Justin blinked as the world focused itself around him and he had barely time to move away the photography album before throwing up on his carpet.

“Oh, boy,” he said out loud even when he knew he was alone. “*That* was the weirdest acid flashback ever.”

He rose from his couch and walked towards the kitchen, looking for something to clean up with. While he and Cameron had hired a cleaning lady to come up every day, he didn’t want to go to sleep knowing that there was vomit drying up on his floor.

As he washed his mouth, trying to get the taste out, he noticed a note on his refrigerator door that he hadn’t seen when he had arrived from the studio.

“Justin, don’t forget the meeting at Jive tomorrow at 10. Love, Cam.”

He picked up the note, frowning. He hadn’t heard Cameron come in, and if she had left him a note it was because she had gone out again.  How long had he spent staring at that old picture, anyway?

Trying not to think about it, he crushed the note into a little ball and threw it to the trash. What he needed was a long night sleep. In the morning he would worry about the meeting at Jive. Besides, he was pretty sure that the meeting had been that morning, before he went with JC to the studio.

*           *           *

Justin arrived to the Jive’s office building a little before ten, still feeling confused.  Cameron had called him around nine to tell him that she was going to be on location for a week, but that she hoped he could join her as soon as he finished with his job. When Justin had tried to ask her why she had left without telling her, however, she had laughed at him.

“Silly, I told you about this months ago, remember? You’ve got to do something about your memory, Justin.” And she had sounded so sure that Justin hadn’t had the heart to correct her.

The feeling of uneasiness followed him all morning, but it wasn’t until he arrived to Jive when he could put a finger on what was wrong.

At the lobby, where they put all the album covers of the newest releases, he didn’t see the FutureSex/LoveSound cover. There was Keli, Outkast, Too Short, Pink’s and even JC’s album covers, but not his own. That was strange because they had pushed forward the date of his release and pushed back JC’s to give his friend time to polish the last songs. The ones he was producing.

Something weird was going on.

Johnny’s secretary let him in the office, while Justin was still wondering what was going on and thinking about calling JC. He was supposed to be at the studio at noon, and he wanted to check if that was still true.

“Justin, hi, I’m glad you could come,” Johnny ushered him on, inviting him to sit down. “Look, I know you’re still a little disappointed when we had to push back your release date, but I hope that you understand why we did it.”

“Wait, push back?” Justin shook his head. “We haven’t pushed back the date. We released it last week.”

“Justin, your first single will be released in November, why would we release the album now?”  Johnny looked as confused as Justin, and Justin knew his manager. He was a very good manager, and a lousy actor, so it couldn’t be an elaborate joke. “Still, I was wondering if you and JC had finished the remixes you were working on?”

“We were planning on finishing it next week,” Justin answered, trying to convince himself that he hadn’t heard Johnny refer to the song as a remix, or in plural. “Unless you need it sooner?”

“Next week is fine, just please, remind JC that his tour begins in September,” Johnny smiled at him. “Now, I know you wanted to start the promotion work for your single, but I was wondering if you had some extra time to work with Chris.”

“With Chris?” Justin blinked. Chris wasn’t recording with Jive. Last he heard, Chris hadn’t a record deal yet. “Here?”

“Justin, are you feeling all right?” Johnny frowned again. Justin was starting to feel nauseated.

“I just, yeah,” Justin shook his head. Maybe he had underestimated Johnny’s acting abilities. His manager must be leading him on. “So, with Chris? If he’s all right with it, I think we can do something.”

“Perfect,” Johnny beamed. “I trust you have a copy of his album, but if not, you can ask my secretary for one. And Justin, I promise you, we’ll see your album out before the year ends.”

*           *           *

Justin closed his eyes, grabbing the wheel of his car at the Jive’s building’s parking lot. The meeting with Johnny had made no sense at all, and Johnny had been convinced that FutureSex hadn’t been released. And that Chris had released an album. Justin knew that was impossible because while he was almost ready to admit that maybe he had dreamed everything related to his album’s release –not that it was possible, but when the whole universe tells you you’re wrong, it was better to give it the benefit of doubt- Justin was sure he wouldn’t have forgotten if *Chris* had released an album.

He pulled out his cell phone, and dialed memory five, Chris’s phone.

If it was an elaborate joke on him, Chris would tell him. Chris was a lot of things, but he wasn’t *that* mean.

“’lo?” Chris wasn’t a bass either, and Justin blinked before answering.

“Lance? What are you doing with Chris’s phone?” He asked, more confused than before. He was sure that Lance was somewhere in L.A. that week.

“Justin, let’s not start *this* again, ok? Chris forgot his phone this morning, do you need anything?”  Lance sounded tired, and Justin had to stop himself before asking ‘what’ again. Whatever ‘this’ was, it could wait.

“Johnny asked me to work with Chris on a couple of songs,” Justin said, carefully. Maybe Lance wasn’t aware of the cosmically complicated joke that was being played at Justin’s expense. Maybe Lance wouldn’t make fun of him.

“And you don’t want to? At JC’s party you offered to do that, didn’t you?” Lance was starting to sound *angrier*, which Justin definitively didn’t need. “Or have you changed your mind?”

“No, no, I still want to,” Justin hurried to say. Maybe it was not a joke. Maybe it was a weird dream like the one he had the night before. “I just wanted to check if he had time next week.”

“I think we’re going to Chicago next Friday to see Joey’s new play, but before that he’s free,” Lance answered, not missing a beat. That made Justin pause.

“Wait, ‘we’? Why are you staying with Chris?”

“Justin, I’m really not on the mood. Look, as soon as Chris comes back or calls because he needs his cell, I’ll tell him to call you. All right?”

“But, why would, I mean, what’s going on?”

“Bye, Justin.” And before Justin could put his ideas in a more coherent order, Lance hung up.

*           *           *

After a minor breakdown during which Justin seriously considered calling Lance again to find what the hell was wrong with his band mate, he decided to go to the only place where he could ignore the world for at least eight hours or until the world happened to make sense again, whichever happened first.

He had tried calling Joey on the way, but Joe’s phone had been disconnected. That was odd, but not as odd as having Lance answering Chris’s phone so Justin decided he could deal with that.

JC had been waiting for him at the studio entrance, and Justin thanked heaven because JC didn’t look any different from the day before. In fact, he looked exactly the same, down to the same pink shirt. Since JC wasn’t the type of going to sleep with his clothes on, that struck Justin as odd.

Still, he didn’t say anything until they were inside the recording booth and he realized he didn’t recognize any of the tracks they were supposed to be working on.

“I think I’m going insane, JC,” he said, softly, turning off the console. “Nothing makes sense today.”

“You and Cam had a fight?” JC asked, helpfully. Justin had to bite his lip to stop himself from answering that that would be better than what was going on.

“Lance and I had a fight. Reality and I had a fight.”

“I’m not surprised at the first, you and Lance haven’t been exactly friendly since Chris released Little Red Monster’s first album,” JC pointed out, and Justin knew that JC was trying to be helpful, but in reality he was making things worse. Justin could’ve sworn Chris’s band was called Nigels’ 11. “What did reality did to you?”

Justin sighed. If anyone could help him make some sense of his own head, it had to be JC. “I woke up convinced that FutureSex had already been released, and Chris hadn’t released any albums. And Lance was in L.A. with his boyfriend, not at Chris’s house.”

“If Lance wants to be with his boyfriend, he pretty much has to be at Chris’s house, Justin,” JC laughed at him, which made everything worse. “You know they’ve been dating for almost four years.”

Justin was glad he was sitting down, because if not he was sure his legs would’ve stopped working for him right that second.  He couldn’t have heard JC right.

“Lance’s boyfriend is named Reichen,” he said, stubbornly. “Or something. Chris is, hell, Chris is not gay, JC. You know that, right?”

JC looked at him, with the intensity he reserved for complicated music sheets. “You’re serious,” he said, after a moment. “You really don’t remember Chris and Lance have been together since the Celebrity tour?”

Justin shook his head. If he was not dreaming –and if he pinched himself one more time he was going to break his skin- then it was really happening, and he had really gone insane. He didn’t know which possibility frightened him more.

“What did you do last night? It must have been one hell of a party to forget that.”

“After we left here?” Justin sighed. “I went home, spend a couple of hours flipping through our old photographs, had an acid flashback, threw up on the carpet, cleaned up and went to bed. When I woke up the world had gone insane.”

“Acid flashback?” JC was leaning over his chair, looking at him with obvious worry. “I thought you had stopped that long ago.”

“I did,” Justin shook his head. “I don’t know JC. I just, I don’t know. Maybe I hit my head or something I just can’t remember. So, Chris and Lance?”

“Chris and Lance,” JC nodded. “You do remember you’re with Cameron, right?”

“Yeah, that I remember,” Justin laughed. “And Joey is still with Kelly, right?”

“No, he married Britney last month.” JC said and Justin thought his heart would stop before JC started shaking with laughter.

“You ass,” Justin said, punching JC. “I almost believed you.”

“I know,” JC laughed even harder. “Look, it’s obvious you’re not up for doing anything right now. Why don’t you go back home and rest. We can finish this tomorrow, and still be on schedule.”

“You sure?” Justin didn’t want to sound selfish, but all he wanted was to crawl under his covers and hide for a week. Maybe then the world would be back to normal.

“Yeah, go on. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

*           *           *

Justin was sitting on top of the kitchen counter, debating with himself about the wisdom of having a beer or twelve, when the door bell rang.

He thought about not answering, wait until whoever that was behind the finger that was pounding the poor bell grew tired and left, because he really didn’t want to face another thing he didn’t remember. What if it was Britney out there? Or someone worse?

“Justin! Get the fuck up and answer the door or I’ll start doing a striptease for all your neighbors to see!”

Of course, Justin figured as he walked towards the door, it had to be Chris. The one person he really didn’t want to see, because if he saw him, Chris would confirm that everything was*real*. He really didn’t have an album out, Jive was pushing back his release date just as they had done with JC’s in the world Justin remembered, and Justin wasn’t considered one of the hottest talents around.

He had found that month’s GQ. The one in the cover had been Lance, talking about his two new productions, one for TV, one for cinema.

But he also knew that of all his friends, *Chris* would do a striptease if Justin didn’t open the door, so it was either open the door to his biggest fear, or risk the police coming out, arresting Chris, and then *Lance* would have a real reason to be angry at Justin. Definitively not a possibility that Justin wanted to explore.

“I’m going!” He answered, at the same time he reached the door and let it open. “Keep your shirt on, Chris!”

“You’ve got no idea what you’re missing, J,” Chris was standing at the door, but it took a second for Justin to recognize him.

For starters, Chris was thin. As thin as he had been during the No Strings Attached tour, and, judging by the defined muscles of his arms, he had been working out. He was still wearing the same old black t-shirts, and jeans that Justin had come to identify as Chris’s personal lack of style, but now they didn’t made him look like a slacker, or a man spending a lazy Sunday at home. He was wearing his hair long, with a black bandana covering part of it, another thing Justin recognized from the ‘old’ Chris, as well as the perennial silver necklace, but he was also wearing three hoops on his left ear, one in his right.  Chris was also wearing black eyeliner.

“Are you going to let me in or you’re going to gape at me all night?” Chris asked, but more than irritated, he looked worried. “JC told me you were having some problems.”

“I… I’m sorry Chris. I just… When did you lose weight?” Justin said, before he could stop himself. Chris raised his eyebrow –his pierced eyebrow, now that Justin noticed the silver stud on it- and sighed.

“Justin, I haven’t lost weight since you saw me two weeks ago,” Chris sighed. “You’re really out of it, aren’t you?”

Justin just nodded and let Chris come in. Chris, with a lot more familiarity than what Justin had expected from his old friend, walked straight to the kitchen and pulled out a can of soda from the fridge. Justin really couldn’t remember if Chris had been at his house before, but it was obvious that he had.

“Have you been drinking?” Chris asked, worried. It was a little like back when *N Sync had started, when Chris paid attention to everything Justin did, let him be and do whatever he wanted, but always ready to catch him if he fell.

“No, I thought about it, but, well, maybe it’s not such a cool idea.”

Chris nodded, He really looked worried, and Justin couldn’t blame him. He was one step away from calling a hospital and commit himself.

“Let’s go to your living room,” Chris said, putting his arm around Justin’s shoulder. “And tell me everything that happened yesterday, ok?”

*           *           *

Three hours later, Chris seemed convinced that Justin had hit his head and couldn’t remember hitting his head. Justin, for his part, was glad to go with any theory that didn’t include calling him insane.

He hadn’t told Chris about his dream, because he didn’t thought it was important, but he went in detail through all the differences he could remember, Chris correcting him every time he got something wrong.

*N Sync’s hiatus was not official, for example, and they had actually performed together as a group a couple of times every year. They were only trying to figure out what to do next, how to really top Celebrity. In the meantime, they all were doing their own thing.

Lance wasn’t actually talking to Justin; and given the way Chris side-stepped the issue, Justin figured that that was what prevented them from getting together as a group, more than not knowing what to do next. If anything, between Justin, JC and Chris’s songs they would have more than enough for three more albums.

One hour later Justin was starting to believe the concussion theory, laughing at Chris’s jokes and trying hard to remember all the things he didn’t really know.

Justin couldn’t remember having so much fun since *his* mind’s version of the start of the hiatus.

“And so Lance said, let’s compromise Chris,” Chris was saying, imitating Lance’s voice. “You get off your ass and finish that album, and we come out like you want to.”

“And that’s how he finally got you to finish the songs?” Justin shook his head. In that other reality, which was looking more and more like a drunken dream now even if he still remembered it clearly, Chris hadn’t seemed to have a real direction with his life.

“No, he did that by promising mind blowing sex,” Chris deadpanned. “Coming out was just to go and make a deal with Jive.”

“I’m sure they loved the extra publicity,” Justin sipped his soda. He wasn’t touching alcohol that night. Then he noticed Chris’s frown. “What?”

“Justin, you *know* we didn’t do in purpose, right?” Chris said, much more serious than usual. “We told Johnny that they could push all our albums at the same time, hell, Lance still gets in long discussions about that, but Jive seems convinced that they can only do publicity for one *N Syncer at a time. I really never thought they would push back Justified, or that they would do so little to promote it.”

“I… I never blamed you, Chris,” Justin lied easily. He didn’t remember that happening, so technically, he didn’t blame Chris. “Or Lance. Or anyone, really.”

“I know,” Chris smiled at him, hitting him playfully with his elbow. “It’s just, you know how it was. You *did* say that we were just trying to get the media attention.”

“No, I didn’t.” Justin denied it immediately, but he guessed he was going to spend a lot of time being reminded of things he *hadn’t* done. Or maybe he would be lucky and next morning when he woke up, the world would make sense to him again.

“Actually, you said a couple of worse things,” Chris shrugged, as he got up from the couch. “But it’s all right, all forgotten. After all, I can’t be too mad at you; if wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have Lance with me now.”

“How come?” Justin frowned. He hadn’t even know Chris was interested in men before that day.

“Don’t you remember, at Challenge?” Chris laughed, going to the kitchen. “You must’ve been hjgh or something, but you *told* me Lance was gay. After the game you swore you hadn’t, but well, we all talked to Lance, he came out to us, and before you know it, we clicked. So in a way, it was thanks to you.”

*           *           *

When Chris left, Justin went and pulled out the photo album from its place again.

It couldn’t be, of course. *That* had been a dream. He *hadn’t* talked to Chris the night before in 2001 and told him Lance’s secret causing the world to change. It couldn’t be.

However, the picture from Challenge wasn’t the one he remembered. Sure, they looked the same, dressed the same.

But Justin could’ve sworn that before Chris was on the extreme left of the picture, not in the center, between Justin and Lance.

Worried, Justin started flipping the pages. Most of the pictures looked the same, but there were a few of them quite different. He was sure he would’ve noticed that Chris, more often than not, ended up next to Lance. The last pictures of the group all showed Chris standing next to Lance.

“This is crazy,” Justin murmured, flipping the pages back, to more familiar photos, photos that didn’t seem different from the ones in his memory. “I must be dreaming.”

He stopped at one of the photos from the 2001 Superbowl, just a few months before the Challenge of that year. He couldn’t remember that particular picture being taken, because it wasn’t the usual posed picture. Lance was saying something, Chris paying attention to him, while Joey seemed to be focused on the microphone in JC’s hands, JC was looking somewhere behind Chris, and he was with his back to the camera. They were backstage, he still wore his curls, and Joey had his blond highlights. Chris didn’t look as hardcore as he had looked a few minutes before, but with his denim jacket and black bandana he did sort of looked out of place among them.

Justin was about to flip the page when the world rippled *again*.

In the distance, he could hear the phone ringing.

To be continued