He can remember, when he was eleven and his mother only let him invite industry people to his birthday party, because it would look better. He hadn't meant to cry, but he couldn't help himself. He wanted to see his *friends*. And she had told him to stop acting like a spoiled brat, and sent him to his room. He can't remember crying after that, except alone, in his room, when touring in Germany was too much for him, or when Brit asked him to fake-date for the sake of publicity, or when he was frightened during the lawsuit. By the time Joey announced that Kelly was pregnant, he had forgotten how to cry. He can remember thinking that it might have helped.

There was a kid on MMC - Gary, Ryan - he can't remember the name - who had yelled about being forced to work when he had a sore throat. The kid had left after that season, and Justin had never raised his voice after that. Not the time Lou cornered him, after the settlement, and called him worthless and ugly and nothing. Not when the photographers poked and prodded him until he felt like nothing except a great big smile and a flash and glossy 3x5. Not even when he and Brit had to go on a fake vacation, and the neighborhood kids rooted through his garbage for souvenirs, and broke into the house while he was away, and he had to laugh it off on TRL even though his mother's reaction had been, "Good publicity."

He reserves the right to be pissy before having cereal in the morning, even though he *knows* people call him a Diva for it, because he needs the time to compose himself for the day ahead. He stares down at his milk while Lance explains their schedule, and reminds himself that he's a worthwhile person, and it's gonna be okay, and nobody hates him.

He overhears an intern at MTV saying that they all must love him, or why would they have put up with him for all these years, and wonders what he's done wrong this time.

Sometimes it's all too much for him, and he can't sleep at night because he hears all the voices of all the people who've been disappointed in him, over and over again. His brothers who don't see him enough. His mother. Lou. Johnny. Chris, JC, Lance, Joey. He knows *they* love him, that they only want him to be a better person, but sometimes it doesn't help at all. He curls into a ball on his bed, and wants his teddy bear, and loves them all so much it hurts, because he *tries* to be good, and understanding, and sweet, and flirt just the right amount with fans, and is it too much to ask that he can get a decent night's sleep so he won't fuck up tomorrow?

He never does it on the bus, though, because once when he sat up, staring at the ceiling, JC had wandered by and asked him what was wrong, and what was he supposed to say that wouldn't make him sound ungrateful and spoiled? He'd said he just couldn't sleep, and JC had sort of sighed and walked away. Later, he heard JC and Chris talking in the lounge about how he was homesick. "He's a kid," JC said, and Chris had made some non-committal response, and then they'd played video games and Justin had wished desperately that he could've found a different answer. So now, on the bus, he pretends to be sleeping, even when he can't, because anything is better than JC's tone of voice, or Chris agreeing that he was being a baby.

They catch him once, in the bathroom of a dark club, giving a blowjob to a man he's never met before. That night they yell at him a lot. They call him stupid, saying it's not safe, and he knows what they mean. They pretend they're concerned about him getting hurt, or sick, but really they're concerned about publicity, because that's what everyone's concerned about. He doesn't understand, though, why it was okay for him to go down on executives at MMC, or Lou, or the people Lou used to introduce him to, when they worked for Trans Con, but when he's an adult looking for sex, it's wrong. He doesn't say this, though, because he knows they'll look at him pityingly and think that's he's a stupid fool for not understanding what must be obvious. He says he won't do it anymore, and that he's sorry, and they shake their heads and leave.

He wants desperately to sleep and sleep and sleep and never worry about being grown-up, or saying the wrong thing, or doing the wrong thing, or making people hate him. He wants it so badly he can taste it, and he's thisclose, his eyes slipping shut at last, when Joey comes back.

"I just want to talk, J," he calls through the door. Justin doesn't have the strength to go answer it, though. He's so so close to sleep, and he doesn't even hear Joey slide a keycard in the door, and open it, and slip inside.

"J?" he asks, and Justin's eyes flutter, but that's the only response he can manage. Joey sits next to him, and runs a hand over his hair, and says, "we don't mind that you're gay, you know. We all love you. I just wanted to - J? What's this?"

In the back of his mind, he knows Joey's picking up the empty Advil bottle, but before he can care, he's asleep, and then.

Then he's awake, and in a hospital. There's a tube down his throat, and his chest hurts, and the florescent lights are glaring against his eyelids. He doesn't want to open his eyes, not ever again, but he can hear people talking over him, and someone saying his name, over and over and over again, so he looks.

They're sitting next to his bed, all four of them.

"Lynn's on the way from Orlando," Lance is saying, and JC nods. They look awful, Justin thinks, and wonders what's happened.

He wants to ask, but the tube won't let him talk. He manages a small gagging noise, though, and Joey's head shoots up. "Guys," he says in a strangled voice, and they all turn. Joey points at him.

Chris flings himself on Justin, muttering, "you little fucker, don't you ever scare me like that again, or I'll kill you myself," and Justin's suddenly glad for the tube, because he's not sure he could breathe otherwise.

Lance is calling for the doctor, and JC is crying, and Joey is just sitting in his chair, staring at Justin with sad, sad eyes.

He wanted to say he was sorry, except what he was really sorry about was that he'd woken up at all.

The doctor came, and sent them all away, and talked to Justin for a long time. They sent him home with his mom for awhile, and made him see a psychiatrist, and somehow or other covered the whole thing up, so that there was no bad publicity, and that was that.

Except that someone always shared a room with him on tour now, and usually when they were on break, too, and even though he was never ever by himself, he felt lonelier than he had beforehand.

Sometimes, though, when he was curled up in bed, restless and thinking, Joey or Chris or JC or Lance would pull him close and tell him it was okay, and they loved him, and they weren't going anywhere. And if he was lucky, he'd be able to sleep.
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