Life Saga
Disclaimer: This story contains scenes and actions of an adult homosexual and homoerotic nature. If you are resident in a country where your age does not permit you to view such material, please leave this page immediately. This story also contains references to real people. The author makes no claim to know the sexualities of any of the characters within the story including in particular the members of the Backstreet Boys. This story is entirely fiction and does not represent the views of any of the members of the sites with which it is affiliated. Thank you.
Life Begins:
Chapter Four: Reunions
Nick sat down in front of the TV and switched mindlessly through the channels. He did not care what was on; it just provided him with some entertainment for the moment. When five minutes of channel hopping had not yielded any real satisfaction, the doorbell rang. "Finally, something to do," sighed Nick with relief. He was still puzzled with his feelings for Charles especially since there were no signs of them being returned but he pushed those thoughts aside as he opened the door. AJ stood outside; his face solid stone.
"What do you want?" asked Nick bluntly. He was in no mood for any of the band right now. "I wanted to talk," began AJ but Nick interrupted. "I think you said enough the last time you were here. You made your views pretty clear the last time we spoke. Look, I don't really want anything more to do with it and I am busy right now. Cut to the chase, what do you want?" AJ looked down at the floor before replying softly, "Well there was talk of a reunion tour and I didn't want to think of going without you being there and..." Nick's gasp of rage cut him off. "How dare you! After everything that happened and you only come crawling back when there is money involved! Is that all I am worth to you? Another part of the band?" He ignored AJ's attempt to correct the oversight and continued, "Well thanks a bunch really. Don't bother calling back."
He slammed the door shut and, fuming, threw himself down of the sofa. "That wasn't very kind of you," said a voice in a matter-of-fact tone. Nick spun round to see Kevin stroll in and get himself a drink of water from the kitchenette before sitting opposite Nick in an armchair. Nick was flabbergasted and his surprise clearly showed, "Aren't you going to say something? No witty retort, no comment about how you hate us all so much?" Nick glared at him. "How dare you come parading in here like this? Who do you think you are and how did you get a key?" Nick asked, regaining his composure and further filled with anger.
"I dare because I care...oh what a rhyme!" Kevin grinned. "I have a key because you gave me one and until recently, I thought I was your friend." He said the last few words slowly, all traces of joking aside. Looking directly at him, Nick saw the earnest force in his eyes and stopped himself before he could reply with an insult. "Have you got anything new to say? I was under the impression you all made your views pretty clear..." he trailed off. "Well we would have liked to talk it over more but you wouldn't give us the chance," AJ said as he swept into the room followed by Howie. "You should have given us a chance to really explain," added Howie as they sat down. "Go ahead then. Explain," commanded nick, bewildered and angered by the sudden influx of uninvited people into his flat. "If you think I want to listen to you go on about how it is morally and naturally wrong to be gay and how God never intended it to be so and that it is a phase or a misconception that I'm going through you can forget it and leave now before I call the police..."
"If you would just hear us out!" interrupted AJ. "Of all the people you know you should know that I have been through the rough more than any of them. And yes, God helped me and I found him in my life. Sod what the some Christian teachers say about homosexuality, they are wrong. Jesus said love thy neighbour and you are far more of a neighbour to me. After all the wrong I did; I have no right to judge what you do with your life. I don't mean to push my religion on you but if He can find me when I was so lost, He can find you easily as you are more sure of where you are than anyone else I know."
Nick could tell that AJ's speech had taken a lot out of him, admitting his problems was always painful; the memories of the drugs and the spiralling depression would never leave him. Sensing that AJ had hit a chord, Kevin took over, "We don't care about the band; we just our friend back. You are like a brother to all of us and we don't want to loose over something as stupid as moronic words." Howie continued, "None of us has anything against you or you being gay. It just came as a shock and we know we were wrong to act so pigheadedly." Nick looked them and saw sincerity and truth. They did accept him for who he was. Although he could not forget their initial reaction and the atmosphere was different between them all now, he could forgive and it was not an evil air that settled over the group.
He wanted to accept them back again with open arms and talk about this supposed reunion concert thing that AJ had mentioned but something was gnawing at his mind and he could not ignore it. "Where is Brian?" he asked a little more suddenly than he had expected. The question whilst not unexpected came as a surprise. "He...didn't want to come," replied AJ hesitantly. "We tried to persuade him, really we did but he was so..." continued Howie. "He is too damn stubborn and set in his beliefs. This is really hard for him to accept," finished Kevin. "What, you think this is easy for me?" asked Nick, raising his defences back in preparation for the inevitable debate that would follow.
But it didn't follow. AJ just sighed and said, "He will come round. We have all seen the truth that you are just the same and he will, just give him more time." He stood and Kevin followed his lead. "We have said what we wanted to say, and you have kindly listened. We hope you will think on the matter and come to a different decision. Give us a ring when you've decided." They walked to the door. Nick stayed on the sofa, not wanting to leave. Howie rose last and, turning back to his friend said, "I hope you come back. We need you." With that they left the room in silence.
Nick stared at the red LED on the TV set and let his vision blur around it. What should he do? After all, they had apologised and the atmosphere was just as kind and friendly as it had ever been. But Brian. He had been closest to him-his best friend. And to still disown him after everything was too painful. He tried to visualise the conversation that would take place once Brian came round but couldn't. Instead for no reason at all, Charles' face swam into view. Why was he thinking about him? There was nothing there...or was there? Had he missed something? The perpetual question forced him to rethink over and over the events that had transpired.
He sat there for a couple of hours, daydreaming about looks that might have meant something or the feelings of fire that could be an illusion. He did not want to hope but had little choice in the matter. Reality snapped him back when the phone rang, causing him to shatter the pleasant false reality and bring him back with a harsh bump to the cruel world. He was not interested; he wasn't gay. He didn't even know him. There was nothing there. But hidden, unseen to everyone, hope still burned deep within his soul.
Nick picked up the phone just as they rang off. He cursed at leaving the answer machine off. He had removed the power cord since the accident to stop people from bothering him about it, using email to respond to his friends' concerns. He dialled the recall number and found out who had tried to ring. His mother. He didn't feel like a conversation just then but thought it best to ring back and so, using the speed dial returned the call. It rang for a minute before the mechanical woman cut in the line. "I'm sorry but the person you are calling isn't available right now. Please leave a message..." Nick put the receiver down with a sigh. He would call tomorrow. As for now, he needed some space. Grabbing his coat, he left the flat and headed out to the town. Perhaps somewhere in a bottle he would find his answers.
The bell rang clearly through the hall way. Emma ran to the door and pulled it open with a grin. "Heigh-hos!" she called, hugging the man in the doorway. "How's it going?" Charles laughed and pulled back, "I'm fine. How are you?" She led him into the front room and sat him down before answering. "Generally good. Pleased to see you. Where did you go? I've tried to reach you by email by I didn't get a reply. Anything up?" He smiled and looked down at the floor. "My laptop broke so I haven't got the email yet. I had to go away for work and I was involved in an accident but I'm fine now. What have you been up to?" he asked, trying to change the subject.
But she was not fooled. "You're not dodging this that easily. What accident? When? Why didn't you call me?" He sighed. It was futile to deny her questions. She had always had a way of getting answers from him and he from her. Neither knew exactly how it worked but they both hid a desire to tell each other everything. This was partly why they had become such great friends and had remained so for such a long time. So he relayed the tale of how the ship had capsized and how he had escaped and recovered in hospital. He told her that he had been made redundant and needed a place to crash for a few days but was careful to omit the details of Nick's presence in every aspect of the tale. "Are you sure it's OK if I stay? Really, I don't want to be a bother..." she cut him off.
"You are always welcome here. I'm just glad you're OK. You sure you don't need longer here?" He nodded his head, "Just until I can get back on my feet and work out what I'm going to do." Emma turned and, leading him upstairs said, "I'd better show you your room. It's not much but it's all I've got. I'll be glad of your company anyhow. Fancy going out tomorrow night?" He nodded his approval and lugged his suitcase onto the small bed before answering, "How about tonight?" he asked, he eyes twinkling mischievously. "I could do with letting my hair down. You up for it?"
"Yeah, what the hell, why not?" she replied, grinning. "I'll have to dig out some glad rags," she grinned as she headed back down the stairs. Charles opened up his case and loosely piled the few things inside into the chest of draws. He would have to go shopping and buy some new stuff. Hell what was he thinking? He needed a place to live first! He couldn't just hang around and be a burden to others. He needed to find his feet and he needed to do it soon. He sat down as thought grabbed his attention. He had lost his resolve and had been hit hard deep within his core. It had happened before, many times but this time it was different.
They found a way to break his shield or at least that was how it seemed. Was that part of his life ever shielded? He could not remember. It would have been logical to do so and generally he was, very; but then again some of things he did were completely illogical. Could he have left a gap in his armour? Did they find it? Either way it didn't matter. It was irrelevant. What was relevant was that he had been hurt, badly. He had to re-shield his core; regain his composure and find that energy, that life force and power that burned deep within to build his defences up once more. His body had healed easily; it was now his mind's turn.
Resting on that thought, he began to trudge through the events that had occurred since accident. In a half-trance, he filtered and catalogued the feelings within as he had learned to do so long ago. He took the anger and pain and buried them inside at the centre of his core and then built a solid force around it; made of pure resolve. In his meditative state, he allowed his mind to direct his thoughts to where they could harm him and where they could be used for later reference. It was an event. It had happened. There was nothing more than that. Except of course there was.
The one random chain of thought that perpetually remains uncontrolled, wild, random and free; that makes us truly who we are recalled a time long in the past. It was not forgotten as such just deliberately ignored. A time of pain and emotional hardship as this was. His external barrier, his false image and Freudian projection had of course remained in tact then as it did now and always had done. But inside, his core was twisting out of control. Why did his mind choose now to collate this experience with that? He puzzled over it, analysing the events and trying to draw parallels. There were many; namely the pain, anguish and fear. But these were not the issue and he knew it. Dismissing them, he let the free chain wonder further as the last few days were filed away neatly in the catalogue of his life.
Then the chain came to rest. What had it stopped at? Charles could not tell. He could not describe it. It was all so alien; so very strange and yet so familiar. A sense of belonging and welcoming that he could not name. Then, inevitably said the thought but bizarrely and perplexingly said his logic, Nick's face swam into view. It lingered for moment, illuminated by a strange hope that accompanied the odd feeling before his mind was snapped back as Emma opened the door. "You wanna grab some food or shall we eat out?" she asked.
She had changed into her glad rags' alright. A sparkly top and short skirt with heels that made her taller to everyone but Charles. He grinned; he was six foot four anyhow. "Still trying to catch up to me?" he joked. "Humpf! I am above you in *so* many ways though!" she replied, a gleam in her eyes as they descended the stairs. He looked at her and they laughed. It felt good to laugh; such a release. Sometimes laughter truly was the best medicine. They made for a local club that Emma frequented at weekends called The Arda.' It was the apparently the most friendly gay/bi/lesbian club in that district and since they both didn't want to be far from getting back home, it was the perfect place.
It took a while for the pair to get in and get accustomed to the smoky atmosphere and heavy music but soon, after a couple of cocktails and mad jokes, they raced to the dance stage. Emma always danced. She didn't care about how she looked or where she was, she just loved to move with the music. It was a mix of cheesy pop, with some rock and R'n'B thrown in too. The club extended quite some way and was made up of three large rooms; one for dancing, one for general chat and a quieter one for relaxing on sofas and talking. Charles joined Emma in the dance room and stepped up on the podium. Letting self-consciousness go, he felt the alcohol begin to inhibit his senses and began to dance.
He danced for hours. Well on into the night, past the early hours until the club began to empty. The DJ called out for the last song and as the crowd writhed up and fell with the tones, Charles headed for the exit. He never liked being one of the last to leave and being ushered by the bouncers was not his cup of tea. He had danced for five hours and now as the dial on his wrist showed ten past three, he felt the a wave of exhaustion flood over his body. He crossed the road and sat down on a bench just outside of the nearby park. Emma came out five minutes later and sat beside him.
"Had fun?" she asked, noticing his focused look. He wiped it off with a great yet concealed effort and grinned back, "Yeah. Saw you with lover boy over there though," he indicated a tall dark-haired man waiting across the road. "He is hot. Gay?" he asked. She waved to him and replied, "Nah, he just likes the music. Came here to part-ay!" she laughed. "You go and take him home, I want to stay out a bit longer. I'll crash at a hotel if I need to."
"Sure sure?" she asked, her eyes conveying concern. "Yes! Now be off with you! I'll be fine! See you tomorrow." They embraced briefly before she ran back to the waiting hunk. Charles watched as the pair walked, arm in arm, along the pavement and around the corner to her flat. He smiled, happy for them before turning into the park and letting the tidal force of loneliness crash into his spirit. It was colder than usual; the wave of desolation. It fell upon his centre like a mesh of thick slime that flowed sickly over his soul and yet hit upon his mind with such ferocity it was unparalleled. In an instant it swept away his illusions and thoughts and replaced them with brute fact: he was alone and always would be. No one could ever love him in that way. No one. Ever.
But his inner core survived. His truth and centre, build on a foundation of grit and anger mixed with desperation held strong against the cascade of fear and life-draining energy that plagued him. He shield held as he had trained it to for so many years. A grim hope that had almost faded into nothingness still burned faintly within his core; shining through the torrent of darkness. He sat down on a bench and swept a hand across his face and through his hair. Exhaling deeply, he regained his usual defence to the incessant attacks on his mind. But tonight his mind was having none of it. He destroyed his arguments as soon as he created them and at each counter-proposal, the dark feelings of despair grew.
Trying to claw his way out of the never-ending vortex of hate that now consumed it, he used his last resort. The last card in his hand; his trump survival and sole reason for him being alive to that day he hated playing but now, as it had been in the past, there was no choice. He diverted the swirl of anger toward himself and began to systematically berate himself for thinking in such a foolish way. He was being so arrogant; so self-centred. He should be looking out for the others and not bothering about his life; it was unfair on those he cared about. He had to be there for them; to help and stand solid as a rock when they needed; to run when they called. It was his duty.
Slowly, the pain subsided as his self-attacking drove the loneliness away and replaced it with a cool worthlessness that although stuck with equal disgust and vileness to his soul, it was cold and bearable. He could live with that at least. He inhaled and held the breath for a minute before releasing it back into the cold night air. New York didn't sleep and it looked like that tonight he wouldn't either. It was a becoming a regular occurrence or at least had been before the accident. He could not remember the last time he had dreamt or even recalled dreaming. He looked out at the city lights gleaming a followed the path they made through the sky towards the sea.
It was then that he noticed he was not alone on the bench. He did a mental start and shifted slightly; confused and bewildered at not having noticed the other man sitting there. He had his head in his hands and was shuddering slightly. Charles could not tell if it was due to the cold night air or if the stranger had been crying but he suspected the later. He was about to ask if anything was wrong when the man straightened and looked him square in the eyes. A bolt of recognition mixed a strange feeling shot through Charles' mind. From the look on the stranger's face, the same happened to him. "Nick! What are you doing here?" Nick fell forward and, wrapping his arms around Charles' neck, burst into sobs.
He didn't need to speak and it was clear to Charles that he was in no fit state to. Not knowing what more to do, Charles just held the crying man and tried to offer some comfort. He did not know until later that at that moment, all thoughts of hate and despair vanished from within him as if they had been magically erased by some unseen holy power. "Come on, it's late and cold. Let's get you inside and in bed," Charles told him. He led the shivering figure towards the nearest hotel, across the park and unusually quiet street to the reception. By that time, Nick had regained some of his composure or at least enough to put on a baseball cap he had in his pocket and to sit on a large plush sofa in the foyer without drawing much attention to himself. Charles went up to the front desk and asked for a room. "I'm sorry sir, but I am not permitted to give you a room after three in the morning," replied the clerk in a stuffy, bored voice.
Charles took out his wallet and flashed a card to the man. He hoped that there would not be enough time for him to see that it was out of date and thus was revoked. The man started for a moment before handing over a set of keys without a word. "I shall not want to be disturbed. I shall check out later this morning. No question asked and there shall be no trouble. Understand?" The clerk just nodded. "Come on you. Let's get some rest," Charles told the still wobbly Nick as they entered the lift. The pair went unnoticed and reached their designated room in a few minutes. By the time they were inside, Nick had begun to cry again.
Charles left him on one of the two single beds and, going over the drinks cabinet, poured two large glasses. "What is going on?" he asked bluntly, placing one of the glasses in Nick's shaking hands and half-draining the other. The liquor was bitter and strange but warming and very welcome. Nick paused for a moment to look into Charles' caring eyes and through tears and sobs told him. He explained how the band had disowned him after he had come out to them and how he had felt so alone. His parents, who already knew about his sexuality and were perfectly fine with it were unable to offer support since they were busy looking after his sister who had become recently very ill. Everyone he knew had either too busy, mostly with good reason, or uncaring and cruel.
He went over the details of the group's argument and torrent of hatred that had been launched after the accident. "At least the media were kind," Charles told him. "They don't know yet," Nick said, quietly. "After such rejection from all sides, I could not face them. I am a coward," he finished defiantly before shivering and adding, "And I don't deserve to live." He drained the glass which until now he had left untouched. Charles was on his fourth. "Don't talk such bollocks. Get some rest and sleep on it some more. You said the guys visited you today for the first time since...well that is bound to bring up all kinds of locked emotion. And I don't think you truly confronted the issue before anyhow. I probably got in the way but..."
"You? Get in the way? Never! You are amazing! You listen and...you know exactly how I feel and what to say. How can I ever thank you enough for just being there?" interrupted Nick. Charles felt the pang of an old wound; the same old reason and meaning shuddered in his chest. "You're welcome. I am always here for you whenever you need me. Now, get some sleep." He took the glass from Nick's hands and placed it on the cabinet alongside his own before walking around the partition in the room to the other bed.
He changed into pyjamas and ran a brush across his teeth loosely, feeling the weight of the night on his limbs. When he returned from the on-suite bathroom, Nick was snoring; fast asleep and fully clothed on the single bed. Charles smiled at him and looked for a little longer than he would have usually done at a stranger in Nick's position; letting a sense of wellbeing soothe his mind. Then, he turned out the light and lay down, checking the time as he did so. It was five a.m. He closed his eyes but knew that he would not sleep properly. Instead he prepared himself for the endless nightly mental fight of himself versus his thoughts. As the arguments flared from his subconscious, he reserved a small place in his mind to listen the gentle rasp that came from behind the partition.
The noise soothed him and as the torrent of thought ensued, he felt slightly more relaxed and found it easier to slip into a semi-conscious state from which he would power-sleep. Consciously shutting down his cognitive functions, Charles commanded his body to rest and forcibly locked his brain into sleep. It was naturally dreamless and short-lived but it revitalised his limbs despite taking a heavy toll on his mind. He would lie in that meditative state for just two hours but he body would believe him to have taken seven hours rest. It was an extremely useful technique and one that he had made great use of many times before. He needed to use now as he had done for most of the time in hospital and it would be a very long time before he ever slept normally.
Well another part is written: soz it is late but I had a ton of stuff to do; so I made it longer instead :p I shall try to get the next one up by Monday prompt. If not well work would have taken its toll on me. Keep on reading; thanks go to those who have emailed me: keep it up; I value your support! lankymon@hotmail.com