

“What is it?”

“It’s from before,” Joey sighed.  “Like, when we were first starting out.  I just started putting stuff together and before I knew it, I was making this.  No one will see it but the instructor.”  He gestured at the monitor but didn’t offer to share whatever the fuck he was talking about, and Chris knew him better than that.

“Show me.” 

“Chris, I-“

“-show me.” 

“It’s a rough cut.” 

“Fine.”

“I mean, it needs a lot of work, these are just some clips I pulled to use…” Chris didn’t hear the rest of Joey’s explanation because the first image was already rolling across the screen. 

The camera panned unsteadily across a crowded room, Joey’s ebullient narration in the background as he looked for something to film.  Suddenly, the camera jerked to a stop and Chris heard Joey mumble, “JC!  Here we go…”  Quick and steady, the view zoomed in on a young JC, who stood in the corner with his awful haircut, talking to two men wearing expensive suits.   The men were doing most of the talking, and every once in a while JC would nod or answer a question in one or two words.  His smile was forced, but he kept it steadfast on his face, even when one of the men reached out and touched his cheek; nothing more than a brief touch, but it still made Chris go cold as he watched.  The other man nodded, and the camera only picked up bits of their exclamations of approval.  JC’s feet shuffled nervously, his eyes on the ground, cheeks pink as the second man touched JC’s belly.  He stiffened when a few fingers slipped under his shirt, and blushed even deeper when the two men laughed.  It was then that Joey’s narrative remarks abruptly stopped and the screen went to static.

Chris could feel Joey’s eyes on him, so he kept watching the screen as it flickered to black and then into another scene, and then another, and another.

Another photo shoot, and Justin was playing front and center, strutting for the camera, his open shirt flapping around with his antics.  “You--come up here, up front,” a voice from off-camera said, and Lance, who’d been off to the side, hurried to obey, crooked smile already in place.  Just as he approached Justin, a more authoritative voice interrupted with, “No, no, no.  He’s not sexy enough.  Get the other one, the dark one.”  

Chris looked away from the screen and blinked, making brilliant white squares flash behind his eyelids.

“I remember that day.”  He remembered it perfectly; Lance, that night after the photo shoot and how he’d sat around with a completely natural smile on his face, daring anyone to not pretend that his eyes weren’t hideously red and swollen. 

“Yeah.”  Joey turned a knob that faded the monitor to black, and sat back.  It was over—or, at least, the part Joey wanted to share with him was over.

“I didn’t see a whole lot of you on there,” Chris said uneasily. 

Joey chuckled.  “The benefit of being behind the camera ninety-nine percent of the time.” 

Chris nodded tightly, but it had been a long time since he’d felt this particular brand of dread rising up in his belly.  “And where am I at, Joe?  Don’t tell me you don’t have anything.”

Joey shook his head and twisted his hat around backwards with both hands.  Of them all, Joey possessed the most tact, but right now Chris just wanted it straight.  Tact took too long, and Chris didn’t think he could stand the tense agony of waiting to find out exactly how bad this was going to be. 

“I’m going for a complete picture here,” Joey began slowly.  “So, yeah, you’re part of it.” 

“You didn’t even ask,” Chris sputtered.  “You didn’t even…ask me if you could…”

“It’s not just you, Chris,” he offered helplessly, his voice rising with frustration.  “This is my thing, too.  And-”

“-fuck this,” Chris interrupted, and pushed his stool away from the console.  “Fuck all of it, and fuck you for thinking this is some kind of fun project for you to mess around with.” 

“Not fun,” Joey argued.  “You think this is fun for me?   It’s just how things were, and fine -- if you don’t wanna think about it, then don’t.  But I’m looking back and seeing a story there.  A crappy story, but it has a happy ending.  It got us to where we are now.”   

Chris stopped and took a look at his friend, baffled because it was the first time he’d ever pushed Joey about something and been met with complete resistance.  Joey was the master of compromise, the king of saying “whatever,” and not meaning it as a passive-aggressive dismissal…which meant that Joey was serious about this, which made it all the more difficult for Chris to withhold his support. 

“I have to go,” Chris said, and he wanted to badly to be able to speak normally, but his words kept coming out in a strangled, hysterical pitch.  If it were anyone else who’d done this, who’d brought this – thing – out into the open, he’d be screeching in their face until they cried, but this was Joey and not only that but Joey seemed so intent on this task, so serious about its significance that there wasn’t anything Chris could do except leave. 

***

“You back?” 

Chris nodded from the doorway of Joey’s studio, grateful for Joey’s willingness to ask dumb questions in order to smooth over an awkward situation.  It had taken a few days, but Chris’ own house was always chaos, and if he wanted his solo album, then he needed to put out some songs, and soon.  Being at home just reminded him that he wasn’t getting anything done, and Joey’s studio had a good, creative atmosphere.  Or so Joey had told him.  

And there was something calming about watching Joey at work.  Chris liked the way his forehead creased in concentration, and how it would suddenly smooth out when he smiled at something amusing.  Joey liked to verbally express whatever was happening in his head, so there was this endless stream of mumbling that quieted something in Chris.  Apparently, the thing being quieted was the thing that had been blocking his creative vibe, because as Joey worked, Chris scribbled out a couple verses of a song on the back of a yellow paper that didn’t look important until he turned it over and saw the boldface-typed “Please check the preferred time,” along with an extensive schedule for premarital counseling.  The sheet of paper bore a St. Catherine’s Church logo at the bottom. 

“Oops.”

Joey swiveled in his chair.  “What?”

“I just used your marriage thing for scrap paper.”  He passed it to Joey, who looked thoughtfully over the unmarked schedule and Chris’ markings on the back.  Finally, he passed it back to Chris.  “That’s not bad,” he said.  “Go ahead and keep it.” 

“You sure?” 

Joey nodded, his hands already working at a few switches, eyes back on the screen, the image jumping backward, then forward, and backward again.  He was getting good at this; Chris had seen him at the early stages of the Reel Nsync, and back then his movements had been hesitant, awkward.  Now his fingers moved over the console like it was an instrument he’d been playing his whole life and it made Chris want to stay here, to curl up and go to sleep, just to be here with Joey. 

Still, there was one thing that kept him from being able to completely relax. 

“So…you still working on that other thing?” 

“Mm hmm.”  For some reason, Joey was refusing to look at him, so Chris wheeled his chair until he ended up at Joey’s side. 

“You get to the parts about me yet?” 

“Some of ‘em.” 

“Can I see?” 

“I’m not really working on that right now,” Joey explained.

“What, now it’s a big secret?”

Joey sighed and unhooked the headphones from around his neck.  He still didn’t look at Chris, but his mouth turned up at the corners as he touched the silver post through his eyebrow.  He tended to do that when he was thinking, uncomfortable, or both.  Despite his obvious reservations, he let Chris see, and pushed over so they could both sit in front of the main monitor.  Chris shut his eyes, fighting the wave of nerves he hadn’t experienced in so long, not since those shows in the early days.  It was ridiculous to be so nervous, but he was, and even the way Joey laid his arm across the back of Chris’ chair did little to lessen his anxiety. 

The camera bounced and shook for a few seconds before steadying, and Chris heard Joey’s young, enthusiastic voice as he panned slowly across the room.  “Another photo shoot, folks…hey, do me a favor- take this for me, okay?”  The camera rocked again as it switched hands and captured Joey running to the far side of the room where the five of them were being posed in matching black outfits.  “How do you zoom?” the new cameraman called with a heavy accent, and Joey yelled some instructions, waving with a huge grin for the camera.  A few seconds later the camera panned in on JC and Justin, who was peeling off his shirt and tossing it aside with flair.

Chris rolled his eyes and glanced at Joey, then back at the monitor where a fourteen-year old Justin was proudly cheesing for the camera.  “You,” the photographer said, and stepped into sight for a second, blocking the view of Justin.  He appeared to be pointing to a shirtless JC.  “Sit closer.  Put your arm around him.”   In the grainy footage, Chris saw JC hesitate for more than a second before obeying -- slowly – and sliding an arm around Justin, his eyes lowered and darkly focused on the photographer.

Chris looked away.  They looked so small and cold there on that black faux-leather couch.  Small, cold, and nervous—at least, JC did.  Justin seemed oblivious and happy, leaning into JC’s embrace.  “Good, good.  And now, why don’t you put your arm around his waist?  That’s it, smile for me, boys.”  The photographer purred out his instructions, and JC obeyed all of them, putting his hands on Justin wherever he was asked. 

“I like that look,” the photographer raved.  ”JC.  Sexy!  Good!”   But JC wasn’t being sexy; even with the rough quality of the tape, Chris recognized the pure loathing on JC’s face as he held Justin against his own half-naked body. 

Those pictures had never seen the light of day.  Chris hadn’t even seen them, but the day the proofs had come back, he’d heard Justin and Lance’s moms talking in tense, hushed tones.  Chris hadn’t understood at the time why Diane had been so angry, but now he realized why.  If he had to guess, he’d say that Lynn had been fine with the photos and Diane, who expected Lynn to be the mother when she wasn’t around, had seen them for what they were. 

“It didn’t touch him,” Joey said firmly.  “Justin.” 

Chris agreed, but the glare of the monitor was making his eyes water so he looked up, toward the tiled ceiling.  It was true; it really hadn’t touched Justin, but it had touched Lance in a significant way.  “Lance,” he said, and it was coming back again, that choking feeling and he had to get out of there soon. 

“Yeah…” Joey said slowly.  “But look what it did for him, look at him, now.  Bad things can work in a positive way sometimes.”  And it was so typical of something Joey would say.  Chris couldn’t stop shaking his head because he was being smothered by the tightness in his chest; suffocating in that small, windowless room. 

Joey was right.  Lance was fine, but Chris still held so many regrets deep down inside, regrets that he could never share with the rest of them.  It was impossible for him to look at this stuff without thinking that if maybe he’d stopped JC from being touched like that, all the time, then JC would be able to look strangers in the eye now.  Maybe if he’d kept Lance from hearing himself called ugly for so long, he wouldn’t be so obsessed with all the beautiful people that kept fucking him over on a regular basis.  Maybe, maybe, maybe, but it was too late and Chris didn’t let himself think about this very often for this very reason. 

“I have to go.” 

“It’s not that bad!” Joey protested.  He grabbed Chris’ arm and peered into his face.  “I know it’s fucked up, but dude, it’s not…are you having some kind of breakdown?”    

“Are you crazy?” Chris tried to laugh, but with Joey’s eyes right there, so concerned, it was hard to pull off.  “I’m not the one holed up here alone twenty-four hours a day.” 

“Then stay,” Joey said.  “And I won’t be alone.” 

“Or, we could go out.  You, me, drinks, dancing?”

Joey glanced a little too longingly at his monitor, and Chris smiled, a thin, smug baring of teeth.  “Either that, or we can stay here and talk about the wedding.”

“Give me ten minutes.” 

***

Chris left the club on Joey’s heels, his limbs heavy with alcohol.  Even on the way out, Joey shimmied his hips and winked at the ladies while Chris pushed him along, anxious to get some air.  It was good to see that Joey could still get a party started, but Chris’ head had started to spin and a few minutes outside the back exit was all he wanted.  That, and maybe some weed, which he happened to have in his jacket pocket.  He supposed it would be one of Joey’s last chances, now that he was about to become this steady family man.  He kept trying, but he couldn’t imagine it.  Chris had always secretly thought that Justin, despite being the baby, would be the first to settle down.

“It’s weird,” Chris explained, carefully, because his tongue and lips were working against him tonight, for some reason.  “You.  You’re this big grown-up all of a sudden.  All serious about your work, and making this huge commitment.  And, dude!  You’re gonna be married!” 

“Um,” Joey said, looking equally unsteady. 

“And you’re gonna be like, married with kids, and I took these pants out of the dirty clothes hamper this morning.”  Chris shook his head and leaned against Joey’s shoulder, who frowned down at his own clothes. 

“So did I,” he admitted, and his worried expression set Chris off on a wave of hard, giddy laughter that sent them both reeling against the wall.  Chris was the worst off of them both, so he clung to Joey’s shirt for balance, resting his face against the open collar. 

“You can’t do that anymore,” Chris said, still chuckling.  “Because you’re gonna be—y’know.” 

“I’m not,” Joey protested, and Chris’ head swam as he tipped his head back and saw Joey, half in shadow, half in faint green neon glow.

“No?” he asked lightly.  It didn’t matter that it wasn’t true; he wanted to believe it, so he did, and it made sense in that slow, hazy moment that he would lift his face and touch his lips to Joey’s, which were already parted in confusion.  It was soft and sweet-- just how he knew Joey would be -- for only a second before he drew back and whispered, “I think you’re making a huge fucking mistake.” 

He was talking about the film, of course, except that he really wasn’t.

***

When Chris woke up, his head was throbbing and Joey was gone.  There was someone else in the room, but it hurt too much to move, so he didn’t know who it was until the bed bounced slightly on one side and JC’s voice said, “So, congratulations.” 

He didn’t even want to know for what he was being congratulated, but that didn’t seem to matter because JC kept right on talking in his fake innocent voice, which meant he was in a bitchy, snide mood but hadn’t decided to let it loose yet.  “Yeah,” he continued, and jostled the bed more than Chris thought was necessary.  “You coming out to Joey was a pretty big surprise, but I guess you had your reasons.” 

Chris groaned and reached out blindly.  JC might be pissed, but he was infinitely kind.  Sure enough, a cool glass was pressed into Chris’ hand as he struggled to a sitting position.  “Thanks,” he mumbled.  The water felt like heaven going down, once he could actually swallow.  He pushed down the panic by telling himself that he was still fully dressed, so it couldn’t be all that bad. 

“Joey called me,” JC accused.  “He told me what you said, what you did.” 

Chris slowly opened his eyes, and it really was too bad that he could remember the events of the previous night. 

“It’s not fair for you to mess him up like this, not right now,” JC scolded. 

“It’s not me,” Chris mumbled. 

“What?” JC leaned in closer.

“I said it’s not me! You don't know what he's doing.”  His voice hurt his own ears, head, everything.  It all ached.   “He’s the one who’s messing me up!”  And it was really true, for the most part, the way Joey insisted on bringing all this old dirty baggage out into the open.  

“No, your own issues are messing you up.  The film is messing you up.  Joey isn’t,” JC said sharply.  “He wouldn’t.”     

“He told you about the film?” 

JC put his fingers to his mouth, a bit guiltily.  “He showed me.” 

Chris honestly didn’t know what to say to that.  It wasn’t JC’s fault, but knowing that others had seen the same footage left him feeling exposed and defensive.  Did JC blame Chris for all the ugly things on those tapes?  Not likely, but JC had always been too forgiving. 

“I, um, I was doing some voiceover work for Joey’s film.  Just, a little bit about how different it is, in that field, to sell yourself as an individual as opposed to a group.  And believe me, Chris,” he added, teeth snapping nervously at his fingernails.  “It’s way better as a group.” 

“Better?” He didn’t even want to think about how all the things JC had tolerated were somehow less awful than what he’d gone through before the group came along. 

JC just nodded.  “And Joey’s onto something, here.  I’m proud of him for seeing things and for…thinking about them.  Aren’t you proud of him?” 

Chris groaned and buried his face in the pillow, but he was starting to think that maybe he was proud. 

***

Chris considered waiting until he was certain Joey was still even talking to him, but that wasn’t his way, which was how he ended up on Joey’s basement stairs less than twenty four hours later.   

He paused at the door, trying to come up with some witty opening remark that would make Joey instantly forget any wrongs he’d been done.  For the moment he was blessedly unnoticed as Joey bent over his desk, writing intently.  His leg jumped nervously in baggy, oversized jeans, and he was making the face that Chris loved to tease him about.  Chris smirked, but then it suddenly didn’t seem to amusing because Joey would probably be making that face a lot from now on.  It was a depressing thought, but they all had to grow up sometime.  Chris had no right to try and stop him. 

“Hey.” 

Joey’s eyes lifted for just a second before returning to his desk, where he wrote one more thing, a few quick scribbles.   His mouth twisted to the side; not angrily, though.  It seemed almost apologetic.   “Hey.”  He watched calmly as Chris pulled up a chair next to him. 

“So, sorry about everything.”  Chris scratched at his goatee, watching Joey’s face carefully.  “The kissing.”   

“Yeah…”  Joey shook his head slowly.  He didn’t look right; there were spots of pink high on his cheeks and he wouldn’t quite look directly at Chris.  “I never knew you were like that.” 

“I’m, well.  I am.  Like that.”  Chris cringed at his own stilted explanation because it shouldn’t have been this awkward, but Joey seemed to be having his own issues, and Chris watched warily as Joey fidgeted in his chair, hands tapping at the armrests, tongue wetting his lips over and over before in an abrupt move, he lurched forward.  Chris’ arms automatically came out in defense, but his fingers only met with the front of Joey’s shirt, and they curled into the softness because that was what Chris did when he was being kissed.

It didn’t matter that Joey’s mouth pressed a little too hard against his own, or that his knee was digging into Chris’ thigh.  It didn’t matter that his chair creaked and groaned with every subtle movement, but what did matter was the fact that something potentially enormous had already sparked up between them, and they still needed to talk.   “Joey, stop,” he gasped, and pushed lightly against him. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Joey said.  His mouth was red and wet, and his hands were still clutching Chris’ armrests, leaving only a few inches between them.   After a second, he collapsed back into his own chair. 

“Jesus, Joe.”  Chris shifted in his chair and crossed his foot over his knee, trying to hide how turned on he already was, just from the kissing.  “What about Kel?”  It was such an obvious question, but so important.  Waiting for the answer, he could hardly breathe. 

“I don’t know,” Joey admitted.  “I haven’t talked to her in weeks; not really talked.  We kind of…let things slide.  But you were all so excited about it, I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Chris rolled his eyes.  “You tell it to us straight, just like anything else.  The same way you showed me your film.  If we don’t like it, we don’t like it.” 

Joey snorted, a quick sound of laughter that evaporated into the silence.  “And you definitely don’t like it.” 

Chris studied him for a second and tried to pretend he wasn’t gauging how soon they could start kissing again.  “It’s growing on me,” he conceded.  “You’re doing your thing, right?  And I figure, that’s why we went through all that crap, right?  So Lance could have the freedom to go to space, and JC could sing about the freaky monkey-sex, and you could make movies about whatever the hell you want.” 

“Right,” Joey agreed incredulously, then turned suspicious.  “So that’s it?  You’re suddenly fine with this?”

As if.  Chris shrugged, wanting to be fine with it but knowing he still had a way to go.  “I’m fine with where we ended up, Joe,” he said honestly, and reached out. 

For now, it was enough.