You don't remember when he shifted. You don't remember when he cut his hair or started dressing differently. You don't remember when he stopped being that older brother you kind of looked up to, and started being a guy who just emitted raw sex. You don't remember when you started being attracted to him or getting your tongue tied when he talked to you or tripping over your feet when he was around or jumping when he touched you.
You don't really remember when you admitted it to yourself, but that didn't really matter.
You don't remember when you asked JC if he knew if he was interested in guys, because you were kind of interested in him. You don't remember how long it was before JC said he thought he might be, because he sometimes saw him checking out guys at clubs. You do remember how your heart skipped a beat when he said those words.
You don't remember when it was that you cornered him at a club and finally got the nerve to tell him how you felt. You don't remember how long he just stood there staring at you. You don't remember how long you stayed there before walking away, and leaving the club unannounced. You don't remember how far you'd gotten when he caught up with you. You do remember how roughly he kissed you on some nameless street corner, and how much you liked it.
You don't exactly remember when you started being 'together'. You don't remember when the relationship mentality kicked in. You don't even remember if you wanted it. You don't remember when you got accustomed to it. You don't remember when you sort of fell in love with him. You don't remember the first time you told him that. You don't remember the first time he told you he loved you, either, or any of the times thereafter.
Maybe because he never did?
You remember that. You remember moments of your physically intense relationship. You remember how he felt in your arms, and how you felt in his. You remember his lips and all the times he told you that you were all he needed, ever. You remember your feelings of utter bliss with him. You remember your dreams and all those nights you'd stay up planning your future. You remember.. him.
You don't really remember when he started to pull away. You don't remember when he told you he didn't want to do this any more, so you were over. You don't remember when he hooked up with some girl on sound crew. You don't remember when it stopped being your room he came to when you were on tour, and when it stopped being your house he lived in when you were at home. You do remember how much it hurt.
You don't remember when she started showing up with him more and more often. You don't remember when they were announced to the media and the world simultaneously loved and hated the happy couple. You don't remember when they said they were engaged, because you were last to know. You don't remember the day they got married, even though you still have the invitation crushed in the pocket of one of your jackets. You do remember it was the day the world fell apart around you.
You don't remember when you stopped talking. You don't remember when your friendship dissolved. You don't remember when all semblance of a relationship between the two of you died.
You do remember all the jealousy and hatred you felt for her. You remember the days you'd sit in the studio and he'd tell her she was all he needed. You remember watching them kiss, silently seething. You remember hearing them through hotel walls, how she was always noisy and he never made a sound. You remember that he was loud with you. You remember when their son was born, and everyone was so amazingly happy. You remember what came of their love, and what came of yours, and you can tell the difference.
You remember that there's a Mr. and Mrs. Chris Kirkpatrick plus son, and you're still just lonely Justin Timberlake. You don't remember much else.
You don't remember why it all seemed so inconsequential you didn't memorize it in the first place. You're kind of glad you didn't, though, because now you're trying to forget.