Have you ever fed a lover with just your hands?
Closed your eyes and trusted, just trusted?
Have you ever thrown a fist full of glitter in the air?
Have you ever looked fear in the face and said, "I just don't care"?

Every day the sun comes up and every night it goes down again. Lately, it seems that every day he watches the sun's routine from the glass window of the studio's lobby, tucked away in the southern-most corner of the of expansive, frigid, and unfriendly building in downtown Los Angeles. With a ceramic coffee mug cradled in one hand, he tries to awaken his senses even the slightest. He's been in the studio all night working on a few songs for a new artist. Studio sessions with new artists are long nights and long days. Their excitement and unjaded view of the industry feed his perfectionalism and his slight-obsession in the studio.

He remembered being like that long ago. When he was on the other side of the glass, sparkling eyes wide taking everything in and face unlined with time's gift of passing seconds, minutes, and hours gone without a trace.

It's only half past the point of no return
The tip of the iceberg
The sun before the burn
The thunder before the lightning
The breath before the phrase
Have you ever felt this way?

“JC, are you okay?” his young protégé's voice broke through his early morning fleeting thoughts. Turning only his neck to look beside him, he mustered a small smile that he hoped would vanish her questioning concerns.

“Yeah, just trying to wake up. You want some coffee?” he asked, bringing the cup to his lips for emphasis, but the liquid was not lukewarm. She chuckled slightly, sensing he did not want to be bothered nor suffer through her inquisition.

“No, thank you. I'm good. This is a good spot to get some thinking done,” she observed, walking around the couch and taking a seat beside him. The sun was creeping up, painting the skies with a vivid orange and deep purple. Its shine darkened the buildings in the distance but brightened with a blinding glow the window panes.

“You got some thinking to do, grasshopper?” JC teased her, reaching a hand out to annoyingly ruffle her hair. She was not that much younger than him, but it was in his nature to be a nurturer. When his manager had first introduced them, she was a meek and introverted ball of talent waiting to explode. He was getting no younger, and she invaded his fatherly instincts.

“Now that you mention it, old man, I do. Remember last week when your friend stopped by, Matt?” her arms were crossed over her midsection, and her legs crossed. With her body slouching on the couch, she was the epitome of relaxation and coolness. It was this that didn't set off JC's alarms when things were on the brink of becoming too personal.

“Yeah, before leaving for his tour. Why do you ask?” he replied, curious as to where this was heading. He sat the coffee mug on the table in front of them and twisted his body to a more comfortable angle. Her auburn locks were thrown haphazardly into a bunn at the nape of her neck, and black-rimmed glasses sat atop her delicate nose.

“Well, he asked you to join him for a little while. Maybe do a couple of songs with him, and you told him that you couldn't because of our deadline. Well, we're down to one song that you know we can finish in one day. Deadline is a week away,” she had him cornered. Red flags should've waved in these hurricane winds. Four alarms should've rung with this blaze.

“Think about it, you could leave tonight and still make it on time. Time isn't the issue,” she urged, eliminating any excuses he might make.

“I think we need to get back in there and work on this song,” he dismissed her comments, and slapped his hands on his thighs. Pushing off of the couch, his lithe body stretched upright. She stayed silent as she watched him fix his shirt and bend down to grab his coffee mug. He probably thought he was homefree when he'd made it around the couches in his attempt to escape her prying.

“You took your time cracking my shell, JC. Like gently tapping an egg with a spoon until it cracked. I am thankful for the patience and the time you gave me to coe out when I was ready. The result: last night's song. His opening show is tomorrow night, you still have time. The least you can do is be there for a friend,” her voice was soft, and she never turned to look back at him. It was like she knew that he would listen.

“I'll see you in here,” he replied, and he shuffled his feet towards the hallway, away from her and back to his refuge.

Have you ever hated yourself for staring at the phone?
You're whole life waiting on the ring to prove you're not alone
Have you ever been touched so gently you had to cry?
Have you ever invited a stranger to come inside?

“JC, did I ever tell you that I was an *NSYNC girl growing up?” Rayya interrupted his explanation of how he wanted her to tackle the song's next line. It'd been a couple of hours since their morning conversation, or lack of. JC had delved head-first into getting the song they'd written the night before recorded. The music had come to them easily, after an inital piano chord from Rayya. In the almost three months that they'd been working together, they'd written many songs. But this song was different.

Not only because it was only Rayya's voice and the piano.

But, the emotion was different. It was stripped of all things but emotion. It was fear, pain, and hope in a song.

“Don't mention any ages and I won't feel so old,” was his automatic response. She didn't miss the slight roll of his eyes nor the sigh that his shoulders animated. She was in the booth, on the other side of the glass, safe from him if anything were to go wrong.

“You were my favorite,” she confessed, supressing any feelings of shame. If she were going to get to be honest with her, then she had to be honest first.

“I'm your boss, of couse I was your favorite,” he smirked, not believing her praise. She laughed, knowing he would brush off any type of praise. Humility was rare. And precious.

“You don't sign my checks, so I have no reason to kiss your ass, Chasez,” she quipped, and his eyes finally rose to meet hers through the glass pane. His fingers fidgeted with the abundant knobs on the soundboard. “'Sailing' is my favorite.”

“Mister Cross is a genius,” he replied, his eyes never letting go of hers.

“Mister Chasez is an artist,” she smirked, knowing that he understood what she was trying to get him to see. “Don't you miss the chills that hike your spine or the shivers that rattle your bones when you're onstage? Because I've been stuck in a studio for half a year, and I miss it.”

“I had my moment, Rayya. And I enjoyed it. This is what I enjoy now,” he stubbornly shook his head and dismissed her.

“Your moment was cut short,” she argued, her hands reaching to hang her headphones on the music stand in front of her. Tucking a few loose strands of hair, she took a tentative step away from the microphone towards the glass. “Are you still waiting on the phone call to come that says 'let's get together'?'”

“That call will never come,” his voice bitterly shattered the glass that stood between them. She could read him. He wanted this; he'd wanted this for so long. But, he was loyal and he was scared. But, how could he be loyal to everyone but himself?

It's only half past the point of oblivion
The hourglass on the table
The walk before the run
The breath before the kiss
And the fear before the flames
Have you ever felt this way?

“I can hold your hand, just like you held mine,” Rayya's hand was outstretched and inviting. The day was approaching sunset once again, and the vocals were done. They sat, side-by-side, listening to the raw mix of her vocals and piano. It was near the end of the song when Rayya had spoken up, breaking his concentration.

“You didn't finish what you set out to do, JC. And you are a perfectioninst. I didn't know you back then, but I know you now. And I'd like to consider you a friend of mine, especially after all the shit you've gotten me to confess. You're this great songwriter, producer, friend, collegue, man, etcetera, etcetera. But as a fan, I knew you. And you were this incredible performer, great dancer, and a beautiful singer. I saw you many times in concert, and every time you left your heart and soul on that stage. Go get that back, don't let fear stop you,” she urged, her voice never deviating from the husky soothe that it brought him.

“I am not afraid. What is there to fear?” he asked, his chest swelling with indignation and pride.

“You tell me, JC,” she was the first person that hadn't tried telling him what his fears were or should be. For the first time, she was asking him to tell her. What did he fear? All these years he had a response, a list of his fears. But today, he couldn't think of not one to list.

“Why won't you let this go, Rayya?” his voice was heavy, his emotions weighing down his composure. He could have practically begged her to stop pushing. But, it wasn't like him to have cracks in his walls.

“Do you know what my name means?” she asked, her hand still outstretched. His hands lain on the soundboard, but they could feel the warmth from her touch. His head had dropped when she'd first spoken up. And now, his eyes turned to meet her gaze and his head shook in response. “It is Arabic, and it means 'thirsty no more'. If I have an itch, I scratch. If I am hungry, I eat. If I am curious, I ask. And if I am thirsty, I have a drink.”

Her words sunk in, and he remained silent.

“And if I see someone is hungry or thirsty, I feed them and I give them a glass of water.”

It was silent, and Rayya feared, for the first time, that she'd overstepped unseen boundaries. Closing her eyes, she felt it. She knew that any moment he would explode, and the damage that he could cause was unknown. Breath in, breath out, her chest rose in a rythmic pattern. Her heart raced, and her hand trembled from where she still had it outstretched.

Maybe, she should take her hand back.

“Shit,” she heard and he grasped it. Before she could open her eyes, her body was pulled from her seat.

La La La La La La La La

“I'm glad for that pack of ice on the plane,” Rayya muttered, following JC down white-walled hallways, her elbow throbbing slightly.

“It's all your fault,” JC smirked, inwardly wincing.

“Really? How is it my fault?” she challenged him, vividly remembering her elbow cracking against the doorframe as he dragged her from the studio. When he'd suddenly pulled her from her seat, her legs had taken their sweet time acclimating to the jog that he'd set, and she'd stumbled straight into the wall.

“For having big elbows that can't make it through a doorframe,” he joked, and she found her arm slapping his arm in retaliation. Knocking on the door, he waited for an invite or for the door itself to open. Hearing footsteps nearing, they both took a step back.

“Yes?” his friend opened the door, and shock registered on his face.

“How about an extra microphone? Got any laying around, Shue?” he announced his arrival. Catching the headliner by surprise, laughter ensued as the friends embraced and Matthew, Morrison that is, questioned JC's decision change.

“Let's say I was reminded of a few things,” he replied, keeping the details of his near-breakdown silent. Matthew's inquiring eyes shifted from JC, and his questions were answered.

“Come on in, sweetheart. You might as well get used to this chaos. It'll be your chaos pretty soon,” he wrapped an arm around Rayya's shoulders and pulled her into his dressing room, following JC's entrance. It was surprising to his friend in London for his opening show, but even more surprising to see him accompanied by a young, beautiful woman.

For the next hour or so, as Matthew prepared for showtime, they all sat around the dressing room chitchatting about nothing in particular. It was Rayya's first trip overseas, and they were planning on showing her as much as possible in a short timeframe. As showtime neared, Matthew mentioned JC coming onstage and joining him for a song or two. Looking over the setlist, JC smiled.

“Better yet, how about you let me do song six on my own? Give you a break or whatever,” JC shocked Matthew, and excited Rayya.

“Are you serious?” Matthew asked, completely baffled. JC shrugged, containing his own excitement. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been on a stage, performing alone. “Fuck yeah, man. Do the whole show if you'd like!”

“I don't think all those people came to see, so i'll pass,” JC chuckled, and nervously rubbed at the back of his neck.

“But, I bet if you have them a chance, they'd come see you too,” Rayya spoke up from her seat on the couch, body tightly tucked into a corner.

“You hush! You've spoken enough for a day,” JC playfully warned, and Rayya laughed. When she had opened her mouth back in LA, she hadn't expected JC to demand that she pack a bag and join him. She tried protesting, but he'd cornered her just like she had done him. With their last track off to mastering, she had nothing else to do for a week. And so, here she was in London with JC Chasez, about to experience his return to a stage.

“Let me go tell them about you, so we can get you all wired and set to go. I'll be back,” Matthew said, clapping his hands and rubbing them in anticipation. He left his dressing room, and JC looked around before walking over to Rayya's side.

“Its not your show – no one is judging you more for being onstage than they are for being offstage. You're going to be just fine,” she soothed, her hand reaching out to pat his knee as it jigged incessantly. He didn't understand how she knew exactly the things that he needed to hear, but he wasn't going to question it. In the months that he'd gotten to work with her, she had become a beautiful person to have in his life. She was so full of passion, talent, honesty, and generosity. It was like a breath of fresh air in his line of work. Working with her had been a piece of cake. They're individual styles had meshed well. He'd given her the space she'd desired to spread her wings, and she'd allowed him to steer her in the right direction. Her vocal abilities gave him so much room to try different things. He was in heaven behind the soundboard with her across from him in the booth.

“How do you know this? Shouldn't I be the one guiding you, grasshopper?” he questioned, realizing that he'd become the student and she the teacher.

“Because I trust you, you should trust yourself every now and then, gramps,” she cheekily smiled, and the smile on his face spoke volumes.

There you are, sitting in the garden
Clutching my coffee,
Calling me sugar
You called me sugar

“Knock them out, sugar!” he heard as he climbed the last few steps to stage level. He looked back and he saw Rayya waving at him with a bright, wide smile on her face. The butterflies in his stomach soothed for a split second, until the stagehand thrusted a microphone into his hands. Clueing into the music, JC listened for his cue before emerging from the wings' shadows.

If not for the ear monitors, JC would've lost his hearing. The crowd-packed theatre roared to life as concertgoers recognized him. He felt it. The electricity charging throughout his body, racing alongside his bloodcells, invading his organs, and tingling his fingers. The microphone to his lips, he'd missed the texture of it agains this lips. The weight of it in his hands made him feel whole. And the spotlights shining brightly beamed on his rebirth.

It was an out-of-body experience. The music took over time. The lyrics took over feeling. And the adrenaline took over reason.

He blinked and the moment was over. Matthew was walking out to meet him again, and JC's moment was over. But he wanted more. He needed more. Rushing down the metal steps, Rayya was there with arms spread wide. Wrapping himself in her embrace, he was comforted.

“You'll get to do this again,” she shouted in his ear, and he excitedly smiled and nodded his head. In this moment, he held the stars and the moon in his hands. He had no boundaries.

“Will it get better?” he asked her, pulling her away enough to look into her eyes. She smiled, moisture in her eyes made them glisten. They're normal green color intensified, sparkling an ember mixture. He was mesmerized.

“Tell me, old-timer: every night, did it get better?” she asked, making him relive those years of glory and passion.

“Every night,” he replied, and she could not contain the laughter that escaped her lungs as he hugged her tightly once more. Grasping her hand, he pulled her through the throngs of stagehands and towards their seats to catch the rest of the show.

Have you ever wished for an endless night?
Lassoed the moon and the stars and pulled that rope tight?
Have you ever held your breath and asked yourself will it ever get better than tonight?
Tonight