Disclaimer: Once again, I don't know the Backstreet Boys, they don't know me and we're all better off for it. I don't know anything about their sexual preferences, and I really don't care, but sex in space sounds good to me too, Nick.
Thanks to everyone who's emailed me about this story (and my others), hopefully, this clears up some of the confusion from chapter two (sorry about that, I have a tendency to do that).
For everyone that's asked, no, I am not any of my characters (is that sort of sex change possible?). Brian and Co. are my versions of everyone's favorite boys, Matt and Julian are their own people, and Jake is completely a figment of my imagination.
Oh, one more thing. I am not a medical professional. I hate hospitals worse than Brian. Having spent more than enough time in both the ER and the ICU, I know this isn't the way things are done, but this is my story, and it's fiction, so dust off that willing suspension of disbelief and ignore the glaring inconsistencies and falsities. :)
Questions? whippedcream@audiohighway.net
JJ
Slow Down My Beating Heart Chapter Three
The elevator door slid shut as Brian leaned back against the wall and watched the numbers light up, listening as Matt kept up a steady stream of chatter touching on topics that held little interest or importance to him. Yet, for some reason, he was captivated by the other man's words.
"So, then after performing unspeakable acts upon my person, the aliens returned me to Earth and now I'm pregnant with Carson Daly's two-headed love child," Matt finished, eyeing Brian, who nodded his head in distraction. Matt frowned, wondering what it was about the numbers in elevator displays that fascinated everyone so.
"Hello? Earth to Brian?" Brian blinked suddenly, turning his gaze to his companion.
"Um, what?" So maybe 'captivated' wasn't the word.
"Your turn," Matt pointed out. Brian frowned, trying to pick up the conversation again. "Earliest memory?"
"Oh, um, right." They'd been playing twenty questions on their way up to the cafeteria in search of beverages, since all the Coke machines in their wing of the first floor appeared to be broken.
"So?" Matt prompted. Brian pursed his lips as he thought back to his childhood. His earliest memory, well, that was easy. But he wasn't sure it was something he wanted to share with someone he'd just met ten minutes ago. The elevator dinged lightly as they reached the top floor, and Brian used that as an excuse to delay his answer.
"So, which way?" he asked, stepping onto the floor. Matt studied him, a look on his face that said he knew what Brian was doing, and pointed left. Brian nodded, ignoring the look, and pausing for a moment to glance briefly at Matt's leg, he started in that direction.
"If you don't stop that, I'm going to hit you," Matt commented casually as he easily kept stride with Brian.
"What?"
"Looking at me like that."
"Like what?" Brian evaded. He didn't think his concern was that peculiar, given the circumstances and the location. But Matt just sighed and didn't respond.
"I'm sorry," Brian apologized, sincerity outlining his voice.
"It's okay. I suppose it's an indication of your good character that you're concerned." Brian smiled.
"Thanks." They walked in silence for a few more moments as Brian tried to figure out exactly how to phrase what he wanted to ask. He knew he had no right to ask, but he also knew he was going to anyway.
"You never answered my question," Matt suddenly said, interrupting his thoughts.
"Huh?"
"Your earliest memory," he replied, patiently.
"Oh, um, right." He thought for a minute, before launching into a somewhat embellished story of an early Christmas. All the while, he kept walking down the hall, keeping his gaze averted. Matt listened quietly to the story, laughing at the appropriate moments.
"Aww, cute," he replied and Brian looked up to see his nose crinkle in delight. He laughed as Matt blushed. "Sorry, I'm a sucker for those kind of stories."
"Yeah," Brian started, then stopped as he came to a halt in front of a set of double doors. Judging from the sign to the left of them, he surmised they'd reached their intended destination. The two of them walked through the doors and threaded their way through rows of tables before making their way to the drink area.
Grabbing a couple cups, Brian began filling them with Coke as Matt stopped in front of the cooler and pulled open the door. Brian watched as he ran his hand over several bottles, as though by just touching them he could taste them, then stopped suddenly at the iced green tea.
"Julian loves this shit," Matt said softly.
"I'm not much of a fan," Brian confessed, by way of a response when he really had none.
"Me neither," he replied, then pulled two bottles out. Brian frowned, puzzled, but let it be.
"Ready?"
"Yeah. I wonder if Nick's hungry?"
"Is he allowed cafeteria food?" Brian shrugged.
"Probably not. But it's the least I can do, seeing as how when I was-" he stopped suddenly.
"When you were--?" Matt prompted, but Brian shook his head.
"Nothing. I'll, uh, get him some fries." He headed toward the grill, leaving Matt staring after him in confusion.
In silence, they paid for their purchases and made their way out of the cafeteria and back to the elevator. Pushing the button, Matt turned to look at Brian.
"I know what you're thinking," he said. Brian raised an eyebrow. "You want to know how."
"Well..."
"Call it a case of stupid boys doing stupid things."
"What happened?" He figured he could ask now, he hadn't been the one to open the door.
"A rugby game got out of hand, and before I knew it, I was in traction." Brian winced.
"Ouch."
"Yeah." Something in the tone of his voice made Brian look in sharply in his direction, and there was no mistaking the tension wrinkling the corners of his eyes.
"What else happened?" he asked, softly. Matt looked at him for a long moment.
"Why don't you want me to know you were in the hospital?" he said, startling Brian.
"What?" The elevator opened then, and in lieu of responding, Matt stepped in, echoing Brian's actions earlier.
"What do you mean?" Brian repeated.
"What's your earliest memory?" he countered.
"I told you," Brian replied, frowning in frustration.
"Fine, what's the one thing that stands out the most from your childhood?" Brian clenched his jaw and turned his head angrily, his gaze zeroing in on the countdown of numbers.
"That's really none of your business," he said evenly.
"But I already know," Matt said softly.
"You know who I am," Brian responded, still staring at the numbers. The familiar panic was rising again, and he heard his breath hitch slightly.
"It took me a second, but when you mentioned Nick's name, I figured it out."
"So all that stuff you were asking, you already knew." It was statement, not a question. Matt laughed.
"I never said I was a fan," he replied, a teasing tone entering his voice, "I just said I knew who you were. This is Florida, and I don't live under a rock." Brian finally turned his gaze back to see the glimmer in Matt's eyes, and smiled slightly, the tension easing out of his knuckles as he loosened his grip on the container he was holding
"I guess I'll take what I can get, then," he replied. "At least you don't hate us." Matt shook his head.
"Naw, I just don't like you as much as that other fivesome from Orlando," but he was smiling as he said it, and Brian just laughed.
"Says something about your taste in music," he remarked.
"But I thought you guys were the same anyway?" he replied innocently. Brian pursed his lips and bit back a scathing retort as the elevator stopped and the doors opened. They both stepped out and Matt headed down the hall, taking several steps before he realized that Brian wasn't by his side. Turning, he threw him a questioning glance.
"When I was five," Brian said, his voice soft, "my heart stopped." Matt nodded.
"A congenital defect," he replied. He knew that much already.
"And a staph infection." Matt raised an eyebrow.
"I didn't... That's why you stopped outside our door the other day?"
"Um, yeah." It wasn't exactly the reason, but how was he supposed to explain that something in Julian's voice had made him stop?
"And that's why this place freaks you out so much?" Brian nodded.
"It's not just that I spent so much time here with the surgeries and all, it's that... well, if you want to get sick, a hospital is a good place to start."
"Interesting point. I always figured people came here to get healthy." Brian flushed.
"Well, yeah. But the infection rate... I know all about it, I'm supposed to be careful."
"Hence the mask?" Matt pointed to the white paper around his neck. Brian looked down, as though he were surprised to see it there.
"Yeah. I should be wearing it."
"Why aren't you?"
"I don't know." It was a completely unacceptable answer, and he would have pressed it, but Matt just shrugged.
"We should go, before the fries get cold," he said instead. Brian nodded, and they started down the hall again, pushing open the double doors into the ICU. Glancing around to make sure it was empty, Brian headed toward Nick's room with the container held against his chest, trying, in vain, to keep it somewhat covered. But there was no one in sight, and he relaxed slightly.
"So how long's he in for?" Matt asked.
"Nick?"
"Yeah."
"I think he might get to go home tomorrow," Brian replied. They turned the corner, the commotion near the end of the hall catching their attention. Matt frowned as he watched nurses entering and exiting a room, haste and worry evident in their demeanors. Two of them wheeled a large machine on a cart into the room, and before Matt could comment, a sudden thud caused him to turn around sharply.
Brian stood directly behind him, the container lying at his feet, fries everywhere, and a steady trickle of ketchup seeping from a crack in the Styrofoam like an open wound. The cuffs of his pants were drenched in Coke and the half empty cups rocked on their sides gently. But it was the look of absolute terror on Brian's face that stopped him cold.
"Brian?" Matt took a step closer, his hand reaching up to grasp his upper arm. There was no response as he continued to stare down the hallway. He stepped in front of him, bringing his gaze to meet Brian's. "What is it?" Brian looked at him, finally, his eyes registering Matt's presence.
It was hardly a whisper, but it reverberated like a gunshot.
"That's Nick's room."