Author's Chapter Notes:

Eloise rummages for something and, against her better judgment, Casey dares to open her eyes. And of course she catches his eyes trained on her, in the mirror opposite her. 

 

"You know she's leaving after tonight's show, right?”

 

JC grunted as he zipped up his suitcase. “Yeah. I know,” he said shortly.

 

"So you're really not gonna try and talk her into coming with us?" Justin stared at his friend with wide-eyed incredulity.

 

"Maybe you haven't noticed, but I'm not too good at talking Casey into much of anything.” JC shoved the luggage back into the space beneath the bunks and stood up. “It's probably better anyway.”

 

"Better for who?” Justin leaned onto the bunk behind him.

 

JC rolled his eyes and climbed into his own bed. “Better for her. I think a break away from all of this will be good for her.”

Justin was quiet for a bit before clearing his throat. “That's...magnanimous of you.” When JC raised an eyebrow but said nothing, he continued. “But it's also a cop out, because I think you're both pretty good at avoiding what you don't want to deal with, actually. You kind of have that in common.”

"I told her what I wanted and she walked away, remember? There's nothing else to talk about,” JC settled down into his space. “I know you're coming from a good place, but," he sighed, "you can't fix this and neither can I. This is what Casey wants, I guess.”

Justin made a face, shaking his head. “You don't really believe that. You know she doesn't want this anymore than you do.”

"I actually don't know what Casey wants. And unless she decides to clue me in…” JC shrugged and folded his pillow under his head. “Anyway, I'm done talking about it. You're a good friend--to both of us--and I appreciate you trying, but there's nothing you can do.”

Justin nodded, but his skepticism shone in his eyes like a beacon.

JC smiled. “The bright side is, I have a lot of sleep to catch up on and now I'll have the time.” Still grinning, he reached over and pulled his curtain closed, not waiting for his friend to respond.

After a couple of minutes he could hear the younger man shuffle away and he exhaled, thinking over the conversation. It was true; if anything was going to change it would be because Casey changed things. And he didn't foresee that happening anytime soon.

He'd spent a couple of days fuming; the fact that he knew she was keeping something from him, something that probably wasn't as big a deal as she'd made it out to be in her own head, had made him angry. The fact that she seemed insistent upon making everything more difficult than it needed to be. He believed in the old adage about working hard for the things that mattered, and he would've put his relationship with her in that category. It mattered to him a helluva lot and considering the added challenge of their careers, he was more than willing to put in the effort it took to make things work for both of them. At least he would've been. Casey, however, wanted it to be impossible.

 

But he wasn't angry anymore, so there was that at least.

 

He'd gotten called to Genevieve's chair last night, and came face to face--or rather face to mirror--with her. Her head was down when he walked in the room and she didn't look up until she heard his voice. Her head snapped up and their eyes met in the mirror. It was only a couple of seconds but he thought she'd been about to say something. Eloise had stepped in front of her then and the moment was over.

But for those few seconds she'd looked stricken, scared almost. Maybe close to tears.

He hadn't changed his mind; he still meant what he said about being together honestly or not at all. But her face, and everything that wasn't said over the span of those seconds, deflated his anger completely.

In the three days since their fight they'd mostly avoided each other. And as silly as it made him feel, it was easier than seeing her. But there she'd been, sitting in a chair a few feet away from him, and everything he felt came rushing to the surface.

Ultimatum or not, he missed her. He missed her a lot more than he expected to after a matter of days. And although some of it was physical--the way she was the perfect warm fit against him at night. The way her skin was always soft and smooth beneath his fingertips. The way her hair smelled like orange blossoms when she stepped out of the shower. Most of what he missed about her was less tangible.

He missed the way her laugh was a cross between a giggle and a chuckle. He missed the way she'd look at him, biting back a laugh whenever he started rambling about something only tangentially related to whatever they'd been talking about. He missed listening to her tell him, in vivid detail, about the wild dreams she always had. He missed the way she defended him when he was the last to get the joke. And he missed looking into her eyes right before he kissed her, because in those moments there was never any doubt that she felt the same way he did.

It had only been three days, and that wasn't a long time in the grand scheme of things. But knowing Casey as well as he thought he knew her, there wasn't a scenario he could imagine where anything was going to be different. He had tried to be OK with doing things her way and even now part of him wanted to tell her he would still be OK with it, if it meant he didn't have to miss her anymore. But he knew in his heart that if he did that he'd just be delaying the inevitable. Because ultimately, no matter how good they were together, it seemed as if, where it counted, they wanted fundamentally different things.

He wanted to be in a relationship that was open and honest. He trusted her and he wanted her to trust him. But despite the fact that he'd given her no reason not to, she didn't. And he would never be OK with that.

JC missed Casey so much that it was an almost physical ache. And three days would stretch into three weeks, and soon the tour would be over and that would be that. He needed to get used to missing her now, he decided. Because the quicker he did that the less it would hurt in the long run.

He closed his and eventually the motion of the bus lulled him into a dreamless sleep.

***

Just as she'd predicted, being at home was the perfect remedy. The combination of her family, and being surrounded by nothing but familiarity brought her comfort and a great deal of peace.

Of course it had come at the expense of some frustrated friends.

"Come on, Case, we've been planning this for months!” Mike had admonished her while she'd packed.

Lawrence and Jasmine had thrown her some looks which clearly communicated their annoyance with her, and Justin had flat out asked her to come with them, even offering to help her talk to JC if she wanted.

But she'd dismissed them all, and after the show she headed to the airport with no second thoughts. On the plane, flying home, was the first time she'd felt at ease in days.

*NSYNC was slated to play a radio-hosted concert in New York City, and Casey and her dancers had planned on coming along. She'd been looking forward to three days and two nights in the City. It had been a few years since the last time she was there, and JC had talked it up, promising to show her some of his favorite places.

That had been the plan before, though.

For the most part, she'd successfully avoided him since she'd walked out of the hotel room. Or maybe he had avoided her. She wasn't sure which version made her feel worse, but she didn't give herself much time to think about it. It kind of reminded her of what it had been like in the beginning of the tour. But worse. And it was completely her own fault.

For three days following she'd spent a lot of time in her dressing room before her performances, and when she was done she headed straight to either her hotel room or her bus. Anything to minimize her chances of running into him.

Especially after the one time she had.

Her eyes are closed, which is why hearing his voice takes her by surprise. She can feel her heart take up residence in her throat, and although she knows it's physically impossible, it feels literal right now.

She's in Eloise's chair, listening to the makeup artist prattle on about a new lipstick color she wants her to wear tonight. Eloise is completely oblivious to the fact that right at this moment, Casey's on the verge of expiring in the chair.

"Come sit here, sugar,” Genevieve says. “How are you?”

And it’s JC's low, “I'm good; how 'bout you?” that makes her chest ache and stomach clench.

Eloise rummages for something and, against her better judgment, Casey dares to open her eyes. And of course she catches his eyes trained on her, in the mirror opposite her.

Two or three excruciatingly long seconds pass by where she's looking at him and he's looking at her and everything hurts and she feels like she might vomit and she opens her mouth, feeling some ridiculous yet undeniable urge to say something--anything--to him, even if it's just the word hi and then Eloise steps between Casey and the mirror and starts applying the holy grail lipcolor and their eye contact is broken and the moment is over.

She's only in the chair for a few minutes more, and after that she can't bring herself to look at him or talk to him and she scurries out of the room.

She'd gone straight to her dressing room after that and cried. Thankfully, whatever it was Eloise used to keep her makeup in place worked like sorcery and she looked none the worse for wear when she was done. She pulled herself together for her performance and immediately after, arranged for a flight to Chicago for the next evening.

While everyone else enjoyed the Big Apple for a few days, she planned on taking it easy in the Windy City. She wanted to be as far away from JC--and the mess she'd made with him--as possible, and the thought of being surrounded by her family filled her with something resembling pure bliss.

She'd been home for nearly two days and she'd kept busy enough that he wasn't occupying too many of her thoughts. Well, except for when her mother asked how he was, and if he'd come for a visit when the tour was over. And Casey could tell by the sidelong glance she gave her, that her mom didn't much care for her noncommittal responses. But then Matty had burst into the room excited about something or other and the subject was dropped.

The trick to not thinking about unpleasant things was staying busy, and she was. After traveling as a passenger for the past few months it was exhilarating and freeing to be behind the wheel of a car, so Casey volunteered to drive wherever anyone needed her to go. Even the simple act of pumping gas was exciting.

She stalked into the kitchen purposely. She'd just returned home from dropping some movies off at Blockbuster, and after she pulling into the garage, she saw that Jasmine had sent her a picture via text message of the entire group of them in Times Square. Her eyes were immediately drawn to JC and seeing his smiling face made her chest hurt. She sat in the car and stared at him until tears blurred her vision.

With nothing to distract her, she couldn't deny that she missed him. Nor could she deny that she knew she'd made the wrong decision by walking out on him that night. But she didn't know what to say to him, or how to say it, to make things make sense to him without telling him about the existence of Tony's book.

And she was deadset against doing that.

Casey took a deep breath and resolved to go into the house and pour herself a drink. Unfortunately her parents were only social drinkers, and rarely kept anything but a bottle of wine in the house. She was in the mood for the sort of drink that would knock her on her ass--and knock her out completely. Instead, she figured she'd make due with whatever wine her folks had on hand.

She'd made her way into the house and was simultaneously sniffling and wiping away tears, while fumbling with a bottle of Riesling. With no warning, her mother's voice sounded behind her.

"Excuse me, missy, what do you think you're doing?”

Startled, Casey dropped the corkscrew she held in one hand and almost dropped the wine bottle she held in the other. After setting both on the island countertop she turned to face her mother. “What do you mean?” She blinked and gestured at her glass. “I need a drink.”

Elizabeth strode over and plucked the bottle from Casey's hand. “Maybe you forgot, but you're not twenty-one yet, young lady.” She replaced the alcohol under the counter in the wine fridge.

Casey crossed her arms over her chest and huffed. “You know I drink on the road, right?”

Elizabeth gave her daughter a hard look. “I'm sure there's a lot you do on the road that I don't want to know anything about. But the fact remains that while my not-yet-twenty-one-year-old daughter is under my roof, she isn't drinking. End of story.”

Casey sighed resignedly before sliding onto a barstool at the island.

Her mother smiled. “I'll make you a Shirley Temple.”

"Sure.” A grin broke out on the younger woman's face as her mom prepared the drink; it reminded her of childhood, and the comfort of being at home once again washed over her.

Elizabeth splashed grenadine into the ginger ale she'd poured. “Sorry, honey,” she pushed the glass across the counter, “but I don't have cherries.”

"It's OK.” She sipped the drink and sighed again. "This is perfect. Thanks, mom.”

Elizabeth nodded and took a seat at the counter opposite her daughter. “So, you ready to tell me what's going on? And why you've been avoiding the topic of JC since you came home?”

Casey stared down into her glass, watching the bubbles pop and fizz. When she looked up into her mother's eyes she could feel tears stinging her eyes again. “We broke up,” she said finally.

“What happened?”

“We...well, he...I mean, I…” She groaned and inhaled shakily. “It's complicated,” she said finally.

Elizabeth stared at her, lips pursed. “Over the past couple of years you've only said that when whatever it is you don't want to tell me has something to do with Tony.”

Casey's head snapped up and she stared at her mother slack-jawed. For several seconds she couldn't think of how to form the words she wanted to respond with.

“It's not Tony,” she said finally, feeling like a liar. She added, “At least not exactly.”

Her mother said nothing, but gestured for her to continue.

“We got in a fight,” Casey said, slumping her shoulders. “I want to handle our relationship one way, and JC wants something different.”

“What do you mean?”

Casey scrubbed her hand over her face wearily. “I've wanted to keep our relationship a secret. People get so nosy and intrusive, you know? But when we were in Vegas someone took pictures of us like, dancing and holding hands and stuff. And they got posted on this gossip site and I…

"It caught me off-guard. Seeing the pictures, reading people's obnoxious comments about something that they don't know anything about and that isn't any of their business. And JC was just like, nonchalant about the whole thing. Like completely unfazed. And I...kind of didnt handle things well.”

"Well, can't the two of you find some middle ground?” Elizabeth suggested after a moment of silence.

“There is none, mom,” Casey said with a roll of her eyes. “Either we're public with our relationship, or we're not. I want us not to be, and he calls that lying. But seriously, how is keeping our private lives totally private the same thing as lying? It's no one's business anyway!” She wrapped her hands around her glass and frowned into the contents.

"OK…” Elizabeth began. “When you say he wants to be public, what do you mean?”

Casey shifted uncomfortably in her seat and took a sip of the drink. “There've been some rumors about us, you know? Like that we're together or whatever. And when I've been asked directly I've shut it down. Maybe a little too harshly at times.

"And I guess I sometimes make a big deal about like, being seen with him in public. Or at least about being affectionate in public. I just don't want people to see us and start talking. And he wants for us to be able to be out together, as a couple. Without me hiding and being weird about it, or whatever.

"But, mom, if people know we’re together, that's all anyone’s going to care about. It isn't about my music anymore; it's about me dating JC from *NSYNC and I just don't want that.”

Elizabeth stared at her daughter momentarily. “Are you sure that's all there is to it?”

"Why would you say that?” Casey hated the shrillness in her own voice, and the way her heart rate increased. Mostly she hated that her mom could see through her.

"Because,” Elizabeth drew the word out slowly, "you still have half a dozen posters of him on your bedroom wall, and I'm finding it hard to believe that you’re suddenly reticent about being seen with him in public. Especially not because of what some people you don't even know may or may not say about you. Also because, even though you wouldn't tell me what exactly was going on between the two of you, you made it a point to introduce him to your father and me some months back.

"Casey, I know you. You've never been someone who gave other people's opinions a first thought, much less a second one; you've had a very strong sense of yourself since you came into this world, and I've admired that about you because lord knows you didn't get it from me. You've always been very comfortable in your own skin.”

She leaned closer and put her hand over her daughter's. “And I'm looking at you, right now. And the way you've looked since we started talking about JC versus what you liked like when we met him backstage months ago. You were happy then, the lightest I'd seen you in a long time. And now you're back to looking uncomfortable and unhappy, the way you used to look whenever Tony was around. And I think that means something.”

Casey stared at her mom’s hand over hers, but couldn't look up to meet her eyes.

"Sweetie, I don't quite believe you’re giving me the full story. There's more to it, isn't there?”

"Yes,” Casey whispered. "But I can't tell him that.”

"Why not?”

"Because...because it shouldn't matter.” She made a face. “Because I told him that I don't want to go public and that should be enough, because--”

"Because what you want is more important than what he wants?” Elizabeth interjected.

Casey frowned and finally looked up. “No, of course not. I don't feel that way.”

Her mother eyed her skeptically. “You sure about that?” When Casey didn't reply she sighed. “I love you and I'm so proud of you and everything you've accomplished. But, Case, at some point you're going to have to grow up.”

Casey's mouth opened in her surprised and she blinked rapidly.

Her mother shrugged. “If you really think, all things considered, it's in your best interest that your relationship with JC stays a secret, and he can't go along with that, then by all means do what you have to do. I just hope you're sure that it's worth it.” She stood up, still looking at her daughter.

Casey straightened in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. Her mother's vaguely accusatory reaction wasn't the one she'd expected and it was beginning to irk her. “So you're taking his side, then?”

"I'm not taking anyone's side, sweetie.”

"There are,” Casey cleared her throat, “things that JC doesn't understand.”

"Things that have to do with Tony, I'm sure.”

“Mom--”

“I know,” Elizabeth said, raising her hand. “It's complicated.” She stood up. “But since you've obviously decided not to tell JC either, then it's probably for the best that you two aren't together. Sounds like you want different things.”

Elizabeth placed her hands on her hips, her expression genial as Casey stared up at her wide-eyed. “Have you talked to Amber recently?”

Casey's forehead wrinkled in confusion. “What? No. What does she have to do with anything?”

The older woman inhaled deeply. "She said something you didn't like and you walked out on her, right?”

Casey groaned. "No, mom, it wasn't--”

"And as soon as JC said something you didn't like, you left.”

"That's not fair. It's not the same thing.”

"Really?” Elizabeth stared at her daughter quizzically. "Because it seems like the exact same thing to me. Things get to be too much for you to deal with and you leave, huh?”

Casey’s eyes dropped to the unfinished drink in front her.

"I wonder if you're overcompensating for the fact that, despite him being way too much for you to deal with, it took you a long time to leave your relationship with Tony.”

Though Elizabeth's voice was gentle, Casey found herself blinking back a sudden rush of tears.

"Honey.” Her mother placed her hands on her shoulders and bent down to kiss the top of her head. “I love you so much, and I just want you to be happy. If you can't talk to me, please talk to someone.”

Casey sniffled and leaned into her mom. Elizabeth wrapped both arms around her daughter and several minutes passed in near silence. Finally, Casey pulled away and stood up.

She wiped her eyes and inhaled deeply. “I, um...I think I'm gonna lay down for awhile before Dad and Matty get back for dinner.”

Elizabeth nodded, a small smile on her lips. “OK; I'll let you know when it's time to get ready.” She patted her daughter's shoulder and walked away.

Casey trudged up the stairs to her childhood bedroom. The soft glow of the not-quite-dusk light illuminated her room enough for her to see clearly without flipping the light switch. Closing the door behind her, her eyes focused on the wall directly opposite her. She'd always thought of the space as something of a visual inspiration; it was adorned with posters of some of her favorite, and most influential, musicians. She liked being surrounded with the likes of Prince, Fleetwood Mac, and Janet Jackson. And of course there, in a rather prominent spot, was a poster of *NSYNC. Framing it were several individual pictures of just JC.

She stepped closer to the wall and tentatively reached out to touch his image on one of the pieces of paper. Minutes ticked by as she stared into his bright, smiling blue eyes. Her mother's words were a disjointed, swirling mass in her head as she gazed. Looking at him in the picture, his languid happiness made her miss him even more. That a mass produced poster of him made her feel calmer and more at ease made her feel foolish for being willing to give up the real thing.

With a sigh, she pulled away from the wall and crossed the room to her bed. She peeled her sweatshirt from her body and tossed it to the floor. After shimmying out of her pants, they joined her shirt and she slid between the cool covers of her bed. She still had two days left at home, and although there would be things she needed to do once she returned to the tour, there were also things that needed to be done right where she was.

She closed her eyes, determined to resolve a few things. After sleep.



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