This is part 4 in the continuing series. I will pick up the steam a bit in order to waken you all from your computer terminals. :) Let's see... where was I, ahhhhh yes, the characters and stories in here are not at all real. As far as I know. It is a fictional adventure of love and possibility... and occasionally sex. Much like life if you can find a steady relationship... Enjoy! And email me with anything at all. Kevin at BrwyDevil@aol.com.
Running Thoughts Part 4: "Unexpected Song"
Brian looked down at the legal pad in front of him. Howie was asleep behind him, curled up in a comfortable ball. Brian had seen the pad on the desk when he had gotten up to close the curtains before sunrise. There was no reason to get out of bed so soon. The best thing about hotel rooms was the thick curtains that could block out every inch of light. He loved that. The handwriting on the yellow paper was Howie's. It looked more like chicken scratch. Brian smiled as he traced his fingers along the lines on the page. He even loved his penmanship.
He read the words:
HOW MANY FROGS DO I HAVE TO KISS
I have known many lovers in my own life
I have been with my fair share of princes
I have given up love and given up people
And lived life upon fleeting kisses.
Where is the one who will take me away?
Where is the one I won't resist?
Who is my knight in shining armor?
How many frogs must I kiss?
Brian looked from the paper up to Howie who was smiling in his sleep. "What does this poem mean?" he asked himself. "And why is it so simple?" He knew Howie was a capable writer. He had recieved love letters and the sort for months... But this one caught him off guard. The message was very straightforward. Brian didn't know how to react. So he decided to follow his first impulse. He took a pillow and hit Howie in the head.
"Not now, doughboy... I miss dreaming about you." the soft voice answered. (Howie called Brian 'doughboy') Brian continually beat the pillow down until Howie sat up. "Are you quite all right?" he asked.
"Am I a frog to you?" Brian asked... realizing the ridiculousness of that query. Howie just blinked and stared at his lover.
"If this is part of my dream, I am going to have to go back to that therapist again." he smiled. Brian hit him once more with the pillow. "All right, all right... what is this?"
"I saw your poem." Brian explained and threw the pillow back down on the bed. "How many people have you kissed exactly."
"Bri... is this really necessary?"
"I think it is."
"Brian...," Howie scooted over the bed and wrapped his arms around him. e looked down at the paper and recalled writing it. He sighed greatly and brushed his fingers along Brian's back. "I love you... and that poem means nothing. I wrote it because I love you." he kissed Brian sensually. "And it's not supposed to be about me looking for other guys... Its about how long it took me to find you!"
"Are you sure?" Brian looked deep into Howie's eyes. "Are you sure you want to be with me?"
"I can't live without you." Howie smiled and pulled Brian in for a long hug. He sighed again in relief- making a mental note never to leave his pads out again.
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Justin slipped into the maroon T-shirt and tilted his head to look into the mirror. He bit his lower lip and shifted the clothing to see if he looked well groomed. N'Sync was going to a record studio for contract stipulations and political mumbo-jumbo. For the most part, the group let their lawyers handle the petty beuracracy... but the managers were intent on having them present for the final stages as a sign of seriousness.
His hair was getting longer. He remembered those few years back when he had grown his hair down past his ears. Youth makes you choose stupid fashion ideals. That particular length had taken away from the size of his nose but made his head look fat. There was rarely a perfect style. Now it was dyed blonde and a little raggedy.He nodded in approval to himself and turned off the light. It was still early, though.
Justin checked his silver wristwatch. 12:47. The meeting was scheduled for 3 in the afternoon. He layed down on the bed and stared up at the cieling. He was so used to having several things running through his mind at one time. He was so used to being extremely busy. This was actually the first time in months he was getting to relax.
He couldn't clear his mind. One face kept appearing across the speedy confines of his head. It was his exboyfriend. It was painful even saying that to himself. Exboyfriend. "Why the hell am I so caught up in this?" he said out loud. "God, I'm pathetic." he nearly laughed.
Justin had shared everything with him. They had spent a lifetime together in only a year. Cooking for each other. Dressing. Shopping. Designing apartment space. It was amazing what they were able to clump into 12 short months. Some relationships that span over decades don't develop to all of the levels they existed on. Perhaps it was too rushed. Who could answer that? Justin looked around the hotel room.
He couldn't even see small things without jogging his mind back to the old boyfriend. Soda cans. Bars of soap. Remote controls. Notebooks. Socks. Everything. Justin shook his head with a smile, allowing a tear to travel down his smooth cheek. Laughing about the idiocy and crying over the pain was as low as one could sink. He knew that.
"I'm over this..." he said to himself, trying to actually beleive it. "I was happy when he was out of my life... why let it eat me up now? Months later?" he asked aloud.
"Because it's caught up with you." Chris said, coming out of the adjoining room. Justin was startled and sat up rather quickly.
"When did you wake up?" Justin smoothed out his shirt and wiped his cheek quickly. Chris stepped up into the sitting area of the room and shrugged.
"A few minutes. I think you were talking to yourself." Chris found an empty glass and filled it with some water.
"I didn't know my voice carried so far in here... sorry,man." Justin mumbled as he switched weight from foot to foot impatiently. He was wondering how much Chris had heard. "Did you get in late last night?"
"No. It was pretty boring out there. L.A. is nothing compared to New York..." Chris took a sip of his water and smiled as he came down to where Justin was standing.
"We're going back to New York in about a week, aren't we?"
"According to our schedule. Who knows if we actually follow that..." Chris moved back over to the couch where he had been sleeping the day before. "So are you gonna tell me what's going on with you?"
"It's nothing. I've just been depressed."
"I know. We all know. But you don't want to tell me why?"
"I think I need a change of pace..." Justin brushed off the real tragedy instead of explaining it to Chris. The story was too long. Too complicated. And far too emotional. "I'll be fine. Really. I just need... something..."
Chris nodded. He raised his eyebrows and exhaled slowly. "You know, Jus... you're not as sly as you think you are..." he softly said. "You just need a boyfriend."
Justin let himself fall back into the bed. ~Does everyone know about me!?~ he thought. "Is it so obvious?" he gritted his teeth.
"No. You're not a flamer or anything... It is just kinda clear. You had that guy follow you all over the country... You never go to the clubs for the girls... You never talk back to the fans... I just observed it over the time we've spent." Chris explained. He was looking in the mirror across the room. His hair was a little wobbly. Justin was crushed hearing about his ex again. He thought they had been careful. It's a good thing the press wasn't as perceptive as his friends in the group.
Newspapers and journalists could be ruthless. Ricky Martin and Nick Carter and several other celebrities were often panned as homosexuals. Not like that was a bad thing... but reputation can be marred by rumors. True or not. Justin didn't want to go through that ordeal. Not yet anyway.
"C'mon Justin... you can't get hung up on some guy. Remember, we're all the same! We're drifters. The day you find a committable guy, you'll probably be close to death. They are just too rare."
"I need love... that's about it." Justin answered. "When you have that, you don't need anything else."
"What about trust?"
"Well... that's earned eventually. I don't have enough experience with this."
"Then let's get you some." Chris rose from the couch and walked back to the other room. Justin stood as well, but he was quite confused.
"Some what?"
"It's time to get you some experience."
experience."=====================================================================================================
...then he was standing on the opposite side of the dream. He was watching another group on the stage. But before he could figure out what was going on, he woke up. Nick was wearing only his boxer shorts as his eyes flew open. It was a cold night... he felt around for the sheets and pulled them over himself. He clenched his right fist and brought it up to his forehead. He shut his eyes tightly. The dream would not go away. What the hell was it supposed to mean?
He stopped breathing for a moment and listened to Brian and Howie through the wall. They had just been arguing over a poem or something. They were now deep into their lovemaking session. Usually twice a night, Nick recalled. He tried to shut out the sounds but there was no luck. The two guys were constant moaners.
He wished he had something like they had. Not just for the sex... which sounded amazing... but for the company. The love. The connection. It wasn't something you could just put an ad out for. Love struck once and if you missed it, you missed it. And the rest of life was a walking purgatory... Practically waiting to die until you were able to accept being alone and settling for someone who you didn't truly feel complete with. Such is life.
Nick decided it would be best to stop listening to his friends make love. Being aroused by your best friends and being forced to fanatasize about them was a boundary he was not willing to cross. Thank goodness. "How hard could it possibly be to find the man of my dreams?" he asked himself. "The press already outs me every chance they get..." he wrapped the cotton sheets around his body and sat up. The high moon shone through the blinds. Just as lonely as he was.
He stood up, gained balance, and moved over to his suitcase. Another jog would do him good. Then he noticed the collection of fan letters sitting on the desk. Howie had just climaxed. He often sang like Barbara Streisand when that happened. Nick shook his head and focused on the letters. Could it be this easy? Right here in front of me? He sat down and opened the first one... checking for an enclosed picture.
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All talk and no action, am I right? Well, I assure you- that is quite important. Some pieces written must develop flowingly through dialouge stages. Thats just how I set things up. I promise you, there will be connections to all that is going on. You do trust me, right? I thought so. :) Anyway, email me with questions, comments, suggestions, recipes and feedback at BrwyDevil@aol.com. Kevin.