// silence //

When JC is onstage, it's like nothing else exists for him but the music. Every night it's his heart and soul laid bare, almost as if it's the last time he'll ever get the chance to do what he loves to do, what he was born to do. He's always been like that, as long as you've known him. It's in his blood, flows through his veins and never fails to take your breath away. You love watching him, and when he sees you watching him and grins, you feel like you're the only person in the room.

You wonder what he thinks about when he's singing those words of love lost and found then lost again, or when he's dancing, body and hips loose and liquid. What goes through his mind?

And does he ever think of me?

It's not like you've never wondered that before. You've only thought it maybe a thousand times since that one kiss, many years ago. One kiss. So many years since. Both of you were a little drunk. Not even so much on the forbidden beer that had been snuck in, but more the thrill of doing something that you both knew was so against the rules. It'd been a long day, too much singing, too much dancing...you didn't think you ever wanted to sing and dance again in your life.

"I'm tired," you'd whined, slumping against JC's shoulder. "This sucks."

JC had grinned at you and handed you another bottle of beer. "No-one ever said it was gonna be easy."

And you'd snickered and teased him for using such cheesy cliches, and he'd been all mock-offended and pushed you, gently. You'd pushed him back, laughing and then he'd leaned in and covered your mouth with his, cool lips and the wonderful surprise of a soft tongue flickering against yours for the briefest of moments. He'd tasted of beer and laughter, and of the promise of something that has since kept you awake for more nights that you care to remember. There'd been so many things you wanted to say to him but the words wouldn't come, and so you'd sat, eyes wide and heart dancing in your chest as he ran a finger over the back of your hand, just smiling. Then the others had come into the room, a jumble of chatter and laughter and the moment had gone.

Neither of you have ever spoken about it since. And now, years later, the silence has become more than you can stand. You think you might finally have found the words you have been looking for. You think you're finally ready to say them out loud, to break the silence that has surrounded you for far too long.

You find him after the show and his face lights up when he sees you. "Hey man! You were amazing!" He's full of post-show energy, almost glowing.

You don't think he's ever looked quite so beautiful and it makes your throat catch and your mouth go dry. "Uh...thanks. But you? You're just...wow."

"Yeah, well." JC grins. "Born to sing and dance, remember? All those years of practise had to be good for something, right?"

"Right," and you're nodding, smiling, and all the words are right there, and all you have to do is say them. Out loud, this time, instead of just in your head where it seems they've been forever. Just say them out loud.

The door opens and Chris bounds into the room, and throws an arm around your shoulders. "Dude! You rocked! Didn't he, C?"

JC nods, grinning. "He sure did." And he walks over to Chris and loops an arm around his waist, nuzzles his neck. "As did you."

And in that instant, you know. It's like a cold steel blade sliding between your ribs, and the pain you feel is beyond what you'd ever imagined. In your head, all those unspoken words echo until they're a solid wall of sound, and then they stop, suddenly. All that's left is the silence, and this time you know that's all you're ever going to have.

"Want to stay for a drink?" Chris holds up a bottle of wine. You want to hate him, but how can you? You can't hate him for loving JC. You can't hate him for having something you never knew you needed until it was much too late.

So you shake your head. "I'd better go. I just wanted to say...great show." And JC smiles, and suddenly you know what it feels like to have your heart break into a thousand pieces, each one as sharp and lethal as a shard of glass.

"You too, Tony, " he says, head resting against Chris' shoulder. "You too."

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