Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:
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If reading this is in any way illegal where you are or at your age, or you don't want to read about male/male relationships, go away. You shouldn't be here.
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I don't know any of the celebrities in this story, and this story in no way is meant to imply anything about their sexualities, personalities, or anything else. This is a work of pure fiction.
Questions and commentary can be sent to "writerboy69@hotmail.com".
"What the hell were you thinking, Brian?" Kevin demanded, glaring at him across the limousine.
"Leave him alone," Howie said quietly, turning away from the window to glare back at Kevin.
Howie sat on one side of the limousine, on the same seat as Brian, but not really next to him. Brian was pressed against the other side of the car, as far from any of the other four as he could get. His legs were folded up under him, and he was looking down at his hands as they sat motionless in his lap. Howie was worried about Brian, worried about how weak and vulnerable he looked, and he didn't want Kevin badgering him right now. Brian was looking a little better since they'd been out, looking a little more aware and less sickly since they'd gotten out into the fresh air, and Howie wanted to protect him from Kevin and the others, who sat on either side of Kevin on the opposite seat.
"Back off, Howie," Kevin snapped, his eyes darting back to Brian. "He needs to answer the question."
"Yeah," Nick sneered. "What the fuck is wrong with you, Brian?"
"I said leave him alone," Howie said, louder now. All three of them looked at him now, surprised to see him stepping over his bounds, but Brian didn't move.
"And I said back off," Kevin repeated, his voice icy. "I don't think you realize how much trouble Brian has caused today. Things are going to be very bad, and people are going to be looking closely at all of us, because of what he just did. We talked about this yesterday, and I thought Brian understood that this was not the time. We have an image to maintain, and."
"And getting a divorce is so much worse than getting arrested, or driving your boat through a reef, or turning into a lush," Brian said quietly. "Sorry we can't all be perfect like you, Kevin."
Howie gasped in surprise, stunned that Brian could be so uncharacteristically cold, as AJ and Nick both exploded at once.
"That wasn't my fault!" AJ claimed, deep in denial again. "People were just always handing me drinks and drugs and stuff, and I just wanted them to like me!"
"You shut your fucking faggot mouth!" Nick screamed at the same time, lunging toward Brian as Kevin shoved him back without looking at him. Nick's many legal issues were another of the group's many taboo buttons to never be mentioned or pushed. Howie thought idly that Brian's sexuality, at least in the way that the others talked about it, should also be off limits, but no one else ever seemed to consider that.
"Shut up!" Kevin said harshly, finally raising his voice, hissing the words out through gritted teeth. "Everyone be quiet for a minute, and Brian, stop saying nasty things about everyone."
"Like you're not doing the same thing," Howie snapped as Brian just watched them all, the same sad, almost defeated expression on his face.
"Howie, I said to shut up," Kevin repeated, his voice dripping with condescension. "Brian, what were you thinking saying that during an interview?"
The car was quiet as they waited. Howie watched Brian, trying to read him, trying to figure out how he could help someone who didn't seem that interested in helping himself. Kevin sat watching Brian, his fingers folded on his lap, the look on his face letting them know that the idea that Brian might not answer him hadn't even crossed his mind. AJ was hysterically blotting at his eyes, peering through his fingers to see who was watching him and might feel sorry for him, and Nick was just glaring at Brian, red faced, his mouth curled into a sneer. Brian looked around at all of them and thought that Tommy was right after all. None of these people cared about him. He had no friends in this car. Howie might say he cared, but why would he suddenly start caring now, when he'd had all this time before to show it? It had to be an act, a lie of some sort. Only Tommy hadn't lied to him, because he loved Brian, and he was the only one who did.
Another voice started to whisper to Brian, to tell him that he was wrong, but Brian felt a breath of cold air, the smallest tickle, slide across his face, and he pushed that other thought aside. Tommy was here, and Tommy would help him. The cold air in the car seemed to caress him, to slide across his face like fingers, ruffling through his hair.
"I was thinking that maybe I wanted to tell the truth," Brian answered softly, feeling feathery touches across his chest, under his shirt.
"Did someone just turn the air on?" AJ asked, looking around, and Howie realized that the car felt a little chilly suddenly. He remembered what had happened in Brian's suite, and quickly pushed the thought away. That wasn't real, hadn't happened the way he thought, because it wasn't possible.
"We talked about this yesterday," Kevin began, his mouth set in that patronizing line Brian knew so well.
"No, you talked about it yesterday," Brian corrected, cutting him off. The air in the car seemed to swirl around him, holding him, protecting him. He felt a finger run down his jaw, and felt eyelashes flutter over his cheek, as if Tommy was right here, right next to him. "I told you what I was going to do, and that's what I did."
Kevin hadn't honestly expected Brian to go through with it, though. It was so unlike him to stand up for himself, to not follow along, and Kevin wondered what had happened to him, what could have changed him. He'd always seen Brian as sort of weak, someone who needed to be watched out for, sheltered a little. When they were kids Brian had that heart trouble, and Kevin, being bigger and stronger, had always tried to look out for him. When Brian had come out to them, had told them he was a homo, Kevin had realized why Brian always seemed so frail. He was a pansy, a fairy, not a man. He'd lied to Kevin all their lives, and then expected him to just go along with it, to think it was ok. When Brian had wanted to tell everyone, Kevin had exerted that same old control, leaned on Brian with that same force, and Brian had knuckled right under, because that's what his kind of guy did.
What he had done at the radio interview could still be handled. It was bad, but at least he hadn't come full out and said that he was queer. Instead, when the DJ had been asking about stress involved with being famous, and what it was like. Everyone had been putting on their public faces, smiling more or less, although Brian did look a little distracted. The DJ's always had a list of things worked out beforehand that they weren't allowed to touch upon, and Kevin realized now that they would have to put Brian's personal life on that list, at least until Kevin had him straightened out again, no pun intended.
"Is it hard to balance your careers and your personal lives, especially with so many people watching?" the DJ had asked, a fairly standard question that they were used to fielding.
"It can be hard sometimes," AJ began. "With all the press and stuff it can be hard sometimes to find places to just be yourselves."
"But we still have each other, too," Nick continued, smiling sweetly.
"You're all really as close as you seem, then?" the DJ asked, grinning.
"Of course we are," Nick answered, and Brian felt his stomach lurch. How could they do this, and how come no one ever saw through it? "We spend a lot of our personal time together. We're all like brothers, really."
"Kevin and Brian, do you ever find it hard balancing time between the guys here, who you seem so close to, and your wives? You are the only married Boys, after all."
"Well, the band is important to me, but my wife comes first, of course," Kevin answered smoothly.
"I'm getting a divorce," Brian blurted, breaking everyone's rhythm.
Nick paled, and AJ made a strangled little choking noise, while Howie watched, stunned that Brian had just let it out like that. The DJ's eyes got huge, like dinner plates, and he fumbled for another question, realizing this was something no one else had heard yet.
"Did you say a divorce?" he asked, fumbling.
Kevin put an arm around Brian's shoulders, pulling him tightly against him. Brian flinched a little, but knew he was in trouble as he felt Kevin's fingers digging painfully into his upper arm.
"Brian and Leighanne might be having a rough spot right now, but we're all here for them," Kevin said, smiling, all but crushing Brian as his arm flexed, pulling at him. Kevin was firm, dense, all muscle, and Brian felt endangered suddenly. "I'm sure they'll work this out, but until then, maybe we should give Brian his privacy, you know?"
"Oh, I understand," the DJ said, frowning, feeling cheated.
He'd moved on to other topics, and the interview had ended soon after. Once they were in the car, though, Kevin had immediately started in on Brian. Kevin didn't think Brian understood the seriousness of what he'd just done, and he couldn't start to cover it until he drove the point home that Brian wasn't to repeat this behavior.
"I thought I made it clear that you needed to talk this over with management before you said anything, or made any stupid decisions," Kevin said, waiting for Brian to be sorry.
"I don't need to clear my personal life with anyone," Brian said, not moving. He felt hands sliding over his neck, caressing the side of his face, holding him and comforting him.
"You do when it affects the rest of us!" Kevin barked harshly. "What does Leighanne have to say about all of this?"
Howie thought about jumping in to answer that one, since he'd actually spoken to Leighanne, but he wanted to wait, and give Brian a chance to do this himself. If he was going to stand up for himself, stand up to Kevin, he needed to learn how to do it on his own, and so far he seemed to be doing a damn good job. Howie waited, ready to jump in if they all ganged up on Brian, but also to see if something else was going to happen. He wasn't sure what might, but the car felt pretty chilly.
"She left," Brian answered, shrugging. "We talked about it, and she went to go lay low somewhere, until this blows over."
"It better fucking blow over soon!" Nick blurted, jumping in.
"Nick," Howie said, low but firm.
"No, shut up, Howie," Nick said, glancing at him before turning back to Brian. "Why can't you just listen to Kevin? Why do you have to go and try to fuck everything up for us?"
"Why do you have to fuck everything up for me?" Brian shot back. His voice was level, and almost without emotion. He felt Tommy's hands holding him, rubbing him, keeping him safe. Only Tommy cared about him, not any of these people.
"Brian, do you want to, um, talk about what's going on?" Kevin asked suddenly, startling him. Kevin had been watching Brian this whole time, and saw what Howie had tried to say the other morning. Brian did look strained, and tired. "Brian, are you sick? You don't look well. Do you, you know, do you have something?"
"Probably AIDS from one of his assramming boyfriends," Nick said, not bothering to keep it under his breath. Howie kicked him. "Ow!"
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Howie demanded.
"Knock it off, both of you!" Kevin snapped, still watching Brian.
Brian looked away at Nick's comment, looking down at his hands. He pulled in on himself, feeling all the hurt again, all the pain and sense of betrayal. Friends wouldn't treat him like this, and wouldn't let other people treat him this way, either. He couldn't do this anymore, couldn't fight with them, couldn't try to make them understand. They never would, and he had been a fool to even try. Staring out the window, swallowing hard to keep himself from crying in front of Nick, or Kevin, because it would be the very worst thing he could do, he saw that they were pulling into the hotel finally. Tommy would be here, waiting for him. Tommy would help him, and take care of him, and love him, because only Tommy did.
"No, I'm not sick," Brian said, keeping his voice level, feeling Tommy's hands moving over him faster now, still light and insubstantial, rubbing at his arms, smoothing over his shoulders, brushing over his face. "I'm just tired. Tired of everything."
"Brian?" Howie asked, concerned. These sounded like dangerous thoughts, the kinds of thoughts Leighanne had mentioned on the phone when she explained to Howie again how worried about Brian she was. "Are you ok?"
"Like any of you care," Brian said, sneering at him. Howie jerked back, surprised. He and Brian had seemed so close this morning. What was happening now? "None of you care about me. No one does, and I can't do this any more. I can't live like this anymore, I can't deal with any of this, and I can't deal with any of you!"
The car had come to a stop as Brian yelled that, and he jumped out of the door, running for the lobby and the elevators. Tommy's voice whispered in his ear.
"Come upstairs, Brian," Tommy whispered. "Come to me. I'll take care of you. I love you, Brian. Only I do."
Kevin, Howie, and Nick somehow lunged from the car at the same time, AJ trailing anxiously behind as the other three sprinted after Brian.
"Brian, wait!" Kevin yelled. A porter's cart, piled high with suitcases, came flying across the lobby and Kevin spilled into it, toppling over as the porter came trotting over, already apologizing.
"We're not done with you!" Nick yelled, not even pretending to be friendly. His toe caught on a roll in the carpet and he went down face first to the floor.
Howie practically leapt over Nick, his eyes darting back and forth for obstacles. He knew that he'd just watched that roll appear in the carpet, seen it swell up from the floor as Nick ran toward it, but he couldn't think about that now. He had to catch up with Brian, had to help him, had to save him from whatever was happening inside him, never mind what was happening at this hotel. They were all connected somehow, and Brian was right in the middle of it. Brian darted into the elevator and the doors immediately began sliding closed.
"Brian, please!" Howie called, almost losing his footing as he skidded from rug to tile.
The doors were closing too slowly to stop him as he raced toward them. Brian looked up, his eyes meeting Howie's, and Howie saw that he somehow looked contented and afraid at the same time. He looked trapped. Just as he reached the elevator, hands caught Howie's chest and shoved him backwards, a blast of cold air rushing out of the elevator as Howie landed on his butt on the tile. The doors slammed closed.
In the elevator, Brian leaned back against the hand rail, feeling Tommy's hands on him again, sliding over him beneath his clothes. Tommy's palms spread across his chest, caressing, kneading at his pecs. They ran up and down over his abs, and then he felt them sliding up his thighs beneath his pants, brushing over the hair on his legs. Brian sighed, his head lolling back against the wall of the elevator, eyes closed, as he felt fingers tracing over his balls, and then felt another hand wrap around his cock, squeezing it, the fingers running around the rim of his cockhead.
"Tommy," he sighed, feeling his cock throb in Tommy's grip. Another hand ran up his chest, over his neck, to smooth his hair, and then dropped down to tweak his nipples.
"Brian," Tommy sighed. "Be with me, Brian. I love you."
"Yes," Brian answered. Both hands were on his cock now, squeezing, stroking, tugging at him. "Yes."
He felt a phantom tongue lick up the side of his face, over his cheek, and then the elevator door opened.
"Be with me, Brian," Tommy whispered again.
Brian walked quickly down the hall to his suite, fumbling his card out and jerking the door open. He stepped inside and Tommy was there, right inside, waiting for him, naked and beautiful. Tommy grabbed his face, jamming his tongue into Brian's mouth as he slammed Brian's back up against the door. Brian moaned, throwing his head back as Tommy began to suckle at his neck, diving under his chin. Tommy's hands slid up Brian's chest again and grabbed the edges of his shirt, ripping it open as buttons flew. He smoothed it back off of Brian's shoulders as he began to work feverishly at his belt.
"Yes, Tommy, yes," Brian sighed, running his hands up and down Tommy's smooth back as Tommy's hand roamed all over his body, massaging him almost roughly, urgently, as he clawed Brian's clothes off. "Yes."
"No!" Howie cried, smacking the elevator door with his fists.
He turned, looking around, and began to sprint up the stairs. He had to get there, had to help Brian, and he wasn't going to wait for the next car. Behind him, in the lobby, AJ stood between Nick and Kevin, trying to figure out who to help, afraid that people would think he liked one of them more than the other, and then what kind of friend would they say he was?
"God damn it, AJ, fucking help me!" Nick said, holding his mouth as blood dripped out from between his fingers. AJ raced over to him, helping him up as the porter explained to Kevin that he was sure he'd set the brake on the luggage cart.
"I'm sorry!" AJ yelped, grabbing Nick's shoulder. "Please don't yell at me."
"Shut the fuck up and find me a towel or something!" Nick snapped as the manager came rushing over.
"Are you all right, sir?" the manager asked fawningly, helping AJ lead Nick toward the bathrooms.
"I should fucking sue!" Nick snapped, holding his mouth.
AJ glanced back. The roll in the carpet was gone, smoothed out as if it hadn't ever been there.
Brian ran his hands over Tommy's head, feeling how soft his short hair was, as he watched his shaft slide in and out of Tommy's mouth. Brian's clothes were strewn about the suiteroom, wherever they had landed, and Tommy knelt at his feet, his hands on Brian's ass, urging him forward as Brian thrust into his mouth. Brian felt dizzy and out of breath from sprinting through the lobby, but he seemed powerless to stop Tommy, unable to defend against his insistence. Tommy's tongue washed over his cock, dipping inside, pressing against his slit as Tommy's hands squeezed and caressed his balls, tugging at them, urging Brian to shoot.
Howie was getting a little short of breath as well, wondering why they always took suites so near the top floors. Wasn't it some kind of fire hazard or something? Shouldn't they be lower to the ground, so they could get out quicker? This would be well worth discussing with management, if they still had careers when this was all over. He burst out of the stairwell at last, running down the hall toward Brian's door.
"Tommy," Brian panted, his voice a squeak.
His body tensed as he felt himself pushing over the edge again, his cum shooting into Tommy's mouth as Tommy sucked it out of him, draining him. The room swam, spinning around him, and as he dropped to the floor, weak, spent, he felt Tommy's mouth close over his, sucking at him with insistent need. He saw Tommy's blue eyes in front of him, wide, bright, impossibly huge, and then he was unconscious, sliding to the floor even as Tommy's hands began to work at him again.
"Brian!" Howie called, pounding at the door. He knocked, and tried the knob, rattling it, but it was locked. He pressed his ear to the door, but couldn't hear anything inside. "Brian?"
Maybe Brian hadn't come up here after all. Howie couldn't be sure this was where he was going. He thought frantically, trying to remember what else was in the hotel. The ballroom was on the first floor, but there was a restaurant above them. Maybe Brian had gone to get something to eat, or a drink? Based on his state in the car, a drink seemed more likely, and Howie walked quickly back toward the stairs, positive that he would find Brian nursing a drink. On his way up, he pulled out his phone, and tried Brian's, but it just rang and rang, the voicemail picking up over and over. He called down to the front desk, asking to be transferred to Brian's room, but the phone there just rang and rang as well.
The maitre de at the restaurant said he hadn't seen Brian, or anyone matching his description, but he was more than willing to let Howie look around at the tables anyway. Howie crossed to the other side, checking the bar, but Brian wasn't there, either. Now what could he do? He sat at the bar and asked for water with lemon, trying to plan his next move. A little draft of cold air washed over him, and he heard the bottles on the shelves tinkle as they jostled lightly against each other. Remembering what had happened to him in Brian's suite, when he'd almost been flung out the window, he spun, his eyes scanning the room, but there was no one there.
"Your friend is in trouble," a voice said beside him.
Howie turned on his stool and saw a young guy sitting next to him. He was cute, but kind of average, with brown hair and brown eyes, dressed in a plain buttondown and khaki pants. He leaned forward, his elbows on the bar, and stared at Howie, waiting for him to speak. He looked sad somehow, and Howie wondered where he had come from. The bartender walked through a swinging door toward the kitchen, leaving them alone.
"Excuse me?" Howie asked, blinking at him. "What did you say?"
"I said your friend is in trouble," the guy repeated. "He's in danger."
"Which friend?" Howie asked, wondering if this guy knew who he was. The air in the bar seemed cold suddenly.
"You know which one," the guy answered, still gazing levelly at Howie. His eyes were warm, but flat.
"Look, mister, I don't know who you are," Howie began, pulling his chair out a little. "And I don't think you know any of my friends."
The guy's hand whipped out, catching Howie's arm, and Howie gasped. His skin was cold, like ice, and his grip seemed to burn into Howie's wrist.
"If you don't help him, he will die," the man said. "Do you want to help him?"
Howie stopped struggling, feeling a chill wash over him. Whether it was from the cold air in the room, or from the fear that had just coursed through him, he didn't know, but he realized he needed to hear what this guy had to say. The time for questions would come later. Right now, he just needed to listen, although he couldn't explain how he knew it.
"Yes, I want to help him," Howie said, as the guy released his arm. "Please help me."
"There are things you do not know," the man said, looking away. Howie's eyes darted to the mirror behind the bar, and he noted academically that the guy did, indeed, have a reflection.
"What?" Howie asked urgently, wishing he'd just spit it out. "What don't I know?"
"Things here are not what they seem," the guy said. "You need to know that."
"I already know that!" Howie said, smacking the bar in frustration. Things here were most definitely not what they seemed, unless you were trapped in a Stephen King movie.
"You also need to know that he lies," the man said.
"Brian lies?" Howie asked, confused.
"No, he lies to Brian," the man answered. "He says he'll help, but he never does. He says he loves, but he does not. He lies."
"What can I do?" Howie asked, unsure of who they were even talking about.
"Help your friend," the man answered matter of factly. "The truth can help him."
The bartender stepped back through the swinging door, carrying an armful of glasses, and Howie glanced at him. When he turned back the main next to him was gone. Howie turned, searching the bar, but the room was empty. The man, whoever he was, had simply vanished, and taken the cold air with him. Howie threw some money down on the bar, not sure if you even had to pay for water, and raced back downstairs. He knocked on Brian's suite door again.
"Brian? Brian, it's Howie," he called, listening. He couldn't hear anything.
Inside the suite, Brian's head rolled to the side, his eyes fluttering as he heard the knocking at the door. Tommy was astride him, all pale perfection, riding him again, legs flexing, abs crunching. Brian's cock was buried deep in Tommy's ass, and sweat dripped off of him as he struggled to answer Howie, to call out to him. Tommy's hands grabbed the sides of his face, turning him away from the door, and Tommy's mouth clamped over his again, smothering him.
"I love you, Brian," Tommy whispered in his mind.
Howie paced away toward the elevator. There were things he didn't know, the man had said. He needed to find the truth, to save Brian. The truth about what?
"About this place," Howie answered himself, whispering. "Things here are not what they seem."
Where could he go? The answer sprang into his mind, glaring in its obviousness. Riding the elevator down to the lobby, he walked out and climbed into a cab, directing the driver to take him to the library. Once there, he asked the girl at the desk for help looking up local newspapers.
"You're lucky," she said, leading him over to a bank of computers. "We got a grant recently, and we've been able to put most of our periodicals in a searchable database online. It's been a rather extensive project, but we're almost completely caught up."
"If you help me find what I'm looking for, I can promise you an even bigger grant," Howie said, grinning.
With the girl there to show him how to use the equipment and familiarize himself with the system, Howie quickly found himself scanning through articles about the hotel. A lot of them were just write ups about conventions, or functions that had taken place there, and didn't seem really important, but his breath caught when he clicked open the next one, and saw a familiar face staring out at him.
He'd only seen it for a second, but it was the face he's seen reflected over his shoulder in the bathroom, the one that had been behind him, looming over the tub, and Brian. The same white blond hair, the same pale, pale blue eyes. This was the same person, no mistake.
"Local Man Leaps from Hotel Roof," the headline screamed.
To be concluded.