Perfection

 

JC pushed. He pushed himself, he pushed the guys. But he mostly pushed himself. He had to do things the best that he could. Better than that. He had to sing higher, dance harder, hold notes longer. He had to write more music, write better music, do more with the better music he wrote. He had to be certain things. He was the artistic one, and he had to do that past the best of his ability, too. Not just with music, but with everything. Everything had to be perfect. And to be perfect, he had to play it off like perfection wasn’t his main objective, just a side benefit. And he was good at that, too.

For all appearances, JC had it good. He had everything: the greatest friends in the world, an unending reserve of talent, atypical good looks, and the adoration of thousands, which was a bittersweet kind of blessing once you had it.

JC was probably a lot of the reason *NSYNC was so successful, actually, because he kept them on task, and because he did push them to be their very best. He got so high off of flawless performances that the other four couldn’t help but feed on his enthusiasm. The flipside of that was that when they didn’t do their best, it hit him hard. He got really down about sloppy shows or bad interviews or the likes.

No one really thought about why JC was like that. They kind of figured he just was.

He was just JC Chasez, Perfectionist Extraordinaire.

So maybe it didn’t come as a big surprise to everyone else that night when JC collapsed. They’d come off a string of mediocre performances, and everyone knew JC was high-strung. He’d been practically buzzing and vibrating down to his cells, running on no sleep and gallons of coffee and pure adrenaline and determination.

The usually-mellow JC, the one everyone else was used to, had completely disappeared for the last week or so. Even Chris had told him to chill, to tone down the energy a couple notches, which had only resulted in making JC want to work harder. And that had translated to all five of them working their asses off, and pretty much rightly so, since their last few shows had borderline sucked.

But this last one had gone perfectly. Not one trip-up, not one mistake, not one note sharp or flat, not one word missed. They had been perfectly in synch with each other, in every sense of the word, moving five as one, singing in perfect harmony. Perfect. All their hard work had paid off, and big time.

When they’d exited the stage, they’d been flying high on everything: energy from the crowd that was pumping through their veins, the feeling of walking on air brought on by a sense of accomplishment after a series of hard practices, the lightness in their heads from singing their hearts out and dancing like never before… it all contributed to pure elation.

For everyone but JC.

JC should have been the happiest of all. It had been he who had strived for a perfect performance, he who wanted it the most, so shouldn’t it have been the sweetest for him?

JC was all smiles and energy onstage, but the moment he blew through the curtains, he turned an almost grey color, ashen, and the sweat that had given him a healthy glow on stage made him look eerily slick. His eyes were glazed over and he got kind of limp-looking before he slumped to the floor, breathing shallowly. He hadn’t fainted completely. He was sitting on his bottom, with both legs folded out to the sides, like he would have been kneeling, but had gone too far. It wasn’t until Chris got down behind him and slipped his arms under JC’s that JC actually did faint, his eyes rolling back into his head in a way that made Chris’s stomach churn and his arms tighten around JC’s torso.

Lance, Justin and Joey all stared, their faces perfect reflections of each other’s: shocked, scared, worried. Lance was shaking a little, and he knelt before Chris and JC, his eyes looking helplessly into Chris’s, which looked just as helplessly back.

Justin turned and ran, and Joey just turned. His hand shook as he brought it to his mouth, which was suddenly cottony-dry. He couldn’t look at JC, who had become a pile of limbs flopped in Chris’s lap.

Chris tried desperately to reorganize JC into something that looked like JC, but only succeeded into creating a stretched-out JC-noodle. He started lightly slapping JC’s cheeks when Justin returned, someone who looked to be at least somewhat knowledgeable in the medical field in tow.

Their makeshift medic pulled JC’s head into her lap and Chris backed up slightly, leaving his hand on JC’s shoe. She pushed open each eye and peered in, then let the lids fall closed. Then she held two fingers against his limp wrist, things Chris thought she should have done in reverse order, but oh well. Once she had ascertained that JC was alive, she started checking other parts of him. That’s when his eyes fluttered and he tried to sit up, but ended up falling back into her lap, resigned to looking around with his eyes and not his whole head.

"God, C, what happened?" Chris asked, crawling forward so that he was sitting next to JC’s shoulders rather than his feet.

"Jayce, man, you okay?" Justin was squatting next to JC. Joey’s arms were folded and he just gazed down, eyes full of concern. Lance was still kneeling, and he touched JC’s arm.

JC’s hand went to his forehead. Someone had laid a damp cloth there, which JC held in place. "I—I don’t know."

"You don’t know if you’re okay, or you don’t know what happened?" Chris asked.

JC attempted sitting up again, and this time succeeded. "I’m okay. Yeah. I’m alright." He let the cloth fall to the floor and tried standing. Everyone stood with him, ready to catch his wiry frame should it fold again. He wobbled a little, and Justin’s arm shot out to support him, but he shrugged it away. "Sorry I scared you guys."

"You need to see a doctor," Lance insisted.

"No." JC shook his head, and then realized that probably wasn’t a good move, reaching out to hold onto Chris’s shoulder, steadying himself.

"Yes, you do," Joey agreed. "You just fainted, man. Totally collapsed."

"I’m fine. I’m okay. I just need some sleep, that’s all."

Chris and Joey and Lance and Justin exchanged doubtful glances. "Okay, but if you still look like death warmed over in the morning, we’re canceling tomorrow’s interview and you’re going straight to the hospital," Chris finally said.

"We’re not canceling the interview," JC said. Chris just raised his eyebrow.

"And you’re getting an escort to your room." JC didn’t protest as Chris fell into step beside him. They walked slowly, JC brushing off the looks dripping with concern that Joey, Lance and Justin were giving him.

The limo ride to the hotel was shaky. Chris was worried JC was going to pass out again, as his head was back against the seat and kept rolling from side to side. Every time it did, Chris would say "JC?" and JC would open one eye and peer at Chris through thick lashes and grunt, "I’m fine."

When they got to the hotel, Chris took JC’s arm and slung it across his shoulders, making JC slump a little since JC had a good couple of inches on him. The limo went back for the others, and for the first time, Chris realized that everyone could have come at least this far together. JC made a concerted effort to look alert and as "fine" as he claimed he was the moment they walked through the hotel’s door. He left his arm draped across Chris in a friendly sort of way, rather than the supportive sort of way it was really there for.

The elevator ride made JC close his eyes and lean back against the wall, resting a good amount of his weight against the handrail that ran around the elevator’s perimeter.

When they were safely on their secured floor, JC slumped across Chris once more and allowed Chris to practically drag him into his room. Chris shrugged JC off of him and onto one of the beds, and stood in front of JC, hands on his hips. "Tell me what’s going on."

"What do you mean?" JC tried to look innocent, but the flash of pain through his blue eyes betrayed him.

Chris sat delicately on the bed next to JC and rested a hand on JC’s knee. "Dude, you’re one of my best friends. I’ve practically spent every waking hour of the last half-decade in your company. Don’t pretend like I don’t know when something’s bothering you."

JC ground his eyes with the heels of his hands, then raked his fingers through his hair, tugging at the curls. He dropped his hands into his lap and avoided Chris’s gaze.

"Jayce?" Chris lightly bumped JC’s shoulder with his knuckles.

JC took in a lungful of oxygen and let it out in a hissing sigh. "I told you, I’m fine." But he sounded more deflated, not so emphatic.

Chris reached over and clamped JC’s chin, forcing JC to look into Chris’s eyes. "Say it again," Chris said.

"I’m fine," JC whispered through a squished mouth, but he had to close his eyes. Chris dropped his hand from JC’s face and shook his head. JC’s chin trembled and Chris’s heart clenched. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen JC cry. It scared him.

Chris pulled JC into a tight embrace, chins resting on shoulders, arm muscles trembling. JC sniffed next to Chris’s ear and Chris pushed him back gently to look into JC’s face. JC’s eyes were red-rimmed and damp and his nose was pink, and his chin and lower lip were still trembling. He caught his lip between his teeth to stop it. It worked, for the most part, but made his eyes well up a little more in exchange.

"Fuck, C. Something is going on. If you can’t tell me, talk to someone. Anyone. I don’t care who, but you gotta get this off your chest. Or you’re gonna get really sick." Chris’s eyes were huge and concerned and he had pain for his friend splashed across his face.

JC breathed in shakily and let it out a few times, calming his chin, and swiped at his eyes. His voice was shaky and thick when he spoke. "I—I’m not who I thought I was."

"What do you mean?" Chris’s eyebrows lowered and knitted.

JC studied his hands. "I’ve never told anyone. Never." He breathed in again, an unsteady breath filling his lungs with air so that his chest puffed out and his shoulders raised, and then let it all out like a deflating balloon.

"JC?" Chris touched JC’s shoulder lightly, his fingers warm through JC’s thin t-shirt.

JC looked up. Fuck. His heart was screaming at him to say it, just fucking get it off his chest, but his lips weren’t cooperating. His eyes slid closed and he shook his head, shoulders hanging limply, like JC had just lost at something he’d worked really hard on.

Chris’s heart beat faster in his chest, his stomach in his throat. Something was wrong with JC. He’d just passed out, after the best concert they’d given in he didn’t know how long. The normal JC would be buzzing with energy and excitement. The normal JC wouldn’t be able to stop grinning, and he’d laugh out loud and jump up and down and keep saying "Dude, we rocked. We rocked tonight!" and everyone would catch JC’s excitement, because JC excited was really contagious.

This JC was just… wrong. And scary. And it made Chris want to cry, too.

"Are you sick? Is there something you haven’t been telling us? JC, maybe you really do need to go to a hospital."

"I’m not sick." Fuck. Why had he collapsed? That was probably the worst thing that could have happened to him. His body had just given out, folded up under him. He didn’t know why, really. Why now, anyway. The stress had been building, he knew. Years of it, piling up. He was pretty good at stress management, though. And pretty good at hiding it when something was bothering him. He didn’t know if that made him a stronger person, or weaker.

Chris didn’t say anything. He shifted on the bed so that one of his knees was bumped up against one of JC’s knees. He just waited. Waited for JC to say something, or for him to break down again, or snap out of it and be fine, or lay down and go to sleep. Just waited.

"When I was a kid… I used to go to the park with my sister. We’d look at all the other kids playing, ya know? And we’d talk. We’d talk about when we were going to be grown-ups, and when we’d have kids of our own, and when we’d be Auntie Heather and Uncle Josh." His hands were in his lap, shaking a little, and he started picking at the skin next to his thumbnail. His voice was barely above a whisper and still shaking a little, and the sweat had dried on his skin to give him an almost matted look.

Chris wasn’t sure where JC was going with the story, so he kept quiet. JC looked up, huge blue eyes filled to the brim with pain and hurt. He looked lost, unsure, and the most pitiful and raw and exposed Chris had ever seen JC look. Chris’s throat tightened and he couldn’t have said anything if he’d wanted to. He wanted to do something, anything, to make that pain go away. To put back the life and vibrancy that usually filled those ocean-blue eyes.

"I—now…" JC breathed in deeply again. He was struggling, and Chris touched his knee in encouragement. JC swallowed. "Fuck it, Chris. I don’t know anymore. I don’t know." He pulled his hands through his hair, taking fistfuls and clenching it tightly between his fingers, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Whatever it is, JC, you know you can tell me. Right? You know that, right? You’re, like, my best friend."

Christ. JC knew he had to just say it. Put it out there. There was no denying that something was killing him inside, and he knew in his heart that telling someone was going to help. It certainly couldn’t hurt. JC had looked at himself in the mirror before the concert, and he’d seen a shell of himself. He hadn’t been there. His secret had sucked all the life out of him, lately. The only time he ever felt truly alive anymore was when he was onstage performing. It was then that he knew people liked him. He felt worth something, because all those thousands of people had paid money to see him. And they were screaming for him and they were alive.

The realization that he was pretty much only living for the fans scared the shit out of him. Was life worth it if you weren’t living it for you? He was going through the motions anymore, surviving until he could get onstage and be reassured that he was worth keeping around.

Say it, JC. Just fucking say it. I’m gay. Two words. Not so bad. Instead, he picked up his story where he’d left off. "Now Heather is going to have to rely on Tyler to be an aunt. I—I guess I’ve known that for a while, but man, that life looked so good. I wanted that, Chris. Wanted it more than anything in the world. I wanted to be a dad. To get married someday, have kids. I wanted all three of us to bring our families to Mom and Dad’s for Christmas, all the kids running around… Shit."

Chris’s mind was racing. Running through possibilities of what point JC might be trying to make. "Are you, like… what’s wrong? Are you impotent, or something?"

JC laughed. It was a kind of hollow laugh, but he looked up at Chris and for a moment, for just a flash, the old JC was back. JC’s gaze fell to his lap, then back up at Chris, the smile still on his lips. His tongue appeared and slicked his lips. "No, I’m not impotent. I’m gay." The air went out of JC in a woosh. He wobbled a little, and he felt like a ton of bricks had been lifted from his chest. The crushing sensation was suddenly gone.

Chris’s hand had still been resting on JC’s knee and he had to make a conscious effort to leave it there, to not pull it back. It was just a little bit of a shock.

"God, I’ve never told anyone that. No one." It was the first time he’d said it out loud, the first time his lips had formed the words. The dizziness, the fogginess was lifted from his head and his eyes could focus again.

Chris didn’t know what to say. That’s great, man. Congratulations. Or, I’m happy for ya. "I—wow. I’m… kinda honored you told me first, I guess." Chris’s fingers squeezed JC’s knee. "How—how did you know? When? How long have you been keeping this bottled up inside? Man, JC, I’m so sorry we didn’t see it sooner. See that you were hurting. God. We all, we let you hurt. Alone. You could have told us, you know."

JC nodded. "I know, but I wasn’t ready to tell myself. Not really. I’ve known for a while, I think. I tried—I tried so hard to be a regular guy, to do the things regular guys do, to like the things regular guys like. I tried to feel the things I was supposed to feel, but I didn’t." His eyebrows bunched together like he was still trying to sort things out. "I’ve always said girls come second. The group comes first. And I guess I didn’t know that the reason I felt that way is because girls were just… they were gonna come second, no matter what. Or third, even."

"You’ve had girlfriends," Chris pointed out, stupidly.

JC nodded. "Yeah. Like I said, I tried. I wanted so badly to love them. To feel that spark." JC’s eyes were clear blue and the pain was gone and he almost looked normal. He looked relieved. Tremendously relieved.

"I’m so sorry you had to try to be someone you weren’t," Chris said, all seriousness. It was hard to believe that this was the same guy who couldn’t exist for more than three seconds without moving some part of his body. All of Chris’s thirty years were present and accounted for here in this hotel room.

"That’s not really the worst of it," JC said. "The thing that finally did me in, the thing I think made me faint tonight… that wasn’t me trying to be someone I wasn’t, that was me trying to be the best someone I was." He knew he didn’t make sense and he shrugged helplessly. "Like, I had this need to be important. To you, to the other guys, to my family, to everyone." He let out a long breath. "I—I think that I thought that if I was the best dancer, the best singer, the best me I could be… then once you guys found out… I’d already be too important to you to throw away."

Chris scratched his chin. "You really thought that something like this could come between us? That we wouldn’t love you anymore once we found out? JC, did you honestly believe that anyone in your life would push you away because of that?"

JC looked helpless and small. He nodded.

Chris pulled JC to him, holding him tightly and with everything he had. He could feel JC’s heart pounding against his chest, and JC’s arms were grasping desperately to Chris’s back. "Never. Christ. Who do you think we are, C?"

"I didn’t know what you’d think," JC whispered. "But I didn’t want to take the chance that you’d… I dunno. Think less of me. So I had to make sure you guys thought the most of me that you could. Ya know?"

"I’m sorry. So, so sorry that you felt that way." Chris hugged him tighter.

There was a light knock on the door. "Jayce? You feeling better?" It was Justin. JC could hear someone whispering to Justin, and knew Joey and Lance were out there, too.

"You want to tell them now, or later?" Chris asked, sitting back.

JC let out a sigh. "I may as well now. I’m on a roll."

Chris squeezed JC’s arm and stood to let the other guys in.

"Are you okay? Shit, man, you scared us." Justin hurried over to JC and threw his arms around him. JC just nodded.

"You have a little more color now, anyway," Lance said with a smile. "You were looking pretty ashy there for a while."

"Thanks, man."

"So what happened?" Joey asked, plopping onto the opposite bed and leaning forward, elbows on knees.

"I kind of have to talk to you about things," JC started. Lance and Justin sat on either side of Joey on cue. JC laughed. He felt like he was in front of a class, or something. Chris nodded, encouraging, and took a seat on JC’s bed.

Justin looked suddenly worried. "You’re not okay? Are you sick? God, please don’t tell me you’re sick."

"I’m not sick. Dude, you all jump to conclusions." JC smiled, as much to reassure himself as to reassure his friends. "I’m—" He’d said it once, he could say it again. "I’m gay." It came out much more easily the second time.

A rush of air came out of Justin. "My God, you had me worried!"

Lance just nodded, pressing his lips together.

"I think we kinda knew that," Justin said, looking at Lance. "We kinda knew that, right, Lance?"

Lance nodded slowly. "Yeah, I think we kinda did. But not really until you said it."

"Yeah," Justin agreed.

Joey looked a little bewildered, like he was trying to take it all in. "Like, you like guys?"

"I think I do," JC nodded.

"But… you’re all Sex God to those girls out there."

JC’s lips slid into a slow smile that reached his eyes, and Chris was glad his friend was back. It was like a huge weight had been lifted off all their shoulders.

"Group hug!" Chris cried, tackling JC. Justin, Lance, and finally Joey piled on.

"So are you guys okay with it?" JC asked, laughing, from the bottom of the pile.

Peeling themselves off one by one, the four men looked at each other and nodded, as one. "Yeah, we are," Joey said.

"We’re glad to have you back, man," Justin said, punching JC’s arm. "Your eyes were, like, empty for so long."

JC had never been so grateful in his life to have the friends he did. Telling them was definitely the best choice he could have made. He felt free now, like he could be himself, because they still loved him. He was still important to them. And that’s what mattered most.

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