~~~~~*~~~~~~
Brrrr.
JC felt as well as heard the vibration of his cell-phone from inside his jean pocket, but as his hands were currently fully engaged in steering his car, he had to sit for several more minutes knowing full well that he had a text message waiting for him.
By the time he'd reached home, had made himself comfortable on the couch and flicked on the TV—his usual coming home routine—he'd completely forgotten all about his unread text message. Until he heard and felt the familiar noise once again.
Brrrr.
His eyes not leaving the TV screen, JC automatically reached into his pocket and fished out his cell. His wallpaper was the standard out-of-the-box one, which he hadn't been bothered to change since purchasing his phone. It did the job well enough, he'd figured. He wasn’t exactly a technophobe, but he couldn’t be bothered to mess around with what little technology he owned. If it worked and did the job he needed it to then that was good enough for him.
JC's eyes left the TV and skimmed over the cell-phone screen until his messages appeared before him. He quickly opened the first message he'd received back in the car.
As usual he didn’t need to read the name of the sender to know who the message was from and an anticipatory smile crossed his face as he waited for the text to load.
~~~~~*~~~~~
No answer. It was so typical.
Every time Chris sent a message—as opposed to simply replying to one—it took ages for anyone to reply. He was determined not to take it personally, but it was hard for him. After all, why shouldn't he be upset about it? He always seemed to be the one waiting, while apparently everyone else was too busy, or too preoccupied with whatever they were doing to respond. Why should he take that personally? he thought sarcastically.
Chris tapped the cell-phone screen once again causing the arty dragon emblem that he had as his wallpaper to reappear. Still there was no reply.
Chris let out a huff, rolled his eyes and tossed his cell to the side where it landed noiselessly beside him on the couch. He picked up his Xbox controller, crossed his legs at the ankles and resumed the game that he’d previously paused. He threw himself back into the action on screen, although his mind was far away.
He'd wait a few seconds before checking his cell again, he told himself. They’d probably have replied by then.
~~~~~*~~~~~
Justin barely heard the bleeping of his cell phone.
In fact, he could barely hear anything but the heavy pounding beat that seemed to be rocking the very foundations of the building he was standing in.
It was a few minutes into his warm-up DJ's set, and although he knew he should've already turned it off, his cell was still on loud and sitting in solitary on the coffee table in his dressing room. If it weren't for the fact that the display lit up when he received a call or message he probably wouldn't even have noticed that there was a message waiting for him.
He was bursting with adrenaline—as he usually was before he went on stage—and he pumped his arms out in front of him several times to try to control the sudden burst of energy that seemed intent on consuming him. He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet and let out a deep breath.
Only an hour to go and he'd be back on stage.
Back where he belonged.
Home.
The bleeping and flashing light distracted him from his pre-show routine, but it was a welcome interruption. Justin padded across the room to retrieve his cell and smiled when the message icon appeared across his wallpaper. Even the sight of his wallpaper helped to calm his nerves—if only momentarily. It was a scene of a golf course; his second home.
Justin’s face lit up when he saw the sender’s name flash across the top of the message.
Chris.
Of course it was Chris.
Justin chuckled to himself as he opened the message, his eager eyes scanning the text. This was gonna be good.
~~~~~*~~~~~
Lance didn't know where his cell was and it was beginning to drive him crazy. He'd had it only a moment or two ago, and yet it was nowhere in sight.
He needed that phone.
Needed it.
Like, desperately.
"Michael!" He called loudly as he stood in the doorway of his open-plan living room and glanced once again over his shoulder to see if he could spot his cell-phone in his peripheral vision. To his dismay, he couldn't.
"What?" came the reply, shouted loudly, and from a distance. Michael was somewhere in the house, but Lance had no idea where. He wasn't concerned about that. All he really wanted to know was where his cell-phone was.
"My phone. I've lost it,” he explained in a loud and riled voice.
There was an elongated silence before Michael shouted back. "It's not in here." Here. Wherever ‘here’ is, thought Lance glumly before letting out a frustrated huff.
He'd better start looking properly for it, as it obviously wasn’t going to just reappear out of thin air. Unfortunately. For all he knew, one of the dogs might've picked it up and be chewing it to oblivion this very second.
So help me God if they have, he thought as he stomped loudly out of the room.
~~~~~~*~~~~~~
Anyone who picked up Joey Fatone’s cell-phone by mistake would’ve known instantly that it belonged to him. They wouldn’t have needed to scan through his long list of contacts—of which there were hundreds, including the other members of *NSYNC—or his extensive photo album, which contained photographs as varied as dishes he’d eaten out at restaurants, his children, random crap he’d seen out and about that he’d snapped to send to his friends later, but had since forgotten all about, and his favorite candid snaps of his mates from back in the day—even a few of a very young, peroxide blonde, pre–SexyBack Justin Timberlake, which Joey knew his friend would be appalled to know still existed—of which he’d taken the trouble to transfer from his old phone to his new when it’d been time for an upgrade.
Joey’s phone practically screamed ‘Superman obsessed’. As did Joey.
Not only did he have the external case, the wallpaper and even a screensaver for when his phone went into eco-mode, but his ring-tone and alerts were also the well-known John Williams theme. It’d cost him a pretty penny, but it’d been totally worth it, or so he thought.
Joey had been anticipating receiving messages from his friends all day. It was that time of the year again when his phone usually went into overdrive, and he heard from people he hadn’t been in contact with for months, as well as those he’d spoken to only yesterday.
Joey had not been very active on his phone in recent months. Work had picked up, and he’d just about managed to keep tabs of his immediate family, let alone his friends and acquaintances. He felt bad about it, of course, but he knew that everyone would understand. His dry spell was finally over, and he knew that his friends would be happy that he’d been able to secure regular work. God knows it’d been hard enough for him at times after the disbanding of the group.
But now he was fully prepared to answer each and every call and message that he received.
Starting now.
~~~~~*~~~~~
The message was short and simple.
It hadn’t needed to be anything else—that wasn’t Chris’ style. He’d known what he wanted to say, and that his friends were much more likely to read it—and reply—if his message was short and to the point.
He wasn’t one to get caught up in the sentiment of the season. He was more of a gruff cough, pat you on the back and move on kinda guy. Emotions weren’t really his thing, and yet something had pressed on Chris’ heart that on this occasion it was necessary for him to get out of his comfort zone. Things needed to be said, and what better time than the present. Thanksgiving was just around the corner after all, so it wouldn’t appear totally out of character.
Would he get grief for it?
Most definitely.
Not right away—his friends weren’t like that—but no doubt it’d be stored away to use on another occasion to embarrass him, or to laugh at his expense. That was okay. He could live with that. He usually got his own back anyway. He had a lifetime of embarrassing stories and secrets about his band-mates that he could pull out at an opportune moment. Pictures, too, if he could remember where he’d put them. It wouldn’t be difficult to give back as good as he got.
Ironically enough, the replies came within seconds of each other. Clearly, they were still as in sync as ever.
Chris had been waiting ages since sending the initial text, but of course the minute his mind had become focused on something else he’d received an influx of replies. Even from Lance, who’d found his phone—thankfully not in the process of being dismembered by one of his dogs.
It took Chris a while to work his way through each reply, but he knew straight away that he’d been right to fight through his initial discomfort and tell his friends just how much he appreciated them. How thankful he was that they were a presence in his life.
His buddies.
His brothers.
The public really had no idea how close they were, and continued to be. Things were different, sure, but their friendships were as strong as ever. If not more so now they no longer had to live out of each other’s pockets.
Joey had his cooking show and his growing family to focus on, Lance his upcoming wedding and a radio show to present, JC was busy writing and producing music and Justin was on the latter leg of his 20/20 experience tour. They were all happily working on separate projects, and yet they never failed to check in with each other regularly.
Thank God for cell-phones, Chris thought as he took the time to read each and every reply he received from his band mates. They, too, shared the same sentiment that he had uttered. A general feeling of thankfulness and love for each other.
Thank God for group text, Chris thought as a fond smile crossed his face. To cover for the swell of emotion he felt upon reading the words of his best friends, he uttered a manly cough and pounded himself hard on the chest several times, as though the cause for the flush of emotion he was feeling had somehow been caused by a breathing complaint.
Not that there was any need to be concerned about a second party witnessing his display of emotion. Karly had headed to the store to pick up some last minute ingredients for Thanksgiving dinner—they were hosting the families this year—and so he was completely alone in the house. Save for the dogs which were currently curled up asleep by his feet.
Still Chris felt the need to pull himself together. He tossed the phone in a careless way onto the seat beside him and fixed his eyes back onto the TV screen. Again at the press of a button the action on screen resumed, and the sound of gunfire and high-powered machinery whirring back to life filled the room, but Chris’ mind was once again elsewhere.
He was thinking about the four other men without whom his life wouldn’t have been the same.
~~~~~*~~~~~~
