Joey ended up staying at the hospital much longer than he, his mates, or his doctors had anticipated. Even after two solid weeks, the doctors were still fine-tuning the chemo drugs, and there were indeed some setbacks, which only added on to Joey’s time. First, Joey developed a terrible rash that took several days to clear up, and later he caught an infection—not so serious, but serious enough to keep his doctors on their toes and to make him thoroughly miserable. He would have gladly paid every cent of his life’s earnings just to get out.

While he had already trimmed his hair and beard, it still unnerved him when he shed every other piece of hair on his body; this included his arms, his legs, even his eyebrows and eyelashes. Before anyone knew it, he could have passed off for a wax mannequin.

Despite the doctors’ orders to eat well, food had lost its appeal almost from the start. Bad sores in Joey’s mouth prevented him from eating much anyway, and anything he did manage to choke down only came back up later. He didn’t bother to keep track of how many times he threw up, and he no longer tried to fight it, at least not so much. It reached the point where JC said, when the whole group was present, “You know, Joey, you really should try to eat more. You’re looking skinnier every time we see you.”

“No kidding,” said Justin. “You’re almost like a refugee from a concentration camp.”

“Don’t I know it,” Joey said. “I already lost five pounds this week, and another seven the week before that. That makes for a total of twelve pounds in two weeks alone.”

All four guys recoiled. “Yikes!” said Lance in a low whisper.

“Can’t keep anything down, can you?” Chris remarked grimly.

Joey shook his head, his face and tone every bit as grim. “I wouldn’t have believed it possible to puke so much.”

No one knew what to say, or what to do. Words of sympathy had grown stale, and there was virtually nothing any of them could do aside from standing by and watching Joey’s battle take its toll.

For that matter, Joey noticed some of his mates were spending less time around him. Lance was as steadfast as ever, and Justin showed his face at least every other day. But Chris and JC were slowly starting to ease out of the picture; even when they did pay a visit, they took their leave earlier than the others, and they especially kept their distance when Joey was put through chemo or anything else. Each time Joey saw them up close, he could feel their tension like a tangible object. JC would flex his fingers, as if wanting to choke someone, and Chris would fidget and avoid direct eye contact. Half the time, these two wouldn’t even speak to Joey unless he spoke first.

Despite the group’s efforts to keep a low profile, word somehow got out that *NSYNC’s Joey Fatone wasn’t faring well at all. As a result, the guys found themselves snowed under with phone calls, money offers, requests for interviews, and sympathetic cards and gifts from fans. There was even an article in the paper, and at least a thousand well-wishes posted on the Internet. Joey’s mates explained these things to him during their visits, and Joey’s feelings about the business as a whole were in a jumble. On one hand, it was humiliating and infuriating to have something so private made so widely known; on the other hand, it was moving to know so many people were thinking about him and supporting him.

He almost had to laugh at the flying speculations about what might be wrong with him; few rightly assumed he was dealing with cancer, and even then, almost no one considered leukemia. “The things that go through people’s minds,” he once commented with a roll of his eyes, after hearing about a rumor that he was suffering from salmonella poisoning due to eating too much sushi.

“Tell me about it,” said Lance. “Everyone who knows you knows you wouldn’t touch sushi if it was the last edible thing in the world.”

“If I ever get my hands on the boneheads who blabbered,” JC said, kneading his knuckles, “I’ll make sure to land them in the hospital.”

“Hey,” said Justin with a shrug and a wry smile, “that’s how it is with people like us, Jace. You know that.”

Lance added, “If we don’t tell people things, people have ways of finding things out on their own.”

“I’m just glad there aren’t any cameras about,” said Chris, glancing around the room as if expecting a camera to pop up somewhere.

JC said, “And if there ever was one, I would personally dismantle the thing before it took the first shot.”

“Right,” said Joey as he settled a little further into his pillow. “As if having cancer and taking on the form of a freak wasn’t enough. With the photographic evidence, I’d be history.”

“You are not a freak,” Lance quickly interjected.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Lance, but yes I am.”

Now JC and Chris were fully tuned in, too. “How can you say such a thing?” JC demanded.

“Why not? It’s true. I look positively repulsive.”

“Don’t talk that way, man,” said Lance, sternness and hurt mingling in his voice. “Don’t you dare think it.”

“You’re not that repulsive,” said Chris. Then, realizing his slip, he flushed a notable shade of red. “I—I mean—I didn’t—I was only—”

Joey made a short, humorless chuckle. “A real model in the works, am I? Or a bona fide Prince Charming, set to sweep his Cinderella off her feet?”

Lance shot a murderous glare at Chris and JC cuffed the older man a good one on the spot. Chris cringed and gingerly rubbed his shoulder afterward, but only mumbled, “Guess I deserved that.”

Joey shook his head and buried his face in his hands. “How can any of you look at me?” he groaned. “How can anyone stand to get near me?”

“Oh, Joey,” Lance’s solicitous voice sounded in his ear. A pair of sturdy arms began to enfold him, but Joey twisted away.

“Don’t bother. I’m just feeling sorry for myself. No need to waste your time on me.” His own voice broke; almost before he realized it, he was crying like an oversized baby.

Since his first day in this place, he hadn’t once shed a tear, but now—like water that had found a breach in a dam—the tears came in a steady flow. He tried to pull himself together, but found he couldn’t. When he felt Lance’s arms again, he made no resistance this time, but he kept his head down and his hands in place. He felt the others’ hands on him, too, trying to convey through their touches what they could not through words. 

Much as he hated himself for it, try as he might, he could not get the waterworks to shut off. He hadn’t realized how much had been bottled up in him all this time until the cork was gone.

Lance maintained a gentle but firm hold the whole time Joey cried. When Joey’s ragged breathing steadied and his body went slack, Lance continued to sit quietly with him and embrace him as any brother would. 

Presently, Joey’s ears caught a distinct tap-tap, followed by a few startled cries and JC’s sharp voice demanding, “What are you doing here?”

It wasn’t until a familiar voice answered that Joey took his hands away and looked up at last.