Date: Tue, 12 Jul 2005 22:51:11 +0000
From: Charles Underwood <lankymon@hotmail.com>
Subject: Life Saga-Life Begins: Chapter 4

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