Affirmation

Affirmation 14

I just want to thank all you guys who wrote me after my little low self esteem tell me you love me moment of the last chapter. It was so refreshing and delightful to hear your comments. Side note: Cynth, where have you gone? I want to be on that list! Anyway, here's the new chapter. It's quite long, and would have been much longer b/c I've got a lot planned out, but my top critic told me to break it up. Hope you enjoy it, and please keep writing!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. None of the celebrities involved are necessarily the way they are portrayed.

Darren stood in Robbie's room, having literally slid himself down the hall, pressed firmly against the wall, as far away from the smirking J as possible, until he reached Robbie's door. Now he was leaning against the tv, benignly watching him pack.

"What?" Robbie said, finally.

"There's nothing I can say?" Darren asked.

Robbie glanced up, briefly, pursed his lips, and smashed his socks into a corner of the suitcase.

"I'll take that as a no," Darren said. He crossed his arms, trying not to avoid the defeat bubbling within him. He had to face it sometime. He stared at Robbie, imprinting him in his brain, willing his impending loss to be less harsh than he feared.

"Would you check the bathroom for me?" Robbie asked.

Darren sighed and trudged in. He came back with an armful of toiletries.

"Thanks." Robbie threw them on top of his clothes.

"You shouldn't do that. They'll spill and ruin your outfits."

"Outfits? Darren, you're so girly." He didn't say it in a demeaning way, just cheeky. He smiled flippantly at him. Darren smiled back, briefly, not at the comment, but because it was the second time Robbie'd actually looked at him since he came in.

"Let me wrap them up for you," Darren said, reaching for the shampoo and cologne bottles.

"Leave off," Robbie blurted, pushing him back. Darren sat hard on the bed, his face a map of shock. Robbie ignored him, focusing on closing the suitcase instead. Darren, for his part, concentrated on not looking wounded.

"Sorry," Robbie muttered.

"Don't worry about it," Darren said coldly. Robbie hung his head, slightly, hiding his embarrassment, but showing it at the same time. Darren swung his feet, sullenly banging the wood panel beneath the bed.

"C'mere," Robbie said, and Darren looked up, hopeful, but no, he was just motioning to the suitcase. He slid over and pressed down on it so Robbie could zip it up.

He picked it up. "Well, alright," Robbie said.

"That's it?" Darren asked in disbelief.

"I'm not any good at goodbyes."

"It doesn't have to be goodbye! I could..I could go with you!" Darren whispered frantically, not believing he was actually saying it, but knowing he'd regret it forever if he didn't.

Robbie just stared at him. Darren squirmed under his scrutiny. All the spit in his mouth dried up, parching his throat. "Stupid," he muttered. "Robbie," he looked up, to rectify it, and stopped. He stepped back, cautiously. Robbie's eyes squinted, hating him, Darren thought, or holding back his sorrow. They looked at each other silently. Darren shivered. He had to say something magical, now! His lips parted.

"Goodbye, Darren," Robbie said, before he could get anything out. He picked up the suitcase.

"Wait!" Darren called. He stopped, his hand on the door knob.

"What happens when you get scared again? Who's going to take care of you now?"

Robbie's shoulders slumped. He hit his head on the door. "You'll thank me," he said. "Someday you will." He inhaled, and stood straight and tall. Darren bit the back of his hand, hard, choking back a sob. "Goodbye, Darren," Robbie said. He didn't turn around. He opened the door.

"Robbie?" Darren said, his voice cracking.

Robbie glanced down the hall. "I'll miss you, too," he said gently, sadly, even, if Darren could allow himself to sense some regret in the abandonment. He turned the knob. "Now, don't say anything else, okay, Daz? I can't, I..I..just don't."

Then he was gone. Darren was left in his empty room. He chewed on his lower lip, and his stomach rumbled. He squinted and blinked, and he didn't cry. Not this time. He wasn't going to weep for confusion or uncertainties. Not now. Not ever again.

He waited, counting the sounds of doors opening and closing, until he was certain that Robbie had said goodbye to each of them, even J, and had gone on his way before he emerged. He'd hoped to make it to his room undetected, but Stephen, Ronan, and Shane were huddled together. Ronan was wearing the hotel bathrobe, and Stephen, wearing khaki slacks and a blue shirt, was nestled under his arm. To Darren they looked like a 3-D jigsaw puzzle. A perfect fit. Shane spotted him, and very couthly veiled his concern. Darren wondered what he must look like. Pale. Red. Whatever. He didn't care.

He nodded at them, and tried walking past, but Shane grabbed him. Before he could move, Shane had hugged him. Darren's arms remained at his side as Shane whispered, "It's okay," and rubbed his hair softly. Slowly, Darren hugged him back, tightly, and forgot his embarrassment at seeming so vulnerable in front of Ronan and the others. Shane let him go, but kept an arm around his shoulders. Darren felt like a child.

"We'll go out tonight, okay? You, me, and Stephen," Shane said. Darren nodded slowly. Going out could be nice.

"Is it okay?" Stephen asked Ronan, looking up from his position under Ronan's protective arm. Ronan kissed him, "I'll miss you baby."

Stephen grinned happily. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder," he quipped.

"Just don't be absent too long," Ronan said.

Stephen rubbed his boyfriend's stomach. "I wish you could come too."

Ronan brushed his hand off, watching Darren watching them. Darren looked away, but not before Stephen stiffened at the reprimand. "You know I have to work today, Steo," Ronan said matter-of-factly.

"I know," Stephen said, hugging him again, but this time not so playfully. Still, Ronan was clearly not comfortable with the public display, made public only by Darren's presence, an outsider in the ranks. For all his emotional stupidity, Darren knew when he wasn't wanted.

"Just call me or something," he said to Shane, slipping from him. He went into his own room and fell on the bed. He curled up over the covers and tried to sleep. But he kept thinking of how it would be to sleep without Robbie at his side. Sure, it had only been a week, but habits grew fast with him, and died hard. He missed the late night knock on the door already. Slowly, his eyelids grew heavy and he rolled into his pillow.

The phone rang. He ignored it, or tried too, but the person kept calling back. Groaning, he remembered Shane. He grabbed it.

"Hello?" He said, trying to sound awake.

"Dazzy, how are you?" Daniel asked.

He rolled onto his stomach, brought his knees to his chest. He stared at the headboard, debating the question.

"Daz? Are you there?"

"I've been better," he admitted, grateful that he didn't have to lie to Daniel. He waited for him to say that comforting phrase, the one he needed to hear more than anything.

"Tell me everything," Daniel said soothingly.

With that, Darren started talking, still curled into a ball, and told his best friend about Robbie almost dropping him down the stairs, and Ronan rescuing him and leaving him with J and J's attack, and Robbie's reconciliation and the kiss and his confession that he loved him, and his plea to go along with him and emptiness, the absolute desolation he felt when that door shut in his face. He stopped short of telling him Robbie's secret. It wasn't his secret to tell.

Daniel didn't say anything when he finished.

"Was I stupid?" Darren asked.

"You've been through a lot," Daniel offered.

Darren laughed, strained.

"Are you okay?" Daniel didn't try hiding the concern in his voice.

"I'm fine," Darren said.

"Darren?"

"I'll get by," he said softly, as much to convince himself as his friend.

"If you need anything..." Daniel trailed off. Darren could finish the sentence on his own. It seemed like every other conversation with Daniel started with 'tell me everything' and ended with 'if you need anything...'. He'd be embarrassed over it if he weren't so reliant on it.

"Thanks," Darren whispered.

"No problem. Go back to sleep."

"How'd you know I was asleep?"

Daniel laughed. "I always, know, Daz. Goodnight."

"Bye." Darren dropped the phone in its cradle. He'd scarcely let his head touch the pillow when the phone rang again.

"Stephen wants to go dancing," Shane said.

"Ok," Darren groaned. "What should I wear?"

Shane laughed. "Something sexy, stud."

"When are we going?"

"In two hours."

"And you're calling now?"

"I know how long it takes you to get ready!"

"Fair enough," Darren admitted.

"Meet us downstairs at 11."

"Ok."

"And, Darren? Try not to start any fights in the elevator on your way down. I can't rescue you every time," Shane ribbed him.

Darren smiled, absently rubbing his side where Shane had punched him earlier. "I'm taking the stairs from now on," he said.

"Glad to hear it," Shane said.

Hanging up, Darren promptly fell asleep. He sank into the bed, and suffocated in the pillow's softness. He slept, blissfully dreamless as if his subconscious knew that at this point he couldn't handle even the lightest of dreams. He awoke energized, which was good because he had fifteen minutes to look beautiful before meeting Stephen and Shane.

He tore through the bathroom, dropping clothes hither and yon, pulling a silver sleeveless shirt on and a black long-sleeved mesh one over it, spritzing his hair and mussing it at once, and literally falling into his leather pants, landing an inch from the toilet bowl, just missing a concussion. He grabbed his wallet and stumbled out of the room in record time.

"What took you so long?" Shane joked as Darren came crashing out of the stairwell. He gasped for his breath.

"Shut up," he said, between inhalations.

"Let's go," Stephen said. He grabbed Darren's hand and pulled him out. They piled into a cab. Darren noticed that Stephen naturally leaned against Shane's chest as his arm draped over his friend. Stephen grinned and squeezed Darren's knee.

"We're gonna have a great time, tonight, lads," he announced. Shane smiled. Darren nodded. Yes, maybe they would. Shane tickled Stephen's chest. Stephen giggled.

"Stop or I'll tell your wife," he threatened.

Shane laughed.

"Do you have a fake wife, too, Shane?" Darren asked, giggling a little.

"Oh, no. She's very real," Shane assured him.

"She'll kick his arse!" Stephen said happily.

"Sure will," Shane agreed, still tickling Stephen.

"I'm gonna tell her you're hitting on me!" Stephen said.

"Okay," Shane grinned. "Whatever you say."

Stephen's eyes widened. He grinned at Darren. "I'm gonna tell her you're hitting on Darren!"

Darren's mouth went slack. He suddenly felt very uncomfortable. He glanced at Shane shyly. But Shane just laughed and pushed Stephen off of him. Stephen snuggled into Darren, and breathed close to his ear.

"I didn't upset you, did I?"

"Ah, no. Course not." Darren sputtered.

"Good." Stephen spent the rest of the cab ride leaning against Darren as Shane absently rubbed his calf.

"I haven't been dancing in forever," Stephen said.

"I didn't think you liked dancing," Darren said.

Stephen sat up. "Where'd you hear that?"

Darren blushed. "Top of the Pops."

They all laughed heartily.

"Here we are!" Stephen shouted, climbing over Shane. He was out of the cab before it stopped, impatiently bouncing from foot to foot. "C'mon, let's go, let's go!" he urged. Shane and Darren paid. The bouncer recognized Darren and waved them in.

"Well, now you know why we brought ya!" Shane teased. Darren blushed again. He wasn't used to the rock star treatment yet. He kind of hoped he never would be. But tonight, well, this was alright. Stephen was already tearing up the dance floor. Shane shook his head in wonder. Darren joined him in his amused state.

"Wasn't that move popular back in 1985?" Darren asked, shouting over the "Gangsta' Trippin'". Shane shook his head, at a total loss for words.

"Maybe it really has been forever since he went dancing last," Darren suggested.

Shane stared incredulously at his little bandmate's ever oscillating moves. "I'm not sure I want to be seen with him now."

"Well, come on, we can't leave him alone. Someone will try to pick him up." Darren said.

"I'm going to pick him up and carry his arse out of here in a second. That dancing must be illegal in at least 51 states." Shane said, as he followed Stephen with his eyes.

Darren put his arm around him, relaxing more as Stephen switched to the Running Man. "There's only 50 states, Shane."

"Illegal in 50, then," Shane asserted.

Darren shook his head. "Not this one. Nothing's illegal in this one. C'mon," he grabbed Shane's wrist and led him into the fray.

"Hiya guys! Watch this!" Stephen shouted. He signaled the dancing youngsters around him to clear a path as he launched the moonwalk.

"That's...great, Steo," Shane gasped, trying not to laugh.

Darren turned around and bit his hand until tears came to his eyes. When he turned back, Shane was dancing with Stephen, trying his best to look detached which, being Shane, the epitome of coolness, wasn't all that difficult. He shrugged at Darren as if to say, "hey, whatever keeps the nut happy."

Darren wiggled a little bit, putting on his sexual stage persona. Stephen danced over to him. "That's it!" he encouraged. "Come on!" Darren let himself be led onto the dance floor. Soon he was swept up in the music and a bevy of babes surrounded them. Disembodied hands brushed his body as the heat soared. A redheaded girl shimmied in front of him. The club was packed. It was an effort just to turn around. The group twisted and shook like a writhing animal and scattered when Stephen occasionally broke out, flailing his arms in a Saturday Night Fever tribute that would put John Travolta to shame. Or fits of laughter. When Stephen was subdued, usually by Shane, the group re-convened like flies to honey. In the midst of this teaming sweat and bouncing bodies, Darren felt a hand on his shoulder.

He spun around, coming face to face with a huge blond bodybuilder. "Wanna dance?" the guy asked.

Darren gulped. "You're not really my type."

The guy shrugged. "I don't really care." With that, he grabbed Darren's waist and ground himself against him. To his dismay, Darren found that he was actually bouncing off the guy's thigh as he thudded into him. He tried to break away, but the guy's arm was impenetrable.

"You're a great dancer," the guy shouted.

This was dancing? "Thanks," Darren groaned. He was getting dizzy. The guy's leg kept hitting his crotch. And it hurt. He strained to see over the guy's shoulder, looking for an out. Any out. God, would this song never end? What happened to the days when club mixes only lasted three minutes? The smoke was making his eyes water. He smiled weakly at his dancing partner out of obligation, and a vague feeling that he'd get his head pounded if he didn't pretend to be at least a little into it.

The song stopped, blissfully. Darren extracted himself from the vice grip on his hips. "Well, thanks. You're a very...strong dancer."

The guy smiled. "It doesn't have to be over yet, cutie."

Darren gestured behind himself. "No, I've got a..."

"Hey, sweetie," a girl said, sliding under his arm. "What are you doing?"

Darren looked down, and grinned broadly as he recognized the adorable little lady who'd spent the entire Robbie concert wedged against him. "Hi, honey!" he said pointedly.

She smiled calmly at the guy. "Thanks for taking care of my baby for me," she said.

The guy smiled, trying valiantly to hide his disappointment. "No problem," he said.

The girl led Darren to the side before letting go of his hand. "Thanks," he smiled. "It's great to see you again!"

She grinned. "I didn't think you'd remember me!"

He laughed. "No question about that!"

"I'm Myka."

"Darren."

"Nice to meet you for real."

"Same here," he shook her hand graciously, then, changing his mind, hugged her. Herbal Essence.

"You smell great!" he shouted.

"Thanks!"

"I wanted to tell you that before, at the concert."

She smiled. "Are you here with anyone?"

He nodded. "Over there," he gestured to Shane, mildly bobbing his head in sharp contrast to Stephen's self-modernized version of the Mashed Potato.

"Ahh," Mika said, "you're the ones who brought the human tornado in."

Darren blushed. "He's just excited."

She raised an eyebrow. "I see."

"What about you? Are you with anyone?" He glanced around, hoping that maybe she wouldn't be.

"I'm with my boyfriend."

"Oh. I didn't know you had a boyfriend."

She smiled politely. "He's over there." She waved at a cute little boy a few feet off. He waved back, obviously aware of her relationship with Darren.

"Quite a catch," Darren said, sincerely.

"I think so, too," she confided.

"Why don't you bring him over? I'd love for you guys to meet my friends. If you can stand to be near the whirlwind, that is!"

"We'd love to," she smiled.

"Great!"

He pushed his way through the mass to Shane and Stephen. Stephen grinned at him, and he smiled back so his cheeks hurt. Darren reached back, waving at Myka to come on. She pulled her boyfriend through the crowd. Darren grabbed Shane, and stalled Stephen.

"Guys, I want you to meet someone. This is Myka, and..."

"Stanley," the boy said, smiling.

"Good to meet yas," Stephen said.

"Myka and I met at Robbie's concert." Darren explained.

He grinned. "She just rescued me."

Shane laughed. "Yeah, I saw your dancing partner. Looked like you were having some fun."

Darren rolled his eyes. "My crotch hurts."

"Extra help hitting the high notes, Daz," Stephen giggled.

"I don't need any help, thank you very much," Darren retorted.

"What high notes?" Stanley asked.

"Darren's a singer, babe," Myka explained.

"Oh, cool." Turning to the others he uttered the first question out of every New Yorker's lips, "So, what do you do?"

A quick glance passed between Stephen and Shane. "I'm a singer," Stephen said.

"I drive race cars," Shane asserted. Darren choked back a laugh, and Shane glared at him. "I crash race cars," he corrected himself.

"That's more like it," Stephen agreed, quickly hugging him. As the music thump thumped he crinkled his nose, rabbitlike, and shifted about.

"What's wrong, Steo?" Shane asked.

"Why aren't we dancing?"

"Oh, lord. Here we go again." Shane shouted mischeviously.

"What?" Stephen asked blankly.

"Clear a path, people! He's taking off!"

"Well, if you don't want to dance with me, I'll go somewhere else!" Stephen pouted.

"I'll dance with you, Stephen," Mika offered.

Stephen beamed.

"You don't mind, do you, Stan?" she asked her boyfriend.

He waved his arm gallantly. "By all means." Stephen took her hand and was soon flinging her about in a grandiose club ballet. Occasionally, she'd whirl around, half laughing in disbelief, catching Darren's eye and shaking her head as if to say, "what have I gotten myself into?" Stephen, naturally, was oblivious of the fuss he was causing and was simply revelling in the freedom of the dance.

Darren stood off with Shane, watching. He shook his head in admiration. "Isn't she great?" he asked, rhetorically. Shane shook his head slowly.

"What?"

"Rebound."

"Huh?" Darren asked.

"You're on the rebound, Darren. She's too good a girl to waste on that."

"Rebound from what?" Sure, he knew, but did it count as a rebound? Technically, he wasn't bounding from anything, was he? Just loss and confusion and despair and protection and fear and feelings, more feelings than he could handle and oh, geez. He thudded against the wall as the sadness swept over him.

Shane put his arm around him. "Let it go, Darren," he said.

Darren rolled away, pressed his head to the wall. He'd never felt so alone in his life as he did right now, in a room of 1000 people.

"I don't want to let him go, Shane."

Shane raised an eyebrow. "No, Darren," he said gently. "I meant her."

Darren slumped back again. He smiled faintly when Myka or Stephen or Stanley spun by him but didn't see them, caught up in himself and his miserable, pitiful little life. He didn't notice Shane's hand on his shoulder until the heat from it made him shiver as it osmosed through his shirt making goosebumps on his fragile skin. He closed his eyes, wanting to go off by himself and whine, but knowing he had to be an adult about it because what did he have to winge about anyway, so he stayed because he didn't know anything else. And when Stephen came over and said he wanted to leave, he kissed Myka and shook hands with Stanley on automaton, scarcely stopping for the others as he walked briskly out the door without once looking back.

feedback to silentkid@angelfire.com

One final note--thank you so much to whoever nominated Aff for a boyband story award. I wasn't expecting anything at all, but it seems I've already been awarded something. Being me, I can't remember what that is, and it could quite possibly have been just one person who nominated this story since the other nominees where ineligible due to their characters, so if you are that one person, thank you very much. :)