WARNING: This story contains relationships between adults of the same sex. If you are too young or if this isn't your thing, then don't read.
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.
Welcome to the final part. I hope it's okay, but I wrote it in so many different bits, that it may come out a bit disjointed. Sorry if it's too noticeable! As ever, if you have any opinions on this, or the whole thing, e-mail me at: writing@vacant.co.uk (the address in the earlier chapters still works).
Chapter VIII:
Two lumbering, grey, washed out days elapsed. The sunshine managed to peek through here and there, but it was cold and watery, and unwilling to warm, and rather than improving matters it seemed merely to cast a ghostly pall over everything. The world that was huddled beneath umbrellas which blotted out any inkling of the sky failed to register its appearance, and so it went away again. The gloom pressed upon all but the one place, at which surprised oil-lamps that had been consigned to storage by parents resigned to a daughter's rejection of tradition were placed at the corners of the gate-posts, and on either side of the steps, in the windows, and in every conceivable nook. The house was a bustle of activity. Yesterday, the servants had come in extra early to dust everything and sweep the floors, make sure everything was in the right state for visitors. The household woke early, if not before dawn, then with the muezzin calling from the mosque, and the kitchen suddenly became constantly and consistently occupied, and wonderful smells dependent on the time of day would travel through the house: sweet and sugary in the morning, warm and spicy in the afternoon and evening. People came and went, running errands, fetching supplies from the grocer or the clothier, or bringing food and saris and gifts, laughing and joking and chatting. Relatives in hordes descended with a vengeance, each with their own well- meaning ideas about expediting the processes, but in fact only ending up gossiping to each other in the corridors. Their children became ubiquitous, appearing suddenly at the elbows of the grown-ups to receive sweets, and then disappearing just as quickly, while the grown-ups would laugh fondly and continue with their banter-filled conversations.
And all because she had done the unthinkable. All because Padma was getting married.
The dimness lifted slowly in the room, the ashen light revealing the outlines of the furniture. Little by little, the outlines were filled in and anaemic colours surfaced, and the shapes of things became clearer and more defined. Two naked bodies lay on the bed, in a tangle with the sheets and each other. The cold wind blew through the window neglectfully left open since last night, arousing goose-pimples on the bare flesh, and stiffening nipples. The warm haze of the night they had just passed had faded into the still dreariness of the morning, and the alcohol had left them with a clinging, clothy taste in their mouths.
The chill became too much for Nick to easily suffer in sleep, and he rubbed his eyes open, his vision attempting to grasp the surroundings. He shivered, and snuggled closer to Alex, trying to pick up any warmth there and so go back to sleep, but there was no help. He sighed, and ran a finger over Alex's back, over the mouldings of his shoulder-blades, down the bumps of his spine. It was their last day together, for the Boys' flight left early the next morning, and both of them had been dreading it. Into the two days they had just undergone, they had tried to ram what they could, trying to make each activity as important possible, even though it was no use: each little thing was overlaid by a despairing finish of hopelessness, something knocking around in the back of both their brains, reminding them that time was marking out the hours. Nick pushed himself upright and sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands, wanting to cry, but somehow he couldn't, because there was an awful buzzing in his head, a pressure, that wasn't strong enough to explode nor weak enough to ignore.
A tap at the door, so faint as to pass almost unnoticed. Nick ran his hands back through his hair, and leant his head out of the door. Howie and Brian, come for breakfast, he supposed..
"Can you guys wait a minute? I'll just get dressed." He shut the door quietly, and reached around for his clothes. Dressed, he crossed to the door, but before opening it, he turned to regard the sleeping figure on the bed, and went back to rearrange the sheets over Alex. This done, he stepped out into the corridor.
"Are we going for breakfast? You guys are up kind of early." he said softly. Nick hated being loud in the mornings -- he didn't mind the mornings certainly, 'cause he didn't get as grumpy as he'd seen AJ (who was definitely not a morning person), but he didn't like to disturb the tranquillity with unnecessary noise.
"Yeah, if that's okay," said Brian. "We're up early. . . well, I'll explain when we're sitting down." They went down in the lift to the restaurant which did a buffet breakfast, and having got their food, they sat. Nick broke apart a croissant and spread a little jam on one. Howie and Brian seemed to be deciding which of them would speak.
"So, you guys got up early because. . .?" prompted Nick.
"I'm up anyway at this time," said Howie helpfully.
"Yeah, but Rok's never."
There was a pause. The sound of cutlery rang from the kitchen.
"Well." Howie stirred his coffee. "I fetched the mail, like I always do, and there were these." He produced an envelope, cream and slightly crumpled, from his pocket. "We all got one. This is yours."
"What is it?" asked Nick, taking it and looking at it dubiously. It was plain and unadorned, apart from his name. "Hand- delivered?"
Howie nodded. "Open it."
Putting down his croissant, Nick used his knife to slit open the envelope. Brian remained silent, watching Nick. He murmured the contents to himself as he read. ". . .Hari and Sanjana Mehta are pleased to announce the joyful engagement of Mr Kiran Vadgama Narayan to their beloved daughter. . . Padma -- she's getting married?"
"Mm-hm. Read on."
". . . the house will be open to visitors to celebrate the sagaii on the 20th and the 21st of this month -- wait. Isn't today the nineteenth?"
"No. That was yesterday."
"It's today?!"
"Yeah."
"What's a. . . sagaii?"
"We asked the lady at reception. It's the fixing of the engagement; sometimes they'll set the date of the wedding there too."
"Are we going?" asked Nick.
"That's not all," said Howie.
"What?"
"These letters were delivered to each of us."
"So?"
Howie was reluctant to say any more, so Brian stepped in.
"Except Alex."
"What?"
"We checked and double-checked, but Reception seemed adamant that it wasn't here."
Howie re-entered the conversation. "You don't remember his having received an invitation, do you?"
Nick thought for a moment. "No -- besides, it's a big enough thing that I would have noticed from his reaction. . . No, almost definitely, he didn't get one separately. When were these delivered?"
"Sometime yesterday morning -- we only check the mail each morning, so we must have just missed it."
"Yesterday morning -- that would give him enough time to make sure with his folks for any mail that would have come for him back home," Nick thought out loud.
"Which means. . ." said Howie, and became unwilling to say more again.
"Which means," picked up Brian, "that for whatever reason, Padma doesn't want him to come."
There was a tap at the open door, and Padma's mother rose to greet whoever was here. A tall, handsome man with strong-boned features stood in a suit on the threshold. He was white, which surprised her slightly -- she didn't know why, she knew that Padma worked at the embassy and would have contact with plenty of foreign men, but he wasn't either of the two she knew, Dan or Alex.
The man put his palms together in greeting. "Namaste-ji," he said in an accent that was more natural than she expected. He switched to English. "Today is Padma's sagaii, isn't it?"
She didn't know which language to respond in. "Ji, aaie," she said, beckoning him in. She was about to ask who he was, but her name was called from somewhere at the back of the house, most probably the kitchen.
"Haa'n, hu'n aau'n chhu'n!" She looked at the man. "I think I have some things to which I have to attend, but I'll see if I can find her. Please, bes-jo," she said, indicating a seat. She went down the corridor, her sari rustling around her. He sat, and in a few moments, Padma herself appeared, walking carefully, adorned with all sorts of heavy, but intricately wrought jewellery. Her eyes widened when she saw who sat there.
"Kevin?"
"Hi Padma," he said quietly. "I got the invitation."
She said nothing. He sighed. "Padma, is there somewhere we can go talk?"
Padma pondered if this was wise, the small risk she would take in talking to him while her fiance was in the house, and in the end decided it was worth it. She became amenable. "Of course. Come." She led him into a small room off the main corridor, and sat him down on the bed; she, however, stayed standing. He didn't say anything for a while, trying in his head to sort out what he wanted to say. She was content with looking out of the window.
"Isn't this a little sudden?"
Her expression became a little harsher. "Sometimes it happens that way."
"Here."
She had to concede that one, inclining her head.
"Do you love him?"
"I beg your pardon?" she said, a little shocked. She still thought that she didn't know him that well at all, regardless of having spent a night together, and that this was completely impertinent.
"I said, do you love him?"
The sheer nerve of it, she thought. How dare he? "What business is it of yours?"
"It's my business because, believe it or not. . ." he began sharply, then paused, unwilling to finish.
"What?"
He exhaled, and continued in a much softer tone. "Because I care. There." He looked almost ashamed when he said this.
"What?"
"I care about you, Padma. You may not think it, you may still regard me as some piece of trash on the street, but however you deny it, we shared something that night --" Padma opened her mouth to say something; he noticed, and raised his hands, forestalling her. "Let me finish. It wasn't lust, and it certainly wasn't love, but still we shared something, and so I care. Is that so bad? I'm sorry if it is."
Padma smiled, in spite of herself. He was one of the good guys after all. "Thank you," she said simply. Besides, she couldn't think of what else to say.
He paused, as if gathering his breath for another stream of verbiage. "Are. . ." He didn't know how to put this. "You're not. . ."
"Pick one," she suggested.
"You're-not-doing-this-because-of-me?" The words came out all in a rush, and he looked embarrassed.
Padma smiled again, and knelt down and put a hand on his knee. "No, I'm not. You can rest easy."
"It wasn't just for my peace of mind --"
"No. I know. I was just teasing."
"But you don't love him?"
She laughed a little bitterly. "Love?" The thought of a very similar conversation just days back entered her mind. "No. I don't."
"But --"
"I can't explain."
He looked at his shoes. "Well. I can't say I understand or anything, but I hope you're happy, okay?" He rose from the bed. "Maybe we'll keep in touch. Who knows? But I'll leave that up to you. I know I at least would like to see you again."
Padma blushed, as they walked towards the door. When they stepped outside, she could feel the curious, questioning gazes of the others on her neck, but she ignored it. They went outside into the yard, where Kevin stopped and looked at her for the last time.
"You're a wonderful lady, Padma."
She smiled and he knew she had understood. Stepping forward, she hugged him, briefly, and looking in his eyes, sadly smiled a goodbye. When he left, she stood there for a while, looking after him, eyes filling with inexplicable tears.
Nick had been silent for a while now. God, he really didn't need this today. All he had wanted was to spend the remaining time quietly, with Alex, and not have to deal with singing, or the others, or any crises.
"What are we going to do?" asked Howie.
"Did you say we were going?"
"I think we are."
"When?" asked Nick.
"Around nine-ish. I dunno what's involved, so I dunno how long we'll be staying there."
"I'm going to go now. Chances are I'll probably still be there by the time you guys turn up." Nick didn't know what he was going to do there, but for some reason his going early seemed to make sense.
"Okay. I guess we'll see you there then," said Howie as Nick rose from the table. He and Brian watched Nick leave in a moment of silence. "Is he going to be okay?" he asked of Brian.
"He'll have to be, D."
"I think maybe we'll just be as unobtrusive as possible tomorrow, leave him to get on with it."
"You don't think he'll want to talk about it?"
"...no..." said Howie slowly.
Nick walked up to the open front door and tapped. A middle-aged woman who was bustling around bearing trays, stopped to turn to regard him. He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "Hi," he mumbled. "Is Padma in?"
"Ji. I'll just bring her. Please come in."
Nick did so, feeling even more ill-at-ease when he noticed the front of the house was filled with adults who all looked at him with unabashed curiosity. Even a pair of children hid behind a door- frame, who peeked out, giggled, and scuttled away further inward. Soon, Padma swished out, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
"Nick? Did you come alone?"
"Uh... yeah. Listen --"
"Are the others not coming?"
"Can we go somewhere to talk?"
Second time today, thought Padma. She might as well preserve continuity and lead him to the same room in which she talked to Kevin. When the doors were securely closed, he sat down uneasily on the bed, while she began taking saris that were draped on the bench to fold so they could be put away in the cupboard. He watched this activity for a while. Somewhere he wondered how something so long could be manageably folded by just one person.
Finally she glanced at him for a moment, in between quarter- folds of sari. "So, how are you?"
"What? Oh, I'm fine." He paused, feeling that this wasn't really enough, and added lamely, "you?"
She smiled wryly. "Life goes on."
Nick could tell that there were volumes behind that statement, but didn't know where to begin in unearthing them. His head dropped into his hands, his pale fingers intermingling with his blond hair. Padma watched him, concerned. "Are you okay?"
He looked up at her with a gaze of mild desperation. "No," he honestly admitted. "I'm going tomorrow morning. It's becoming too difficult to leave."
Padma's expression became fixed. She continued to fold, mechanically going through the motions.
"Still, Alex will be okay. You'll be around to keep him calm."
A muscle in Padma's cheek twitched.
Silence.
There was a clatter of plates from the kitchen.
Silence.
Then, in a whisper:
"No."
It was barely enough to be heard. So barely, that Nick wasn't at all sure he'd heard right. "What?"
When Padma didn't answer, he knew he had. "Why?" In response, Padma lifted another sari off the bench, and set about organizing it. Nick tried another approach. "Because you can't?" A little harsher: "Or because you won't?"
Padma caught the hardness in his tone and matched it. "Both. Either."
"But he'll be alone!"
"And I?"
"You're getting married." Nick's voice became chilly.
Almost to herself, Padma said, "And yet I'll still be alone."
Nick caught it. "What?"
"Nothing."
"Fuck, how can you be so callous?" He turned away from her, disgusted. "Jesus."
A look of sheer disbelieving pain flitted over Padma's features. Because I have to be. Because if I don't, I'll end up in a worse state than I care imagine. Because I love him. The mask reasserted itself. "You wouldn't understand."
"There's no real reason, is there? You're just being spiteful. You're jealous of me spending time with him," Nick spat, an ugly look crossing his features.
Jealous. Padma contemplated this for a second. "What do you want, Nick? What do you want me to say? Do you want me just to sit here and listen to you abusing me, and taking it? Or shall I go and get Alex in and have the pair of you insult me?"
"Well, not much chance of that, since you didn't invite him to your wedding," muttered Nick.
Padma said nothing.
"Well? Why didn't you?"
Padma took a deep breath. "I don't have to explain myself to you."
"You damn well do. Who's going to have to sort things out when he finds out he's the only one who wouldn't be coming?"
"Go home Nick," said Padma coldly. She began to tremble slightly.
"No. Not till you tell me why."
Padma whirled away from him, unable to countenance his accusatory stare. She could feel writhing of trapped, frustrated emotion flailing around inside her, like a caged dragon, lashing its tail at her insides.
Nick lost patience. He felt like he was banging his head against a brick wall. He got up off of the bed. "Tell me, dammit!" His voice rose dangerously.
Padma shuddered, wondering what the people outside would be making of this. "Get out!" she shouted back.
"You can't just mess him around like this!"
In reply, she drew dangerously close to him, and for one insane moment Nick thought she was going to produce a knife from somewhere. But it wasn't rage that was burning in her eyes. "Fuck you," she said simply, turning her nose up at him, and beginning to turn away from him. He snatched her forearms in a vice grip, and stayed her where she was. "Let go of me."
"Tell me," hissed Nick.
"No! Let --" she twisted in his clutch -- "go!"
"Tell me." His voice was low, insistent, and she felt the secret battering at her trying to break its way out from within.
"No," she said, but her voice shook.
"Tell me," he asked more quietly, but just as firm.
"No," she said, and this time it was more like a whimper.
"Tell me?"
It was the unexpected courtesy of a question that stunned her into breaking. Everything piled up at once and snapped her: the impossibility of her situation, the stress of having to hide it, to lie to those dear to her, the effects of the argument she'd just had; it was all these combined that bested her. And so even as she collapsed sobbing into his arms, the word he least expected fell from his lips.
"You."
For a moment, he didn't understand. How was he the reason? He -- and it clicked. The reason why Padma couldn't bear to be around Alex any more. "You," she repeated in a gasp. "You. . . fucking. . . got in the way. . ." She couldn't say any more and turned away from him, her long dark hair flying round in an echo of her action.
"You're in love with him," breathed Nick.
Padma laughed bitterly. "Love? That's what you call it. That's what you call what's brought me no joy."
If Nick was confused before he came to see her, he sure as hell didn't understand now. "But -- but you're getting married?"
"Why does everyone keep asking me that?"
"But you can't get married just to escape your feelings for someon else, you just can't. Marriage doesn't work that way -- it'll fail," Nick warned.
"Why? Who says that we won't work harder than ever to make it work? Who says we can't be happy? Maybe it won't be the most passionate marriage in the world, but if we're happy, who are you to tell me I can't marry Kiran if I don't love him? Maybe I'll learn to love him."
"But Alex --"
Padma paused. "I shouldn't have let myself be so deluded as to imagine that he would ever love me back. I didn't want to fall in love with him, god knows I didn't ask for it to happen."
Nick was properly concerned now. "That's it then? You're leaving?"
"Yes -- as soon as I'm married, we're going to go live somewhere else. I'll have to leave my job, of course, but --"
"What about Dan?"
"What?"
"Does he know?"
"Of course he knows." Padma paused. "He's not happy, but it's my life, and he knows that."
Nick regarded her with an odd mixture of sympathy and anger. "You've changed," he said.
Padma regarded him coolly. "How so?"
"You've become different -- I don't know -- more determined, colder -- just different."
"Well, sleeping with someone, having them" -- Padma made a face -- "deflower you, and then realizing you're in love with your best friend will do that to you. Get over it." She couldn't deal with this anymore. She stepped to the window and glared out at the hazy sky savagely.
"I -- Kevin took -- you were a virgin?" Nick couldn't cope, there was too much information here, he didn't know where to start with it all.
"Look," said Padma. "All this is irrelevant now." She smiled darkly to herself. The past week of her life dismissed as an irrelevance. But in a way it was, for nothing of your old life really mattered when you were married. "Are you going to tell Alex?"
"What?" Nick hadn't even thought about this. "About what?"
"About the wedding."
Nick honestly didn't know.
He left as the others were just arriving, and he left in a rush, almost knocking over AJ. Padma watched him go, and then, putting on a smile, turned her attention to the newcomers.
Alex looked up at Nick from the bed with a sad smile. "You're back."
"Mm-hm," said Nick, kicking off his shoes and kneeling prayer-style on the floor, elbows on the bed next to Alex's prone form.
"I couldn't face getting up. Is it still bad outside?"
"No, it's gotten a little better."
There was a terrible silence in which Nick contemplated telling Alex about Padma and Alex wondered if this was what they had come to, talking about the weather. With his fingers, Nick stroked Alex's flank exposed from the sheets, which were in a tangle again. Alex was nothing if not a messy sleeper.
Alex stirred a little. "You're not saying much."
"No. I can't quite find the words somehow."
"Yeah."
There was a pause.
"I love you Nick."
"I know." Nick slid his finger up to Alex's chest, tracing feather-light patterns there. "I wish. . ."
"What?" asked Alex, when he realized Nick wasn't going to say anymore, but he wasn't answered. Nick rose, and stripped in front of him, making Alex tent the sheets slightly.
"I'm coming back to bed. It's only a quarter past-nine." He stepped towards the bed.
"Wait," said Alex.
"What?"
Alex looked at the youth standing across from him, drinking him in. "You're beautiful."
Nick blushed, and couldn't find the words to say. "Alex. . ."
"Don't." Alex got up to stand naked on the bed, holding a sheet by his side, covering nothing with it, and looking for all the world like the statue of a Greek god. Nick felt his cock twitch, and slowly begin to throb into life. Alex stepped down, and paced gracefully towards him until they were toe-to-toe, cock-to-cock, nose- to-nose. And then more. Alex began skimming his foot up and down Nick's shin, Nick pushed forward, so their hardness mashed together in a heady mix of pleasure and pain as their mouths locked in passion.
They passed much of the day in sleep and love-making, and lying exhausted in between, replete in each other, making odd conversation of the little things that entered each's minds, until finally as a cloud-induced early darkness fell thick, Nick glanced up at the quiescent Alex to say, "Sleep, get some rest. I'll start packing."
"But you'll need to sleep too," protested Alex feebly through a yawn.
"I'll sleep on the plane. Ssh now, let me pack."
But Alex had already fallen asleep.
It was at around two-thirty in the morning that Alex felt himself being shaken gently awake. He opened his eyes to find deep blue staring back down at him, then, as Nick saw him to be awake, receding.
"What time is it?" he whispered into the stillness.
"Two-thirty. We're leaving the hotel at three," Nick's voice was soft and fragile, carefully constructed, like a house of cards. He continued to pack, slowly and quietly. Unseen, he slipped the envelope into his pocket.
"Haven't you finished yet?" Alex was afraid it sounded too harsh, too condemnatory for the silent background.
"No, I didn't do much while you slept. I went to see the others, and I came back and did nothing for a while." Nick didn't feel much like talking either.
"I'll get ready," Alex said to himself. Soon the room was filled with mute activity as Alex showered and dressed, and Nick completed what he had to do.
It was a little before three that the knock came on the door. It was Kevin. "You ready?" he asked of Nick, who nodded. "Alex, you coming?"
"If that's okay."
Kevin nodded, and withdrew. Nick took a last look around the hotel-room, and an absurd tear came to his eye, which he quickly blinked away. He couldn't look at Alex.
They reached the airport after a silent drive. Everyone had either not gone to bed, or gotten up early. Either way, they were all tired. The bags were taken by their porters, except Alex's, and they marched, hushed into the airport. All Nick could hear was a tick-tock becoming maddeningly louder in the back of he brain, and he sat in the departure lounge counting the seconds with it, until in the end, their flight was called. Nine-hundred and eighty-two.
It wasn't enough.
The rest said their goodbye's to Alex, who forced smiles, and shook hands, and even returned a hug (Howie). At last he and Nick faced each other. Nick took the envelope out of his pocket. Long had he debated whether to tell Alex, and as time ran out, there were less suitable moments in which to broach the subject.
Until now, when there were none.
"Will you do me a favour? Read this when I'm gone. It's important."
Alex took the envelope and nodded. All that was written on it in Nick's neat hand, was his name.
Nick pulled Alex to him, and embraced him with a swift hug. "You take care now."
"I will."
They stared at each other for a moment, so close, but suddenly miles apart.
"Alex. . ." began Nick.
"I know."
Nick nodded and smiled unhappily.
He turned to leave.