You know that feeling you get when you lie on your arm and it falls asleep? That numb feeling? That’s how my whole self felt. There’s working on autopilot and then there’s working as if your brain and body were separated. That’s what I basically did the rest of the day, just let my body go and do what it needed to do while I was stuck up in my head and did my best to keep up my Work Face, as I now call it: acting like nothing’s wrong, putting on a big smile, bringing up my energy stuff like that. The last thing I needed was Liam getting on my case about not working hard enough. On my break of all things. Whatever.

Soundcheck wasn’t exactly easy to go through but I managed. Lance knew right away that something was wrong considering JC and I wouldn’t get in five feet of one another and whenever I made a comment on his dancing or spacing during their soundcheck he’d ignore me. It hurt the first time he ignored something I said and it still hurt now. It was one thing to ignore my feelings, I could eventually get over that, but to ignore what I do? What my life revolves around? He may as well twist the knife in my chest even further. I know the whole “numb” thing kinda negates that but let’s ignore that contradiction shall we?

I tried apologizing. No really, I did. Not right away though, I was scared he’d…I don’t know. Find a way to hurt me more than I already was hurt? If that was even possible. Not that I’d blame him, I did slap him. And I get it, I really do. I was in the wrong. Way in the wrong. I shouldn’t have said those things, I shouldn’t have hit him…I shouldn’t have done a lot and I want to make it right only now he won’t let me. Right after soundcheck I tried to apologize but he shrugged me off. Right before I went onstage I tried to apologize, same thing. Right before he went onstage I tried again, which, granted, I knew wasn’t the best idea with the potential distraction and all but I was desperate at this point. He had to understand that I didn’t mean to do it, that I was—that I am truly sorry. But all I’d get is this blank, dead stare before he went off to do whatever he needed to do. Needless to say it sucked; now I think I get why they don’t like making me mad.

“Hey, what rhymes with ‘promise’?” I asked as I tapped my pen against my chin. My notebook, propped up against my legs, was filled with scratched out rejections and scribbles as my frustration grew. I got that orange was a hard world to rhyme, so is silver and purple but promise? It shouldn’t be that hard. Or maybe I was just making it that hard.

“Amish,” Liam replied without looking up from the papers in his hand. I wrinkled my nose. At my silence he looked up. “What? You asked.”

“I’m not rhyming ‘promise’ with ‘amish’ it doesn’t make sense in context,” I said, shaking my head.

“What are you doing anyway?”

“Writing a new song,” I replied. At his inquisitive stare I continued, “I figure, if JC doesn’t want to take my apology as I say it he might if I sing it. You kinda can’t ignore someone singing at you. That’d be rude.”

He hummed. Now it was my turn to give him an inquisitive stare. “You’re really adamant, that’s all.”

“He’s never been this mad at me before,” I replied. God, I hated how I sounded. So whiny and pathetic. But, it’s just…I mean, I wasn’t lying. In all the years I’ve known him, in all the arguments we’ve ever had I always ended up angrier than he did. In hindsight it was always because I knew, deep down, that he tended to be right. I just didn’t like him being right. But he was always very…JC about it: after he said his piece he’d be over it and waited patiently while I huffed and puffed and denied my defeat. Until now, anyway. I didn’t like it.

Usually writing songs comes easy to me; it was the best way I could describe something I just couldn’t say but I was having so much trouble with this one; rhymes notwithstanding. Nothing worked, nothing flowed and it felt incredibly forced. I was trying here! What else did I have to do, get on my knees and grovel? …Okay, at this point I wasn’t against it.

With a resigned sigh, I shoved my pen in the spiral spine of my notebook and set it aside, turning my attention to the TV up on the wall that was playing the boys’ set. There was something magical about them performing; I got the hysteria that followed them around. You can put five boys on stage, teach them how to sing and dance and they’ll do their job and call it a day.  But these boys, my boys, went above and beyond. They breathed life into their performance. Each and every performance they acted as if it was their last, they put their all into it and it was dazzling. Enchanting. Captivating. It was impossible not to be swept up into their whirlwind of charisma, entertainment, energy, and harmonies. I even found myself having to remember to breathe and I’ve seen their show about a million times at this point. It never got old.

Neither did the post-show high. Mine had started to wear off by the time the boys came bustling in through the door hooting and hollering after their show ended. I had spent most of mine on page after page of song fails so when they came back in, the little bit of post show high I had left skyrocketed. I didn’t even mind when Joey yanked me out of my chair and threw me over his shoulder to spin me around.

“Dude, that crowd! Fucking nuts! I love Canada!” Justin gushed, his cheeks tinged with red. He took large breaths of air through his nose as he gulped down his water. “Did you see that girl?”

“The one with the—” Chris asked. In the blur of colors that swam around in my eyes I could vaguely see him motioning to his chest. The loud sound of skin striking skin signified them exchanging a high five.

“Joey, put her down, she’s turning green,” Lance called from somewhere in the corner. At least I think that’s where he was standing. The one square room turned into a big circle which then became a big tilting circle once Joey put me on the ground. I had to grab onto my chair to keep myself from falling over as everything and everyone dipped and swayed. “You alright?” he asked, appearing by my side.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I replied. It was the same stock answer I had whenever he asked throughout the day. I don’t think he believed me now any more than he believed me before but it was the fastest answer I could give that I knew he would take. “You guys were great,” I managed to say despite the slight bit of nausea that pooled in my stomach. “I think it was one of your best performances.”

“Nah, it’s the crowd,” Justin said with a shake of his head, “it’s like…everything we were giving to them they were giving us back double.” He stated pacing the room and shaking his head, almost as if his mind was wrapped in a haze of disbelief. “Man, I just love it here. They got us to platinum, guys! Platinum! And this show was sold out. We have to do something. To celebrate.”

“Nightclub?” Joey suggested.

“Ah, no,” Johnny said as he came in through the door. “We have to be in Montreal tomorrow. I know you’re all hyped up but we don’t have the time for you all to stay out at all hours.” At the boys’ protest Johnny held up his hands and said, “Remember what happened last time? Joey couldn’t get off the toilet and Chris had a hangover so bad it threw him off kilter.”

“I think the vertigo was doing that,” Justin cracked, elbowing Chris in the side. Chris laughed in a sarcastic manner and flipped him off. “Come on, Jonny, we sold enough albums to go platinum! Do I have to say it again?”

“Justin, I understand your success but—”

“We just want to do something to remember it. This is the best we’ve done so far. I don’t want to forget this feeling.” He ran a hand through his hair. “How about we just get tattoos then?”

“That’s a better idea!” Joey said with a snap of his fingers. “It’s perfect, most places are open late. We can run in, get a tattoo, hop on the bus and go. Can’t take more than two hours, tops. And there’s no alcohol involved.”

“No, just needles,” JC spoke up from where he had stationed himself in a corner.

“JC can get a temporary tattoo,” Joey spoke up. “See, that’s one we don’t have to worry about. C’mon, Johnny, it’s a once in a lifetime achievement.”

“I can go with them,” I offered. Johnny and Liam both looked at me as if I were crazy. I rolled my eyes. “Come on, who’s the one who gets them up on occasion? I’ll make sure they don’t stay out too late, we can take the van to the house since my grandparents are expecting us anyway and I don’t want to keep them up. Fans won’t come and follow them to a tattoo shop, especially since most of them are out past their bedtimes already. Plus, this way I can make sure they don’t get something stupid like…I don’t know, fried chicken on their ass or something.”

“Now there’s an idea!” Chris piped up although he was shot down by a loud and swift “NO!” from everyone else.

“You need your sleep too,” Liam pointed out. “You have a big day tomorrow.”

I shrugged. “I’ve functioned on less. I’ll be fine.” Liam clicked his tongue. “Please?” I asked, using the best cute voice I could muster. And when his eyes rolled up to the ceiling and he blew out a breath I punched my fists into the air ‘cause that always meant Liam was giving in. “We won’t stay out too late, I promise.”

“Yeah, yeah, just be up at six on the dot, okay? You have an early photoshoot and if you’re a single minute late—“

“That’ll be an empty threat because I won’t be,” I replied, grabbing the tip of his finger and wiggled it. “Now go before that vein in your forehead pops. I’ll take good care of them.”

That seemed to appease Johnny and Liam enough for the boys to start jumping around again before they rushed off to find the venue shower. I decided to wait until we got to my grandparents’ house. Thankfully the boys didn’t take too long and we went straight over to the first tattoo parlor we came across.

The signature hum of an active tattoo gun reached our ears as we filed inside. The boys all lowered the hoods to the sweatshirts they had donned to keep from being seen by any straggling fans. Chris immediately went over to the glass case that held a plethora of piercings while Joey and Lance started looking at the large tattoos on the wall while JC and Justin settled for the binders sitting on the countertop.

“So what do you guys want to get?” Lance asked, admiring what looked to be a large labyrinth tattoo.

“Well, it’s for our first album success right? Why don’t we do the flame that’s on the disc?” Joey asked. “Like, someone can have it wrapped around an arm or an ankle or something.”

“Hmm. So you are more than fart jokes and corny lines,” Chris commented, rubbing his chin. He then laughed, approached Joey, and slapped his shoulder. “That’s a good idea! You guys agree?” Lance and Justin nodded in response. “Cool, I’ll go tell the guy.”

With the decision made, I sat down in an empty seat in front of a window of the shop and drew my knees to my chest. My nose stung from the pungent smell of the shop; it was kind of like a stronger version of Vaseline.  The humming of the tattoo gun had stopped. Chris must have found the guy who would do their tattoos. The rest of the shop stool still and was quiet, the only other sound came from Joey’s noises of approval as he looked the other tattoos over. Lance, Justin, JC, and I were quiet. Though I think part of JC being quiet had to do with how pale he had gotten and how uncomfortable he looked. I so badly wanted to go over and check if he was alright but I couldn’t bear being shut down again.

“You want to tell me what happened?” he asked.

I rubbed my sleeve-covered hands across my face. “It got bad,” I admitted with a sigh.

“How bad is bad?”

“Real bad.”

“How bad could things between you guys have gotten in a span of five minutes?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Try me.”

I felt heat creeping up in my cheeks and I pushed a hand through my hair. As I dragged my fingers through and pulled it to the otherwise of my shoulder I brought my free hand up to my mouth and muttered into my hoodie sleeve, “I may have hit him.” My efforts to block out my words didn’t work considering the way his eyes seemed to pop out of his skull.

“You didn’t!” he gasped.

I nodded. “He made me mad,” I explained. “I know it’s not an excuse I just didn’t know what else to do. I-I couldn’t stop myself! I just happened! I felt bad right after I did it and every time I’ve tried to apologize he won’t take it. How do you apologize to someone who doesn’t want to listen?” I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. My eyes followed Chris as he came back to the main room with a big, hulking guy who wore a lot of leather, had a large handle bar mustache, and had every inch of exposed skin tattooed save for his face.

“Us four want tattoos,” Chris explained. “’Cept that one,” he added, jerking his thumb in JC’s direction. “That sick looking guy over there is afraid of needles. Figured you’d maybe have a temporary tattoo to give him.”

The tattooist grunted as he looked JC over and somewhere beneath his handlebar mustache he smiled. “Yeah, don’t worry about him. I got it covered.” He clapped his large hands together and rubbed them. His beady eyes turned over to me and he lifted his chin. “What about you?” he asked. “You lookin’ to get some ink today too?”

“Me?” I asked, pointing at myself. “Oh, no. Not me. Just these guys. I’m here for support.”

“You should get one too,” Chris said, “since you’re here.”

“Yeah! We could get matching ones!” Justin spoke up; his eyes sparkling in the way it always did when he got an idea. “We could get a T for Tennessee or something. Or a music note! Or you can get ballet slippers and I—”

“And you can stop right there ‘cause I’m not getting one,” I interrupted him, shaking my head. “I’m not,” I added at the doe eyes he started to give me. “Justin, no! I’m not getting a tattoo. Liam would kill me.” Ignoring Justin’s pleas, I reiterated to the tattooist that I wasn’t going to get one with a shake of my head and the cutting motion against my throat with my palm. When he finally dropped the subject I turned back to Lance and said, “And on top of my JC issue I have a Justin one. He’s jerking me around more often than his own dick.”

“What’s he doing?”

Making sure to lower my voice I replied, “Well, you guys kinda weren’t in the wrong to assume that things between us were…different. We were kind of trying out being together in a way. It wasn’t serious but he’s the one who brought it up and started the whole thing. And then all of a sudden he backs out. And I just…I don’t get it. Like…did I do something wrong? Am I so horrible that they both…?” My lips clamped shut, effectively stopping myself form finishing that sentence. All the air got pulled out of me at once and I leaned back against the window behind me.

My heart thudded in my chest and my stomach tossed and turned so violently my saliva turned sour and I had to swallow multiple times to get the taste off my tongue. That had to be it. I forced the lump in my throat down and sniffed. That had to be why he hated me.

“Sweetie, you’re not horrible. I don’t want you thinking that ever again,” Lance said firmly. I twisted my mouth to the side. “Maybe you’re a bit stubborn and brash but those are good things too! You shouldn’t let them control your life.” I shrugged. With a sigh, he placed his hands on his knees and stood. I looked up when he held his hand in front of my face and I took it, slowly unfurling myself from my sitting position. I followed him as he lead me outside and only when the door closed and he dropped my hand did he speak again. “Look at you, it’s just JC and Justin. You’re not living your life for them. You’re living it for you. And the fact that they have this affect on you, frankly, scares me. I have to ask, why are they so important?”

I shrugged again. “They just are.”

“They’re more important to you than yourself?” I didn’t answer, instead chose to lick at my lower lip and looked at my feet. “Look, Justin I get but JC I don’t. I know you liking him may have something to do with it but…it’s a bit weird, to be honest.”

I pushed a breath out of my nose. “Lance, he’s the only one who calls me out on my shit,” I admitted, looking up at him. “I know…I’m not the easiest person to deal with all the time. I wasn’t exactly told ‘no’ a lot when I was growing up. Whatever I wanted, no matter how big it was, my mom and dad tended to give it to me. To…to pacify me or something. Make me believe everything was okay even though I knew deep down it wasn’t. I’m not saying my parents are bad parents, ‘cause I love them, but they were a bit preoccupied as I grew up…”

“And JC was the only one to give you the attention that your parents didn’t,” he said slowly, his words light as if he had an ‘ah ha’ moment. I could almost see the light bulb above his head turn on. “That’s why you like him.” He made it sound so pathetic of me.

I shoved my hands into my pockets. “He’s not scared of me. But I think I fucked it all up.” I kicked at the ground again. “Maybe it’s a good thing I’m leaving soon. So I can get away from all this and just focus on performing like I’m supposed to be doing.”

Lance stepped forward and pulled me into a hug. I buried my face in his chest and squeezed him tight.  My fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket and I took in the scent of his cologne. “Well…hey, we’ll be in Montreal tomorrow,” his deep voice rumbled in his chest by my ear. “You can see your family. Maybe things will be better then.”

I hoped so. I was just so drained and over all this. Distance had to be the only solution to all of this. Maybe after some time JC would finally forgive me ‘cause putting the opportunity in his face doesn’t seem to be working.

“Hey guys! You gotta check out the tattoo, it looks sick!” Justin said. I turned to see him sticking his head out of the door of the shop. Through the window I spotted Chris sticking out his leg and pointing to where the tattoo had been applied.

“We’ll be there in a second,” Lance replied. Justin nodded and closed the door. Lance rubbed my arms and offered up a smile. “Things will work out. Don’t worry.” I forced a smile and nodded. I was getting tired of people telling me that. Waiting for things to sort themselves out wasn’t working so far, was I supposed to wait longer?

Lance and I walked back into the shop and Chris nearly did a high kick to try and get Lance to see the flame that was wrapped around his ankle. “Joe’s getting his done now. Doesn’t hurt a bit,” he relayed as she stuck out his leg and turned it this way and that as if he were modeling his beat up sneaker. “Except for the needle. Because it jabs into your skin, leaving ink and blood in its wake,” he added, raising his voice as he grinned evilly in JC’s direction.

“Chris, don’t be mean,” I muttered, shoving him. He stumbled a bit and grabbed onto Justin’s shoulder to stay standing. I glanced at JC out of the corner of my eye; he was as pale as before but now he was lying down with his eyes squeezed shut almost as if he was trying to wish himself out of the shop. Turning my attention away, I knelt and get a closer look at the tattoo. The flame looked exactly like the fire logo they used on their album and for their tour.

I shook my head. Platinum. I still couldn’t believe it. My boys went platinum on their first album. Maybe sales were slow in the US but if Canada liked them that could only mean everyone else would soon follow suit.

“Why are you crying? I didn’t kick you, did I?” Chris asked, slightly alarmed.

“No,” I replied, standing and brushing at my eyes. “I’m just super proud of you guys, that’s all. You deserve it, you really do.” I rubbed my sleeve at my eye again. “What happens when you go platinum in the states?”

“We’ll go streaking down a street in Orlando!”

Now the tears collecting in my eyes were from how hard I was laughing at Chris’ suggestion and the almost immediate refusal of it. Boy, was I gonna miss that.

April 19th, 1998
Montreal, Quebec, Canada

My eyes burned and yet sleep was still elusive to me even as time ticked by. I had to be up for a photo shoot in four hours and yet I just couldn’t get to sleep. The five hour ride in the van from Toronto to Montreal I thought would put me out like a light but it was impossible to get sleep when the boys were still on their post-show high and insisted on singing along to every song on the radio. Though it was a treat, I had to admit, hearing them seamlessly merge their harmonies together without trying. It was almost second nature at this point.

They were lucky; they were knocked out almost as soon as their heads hit the pillow in the guest rooms. I talked to my grandparents for a while before excusing myself to try and get some sleep. When that didn’t happen I tried writing some more but I was as stuck as I had been a few hours ago. The only thing I’ve managed to get done was poke a bunch of holes into the lined paper with the tip of my pen.

I held my face up with my palm and flipped the pen around in between my fingers. The words on the page began to dance around, pausing whenever I blinked only to start up again. I rubbed at my eyes with the heel of my palm and looked at the clock. 2:37 AM. I stared at the glowing red numbers until they shifted to form 2:38. That one minute felt like eternity.

My heart skipped a beat at the sound of the stairs creaking. What kind of idiot would be up at this time of night? …Besides me, I guess. I half expected it to be my grandfather; he had a habit of sleepwalking, but of course my luck had it be JC coming down the stairs. Oh well, it was time for us to talk any way.

“What are you doing up?” he asked, rubbing at his eyes and yawning. I guess being tired helped him forget he wasn’t talking to me.

“Trying to finish this song,” I replied, sticking my pen in the book and closed it.

“You know you have to be up soon.”

“I know. I’ll just have some Coke in the morning, I’ll be fine.”

“That’s not good for…” He blinked and cut off the end of his sentence. His memory must have caught up with him. That same sad look he had been wearing for the past couple of hours settled in his eyes. “Never mind,” he muttered, more weight sitting on his words than I had ever heard.

“JC,” I called out before he could turn and go back up the stairs. “We need to talk.” Even with those serious words he didn’t budge. He merely stood on the bottom stair and looked at me. “Can you sit please?” I asked, motioning to the empty spot on the other end of the couch. I held my breath, waiting for him to make up his mind on what he wanted to do and let it out slowly when he finally shuffled forward and sat down where I had pointed. I twisted my fingers together and took another deep breath. “Look…I’m sorry, okay? For hitting you. I didn’t mean to hurt you. But I did and I’m so, so sorry.”

He nodded. “Okay,” he said.

Wait, what? Now I blinked. That’s all I get? Okay!? Okay what? What the hell was okay supposed to mean?? I shifted my eyes from side to side and looked down at my hands in an effort to wrap my head around the single word. “That’s…that’s all you want to say? Okay?” I asked.

“What else do you want me to say?”

“How about that you accept my apology and that everything is okay now?” I supplied, throwing my arms in the air.

“I would,” he said calmly, “only that I don’t and it’s not.”

“JC, I’ve been apologizing to you all day—”

“And that doesn’t change what you did,” he interrupted me. “You hit me, Mack.”

“Trust me, I know that! It’s been eating away at me all day! Why are you trying to punish me?”

He scoffed and shook his head. I thought he muttered “I can’t believe this” beneath his breath but I wasn’t so sure. He paused, bit on his knuckle and said with finger quotes, “I’m not trying to ‘punish’ you. I can’t readily accept your apology because I still can’t accept what you did. Saying sorry doesn’t always fix things.”

“Then tell me how to fix it!” I begged. “Please, tell me how to fix it.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t think you can!” The stunned silence stretched on between us as we regarded each other. He shoved his hand through his hair and blew out a breath. I spied a loose thread on the hem of my pajama pants and began to pull on it. Anything to not have to look at him. I don’t think I could, it only hurt. “I don’t know how we can come back from this,” he admitted. “You hurt me.”

“Your hurt me too,” I stated. I wrapped the thread around my finger and watched as it steadily turned purple.

“I don’t want to keep fighting with you but it seems to be the only thing we do lately.” I pulled on the thread tighter. My finger throbbed. I risked a glance up at him. “You leave soon. Maybe that’s what we need. Time apart.”

I scoffed. “We’ve been apart,” I pointed out. He didn’t reply. My finger throbbed even harder, this time my heart joined in on the hard beating. “Fine, then. If that’s what you want.” I swallowed thickly. “Maybe we should just…stop being friends.”

JC was quiet. And then, “….Were we even really friends in the first place?”

The thread snapped. I fluttered my fingers and watched as the thread fell to the floor. “Guess not,” I answered, my breath coming out shaky.

“Okay,” he said again. God, I hated that word. My ears buzzed and my eyes itched but I refused to cry. Not again.

JC was the first one to get up. The empty space next to me radiated the sudden cold that occupied the once warm space. “Fuck!” I spat, throwing my notebook away. I held my palm over my eyes and took a few deep breaths to try and keep the tears at bay. I was so tired of crying, so tired of this shit.

I forced myself off the couch, turned off the lamp on the end table, and climbed up the stairs. Sleep finally had a strong hold on me. Everything drained out of me all at once and my bed was calling my name. I carefully closed the door behind me so as not to wake anyone up and fell into bed, yanking my covers up to my neck. Once I had settled I shifted closer to Justin’s sleeping form. He rolled over and draped an arm across my lower back, his tired eyes blinking open.

“Y’alright?” he whispered.

I nodded, buried my face into my pillow, and fell into a dreamless sleep.