"It's all about keeping your attention, Lance," Justin said, sounding very much like a text book of sorts. "They," he continued, turning his head and pointing to an imaginary audience, which is really the thump of the people on the dancer floor, who aren't even paying attention to the impromptu lesson being given. "are watching you. They expect you to smile, and to be good. A good, nice, person."
"I'm good," Lance whines through clenched teeth. "I'm fine."
"But that's it though. You aren't fine. Right now you are very nervous, tense because I'm right next to you, not letting you do whatever the hell you want. Stop fidgeting."
Lance tightened his hand on his knee, willing it to stop its bouncing.
"Deep breath. Now release. Good."
Lance took in some healthy, controlled breaths. So controlled that he felt a little light headed from it.
"Smile," Justin prompted. "No, a little less, you look like the fucking Joker from Batman when you do it like that. That's it. Simple, easy, charming. That's what the world wants to see. Keep that face no matter what. You move from that face and people start to think that there's more to find. And as we all know, a hungry media will feed off whatever it will get, and it could eat. You. Alive."
Lance looks off to the side to study Justin's face. It's fucking creepy what Justin's saying. Isn't it Chris who's normally this abstract in his thinking?
"You're losing the face. Keep the face." He leans in and quickly dabs his lips against Lance's lips, smiling as Lance holds his look of ease and happiness, although it's strained. "Keep the face," he repeats, getting up and sauntering off to the dance floor.
And when he comes back, Lance still wears the face.