JC came into Justin's mom's kitchen rubbing his eyes, and still wearing the same clothes in which he went to bed.
Except he wasn't. He had a pair of grey pyjama pants slung low and a dark blue, long-sleeved shirt with the words "FuMan Skeeto" on it in white, and not only was Joey sure JC had been wearing something different before, though he didn't know what, he was also pretty damn sure he'd never seen those clothes before.
"Um, Jayce?" he said, looking up from his toast.
"It's cold in here, isn't it?" JC said, and headed straight for the fridge.
"No," Joey said, because it wasn't, and looked at him curiously.
"Uh huh," JC said. He poured himself a glass of orange juice and wandered into the living room.
"Aren't you hungry?" Joey called.
"Fuck you," JC said vehemently.
And that was the second thing that gave it away.
The third thing was the hair.
"Whoa!" Chris said, when he curled up in a chair and flicked on the TV. "What'd you do to your hair, man?"
"What?" JC said, and reached up to run his fingers through his hair. "What's wrong with it?" and then he squinted at Chris. "Hey -"
"It is different, yo," Justin said, and crawled over the couch to poke at JC. "When'd you do that?"
"What?" JC repeated. "Go away." He swatted listlessly at Justin, still twisting his fingers through his hair. "What's wrong with it?"
"What d'you mean, what's wrong with it? It's fuckin' weird, man," Chris said. "It's long. It must've grown, like, an inch overnight. And you dyed it? What the hell?"
"Yeah, what the hell?" Justin said.
"I don't know," JC said, and looked decidedly confused.
The fourth thing that gave it away was the promo.
"What're y'all doing hanging 'round down here? Promo's in an hour. Lou'll kill us," Lance said, when he arrived, later.
"What?" JC asked, on top of Joey's, "Fuck, I almost forgot!"
"Shut up," Justin said. "My mom's up."
"No, hey," JC said. He looked at Lance suspiciously. "What the fuck is going on?"
"JC!" Justin shrieked, "My mom is up."
"Um, nothing?" Lance said, and stared at JC. "Hey, your hai-"
"Shut the fuck up about my god damn hair," JC growled, and Chris raised his eyebrows.
"Hey -"
And the fifth thing that gave it away was the other JC.
"Who's this?" Other JC said.
"What the fuck?" Joey asked, and Justin looked at him pointedly. "I know, your mom. She can go bite me."
"Hey, now," Chris said, "shut up, Joe."
"No, really," Other JC said, at the same time as Lance said, "Um. Um. Um. Why are there two JCs?"
"It's a second coming, yo," Justin said, and Chris cuffed him.
"Can you all just shut the god damn mother fuck up -" JC said.
"My mom, JC -!"
"- so I can figure out what the hell -"
"I'm JC -"
"- is going on, and why everything's so -"
"But -"
"- fucking screwed -"
"Would you just stop swearing?"
"Would you just shut up?" JC repeated, and they did. "Okay," he said, and cradled his forehead in his hands. "It's just. um. well, uh. This is really 1997."
Joey and Justin exchanged glances, and Lance opened his mouth, and Other JC was just staring in unabashed horror at JC. They didn't say anything.
"This is really 1997," JC repeated.
"And, um," Other JC said, "it really is."
"What?" JC asked, shrilly. "What the fuck -"
"Juju, tell your friend to stop swearing," Lynn said, from the kitchen, and Justin ducked his head.
"I'm not even going to ask," JC said, and that was sort of that, until Lance said,
"Um, yeah. Promo's in, uh. Forty minutes, now."
"Do you think we should tell someone?" Other JC said.
"Like who? Lou?" Chris snorted.
"No," Joey said.
They'd decided JC would go unacknowledged, unannounced, and preferably unnoticed, if at all possible. "If anyone asks," Chris had said, "his name's Scott, okay?" but the new, older JC insisted he keep JC, because he'd "had it longer, so call the little one Scott, you bastards."
"Only in public," Lance said. "He's still our JC."
"Why can't I just be Josh?" Other JC - Scott asked.
"Because that's fucked," JC said. "It's not that common a name."
"It could be," Justin said.
"It isn't," JC said, so they went with it.
"He's still JC to us and everybody else, though," Joey said.
"Shut up," JC said, so they did.
"Wow, who knew you're such a bitch," Chris said, and nudged Scott.
"Fuck you," JC said. "It's not my fault."
JC was kind of annoyed when he discovered the only clothes he had were the ones he was wearing, so Joey dragged him over to his apartment in his pyjamas, because he'd determined that he was the only one whose clothes could possibly fit JC.
"Hey, hey - what the hell is this?" JC asked when he put on Joey's pants.
"What?" Joey said.
"This waist," JC said, tugging at the waistband of the jeans, which was decidedly many inches too large, "is fucking huge."
Joey shrugged. "They fit JC," he said, and JC stared at him. Hard. "Scott," he amended.
"Well, I'm not him."
"Funny," Joey said, "because I thought you were."
"Fuck off."
Joey ignored the fact that he could see the outline of JC's ribs, and the ridge of his spine. "Get a belt," Joey said, and threw a t-shirt at him.
"I'm going shopping, later," JC said.
"We have a promo in half an hour," Joey said.
"You have a promo. I already did it, five years ago."
"Then you can do it again," Joey said. He left JC standing in the middle of his room, shirtless, holding his pants up by the waistband. JC was glaring.
Chris was the least perturbed by it, though.
"You realise you don't really exist," he said, when they crowded into the back of the van.
"Fuck you," JC said. "I look pretty existent, don't I?"
"Well, yeah. But who's gonna buy that you just spontaneously appeared out of - wait, how old are you?"
JC looked at him crookedly. "Twenty-four," he said slowly.
"For the love of god, yes!" Chris said.
"Um," JC said.
"I'm not the oldest any more," Chris said, then paused. "Well. Not really."
JC smiled thinly.
"Okay, but really. You don't have any ID, do you?" Chris asked.
"I turned up in my pyjamas. What the fuck do you think?" JC said.
"Point taken."
"Fuck," JC said, as if it just occurred to him. "I guess nobody'd pull some strings to get me some ID, huh."
"Like who?" Chris said.
"Bitches. It's not that hard," JC said.
"It is if you don't have any money," Chris said, and scowled.
"Right."
Lou didn't like it, though, not when JC showed up to a rehearsal.
"Who the hell's this?" he asked, and gave JC a hard stare.
"Scott," Lance said helpfully.
"But who is he?" Lou asked.
"He's, um," Lance said.
"My cousin," Scott said.
"You don't have a cousin named Scott," Lou said.
"Yeah, he does," Joey said, and Justin nodded.
"Fine." Lou glared at JC, who ignored him. "What's he doing here?"
"He's hangin'," Scott said.
"He won't get in the way," Chris said.
"Fine," Lou repeated, and JC flipped him off.
JC was more subdued after that, though. He hung around Justin's house, mostly, because Chris was there all the time after he got thrown out of his apartment complex for skipping rent for two months, and was the only one who didn't really care that the situation was just fucking weird. They didn't talk much, though, just sat around together in silence. Joey didn't really get it; JC didn't really talk to anyone, just Lynn, and only then if spoken to, and he studiously avoided Scott whenever he was around.
"He's fucking naive," JC told Chris, when asked about it.
"So were you, then," Chris said.
"Yeah," JC said, maybe with a tinge of regret. "But I got over it."
He spent a lot of time on the porch, too, late at night, alone. Joey came out, sometimes, but JC never really said much. He smoked a lot, mostly pot, though Joey never knew where he got it.
"J - Scott's gonna do this, later?" Joey asked, one time.
JC grunted. "It's kind of looking like it, isn't it," he said.
"I guess," Joey said.
Lance, though, tried to ignore JC's existence as best he could.
"He's weird, huh," Justin said.
"Who?" Lance asked.
"JC. The new one."
"Oh."
"You tried talking to him?" Justin asked, and quirked an eyebrow when Lance shook his head. "He never says anything. He's got, like, this thing. against Joey. Hates him. And he's mean, yo."
Lance frowned. "Joey?"
"No, JC."
Lance's frown deepened. "JC hates JC?"
Justin smirked. "No, he hates Joey. God."
"Why?"
"How would I know? He never talks about anything."
"He's weird," Lance said.
"I know. That's what I said." Justin smiled.
"What did I do to you?" Scott asked JC, after a week or so.
"What? Nothing," JC said.
"What, then?"
"What?" JC asked.
"I can't avoid this, huh."
"What?" JC repeated, and scowled.
"Turning into you," Scott said, and gestured vaguely. "Gonna be a recluse."
"You are a recluse," JC said.
"No."
"Yeah," JC said, "I think I'd know."
And JC and Scott weren't that different, not really. JC was taller and had longer hair, with highlights, and some strange thing he called a goatee -- "I have a goatee, moron. That's. that's. never mind," Chris said -- and he was decidedly skinnier and his cheekbones were more defined, but he still had horrible taste in clothes and he slept a lot and was really quite boring, Joey thought.
But he was also kind of pretty. Not like Scott, because JC was older and more refined, and wiry, and while he was still a dork, he'd grown into it. Except -
"The, um. goatee," Joey told Justin, who thought it was kind of cool. "It's sort of disturbing."
"It's cool, yo," Justin said.
"Not really," Joey said, and wrinkled his nose. "It doesn't work on him."
It wasn't like Joey was going to tell him, though, so Justin did.
"How long does it take you to do that?" Justin asked, leaning on the counter, when JC was shaving, one morning.
"What? Shave?" JC glanced down at him. "Five minutes."
"J - Scott doesn't have to do it all the time," Justin said. He was staring in the mirror at JC's reflection.
"He will," JC said.
"Yeah, well," Justin said dully. "Joey thinks that goatee's ugly."
JC glanced down at him again, shaping around ths stripe on his chin. "I don't care," he said. "Joey can go fuck himself."
Justin shrugged, wandered out of the bathroom. When JC came out, later, his chin was smooth.
It took a few weeks before Lance accepted that he wasn't going to go away any time soon.
"It's just not natural," he said, when they'd all crowded out onto the porch.
"What?" Chris asked.
"This whole thing," Lance said. "J- JC. just showing up, right out of 2001. It breaks so many laws of physics."
"I haven't taken physics," Justin said.
"Sure, kid," Joey said. "You will."
"Shut up," Justin said.
"My physics tutor said it's just impossible. Y'can't. It's, like. a paradox," Lance said.
"That's funny," JC said, and glared at Lance. "'Cause I'm not getting any memories of my older self showing up for a few weeks in 1997."
"But you should be," Lance said, skeptically.
"You tell me, brainiac," JC said.
"But, like," Scott said, "shouldn't this be changing your present?"
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Chris asked.
"I mean, shouldn't. J- JC's brain be kinda. like. changing and stuff, because if he's me, I know I'm remembering this stuff, so, like, shouldn't he -"
"Shut up," Justin said. "My brain hurts."
"My physics tutor says that if -"
"Go fuck your physics tutor," JC interrupted.
Lance's eyes widened. "JC, I -"
"What, he's not cute enough?" JC said. "I thought he was."
"JC," Lance said quietly, steadily. "I'm not like that."
"Yeah," JC said. "You are."
"No."
"Fuck," JC said. He rolled his eyes. "Not yet, maybe, but you are, okay? I'd know."
"Fuck you," Lance said, and it sounded strange, foreign, coming from him. He got up and went inside, Justin staring after him.
"He's sensitive about that," Justin said, after a while.
"He'll get used to it," JC said.
JC came out to Scott, after that, sitting in the middle of Justin's backyard, in the grass.
"What did you just say?" Scott asked, leaning forward onto his elbows, resting his chin in his palm.
"Fuck," JC said, and shook his head. "It's not that bad, man. I mean, I'd be insanely jealous if, um, like. you turned out. not. to be."
"What?" Scott repeated.
"Look, I was just warning you," JC said.
"No, really," Scott said. He tilted his head toward JC. "What did you say? I totally missed that."
"The - hell? Fuck. God." JC rolled his eyes, collapsed back into the grass. "I said," he enunciated as clearly as he could, "I'm. gay. You know? Like, I like. men."
"Oh, right," Scott said off-handedly. "I know."
"You're n-- what?"
"A couple months ago," Scott said. He frowned. "You know, Joey?"
JC sat up abruptly. "What about Joey?"
Scott flushed. "I- I. um. You don't remember that?" He scratched his head. "I, um. kissedhimonhisbirthday?"
"Oh," JC said. Lay back down; closed his eyes; covered them with his palm. "Oh."
And it wasn't like nobody else was going to find out, because Scott could never keep a secret.
"Yo, him too?" Justin said, wrinkled his nose.
"You don't need to say it like it's a bad thing, man," Chris said.
"Hey, hey," Justin said, "it's not. It's just. weird."
"They're the same person," Lance said. "It's not."
"We're not," Scott protested.
"Look," Lance said, "for our purposes, you are."
"Purposes?" Scott said, incredulous.
"Yeah."
"You're sick," Scott said.
"Lance, shut up," Chris said.
Lance sighed. Joey didn't say much.
JC gave up on civility towards Joey, too. He no longer said "hey" when Joey wandered in, in the mornings, or smiled at Joey or laughed or anything, or even spontaneously showed up at Joey's apartment. It was all replaced with "I'm not fucking going, okay," or, "you can do it without me, you know," or, "shut the fuck up, I don't care" and glares and frowns that indicated he wasn't bluffing.
It pissed Joey off, really.
"Okay, what?" he asked when he was in the kitchen of Justin's house, one night, when JC was breezing back and forth between the backyard and the porch.
"Hm?" JC said, nonchalantly.
"What's your problem with me?" Joey asked, leaning across the counter.
"I don't," JC started, frowned.
"You do, okay, I know," Joey said.
"I don't," JC repeated, but Joey knew it was a lie.
"Look, it's just." Joey chewed on his lower lip. "Did I do something? 'Cause, um. Scott. he, uh. Likes me fine," he might have blushed, "and, I mean. I know you're not the same thing, but. um. What?"
JC was glaring at him.
"Okay, okay," Joey said. "I'll stop if, um, I'm pissing you off. I won't even try to talk to you. 'Cause, y'know." He frowned and straightened. "There's still -- Scott," because he couldn't think of anything better to say.
"No," JC said, and slipped behind the counter, beside Joey. "There isn't still Scott, okay." He smirked, maybe a little sadly. "Or, there will be. But not that long." He smiled, then, but it was a terrible one: not at all friendly, not like he smiled at anyone else.
And then he curled his fingers in Joey's shirt, pushed him back against the counter, so the edge dug into the small of Joey's back. "You fucking bastard," he spat, and kissed Joey, almost painfully. He ground his hips against Joey's, and he was hard - Joey could tell. Involuntarily, Joey moaned when JC pried his lips apart; swept his tongue inside Joey's mouth, across his palate.
JC stopped, then, and pushed Joey's shoulders away. "You fucking bastard," he repeated, but it sounded broken, this time.
Joey didn't follow him out of the kitchen.
JC didn't come out of the basement for a week.
"Do you know what's up with him?" Chris asked, on the third day.
"No," Joey said, through gritted teeth. Chris knew that was a lie.
"Did he say something?" Chris persisted.
"No," Joey said.
Chris frowned. "Did he do anything?"
"No. I. um."
"What happened?" Chris asked.
"Nothing." Joey shook his head. "I. he. Nothing. Fuck."
"It's okay," Chris said.
"It's not," Joey said, and breathed out deeply. But he didn't explain, and Chris didn't ask.
On the fifth day, Lynn noticed.
"What's your friend doing in the basement, J?"
"Huh?" Justin said, because he didn't notice that kind of thing. "Oh. um. Him. Yeah. I don't know. Been wondering where he went."
Lynn frowned. "Don't you think you should go see what's the matter?"
"Nah," Justin said, "it's not like he'd tell me, unless he's changed a whole sh- lot."
"You should go see him," she said. "I don't think he's moved from the side of the dryer in days."
"Oh," Justin said. But he didn't get up from the couch.
JC emerged on the seventh day, early in the morning, and it wasn't much of a show. Joey found him on the front porch when he was bringing the garbage out from the side of the house, because Justin had conveniently "forgotten" to do it the night before, because Joey had slept over and distracted him, Justin said. It was raining, the way it did on winter mornings, not too hard, but enough to get soaked. Joey glanced at JC, who was sitting on the railing, shrugged, and dragged the garbage can to the kerb.
"Um, hi," he said, on the way back up to the house. He was barefoot, and he imagined walking across the lawn in the rain wasn't such a good idea.
JC glanced at him briefly, set his jaw, and resumed staring blandly across the street.
"Jayce," Joey tried again, but JC made an abortive gesture at him.
"Don't," he said. "Just, Joe? Can you...not say anything?"
"I, um." Joey scratched at his ear. "Yeah, okay," he said, and went back inside.
When they left for rehearsal, later, JC was gone. Joey wasn't sure he ever heard him come inside.
But it wasn't like he was gone, because he came back later, some time after midnight, just as Joey was leaving. He came padding back into the house, through the back door, trying vainly and failing miserably to be quiet. His shoes squeaked against the hardwood, because he never remembered to take them off, and it was still raining outside.
"Take off your shoes!" Joey heard Justin yell from somewhere upstairs.
"Go to sleep." Lynn's voice was muffled.
"Shut up," Chris said from the bathroom.
"I will," JC said, as he came up the stairs. His hair was slicked down against his skull, and his clothes were clinging to his body from the rain. He looked impossibly young, Joey thought as he followed him to the landing at the bottom of the stairs, but not like the younger version, just - lost.
"Where were you?" Joey asked, peering upstairs.
"Out," JC said, and knocked on the bathroom door. "Chris? You in there?"
"Mmhmm," came the reply.
"Are you okay?" Joey asked, furrowing his brow.
"Yes," JC said, clipped. "Chris? Can I come in, if you're not doing anything?"
"Mmhmm," Chris repeated. There was a click from within, followed by some shuffling. "Yeah."
"No, really, Jayce. Is there anything I can do?" Joey asked.
"No," JC said, and slipped inside the bathroom. The lock clicked again, and muffled conversation leaked out from under the door.
Joey thought he could hear JC crying, but he wasn't sure.
"Would somebody please fucking tell me what's going on?" Joey asked.
"What?" Scott said, and looked up from some science magazine Joey was sure he didn't understand.
Lou had called a meeting spontaneously, so they'd all had to go down to TransCon; JC had conveniently refused to go -- "I don't know what's wrong with you stupid fucks, but I'm not going back there, ever. Ever, ever," he said, like the extra 'ever's were going to illustrate a point they hadn't already gotten -- and Lou hadn't showed up, himself. So they waited.
"We're waitin' for the meeting to start," Justin said, muffled against Chris' shoulder.
"Not that," Joey said. He chewed on his lip. "With JC."
"What?" Scott repeated, glancing up again. "I'm fine."
"Other JC," Joey clarified.
"Oh," Scott said, and elbowed Lance sharply in the ribs, who'd started reading about processor chips over his shoulder.
"Chris?" Joey asked.
"Hm?" Chris said, and when he lifted his head, Justin's cheek slid slowly down his shoulder until he roused himself sufficiently to sit up.
"You've been talking to C, haven't you?" Joey asked.
"I, um. yeah," Chris said, uncomfortably.
"What -"
"Hey, um, no. Joe?" Chris interrupted. "You. um. You shouldn't treat him like he's the same as JC," he nodded at Scott, who was entirely engrossed in thermal energy, "'cause, um. He's not."
"But he's -"
"Changed," Chris said. "A'right? Four years can do shit to you."
"Oh," Joey said, but it didn't really explain anything.
It was around then that Joey stopped seeing JC. He stopped going to rehearsals -- "I already learned the fucking choreography, and I can sing the fucking songs. I've toured Europe, don't want to do it again," he said, after Lou told them they were going on tour and Justin insisted he come. He locked himself in Chris' room when Joey showed up, most of the time, and the rest of the time, he would sit and stare at Joey unabashedly, as if he held life's secrets.
It should have been infuriating, and yet it wasn't.
It wasn't like they really spoke, though. It was really hard, Joey thought, having to start from scratch with someone you thought you knew, and then something happened, and suddenly they weren't the same. He couldn't quite grasp that JC and Scott weren't interchangeable, because they should have been, by all means; and it seemed as if JC was holding Joey responsible for too many things he might have actually done, but he wouldn't even know because he hadn't yet done them.
It should have been infuriating, and it was.
"Dude, can you just tell me what's going on in his head?" he asked Chris, maybe a week before they left for Europe. It seemed appropriate, considering touring Europe would mean not seeing JC for a few months. He couldn't figure out if this was a good or bad thing.
"How would I know?" Chris asked.
"Because you're the only one he talks to," Joey said.
"Nah," Chris said. "He talks to Justin. And, um. er. Scott, yeah."
"He doesn't."
"He does!" Chris said.
"Not talks talks," Joey insisted.
Chris shrugged. "Whatever. Go talk to him yourself." He paused. "He misses you, you know."
"Dude, the hell?" Joey asked. "He never talked to me when I saw him."
"No, you, I mean. Not talking."
"What?" Joey said, but Chris was already wandering away.
It was just when Joey thought maybe JC had disappeared for good that he showed up at Joey's apartment. It was raining again, and it was the middle of the night, and they were going to be flying to Germany the next night, and Joey couldn't sleep. And somehow it seemed too rushed, too awkward for JC to be there.
"What?" Joey asked, when he flung open the door, instead of something standard, like, "hi" or "do you want to come in?" or "what the fuck are you doing here, it's three in the morning" or "why aren't you asleep?"
And instead of answering, JC threaded his arms around Joey's neck and kissed him, right there in the hallway.
"Hi," JC breathed, when he pulled away. His eyes were glittering darkly in the dim light of the hallway, the light reflecting from within Joey's apartment. "Can I come in?" His voice was soft, whispery. Scott never spoke like that, Joey thought. "I, um, wanted to talk to you, since you're leaving tomorrow," JC said.
"Okay," Joey said, but it looked like JC was going to be staying even if he said no, because he'd wandered in and collapsed on the couch before the word had left Joey's mouth. Joey kicked the door closed behind him, joined JC on the couch. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," JC said, and laid a cool hand on Joey's cheek. He was still damp from the rain, Joey noticed. "Can I just," he asked, and leaned over to kiss Joey again, slowly, fingers tracing along Joey's jaw. "It's just," he mumbled after a moment, "I miss doing this, if it's okay."
"Uh-huh," Joey said.
"We used to do this," JC said, lips brushing Joey's cheek, "or we will, or, or." His breath fanned out, and Joey slipped his arms around JC's waist - he was a lot smaller than Scott. "I was - you - we, we. were in. I'm, still," and he shuddered deeply when Joey licked at his ear. "Can you, we -" he asked desperately.
"Yeah," Joey said, breathily in JC's ear. He tugged at the hem of JC's shirt, pulling it off, fingers curling around JC's shouder blades. "You're so," he said.
"Mm," JC mumbled, slipped a hand down Joey's pants. "Please," he said, licking at Joey's lips, and Joey didn't have the heart to say no. He didn't know that he'd want to, anyway.
Some time in the middle of the night, he felt JC shift against him, the ridges of his spine poking at Joey's chest. JC's legs were still twined around his; Joey's head was buried in JC's neck, nose pressed against the underside of JC's jaw. JC sighed heavily, and he smelled like fresh rain and Chris' cologne that Justin always stole, and something Joey couldn't place.
"Joe," JC mumbled, and Joey froze. JC's fingers found his, and he brought Joey's hand to his lips, scarcely touching skin. "Missed you so fucking much."
"I know," Joey whispered, against JC's skin, but he really didn't.
Joey woke up to the sound of the phone ringing, followed by the beep of the answering machine, and Chris' voice saying, "holy fuck, flying to Germany today, isn't that fucking cool, man? Wake the hell up," from the kitchen. He scrubbed the back of his hand across his eyes, blinked a few times, sat up.
The first thing that gave it away was that JC was gone.
The second thing was the certain numbness just beneath Joey's sternum he was pretty sure hadn't been there the night before.