WARNING: This story contains relationships between adults of the same sex. If you are too young (18 or 21 dependent on local area laws) or if this isn't your thing, then go read some of Meera Syal's book Life Isn't All Ha-Ha-Hee-Hee. Another book I recommend, from the bottom of my heart.
DISCLAIMER: This story is FICTION, which means it really isn't true. It doesn't imply anything about the sexuality of Nick Carter, or any other Backstreet Boy, nor does it imply that their characters and/or behaviour are as portrayed.
slightly embarrassed I know, I know, this should have been out last week. If it's any consolation, it's a bit longer than usual, but still. Also, I seem to have fallen prey to the desire to insert lyrics into this chapter, but I'll try to make this the first and the last time I do that. But by now, you'll know not to trust my promises. : )
Well, here goes part four. Before it starts though, I'd like to protract (is that transitive?) the wait just a little, and say a big thank you to Dara Lynn, and Matt, and John (hope the results go okay -- clock's ticking!) for sending me mail. Two other stories I'm really enjoying at the moment (both involving Nick coincidentally) are Some Kind of Bliss by Braan (who hasn't posted a new segment for a while, feel free to email him and persuade him to! : ) and Beneath It All, by Scotty T.
Oops, nearly forgot! Remember, I want to know why you hate/love (and anything in between) the story, so comments and feedback are ALWAYS welcome. The address is: dreamer@beautifulboy.co.uk
Finding a Belief-4:
Nick stirred restlessly on his bed, and awoke. His dreams came crashing down around him as the heat caught him by the throat and threatened to strangle him. He hated sleeping in the afternoons, especially on hot days. He always woke up with a sense of nausea, and a grogginess that would abide for at least the next hour. Sweat covered his every limb, and he sighed as he touched his t-shirt, felt it soggy and stripped it off. Soon all he wore were his boxers: the rest of his clothes were in a pile by his feet on the floor and he was heading for the shower. Outside, Padma and Alex were asleep too, in each others arms, their conversation having gotten increasingly more abstracted and distant until it faded away altogether and they abandoned themselves to sleep.
A rustle interrupted Alex's thoughts. He opened his eyes a crack to catch his second glimpse that day of Nick shirtless. Though his eyes weren't fully open, the image burned itself on to his retinas, and even when his eyes closed again, Nick stood still like a snapshot, his body covered in that sheen of moistness, light playing off his frame, a searingly bright patch of skin here, calmer subdued golden skin there, the gently muscled arms and chest, the toned stomach with the line of dimming hair that descended from his navel into the white fabric of his boxers.
Alex was captured by a sudden desire to possess that body -- he wanted to reach out, to touch, to feel it, feel the softness of the skin, the yielding flesh, the gentle give of his muscles... the thoughts lasted only an instant, but it was enough. He blinked open his eyes, summoning himself out of his dreamworld, and tried his hardest to steer his mind away from the thoughts.
Nick looked at himself in the mirror, frowned, and peered more closely. There was an odd charcoal-grey smudge on his left cheek. He tried wiping it away, and with nothing happening, he wet his fingers beneath the tap and tried again; this time it smeared slightly and disappeared. Idly, as he turned on the water in the shower, he wondered where it had come from, but he couldn't think of an answer and forgot all about it.
Yet Nick remained in Alex's mind, and the nagging feeling that had been there earlier this morning returned in force. He knew that body, somehow, as though he'd been born with the knowledge... no... not born with it... it felt new -- and suddenly a piece slotted into place. He'd not only seen the body, he'd savoured its touch, its caress, it had run itself under his hands -- how was that at all possible? He was given the answer immediately, as though it had just fallen into his lap from above. He had woken up this morning with a start; he now knew why. The sunlight that had come pouring in through the window had permeated into his dreams, setting him on fire, even as... he drew a shaky breath... even as Nick licked his body, his tongue trailed fire across him instead of wetness, and that was why he'd woken up. And that was why he'd woken up how he'd woken up.
Alex groaned quietly and let his head drop back against the armrest. This couldn't be happening -- this shouldn't be happening. It felt awkward, as though it had been misplaced upon him... Suddenly he could see claustrophobia stretching its garrotting arms around him, everything, the heat, the dead weight of Padma above him, the noise from the bathroom, everything seemed to be depriving him of oxygen... he had to get out, he had to get away, to some place where he could be alone. Abruptly uncaring about anything, he slid out from under Padma, startling her into awakening in the process, and quickly grabbing his sneakers he almost ran out of the room.
What's wrong with him? she wondered, somewhat in disarray on the sofa. She straightened herself out and lay there gazing at the ceiling, and reckoning Nick to be about to come out of the bathroom just about... now. Sure enough the door opened, and Nick came out, simply clad in t-shirt and shorts, hair still damp, but rapidly drying, and looking perplexedly about him. She smiled at him.
"Where's Alex?" he asked.
"Uhh... I really don't know: he just left in a big hurry all of a sudden. He didn't even say where he was going."
"Oh." He went into his bedroom. He came out again. "Wait! What time is it?"
"It's a quarter-past two... don't you have to be --"
"Shit!" Nick swore feelingly. "Kevin's gonna have my hide!" He ran into the bedroom once more and emerged, this time with clothes, into which he speedily proceeded to change. "Shit, shit, shit." He stopped getting dressed suddenly, and looked at Padma and blushed. "Sorry," he said, remembering his manners.
Padma smiled again. He looked a little silly with his trousers half-on and one arm in a t-shirt. Waving away his apology, she said, "Don't worry about it. Alex does it all the time -- I'm used to it. Keep on getting dressed."
Nick took her advice and threw on his shoes and hurtled out of the room, shouting as he went, "Your tickets and passes for tonight are on the table! Show starts at seven-thirty!" She couldn't help but laugh at his manic departure, and getting off the sofa, she crossed to the table. There indeed lay a pair of tickets sitting side by side with a pair of backstage passes.
The sea air flooded his senses, cooling and soothing his fervid emotion. He stared at the calming rush of surf as it hastened towards the shore. There was barely anyone out here -- it was far too hot at this time of day. He lay on his stomach atop his rock, feeling its smooth, surf-pounded surface beneath him. He had kicked off his shoes and they lay on the fingers of rocks just behind. The rock on which he lay was almost spherical; it was just a little flatter on top. His arms fell away at right angles, as though he were trying to grasp the whole boulder in his embrace. Yet the thoughts wouldn't come. It was frustrating -- like writer's block, except with thoughts. This was his process, he would think long and hard about it, until the thoughts themselves became a cleansing process, and they left him with an answer. But today, for the first time, he couldn't think. There was a blankness in his thoughts, an unspoken knowledge that left him uneasy. He tried thinking logically about it. True, he had bonded with Nick unexpectedly quickly, but it was only a day and he couldn't possibly know what Nick was truly like -- could he? At the same time though, Nick was a closed book at the moment. He couldn't read him at all, and he was at a loss. He looked out across the sea.
The breakers fragmented the blue of the water, shattering it into a myriad different pieces, tiny shreds of water that bounced away rebelliously to settle into the sand. Far in the distance, he could make out the shape of a yacht, the sails brightly reflecting the sun, starkly outlined against the haze-grey blue of the horizon. Off to one side, lumbered a pregnant-looking tanker, listing almost dangerously as it gyrated slowly to its new course. The reek of the sea reached into him, and his nose wrinkled slightly. The bellow of a foghorn cascaded around the bay.
He'd deliberately let himself get distracted, in case it would result in any answer, but it hadn't worked. He was still as lost as ever, and he couldn't work it out. He was well and truly stuck. He sighed, picked up his shoes and lifted up off the rock. It only seemed that the more he thought about it, the more it possessed his thoughts, and the more his thoughts wanted to possess it.
He began walking, not really caring where, but eventually ending up in a park. The sprinklers were working overtime here, even though conventional wisdom suggested that plants oughtn't to be watered in strong sunlight, lest the leaves scorch. He sat down on a bench. A woman who was being taken for a walk by her dogs, a pair of huge alsatians lurched past him. She looked like a film-starlet. The dogs' flanks were heaving and their breaths were coming in short pants. Perhaps they were trying to take her home and into the cool.
Padma sat and watched as Nick tried to make his apologies to Kevin. She had decided not to laze around at the hotel, and instead had come to watch the Boys rehearse. So far, only Kevin, Brian and Nick were here anyway, and assorted sound-technicians and crew were buzzing around them like bees over honey.
Kevin kept staring at her. She couldn't help but notice his gaze fixedly pointing in her direction, and she felt uncomfortable. What was worse was that she knew he had good reason to be perplexed by her: she hadn't spoken to him all day. She couldn't face it, it wasn't in her nature to talk about things like... that. Sure, she could joke about it in an abstract sort of a way, but even then she'd have to force herself to do it.
Howie and AJ ran in, sweating and apologizing profusely, and Kevin interrupted his vigil on Padma to shoot them both a look that spoke volumes. Chagrined, they stepped back to assume their positions, while Kevin spoke into his mike. There was a screeching shriek of feedback that made them all wince.
"Okay," his voice boomed throughout the stadium, "Now we're all here, we can begin... Sammy, what's our first job...?"
Padma let his slow-spoken voice occupy a background seat in her brain as she once again disappeared in her thoughts. The same thoughts circulated in her head, until a great deal later, she discovered that she did want to tell Alex, though: she couldn't keep it from him forever. Abruptly, she made her resolution. Tonight, she'd tell him tonight.
The subject of her thoughts was currently sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands, back in Nick's hotel room. There was an emptiness waiting expectantly inside of him, and he knew exactly how to get rid of it, how to fill the void. It was just that he didn't want to know. His answer stepped in through the door.
"Hey," said Nick, surprised. "I thought you'd still be out."
Alex raised his face from his palms wearily, feeling a great deal older than his eighteen years. "No, I came back about a half-hour ago. Why are you here, anyway? Don't you have to rehearse or something?"
"Well, duh. I came back to pick up some stuff I left behind." Nick grinned. "Did you see I left the..."
"... backstage passes and tickets. Cheers, yeah? It's really good of you to do that for us."
"Forget it man, it's just nice to get the chance to make some friends. The way we work, we don't get many opportunities to be friendly."
Friends. The work banged around inside Alex's head, drowning out the rest of Nick's sentences. Friends. Friends. A friend wouldn't do... that... to another friend, would he? Alex said nothing, too preoccupied with his problems.
"You okay?" asked Nick. The softness of his tone absurdly struck a chord in Alex's heart, and he looked up hopefully, to find Nick looking down at him with concern in his blue eyes. Alex could feel his the edges of his resolve melting and he nodded. "Sure?" persisted Nick. Alex couldn't resist a wry smile. What Nick was doing now so reminded him of what he himself had been doing to Padma earlier.
"Yeah," he said. His throat was hoarse. "I'm fine. Go on, go. Kevin'll be waiting for you."
"'Kay. Anyway, I guess I'll see you later?"
"Definitely," said Alex, managing a half-hearted grin. "Go on." He paused, then added more quietly. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."
"Oh." said Nick. Alex could see he didn't look convinced. And he could have sworn that there was something else. He left in a rush, and the door slammed behind him. There hung in the air after his departure an idea, the spectre of a hesitation. Alex's face fell back into his hands. He was surely going nuts.
Padma looked up as Nick got back, grateful to have someone at whom she could look, and not be forced to notice Kevin's increasingly aggrieved stares.
"Hey, Padma, do you know what's up with Alex?" asked Nick.
Padma frowned a little. She hadn't noticed anything up. Mind you she hadn't seen him all afternoon. "Why? What's happened?"
"Well nothing. He won't tell me," explained Nick. He waited a moment. "How about you? You okay?"
Padma twitched slightly. "Yes, I'm fine."
From the stage Kevin called: "Okay everyone, take ten! Nick, we're gonna need you after the break, yeah?" There was a bustle from the stage as a gaggle of crew flooded over it.
Padma looked round to see that Nick had sat down next to her. She looked at him expectantly. He ran a hand through his hair, looking worried. She returned her attention to some invisible point in the distance. "Kevin told me," he said.
Her head snapped round. "What?"
"Kevin told me about yesterday night."
Her face went white. She wanted to say something, but the words wouldn't form in her mouth, sticking in her throat. She jumped to her feet, and turned away from him.
"Padma..."
She flew out of the stadium on her diaphanous white scarf's angel-wings.
Kevin got down from the stage. "Where's she going?"
Nick turned deep crimson. "I don't know. Nowhere," he mumbled, looking at his feet like a naughty schoolboy receiving a punishment from a teacher.
"Nick. Tell me you didn't."
"Didn't what?" asked Nick with a sinking feeling.
"Didn't tell her."
Nick tarried just a little too long on his reply. It was enough. "I didn't mean to make --"
"-- How could you?" Kevin interrupted, and his voice grew quieter, but tightly-controlled. Nick knew from long-experience this was a bad sign. "I told you in confidence, Nick," he said accusingly.
Nick felt even worse. "I only wanted to help. And --"
"And nothing!" His dark stare pinned Nick where he stood.
"Kevin, I'm really sorry. Please believe me."
"Oh, I believe you Nick." If it was at all possible, his voice grew yet quieter and more strained. "But you see, it's all too easy to say sorry. How easy is it to change?" Kevin stalked off down the aisle, leaving Nick standing, crushed. Howie, who had been watching the whole thing, came over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.
"You alright?" he asked.
Nick nodded dispiritedly.
"He'll be okay."
"That doesn't make it any better, does it?"
"Sometimes you got to take a step back and let things run their course. You can't make everyone happy all of the time." Nick looked so dejected that Howie couldn't help but pull the boy into a hug. Sometimes Howie had to remind himself that Nick was still, at heart, just that, a boy. "You gonna be okay?" he asked.
Nick nodded again.
Howie just wished he could believe it.
Kevin found Padma standing outside on a little patch of brown-green grass. She didn't seem to be looking at anything in particular. He approached. "Padma?"
"What?" The word came out flat, without any inflexion.
"Look at me, please?"
Padma unwillingly capitulated in the hopes that surrendering would get this over with quicker.
Kevin was shocked by the emptiness in her eyes, but swallowing, forced himself to continue. "Look, I don't know what I've done wrong, but please tell me what it is, so I at least have a chance to fix it."
"It's not something you can fix, Kevin, it's not a car. It can't just be put right by injecting a few replacements in the mix."
"Well, what do you want me to do?"
"Nothing you can't do anything --"
"Dammit, there has to be --"
"You just don't understand." Padma's coolness was in direct counterpoint to Kevin's increasing exasperation.
"Well, make me understand --"
"Kevin..."
"-- Show me --"
"Kevin!"
"-- just let me know what --"
"Shut the fuck up!" Kevin stopped, stunned. Padma looked down, and made her decision. "I... I'm... I don't love you."
Kevin opened his mouth and closed it again, discovering he couldn't argue against that. After all they had only known each other for a day. "At least give it a chance, see if it can work," he suggested.
"No, I can't."
"Why not?"
"I just can't."
"Why not?"
"I can't -- it's not something I can explain, so don't ask me why not again, I just can't."
"Well, what do you want me to do?"
"Just please pretend that yesterday never happened." Her eyes blazed in anger suddenly. "And how could you tell Nick?" she said.
Kevin didn't have an answer.
"As though I were some trophy girl that you collected, that you could brag about to your friends."
"It wasn't like that, please," he said desperately.
She was plainly unpersuaded. "I don't want to talk about it anymore. As far as I'm concerned, yesterday never happened." And with that, leaving Kevin even more upset and confused, and without looking back even once, she walked away.
Alex bumped into her on the long carriageway that stretched out of the stadium to the main road. She was plainly agitated. "What's wrong?" he asked, concerned.
She shook her head, but said nothing, prompting Alex to repeat the question. This time, her answer was less sure, and he slid an arm round her shoulders and guided her to a bench.
"Nothing?" Alex didn't believe her anymore. She had to tell him sometime, surely? "Well, I guess you can talk to me after the concert."
"Oh." The concert. She'd almost forgotten about that. Suddenly her desire to see the Boys perform had faded, and she was beginning to welcome the prospect of a quiet night in.
"Don't you want to go?" asked Alex, directly, butting into her thoughts.
She exhaled. "Not really."
"Why -- oh, never mind." He changed his mind, knowing full well that when Padma was firmly entrenched in this mood there was no getting any answers out of her.
"May I go now?" she asked, with a hint of the old Padma's impertinence.
"Yeah, sure. I guess I'll see you tomorrow."
"I suppose so."
Alex watched her as she went into the distance. She was far too hard to figure out sometimes, it was far too difficult to discern what was going on in that shut-up mind of hers. He so wanted to help, but she wasn't letting him. The sun glared down on the red tarmac of the road, and a black car swished past him trailing dust from the road outside.
Four o'clock.
Five o'clock.
Six o'clock.
Under pretense of reading a book, Padma sat staring at the clock in her apartment, watching the second hand going round on its eternal journey. The clear, sweet chime of the doorbell rang in the room for a moment. She untangled herself from the cossetting arms of the sofa and went to answer it.
Alex stood there, looking smart in a white t-shirt that was tight over his frame in all the right places, and neatly pressed off-white trousers, and a pair of elegant black shoes. She was confused, but no longer when he said, "Get dressed. We're going out."
"But --"
"No arguments. Shut up and get ready. I'll wait here."
"But --"
"Go."
Padma acquiesced grudgingly and disappeared into the inner chambers of her apartment, to emerge a few minutes later, looking resplendent in a simple graceful panjabi suit that followed the lines of her form. Around her floated a haze of the scent of a rose-garden. Alex grinned, and even made her smile too. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"What about your concert?" she asked.
"What about it?"
"Don't you want to go see them?"
"There are always concerts, Padma. But you need cheering up, and that, in my book, is more important."
Padma couldn't help but smile at his youthful optimism, and suddenly realized how much of a support he was to her. How many others would chuck in backstage passes for an internationally successful act to spend some time with a friend?
"Where are we going?"
"Dinner." And that was all the reply she received.
The hand he reached out, she took, even as she gazed into his warmest brown eyes, and allowed him to lead her out of the apartment.
The food had been excellent, and now the meal was winding to a close as they both sat there with rich chocolate cake gazing beggingly up at them. Alex had managed to keep the conversation restricted to lighter topics, avoiding any mention of Kevin, and Padma was grateful. She would save the graver matters for later. The wine was loosening her tongue as well, not too much, just making it easier to tell that which she thought ought not to be told.
"Well, go on then, eat it up," urged Alex.
She made a face at him. "You eat it up! I'm not getting fat on my own."
"Okay okay, we'll share, deal?"
Indicating her agreement, she gestured with her head, that peculiarly Indian mix of a nod and a tilt. They both dug into different sides of the cake. Padma took another sip of the wine, and idly listened to the song that fell from the speakers above.
My anklets ring, where is thy attention?
Meet my eyes, hear my words:
This night won't come again, this night won't come again
This youth will pass away
This night won't come again,
This youth will pass away, this youth will pass away
This night swings, intoxicated without drink
Teasing my eyes, caressing my heart
If it passes, thy whole life will be troubled
Thou will go through a thousand desires
But this night won't come again, this night won't come again
This youth will pass away
This night won't come again,
This youth will pass away, this youth will pass away
My youth sings to the rhythm of my heart
Hold my hand, take me where thou will
From where are these cares, how come these sorrows?
I am his, who is mine, I swear on life itself
This night won't come again, this night won't come again
This youth will pass away
The song she knew. It was very old, from the end of the forties. The singer had passed away, but her voice had remained fresh and harmonious to the end. Sadly she had recorded very few songs, overshadowed by the younger generation, and her voice had fallen unused as she herself fell into financial difficulty. She had died destitute, lying in a dingy room in Versova. The tale and the sadness of the song brought tears to her eyes. Alex noticed, and quietly called for the bill, and having paid it, rising, he went round the table to take her hand. She looked up at him, tears still in her eyes, but these were not anything to do with the song, or even the singer; these were for herself.
Darkness had fallen outside, and they had crossed over into the park. Here they walked for a while in silence, until Padma stopped, and turning him to face her, took both his hands. It was time. And so with many false starts, she began.
"What happened last night -- what happened last night was something that Kevin and I didn't decide to do, it just happened. We'd both had too much to drink, and we were both not fully in control, and I'm not absolving us -- me -- of blame, but it's not all our faults, and so when we ended up in his room, we fell onto the bed, and we... we..." It was as if she'd reached an invisible barrier, and couldn't push past it.
"Slept together," supplied Alex softly, squeezing her hands.
She nodded, looking ashamed.
"But that's not so bad," said Alex. "I mean, I'm sure a lot of people have had sex and regretted it afterwards. So why --"
She was shaking her head. "No, it's not that." She took a deep breath. "It..." She caressed his hand. "It... he stole..." Tears were coming into her eyes, and her lip had begun to tremble. "He stole... he stole my childhood away. He took my virginity."
Now the tears were coursing down her cheeks, and he could see the sobs building in her body.
"I lost my virginity to someone I didn't even love." At this statement, an almighty sob shook her and she collapsed into his waiting arms, dear, sweet, faithful Alex's arms. She shook uncontrollably in his embrace, clutching on to him for life itself.
They stood for a while in the moonlight, surrounded by the city. Alex's hands were soothing her as she stood enveloped by his warm touch, in her hair, on her face. After some time, she stepped back a little from his embrace and looked up at him.
"You gonna be okay?" he asked.
She nodded. "Yeah, I think so." She caught him looking at her with the oddest look in his eyes. "What?" she asked.
"Nothing, I was just thinking... you're going to make an incredible wife someday, you know that?"
"What?"
"I can see it now: you'll have two kids, and a huge house, and a swimming pool, and a big dog called Wolfy --"
" -- And a husband that looks like Tom Cruise -- "
" -- and a top-flight job..."
She smiled bravely as the moonlight became ensnared in her tear-stained cheeks.
He became suddenly serious. "Pad, you're a wonderful woman, you've got to keep believing that. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise."
And as she looked up into his sympathetic liquid brown eyes, she knew something, she knew something she didn't want to know. She knew that she loved him.
---ooo000ooo---
That curdling sound you hear is the plot thickening. : ) I refuse to make any promises this time on when the next instalment will be out, seeing how badly it went last time. : ) But soon, hopefully, in the next week or two.
In the meantime, your feedback is as ever appreciated, so please, please tell me what you think about the story. That address again: dreamer@beautifulboy.co.uk