Date: Thu, 27 Jul 2000 22:32:12 +0100 (GMT+01:00)
From: dreamer@beautifulboy.co.uk
Subject: Finding a Belief #4 {} { MM Celebrity Boy-Bands } [4!?]

WARNING: This story contains relationships between adults
of the same sex. If you are too young (18 or 21 dependent on
local area laws) or if this isn't your thing, then go read some of
Meera Syal's book Life Isn't All Ha-Ha-Hee-Hee. Another book
I recommend, from the bottom of my heart.

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.

*slightly embarrassed* I know, I know, this should have been out
last week. If it's any consolation, it's a bit longer than usual, but
still. Also, I seem to have fallen prey to the desire to insert lyrics
into this chapter, but I'll try to make this the first and the last time
I do that. But by now, you'll know not to trust my promises. : )

Well, here goes part four. Before it starts though, I'd like to protract
(is that transitive?) the wait just a little, and say a big thank you to
Dara Lynn, and Matt, and John (hope the results go okay -- clock's
ticking!) for sending me mail. Two other stories I'm really enjoying
at the moment (both involving Nick coincidentally) are Some Kind
of Bliss by Braan (who hasn't posted a new segment for a while, feel
free to email him and persuade him to! : ) and Beneath It All, by
Scotty T.

Oops, nearly forgot! Remember, I want to know why you
hate/love (and anything in between) the story, so comments and
feedback are ALWAYS welcome.
The address is: dreamer@beautifulboy.co.uk


Finding a Belief-4:


	Nick stirred restlessly on his bed, and awoke. His dreams came
crashing down around him as the heat caught him by the throat and
threatened to strangle him. He hated sleeping in the afternoons,
especially on hot days. He always woke up with a sense of nausea, and
a grogginess that would abide for at least the next hour. Sweat covered
his every limb, and he sighed as he touched his t-shirt, felt it soggy and
stripped it off. Soon all he wore were his boxers: the rest of his clothes
were in a pile by his feet on the floor and he was heading for the
shower. Outside, Padma and Alex were asleep too, in each others arms,
their conversation having gotten increasingly more abstracted and
distant until it faded away altogether and they abandoned themselves to
sleep.

	A rustle interrupted Alex's thoughts. He opened his eyes a
crack to catch his second glimpse that day of Nick shirtless. Though his
eyes weren't fully open, the image burned itself on to his retinas, and
even when his eyes closed again, Nick stood still like a snapshot, his
body covered in that sheen of moistness, light playing off his frame, a
searingly bright patch of skin here, calmer subdued golden skin there,
the gently muscled arms and chest, the toned stomach with the line of
dimming hair that descended from his navel into the white fabric of his
boxers.
	Alex was captured by a sudden desire to possess that body -- he
wanted to reach out, to touch, to feel it, feel the softness of the skin,
the yielding flesh, the gentle give of his muscles... the thoughts lasted
only an instant, but it was enough. He blinked open his eyes,
summoning himself out of his dreamworld, and tried his hardest to
steer his mind away from the thoughts.

	Nick looked at himself in the mirror, frowned, and peered
more closely. There was an odd charcoal-grey smudge on his left cheek.
He tried wiping it away, and with nothing happening, he wet his fingers
beneath the tap and tried again; this time it smeared slightly and
disappeared. Idly, as he turned on the water in the shower, he wondered
where it had come from, but he couldn't think of an answer and forgot
all about it.

	Yet Nick remained in Alex's mind, and the nagging feeling that
had been there earlier this morning returned in force. He *knew* that
body, somehow, as though he'd been born with the knowledge... no...
not born with it... it felt new -- and suddenly a piece slotted into place.
He'd not only seen the body, he'd savoured its touch, its caress, it had
run itself under his hands -- how was that at all possible? He was given
the answer immediately, as though it had just fallen into his lap from
above. He had woken up this morning with a start; he now knew why.
The sunlight that had come pouring in through the window had
permeated into his dreams, setting him on fire, even as... he drew a
shaky breath... even as Nick licked his body, his tongue trailed fire
across him instead of wetness, and that was why he'd woken up. And
that was why he'd woken up *how* he'd woken up.
	Alex groaned quietly and let his head drop back against the
armrest. This couldn't be happening -- this shouldn't be happening. It
felt awkward, as though it had been misplaced upon him... Suddenly
he could see claustrophobia stretching its garrotting arms around him,
everything, the heat, the dead weight of Padma above him, the noise
from the bathroom, everything seemed to be depriving him of
oxygen... he had to get out, he had to get away, to some place where he
could be alone. Abruptly uncaring about anything, he slid out from
under Padma, startling her into awakening in the process, and quickly
grabbing his sneakers he almost ran out of the room.

	What's wrong with him? she wondered, somewhat in disarray
on the sofa. She straightened herself out and lay there gazing at the
ceiling, and reckoning Nick to be about to come out of the bathroom
just about... now. Sure enough the door opened, and Nick came out,
simply clad in t-shirt and shorts, hair still damp, but rapidly drying, and
looking perplexedly about him. She smiled at him.
	"Where's Alex?" he asked.
	"Uhh... I really don't know: he just left in a big hurry all of a
sudden. He didn't even say where he was going."
	"Oh." He went into his bedroom. He came out again. "Wait!
What time is it?"
	"It's a quarter-past two... don't you have to be --"
	"Shit!" Nick swore feelingly. "Kevin's gonna have my hide!"
He ran into the bedroom once more and emerged, this time with
clothes, into which he speedily proceeded to change. "Shit, shit, shit."
He stopped getting dressed suddenly, and looked at Padma and
blushed. "Sorry," he said, remembering his manners.
	Padma smiled again. He looked a little silly with his trousers
half-on and one arm in a t-shirt. Waving away his apology, she said,
"Don't worry about it. Alex does it all the time -- I'm used to it. Keep
on getting dressed."
	Nick took her advice and threw on his shoes and hurtled out
of the room, shouting as he went, "Your tickets and passes for tonight
are on the table! Show starts at seven-thirty!" She couldn't help but
laugh at his manic departure, and getting off the sofa, she crossed to
the table. There indeed lay a pair of tickets sitting side by side with a
pair of backstage passes.

	The sea air flooded his senses, cooling and soothing his fervid
emotion. He stared at the calming rush of surf as it hastened towards
the shore. There was barely anyone out here -- it was far too hot at this
time of day. He lay on his stomach atop his rock, feeling its smooth,
surf-pounded surface beneath him. He had kicked off his shoes and
they lay on the fingers of rocks just behind. The rock on which he lay
was almost spherical; it was just a little flatter on top. His arms fell
away at right angles, as though he were trying to grasp the whole
boulder in his embrace. Yet the thoughts wouldn't come. It was
frustrating -- like writer's block, except with thoughts. This was his
process, he would think long and hard about it, until the thoughts
themselves became a cleansing process, and they left him with an
answer. But today, for the first time, he couldn't think. There was a
blankness in his thoughts, an unspoken knowledge that left him uneasy.
He tried thinking logically about it. True, he had bonded with Nick
unexpectedly quickly, but it was only a day and he couldn't possibly
know what Nick was truly like -- could he? At the same time though,
Nick was a closed book at the moment. He couldn't read him at all, and
he was at a loss. He looked out across the sea.
	The breakers fragmented the blue of the water, shattering it
into a myriad different pieces, tiny shreds of water that bounced away
rebelliously to settle into the sand. Far in the distance, he could make
out the shape of a yacht, the sails brightly reflecting the sun, starkly
outlined against the haze-grey blue of the horizon. Off to one side,
lumbered a pregnant-looking tanker, listing almost dangerously as it
gyrated slowly to its new course. The reek of the sea reached into him,
and his nose wrinkled slightly. The bellow of a foghorn cascaded
around the bay.
	He'd deliberately let himself get distracted, in case it would
result in any answer, but it hadn't worked. He was still as lost as ever,
and he couldn't work it out. He was well and truly stuck. He sighed,
picked up his shoes and lifted up off the rock. It only seemed that the
more he thought about it, the more it possessed his thoughts, and the
more his thoughts wanted to possess it.
	He began walking, not really caring where, but eventually
ending up in a park. The sprinklers were working overtime here, even
though conventional wisdom suggested that plants oughtn't to be
watered in strong sunlight, lest the leaves scorch. He sat down on a
bench. A woman who was being taken for a walk by her dogs, a pair of
huge alsatians lurched past him. She looked like a film-starlet. The
dogs' flanks were heaving and their breaths were coming in short pants.
Perhaps they were trying to take her home and into the cool.

	Padma sat and watched as Nick tried to make his apologies to
Kevin. She had decided not to laze around at the hotel, and instead had
come to watch the Boys rehearse. So far, only Kevin, Brian and Nick
were here anyway, and assorted sound-technicians and crew were
buzzing around them like bees over honey.
	Kevin kept staring at her. She couldn't help but notice his gaze
fixedly pointing in her direction, and she felt uncomfortable. What was
worse was that she knew he had good reason to be perplexed by her:
she hadn't spoken to him all day. She couldn't face it, it wasn't in her
nature to talk about things like... that. Sure, she could joke about it in
an abstract sort of a way, but even then she'd have to force herself to
do it.
	Howie and AJ ran in, sweating and apologizing profusely, and
Kevin interrupted his vigil on Padma to shoot them both a look that
spoke volumes. Chagrined, they stepped back to assume their positions,
while Kevin spoke into his mike. There was a screeching shriek of
feedback that made them all wince.
	"Okay," his voice boomed throughout the stadium, "Now
we're all here, we can begin... Sammy, what's our first job...?"

	Padma let his slow-spoken voice occupy a background seat in
her brain as she once again disappeared in her thoughts. The same
thoughts circulated in her head, until a great deal later, she discovered
that she did want to tell Alex, though: she couldn't keep it from him
forever. Abruptly, she made her resolution. Tonight, she'd tell him
tonight.

	The subject of her thoughts was currently sitting on the edge
of the bed with his head in his hands, back in Nick's hotel room. There
was an emptiness waiting expectantly inside of him, and he knew
exactly how to get rid of it, how to fill the void. It was just that he
didn't want to know. His answer stepped in through the door.
	"Hey," said Nick, surprised. "I thought you'd still be out."
	Alex raised his face from his palms wearily, feeling a great deal
older than his eighteen years. "No, I came back about a half-hour ago.
Why are you here, anyway? Don't you have to rehearse or something?"
	"Well, duh. I came back to pick up some stuff I left behind."
Nick grinned. "Did you see I left the..."
	"... backstage passes and tickets. Cheers, yeah? It's really good
of you to do that for us."
	"Forget it man, it's just nice to get the chance to make some
friends. The way we work, we don't get many opportunities to be
friendly."
	Friends. The work banged around inside Alex's head, drowning
out the rest of Nick's sentences. Friends. Friends. A friend wouldn't
do... that... to another friend, would he? Alex said nothing, too
preoccupied with his problems.
	"You okay?" asked Nick. The softness of his tone absurdly
struck a chord in Alex's heart, and he looked up hopefully, to find Nick
looking down at him with concern in his blue eyes. Alex could feel his
the edges of his resolve melting and he nodded. "Sure?" persisted Nick.
Alex couldn't resist a wry smile. What Nick was doing now so
reminded him of what he himself had been doing to Padma earlier.
	"Yeah," he said. His throat was hoarse. "I'm fine. Go on, go.
Kevin'll be waiting for you."
	"'Kay. Anyway, I guess I'll see you later?"
	"Definitely," said Alex, managing a half-hearted grin. "Go on."
He paused, then added more quietly. "Don't worry about me. I'll be
fine."
	"Oh." said Nick. Alex could see he didn't look convinced. And
he could have sworn that there was something else. He left in a rush,
and the door slammed behind him. There hung in the air after his
departure an idea, the spectre of a hesitation. Alex's face fell back into
his hands. He was surely going nuts.

	Padma looked up as Nick got back, grateful to have someone
at whom she could look, and not be forced to notice Kevin's
increasingly aggrieved stares.
	"Hey, Padma, do you know what's up with Alex?" asked Nick.
	Padma frowned a little. She hadn't noticed anything up. Mind
you she hadn't seen him all afternoon. "Why? What's happened?"
	"Well nothing. He won't tell me," explained Nick. He waited a
moment. "How about you? You okay?"
	Padma twitched slightly. "Yes, I'm fine."
	From the stage Kevin called: "Okay everyone, take ten! Nick,
we're gonna need you after the break, yeah?" There was a bustle from
the stage as a gaggle of crew flooded over it.
	Padma looked round to see that Nick had sat down next to
her. She looked at him expectantly. He ran a hand through his hair,
looking worried. She returned her attention to some invisible point in
the distance. "Kevin told me," he said.
	Her head snapped round. "What?"
	"Kevin told me about yesterday night."
	Her face went white. She wanted to say something, but the
words wouldn't form in her mouth, sticking in her throat. She jumped
to her feet, and turned away from him.
	"Padma..."
	She flew out of the stadium on her diaphanous white scarf's
angel-wings.
	Kevin got down from the stage. "Where's she going?"
	Nick turned deep crimson. "I don't know. Nowhere," he
mumbled, looking at his feet like a naughty schoolboy receiving a
punishment from a teacher.
	"Nick. Tell me you didn't."
	"Didn't what?" asked Nick with a sinking feeling.
	"Didn't tell her."
	Nick tarried just a little too long on his reply. It was enough. "I
didn't mean to make --"
	"-- How could you?" Kevin interrupted, and his voice grew
quieter, but tightly-controlled. Nick knew from long-experience this
was a bad sign. "I told you in confidence, Nick," he said accusingly.
	Nick felt even worse. "I only wanted to help. And --"
	"And nothing!" His dark stare pinned Nick where he stood.
	"Kevin, I'm really sorry. Please believe me."
	"Oh, I believe you Nick." If it was at all possible, his voice
grew yet quieter and more strained. "But you see, it's all too easy to say
sorry. How easy is it to change?" Kevin stalked off down the aisle,
leaving Nick standing, crushed. Howie, who had been watching the
whole thing, came over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.
	"You alright?" he asked.
	Nick nodded dispiritedly.
	"He'll be okay."
	"That doesn't make it any better, does it?"
	"Sometimes you got to take a step back and let things run their
course. You can't make *everyone* happy *all* of the time." Nick
looked so dejected that Howie couldn't help but pull the boy into a
hug. Sometimes Howie had to remind himself that Nick was still, at
heart, just that, a boy. "You gonna be okay?" he asked.
	Nick nodded again.
	Howie just wished he could believe it.

	Kevin found Padma standing outside on a little patch of
brown-green grass. She didn't seem to be looking at anything in
particular. He approached. "Padma?"
	"What?" The word came out flat, without any inflexion.
	"Look at me, please?"
	Padma unwillingly capitulated in the hopes that surrendering
would get this over with quicker.
	Kevin was shocked by the emptiness in her eyes, but
swallowing, forced himself to continue. "Look, I don't know what I've
done wrong, but please tell me what it is, so I at least have a chance to
fix it."
	"It's not something you can fix, Kevin, it's not a car. It can't
just be put right by injecting a few replacements in the mix."
	"Well, what do you *want* me to do?"
	"Nothing you can't do anything --"
	"Dammit, there has to be --"
	"You just don't understand." Padma's coolness was in direct
counterpoint to Kevin's increasing exasperation.
	"Well, make me understand --"
	"Kevin..."
	"-- Show me --"
	"Kevin!"
	"-- just let me know what --"
	"Shut the fuck up!" Kevin stopped, stunned. Padma looked
down, and made her decision. "I... I'm... I don't love you."
	Kevin opened his mouth and closed it again, discovering he
couldn't argue against that. After all they had only known each other
for a day. "At least give it a chance, see if it can work," he suggested.
	"No, I can't."
	"Why not?"
	"I just can't."
	"Why not?"
	"I can't -- it's not something I can explain, so don't ask me why
not again, I just can't."
	"Well, what do you want me to do?"
	"Just please pretend that yesterday never happened." Her eyes
blazed in anger suddenly. "And *how* could you tell Nick?" she said.
	Kevin didn't have an answer.
	"As though I were some trophy girl that you collected, that you
could brag about to your friends."
	"It wasn't like that, please," he said desperately.
	She was plainly unpersuaded. "I don't want to talk about it
anymore. As far as I'm concerned, yesterday never happened." And
with that, leaving Kevin even more upset and confused, and without
looking back even once, she walked away.

	Alex bumped into her on the long carriageway that stretched
out of the stadium to the main road. She was plainly agitated. "What's
wrong?" he asked, concerned.
	She shook her head, but said nothing, prompting Alex to
repeat the question. This time, her answer was less sure, and he slid an
arm round her shoulders and guided her to a bench.
	"Nothing?" Alex didn't believe her anymore. She had to tell
him sometime, surely? "Well, I guess you can talk to me after the
concert."
	"Oh." The concert. She'd almost forgotten about that.
Suddenly her desire to see the Boys perform had faded, and she was
beginning to welcome the prospect of a quiet night in.
	"Don't you want to go?" asked Alex, directly, butting into her
thoughts.
	She exhaled. "Not really."
	"Why -- oh, never mind." He changed his mind, knowing full
well that when Padma was firmly entrenched in this mood there was no
getting any answers out of her.
	"May I go now?" she asked, with a hint of the old Padma's
impertinence.
	"Yeah, sure. I guess I'll see you tomorrow."
	"I suppose so."
	Alex watched her as she went into the distance. She was far too
hard to figure out sometimes, it was far too difficult to discern what
was going on in that shut-up mind of hers. He so wanted to help, but
she wasn't letting him. The sun glared down on the red tarmac of the
road, and a black car swished past him trailing dust from the road
outside.

	Four o'clock.
	Five o'clock.
	Six o'clock.
	Under pretense of reading a book, Padma sat staring at the
clock in her apartment, watching the second hand going round on its
eternal journey. The clear, sweet chime of the doorbell rang in the room
for a moment. She untangled herself from the cossetting arms of the
sofa and went to answer it.
	Alex stood there, looking smart in a white t-shirt that was tight
over his frame in all the right places, and neatly pressed off-white
trousers, and a pair of elegant black shoes. She was confused, but no
longer when he said, "Get dressed. We're going out."
	"But --"
	"No arguments. Shut up and get ready. I'll wait here."
	"But --"
	"Go."
	Padma acquiesced grudgingly and disappeared into the inner
chambers of her apartment, to emerge a few minutes later, looking
resplendent in a simple graceful panjabi suit that followed the lines of
her form. Around her floated a haze of the scent of a rose-garden. Alex
grinned, and even made her smile too. She tucked a loose strand of hair
behind her ear.
	"What about your concert?" she asked.
	"What about it?"
	"Don't you want to go see them?"
	"There are always concerts, Padma. But you need cheering up,
and that, in my book, is more important."
	Padma couldn't help but smile at his youthful optimism, and
suddenly realized how much of a support he was to her. How many
others would chuck in backstage passes for an internationally successful
act to spend some time with a friend?
	"Where are we going?"
	"Dinner." And that was all the reply she received.
	The hand he reached out, she took, even as she gazed into his
warmest brown eyes, and allowed him to lead her out of the apartment.

	The food had been excellent, and now the meal was winding to
a close as they both sat there with rich chocolate cake gazing beggingly
up at them. Alex had managed to keep the conversation restricted to
lighter topics, avoiding any mention of Kevin, and Padma was grateful.
She would save the graver matters for later. The wine was loosening
her tongue as well, not too much, just making it easier to tell that which
she thought ought not to be told.
	"Well, go on then, eat it up," urged Alex.
	She made a face at him. "You eat it up! I'm not getting fat on
my own."
	"Okay okay, we'll share, deal?"
	Indicating her agreement, she gestured with her head, that
peculiarly Indian mix of a nod and a tilt. They both dug into different
sides of the cake. Padma took another sip of the wine, and idly listened
to the song that fell from the speakers above.

	My anklets ring, where is thy attention?
	Meet my eyes, hear my words:

	This night won't come again, this night won't come again
	This youth will pass away
	This night won't come again,
	This youth will pass away, this youth will pass away

	This night swings, intoxicated without drink
	Teasing my eyes, caressing my heart
	If it passes, thy whole life will be troubled
	Thou will go through a thousand desires

	But this night won't come again, this night won't come again
	This youth will pass away
	This night won't come again,
	This youth will pass away, this youth will pass away

	My youth sings to the rhythm of my heart
	Hold my hand, take me where thou will
	From where are these cares, how come these sorrows?
	I am his, who is mine, I swear on life itself

	This night won't come again, this night won't come again
	This youth will pass away

	The song she knew. It was very old, from the end of the
forties. The singer had passed away, but her voice had remained fresh
and harmonious to the end. Sadly she had recorded very few songs,
overshadowed by the younger generation, and her voice had fallen
unused as she herself fell into financial difficulty. She had died
destitute, lying in a dingy room in Versova. The tale and the sadness of
the song brought tears to her eyes. Alex noticed, and quietly called for
the bill, and having paid it, rising, he went round the table to take her
hand. She looked up at him, tears still in her eyes, but these were not
anything to do with the song, or even the singer; these were for herself.

	Darkness had fallen outside, and they had crossed over into the
park. Here they walked for a while in silence, until Padma stopped, and
turning him to face her, took both his hands. It was time. And so with
many false starts, she began.
	"What happened last night -- what happened last night was
something that Kevin and I didn't decide to do, it just happened. We'd
both had too much to drink, and we were both not fully in control, and
I'm not absolving us -- me -- of blame, but it's not all our faults, and so
when we ended up in his room, we fell onto the bed, and we... we..."
It was as if she'd reached an invisible barrier, and couldn't push past it.
	"Slept together," supplied Alex softly, squeezing her hands.
	She nodded, looking ashamed.
	"But that's not so bad," said Alex. "I mean, I'm sure a lot of
people have had sex and regretted it afterwards. So why --"
	She was shaking her head. "No, it's not that." She took a deep
breath. "It..." She caressed his hand. "It... he stole..." Tears were
coming into her eyes, and her lip had begun to tremble. "He stole... he
stole my childhood away. He took my virginity."
	Now the tears were coursing down her cheeks, and he could
see the sobs building in her body.
	"I lost my virginity to someone I didn't even love." At this
statement, an almighty sob shook her and she collapsed into his waiting
arms, dear, sweet, faithful Alex's arms. She shook uncontrollably in his
embrace, clutching on to him for life itself.

		They stood for a while in the moonlight, surrounded by the
city. Alex's hands were soothing her as she stood enveloped by his
warm touch, in her hair, on her face. After some time, she stepped back
a little from his embrace and looked up at him.
	"You gonna be okay?" he asked.
	She nodded. "Yeah, I think so." She caught him looking at her
with the oddest look in his eyes. "What?" she asked.
	"Nothing, I was just thinking... you're going to make an
incredible wife someday, you know that?"
	"What?"
	"I can see it now: you'll have two kids, and a huge house, and a
swimming pool, and a big dog called Wolfy --"
	" -- And a husband that looks like Tom Cruise -- "
	" -- and a top-flight job..."
	She smiled bravely as the moonlight became ensnared in her
tear-stained cheeks.
	He became suddenly serious. "Pad, you're a wonderful woman,
you've got to keep believing that. Don't let anyone convince you
otherwise."
	And as she looked up into his sympathetic liquid brown eyes,
she knew something, she knew something she didn't want to know. She
knew that she loved him.

---ooo000ooo---

That curdling sound you hear is the plot thickening. : ) I refuse to make any
promises this time on when the next instalment will be out, seeing how
badly it went last time. : ) But soon, hopefully, in the next week or two.

In the meantime, your feedback is as ever appreciated, so please, please
tell me what you think about the story.
That address again: dreamer@beautifulboy.co.uk