Date: Thu, 19 Oct 2000 20:51:11 -0400 From: Ricky Morse Subject: celebrity/boy-bands/four-doors ***This is a complete rewrite from scratch, with many changes, and a brief ending after the author's notes.*** Disclaimer: The following is a fib. The names are real, but the characters have been made up. Although it would be pointless to deny any similarity between the characters in the story and any person living or dead, it is not pointless to deny any veracity or implications in said similarities. This work is copyright (c) 2000 by the author. All rights reserved. ---------- Four Doors ---------- Four doors. That's it. Four doors, then back again, then, finally, an out. Taking a deep breath, and double-checking that he had his room key, he stepped out into the hall, quietly closing the door behind him. Earlier that day Howie had discovered (by accident), that the doors closed by themselves, and locked automatically. It wouldn't do to get locked out tonight. Four doors. Not very far -- although with the slight curve in the hotel corridor, the fourth door was just out of sight from where he stood, so he couldn't actually see it. He thought again of sliding the note beneath Brian's door, but knew that he couldn't. Brian wouldn't see the note in the morning, but Kevin never missed anything. He started down the corridor, slowly -- saying one last goodbye. Brian, of course, had the room right next to him. If he listened carefully, he would be able to just hear the sounds of Brian's sleeping. He lightly rested his hand on the frame. Remembering Brian's infectious smile, a tear started to well up in his eyes. It was better this way -- Brian deserved so much more than he could offer. The tear itself was a sign of how much he had lost. Five years ago, he would have been able to do this laughing and smiling. But the control that he had once had -- the ability to _play_ the part of "Nick", the ability to control "Nick" -- that was crumbling apart. Soon, it would all be gone -- leaving Nick at "Nick"'s mercy. Better to stop it now. It was Brian, oddly enough, who had started it all. If it hadn't been for that one comment -- three words -- it might all have happened differently. Sighing, he withdrew his hand from the door, and continued on, remembering.... It had been cold -- not the kind of cold that made you feel invigorated, but rather the dreary cold that crept in through doors and windows, paying no attention to the myriad heaters on the bus. They had been in Germany at that time, now almost four years ago. It had been a long morning -- everybody was cold and tired, and wanted to go home. They had another week, though, before they could finally return to the US. Nick had felt especially tired, and was therefore being uncharacteristically quiet -- he hadn't had the energy to act his part, so rather then disappoint them all, he was pretending to sleep. He had actually almost been asleep when he heard the engine noises change, and a few moments later, felt the bus draw to a stop. Wondering what was going on -- they usually drove non-stop, so as to get to the venue as early as possible -- he lifted his head to ask, but AJ beat him to it. "Hey Kev -- what's up? Why we stoppin'?" Kevin, seemingly as much in the dark as everyone else, had shrugged, then gotten up and walked to the front of the bus. After a short discussion with James, the charge'd'affairs du semaine, as he called himself, Kevin had returned. "C'mon guys -- we're going to stop for lunch, grab some real food, 'get off the bus' -- James thinks it will help us feel less tired to have a warm meal." They had all groaned a little -- they had spent the whole morning trying to create warm spots, but eventually they all were bundled up and out the bus door. The driver had stopped in a little village somewhere -- in memory it was very picturesque, but at that time none of them were feeling much like gawking. There was an inn of some sorts nearby, which was very inviting -- due to the heavy clouds, the lights were on, and it looked warm. They all made a bee-line towards it, with James leading the way. Walking into the inn had been amazing. Suddenly, everyone was warm. And with the sudden change in temperature, everyone became awake -- an odd effect, as usually warmth made people relax and grow tired, but after the numbing cold which the bus' heaters had done nothing to affect, the bright warmth of the inn was like a magic elixir. Soon, everybody was joking around, feeling restored. Nick found it possible -- even easy -- to become "Nick". And then, in the middle of a particularly ribald joke, AJ had stopped short. Everybody turned to follow his gaze, and then everybody else had seemed frozen in place. It seemed as though they were all staring at the waitress who was walking towards their table. Nick had looked around confused -- he wasn't sure whether they were all playing a joke on him, or what was happening. She reached their table, and said something. Of course, as they were in Germany, she spoke in German. Nobody answered -- which made Nick even more confused. James spoke German fairly well -- why wasn't he answering? She tried again, once more receiving no response. Nick started to worry -- was something wrong? "Ummm..... do you speak English?" he asked. "A bit. Your friends -- they are 'OK'?" she answered, with a heavy accent. "I don't know. James? Brian? Kevin?" It seemed as though saying their names was sufficient to bring them back to reality. Howie, AJ, and Brian, realizing that they had been staring, blushed bright red. Kevin seemed a bit embarrassed, but actually seemed a bit more preoccupied. James, also bright red, as if to make up for his earlier silence, launched into what would have been a long complicated speech in German about their order -- and then had to stop, when he realized that he didn't know what anybody wanted to eat. Flustered, it took him a moment to collect his wits, then after a brief conversation with the waitress, he let them know what was available. "I'll have the soup," said Nick, still feeling the cold a bit. AJ opened his mouth as though to speak, when Kevin interrupted. "Everybody will have the soup with bread." James started to translate, but she surprised him by saying "Soup wit bread for six" and walking away rapidly. And that was when it had happened. Brian had turned to Nick, and said "Isn't she hot?" Just three words, and they had basically turned his world upside down. Because now he knew what had caused them all -- all of them! -- to stop. Covering quickly, he had responded as needed -- but it took all of his skill, all of his control, to remain "Nick". Inside, he was shaking with worry. He hadn't known! He was fifteen -- puberty was hard upon him, surely he should have felt attracted to her... But he hadn't even given her a second thought -- and she had caused everybody -- even Kevin -- to just stop... He didn't remember much more of the lunch -- except that once Kevin had asked him what was wrong, which caused him to step up "Nick" -- apparently he wasn't being energetic enough. But that night he had gotten very little sleep. Actually, he remembered, that wasn't the worst part. The worst had happened a few days later -- they were almost done, just one last concert. They were giving autographs before the concert, as they would have to leave immediately after. Through a gap in the crowd, Nick had caught a brief glimpse of a face -- and it was as though time had slowed down. The next thing he knew, Brian was tapping him discretely on the shoulder -- and he realized that there were a number of people waiting for his autograph. Slightly shaken, he started signing again. But he couldn't forget the face. For two reasons: the first, it had been absolutely beautiful. He now understood what had happened back at the inn. But the second reason was what was running through his mind the most: the face had been male. Undeniably male. As in, belonging to a guy. It hadn't helped matters when, later, as they were preparing for the concert, Brian had asked him "So what did she look like?" "Who?" Nick had replied, completely in the dark. "The girl who caught your attention earlier -- you know, when you completely zoned out. She must have been something -- even that waitress didn't turn your head." Nick stared at Brian for a moment, completely scared. Then, luckily, "Nick" had stepped in. At other times before, it had seemed as though he was more than just playing a part -- and this time, Nick had been more than happy to let his other self take over. He had just blanked out, and although his performance at the concert that evening was lacking any real emotion (it's hard to be emotional when you aren't really there, and your body is just going through moves), he was able to explain it away by being tired. Thinking back, he realized that was probably the beginning of the end. Previous to that, "Nick" had been a role played by Nick. But it hadn't taken much effort -- in some ways, it had been a challenge, and a great secret, but mostly it was more like a simple game. After that, though, it had never been the same. More and more, Nick just stepped aside, rather than playing "Nick". And more and more, "Nick" just took control: keeping Nick safe, not allowing anyone to see him. "Nick" became a defense, and though very few people noticed the difference -- none of the rest of the boys had known him before "Nick" had appeared, so they couldn't compare -- he sometimes caught his mother looking at him sadly. And as "Nick" grew more and more out of control, Nick grew to hate him more and more. He had used to enjoy being "Nick", who could get away with anything. But now, he just wanted to get away from "Nick". The next door was Howie's. Although Nick (or rather, "Nick") and Brian had hit it off from the beginning, Howie and Nick had always been somewhat distant. Howie had his interests, and they didn't really overlap with "Nick"'s, so while they got along, they weren't really close. The only times that they had ever really interacted outside the group dynamic was when Howie, taking his role as the "peacemaker" seriously (Howie was serious about everything he did), would step between Kevin and Nick. It was Howie, actually, that had finally led Nick to label himself as gay. After returning from Germany, they had had a few months break -- well, from touring, at any rate. They were kept constantly busy learning new music, new routines, and planning the next tour, as well as working on a CD release. And on top of all this, Nick couldn't sleep. Every time he would close his eyes, that face, undeniably male, would appear before his eyes. He found himself looking at other men -- not his bandmates, they were too close, but on the street, or on TV. He had discovered masturbation earlier, but now had to give it up, as the images that popped into his head made him intensely uncomfortable. He often wondered what was going on -- he had found a book which said that people often went through phases during their maturation, but this was absurd. But he wasn't gay -- that he knew. He didn't want to be gay, he couldn't be gay. So, instead of resting at night, he lay awake staring up at the ceiling (or where the ceiling would be, if he could see it). He tossed and turned. The bags under his eyes got bigger and bigger, his coordination went off, and he found himself getting upset far more easily than usual. The latter didn't show, luckily -- "Nick" saw to that -- otherwise he knew that the rest of the guys would have been on his back much sooner. As it was, nearly three months passed before it happened. They were practicing a complex routine, though for which song Nick couldn't remember for the life of him (an ironic grin surfaced at that thought). They had yet to make it completely through the routine -- because of Nick. It wasn't that he couldn't do any of the required steps -- he never made the same mistake twice -- but he would make a mistake somewhere that the previous time had been perfect. Of course, rather than admit that he was tired, "Nick" insisted on blaming something -- anything -- else. The floor was uneven, there had been a gust of wind, Brian was too close, a noise had startled him, he was unable to concentrate with everybody watching him -- various excuses. Kevin was becoming angrier and angrier. By the tenth time they had tried to go through the routine, Kevin's face was almost fire-brick red. So when Nick fell over while walking across the "stage", and then tried to claim that he had tripped, Kevin had had too much. "Nickolas Ge-" Kevin started yelling at the top of his voice. He broke off in the middle though, as Howie reached over and put his hand on Kevin's mouth. With a sigh, Howie had walked over to Nick, picked him up, and led him away from the rest. Once they were out of sight of the others, Howie slumped down against the wall, and, as was his usual tactic to keep things from getting too tense, said "Well, on the bright side, I did need to take a break." Nick had started to say something, but Howie cut him off. "Don't say anything. I'm not much happier than Kevin -- I just don't see what blowing my top will accomplish. Nick -- you look like hell. The reason you aren't able to perform today has nothing to do with the stage, Brian, the wind, or nervousness. You need to stop blaming others for your problems. It's obvious to anyone who looks at you that you need sleep. I don't care whether it's because you got a new game for your Nintendo, or if you were out partying on the town last night. But you need to grow up, take responsibility, and make sure you get enough sleep." "I can't," Nick had replied, quietly. "If you were to go to bed before 3am, you might find it helps," Howie had responded somewhat sarcastically. This had been too much. Nick had found himself screaming at Howie "I went to bed at 9 last night," after which he lost coherence and just started raving, until he fell down on the ground crying. Howie had just sat there, stunned, for the two or three minutes it took for Nick to get to the point where he was approachable. After that, he quietly said "Is there something you need to talk to someone about? Sometimes it can help even just to tell someone else that you have a problem -- not even what it is...." and had faded off into silence. After he had managed to compose himself, Nick had looked up. "Thanks for the offer, Howie, but it's just something that has been bothering me for a while now, and I don't know what to think about it." Howie had looked disappointed for a moment, then sighed and said, "OK, if that's the way you feel. But if you ever want to talk about it, I'd be willing to listen." "Thanks, but I'll be alright.... I'll join you guys in a few..." Howie had shaken his head. "No, I think that we all need to take a break. Go on home. We'll return tomorrow -- I can get the rest to agree to that. But if you don't want to talk, can I at least offer a word of advice?" Nick had silently nodded. "If you're having problems sleeping, at least in my experience, it's because you feel about something one way, but you don't want to. Or you think something should be one way, and it isn't. And the only way you're going to solve that is if you tell the truth to yourself. Even if you can't express yourself in the real world, you have to be frank with yourself about how you feel. Otherwise, 'that way lies madness', to quote someone whose name escapes me at the moment. Anyways, I'll go let the others know what we're doing. Try to get some sleep tonight -- and one last thing: although it isn't a good long term solution, and you didn't hear this from me, if you really can't get to sleep, there are pills that can help...." He had then taken off, back to Brian, AJ, and Kevin. Nick had heard some vaguely muffled shouting, but nobody came to find him, and he had sat there thinking. To this day, Nick didn't know what Howie thought Nick's problems were. But his words had struck a chord. Actually, both of his suggestions had resonated. First -- to be true to oneself. Because, and the ease with which he could admit this only increased his confidence in its basic truth, it was obvious on the slightest reflection that Nick _was_ gay, regardless of what he wanted. In the detached state which follows closely on strong emotional outbursts, it was possible to be impartial about the result -- given: you find yourself attracted to members of the same sex, while ignoring completely those of the opposite; result (by definition): you are gay. Feeling like a tremendous weight had left his chest, Nick had decided to put off any further thought about the matter until some later time. He had left the building and headed home -- stopping on the way at a nearby pharmacy to pick up the pills that Howie had mentioned. Once at home he took some of the pills, fell into bed, and for the first time in months, went to sleep. Of course, once the detached state was gone, he had once again started worrying. However, it was too late -- the damage was done. Having once admitted to himself that he was gay, he couldn't unadmit it. And, as was obvious from everyone around him, being gay wasn't right. This had been the start of his realization that he wasn't really as good as the rest -- he was a faker who couldn't control his emotional state, who didn't let even his best friends ever see the "real" Nick, whose voice had a peculiar twang to it, who was gay. He came to realize that he was far luckier than he deserved -- to be around such a great group of people. He also realized that he couldn't live up to what they needed him to be, because he wasn't what they thought he was. He also found that he now needed the pills to get to sleep (it was probably psychological, he admitted to himself, but all the same...). Otherwise he would worry too much. But, just take two pills (then three, then four, as time went on), and he was able to get the rest he needed to keep himself under control. Which he needed, because he found that unless he kept himself tightly under control, his eyes wandered to men at the worst times in the worst places: during concerts. His memories were interrupted by giggles. He looked up to find himself in front of the next door. AJ's. He could hear feminine giggles coming from behind it, and the sounds of activity. AJ was closest in age to Nick, but that was about the only connection that Nick felt with him. AJ was .... different. His attitudes, his "culture", his, frankly, ability to have sex. For all that Nick was accorded the status of "idol", AJ was the one who had all the fun. Not that Nick ever really tried. He had once or twice (rather "Nick" had), but was too distanced, too ... uninterested. "Yo -- is someone out there?" came AJ's voice. Nick froze. He had hoped that everybody would be asleep at this point, and barring that, that they wouldn't hear him walking quietly and slowly outside their doors. But apparently he had somehow made a noise. "Ahhh, it was probably just the hotel staff," said the girl, "c'mon back here...." Nick listened carefully, but soon heard the sounds from the room resume. He let out his breath slowly. He would have to be extra careful on the way back to his room, so as not to alert AJ. Discovery would interrupt his plans, and as it was AJ who had, indirectly, given him The Idea, it would be far too ironic if it were to be AJ who stopped him. Of course, it wasn't really AJ's idea, but in a way, it had been AJ who had first put it into his head. He had spent two years attempting to live with the fact that he was gay. Each day, it got harder, but he could see no solution. At least no solution that didn't really hurt someone besides himself -- he couldn't break his contract without hurting the guys and his family. He withdrew, letting "Nick" handle more and more of the interactions with the rest of the world, letting the pills handle his interactions with his bed. Then, one day, as they were sitting around discussing what "artistic direction" they wanted to go in, an answer had presented itself. The discussion had turned into an argument between AJ, who wanted to incorporate a more hip-hop/r&b feel into their music, and Kevin, who felt that a smoother, more classic 'oldies' feel was the way to go. Eventually, Kevin and Brian had ganged up on AJ. "Okay, you say that a hip-hop feel is what we need, but how do you know? You don't have any clue about what I'm talking about when I say 'classical' anyways." "Yeah AJ -- what do you know about oldies and classics? Huh?" Seeing an opportunity, "Nick" had gotten involved. Eventually, AJ had gotten tired. Standing up suddenly, overturning his chair in the process, he had taken a step away from the table. He had turned around, and when his face reappeared, it was someone else's. Not literally -- but instead of "AJ", it had been an intelligent, worried look. Angsty, and self-hating. Worried, but not in the sense of distraught, rather in the sense that he couldn't let go of an idea. And then he had started speaking: "To be, or not to be: that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; No more; and by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause: there's the respect That makes calamity of so long life; For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, The insolence of office and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pith and moment With this regard their currents turn awry, And lose the name of action.--Soft you now! The fair Ophelia!" () It had been amazing. As a part of the producers' deal with his parents, he had been required to take classes from a tutor. Hamlet had been on the reading list, but frankly, Nick hadn't understood most of it. It didn't help matters that that particular tutor had been more interested in making out with his girlfriend, who was a part of the crew. But, when AJ spoke, it all was clear. The artificial feeling caused by the line breaks in the printed version were all gone; instead, this was an articulate speech, discussing intelligently why he (Hamlet) couldn't kill himself. And, of course, it had planted The Idea in his head. It had been that night that he had written the first note. It had taken him over an hour, it hadn't felt right, and he had never bothered to complete it. Two days later, he had burned it. But over the years, he had written several notes. Each time, it had taken effort, and by the end of the process, he didn't feel like it anymore. Then, The Idea would fade to the back of his mind for a while, only starting to reappear when someone would make a comment that struck home. For a while it would build up, then he would sit down, write a note, struggle over it, and in the process get it out of his system. However, each time it got easier and easier, and each time The Idea returned faster and faster. Two days ago, it had finally come to a head. It had been Kevin, whose door he now approached, who had, unknowingly, finally broke the camel's back. Nick, for reasons he did not understand, looked up to Kevin more than anyone else in his life. It wasn't that he was in love with Kevin -- it was that Kevin was _the_ central authority figure in Nick's life. Every compliment Kevin had ever given him was etched in his memory: from a simple thumbs up for mastering a complex harmony during their first year to the pat on the back three months ago for taking the time to talk with an especially shy fan. Kevin's approval made him feel valid, worthwhile, real. Likewise, the occasions that Kevin expressed displeasure made Nick depressed for days -- even so much as a slight frown was enough to make Nick withdraw even more. Of course, "Nick" kept anyone from seeing Nick's pain -- and even went out of the way to draw Kevin's ire. Two days ago, Kevin had taken him aside and asked to talk with him in private. He had seemed slightly nervous. "Nick, I've been trying to stay out of your private life lately -- you are, as you keep reminding us, an adult, and I'm trying not to 'parent' you. But, I've been asked by our management to discuss something with you, so I have no choice. Ummm.... well, I don't really know how to say this..... Look. You're eighteen now. You haven't had a steady girlfriend for a while, and management is worried that you will come off as gay. Apparently," and here Kevin had grimaced wryly, "as the 'heartthrob' of the group, they want you to step up your appeal to our female fans. And going for too long without a girlfriend seems to indicate that you aren't interested. So, I've been asked by the suits to tell you that you need to get a girlfriend. I somewhat agree with them on this, although for different reasons: I think that an SO may calm you down. What I don't agree with is that they have a.... well, a list, of people they want you to consider meeting and perhaps going out with. Primarily teen actresses and other singers. I'm don't think that this is a good idea, but they insisted that you take a look. Anyways, they wanted you to start making a move in this direction within the next month..." Nick had stood there dazed. "Look, I know this sucks. But, apparently, 'we can't let the rumors of Nick being gay take root'. This from the marketing department." Nick had stood there dazed. Waiting for "Nick" to take over, but knowing deep down that he wouldn't appear this time. "Nick, I know that you aren't happy with this -- I'm sure you'd much rather spend all your time going out to clubs and living it up, but you might benefit from a break -- you can still go out if you're attached, you just go a bit more low-key. Look -- you don't need to get back to me about it for a while. Take a week or so and look over the list -- or if you find someone you want to go out with, scrap the list and just go for it. Here's what they gave me." Kevin thrust a sheet of paper at Nick and went back to join the others. Nick had automatically folded it and put it into his pocket. Then had stood there dazed. All that Nick heard were the words "they want you to find a girlfriend... I agree with them... we can't let any rumors of you being gay..." over and over again in his head. Whirling around like leaves on a windy autumn day. "Can't be gay.... I agree.... girlfriend....." He couldn't. As much as he wanted to please them, he couldn't. He couldn't be what they needed him to be -- he wasn't good enough. He wouldn't be able to act it out for long enough. It wouldn't be fair to the girl. And "Nick" wouldn't be able to do it -- "Nick" wasn't able to be held down. It had come to the point where they finally needed him to be the person they thought he was, and he couldn't. He didn't remember the rest of that day. Just "Can't be gay..." echoing through his head. He hadn't even thought of writing a note -- he knew it would come easily. He was beyond that point. That night, and the next night, they had been in the bus, so he wasn't able to do anything. But tonight.... tonight they were in a hotel. Each in a separate room. And the note had been written in under five minutes, with no erasures or rewrites. And now, he was here. Outside Kevin's door. He looked down at the note once more -- it was so perfect, so right: Guys-- I'm sorry. I just couldn't do this anymore. I'm not who you think I am. I can't be what you need me to be, much less the person who you deserve. There are many better, more worthy, more talented people out there, who will easily fill my place. I'm sorry that I couldn't do it... Nick He knelt down, and shoved it under Kevin's door. Hard -- he wanted to make sure that it was all the way under. Stranger things had been known to happen than to have notes stuck under their doors disappear. As soon as the note left his sight, he felt a sudden release -- as though a large weight had been taken off his shoulders. For a moment, he just stayed there, crouching by Kevin's door, hand on the doorjamb, feeling relaxed. In just a few moments, he would be back in his room, and then..... an end. ******************************* Author's notes: I'm putting these notes here, rather than in the beginning, because this was the original end of the story. The idea for this story came to me last year, when I was going through a trying time. However, I found myself unable to write it (I tried, albeit briefly) until recently. After a visit with relatives where not only my parents, but also my grandparents were continually asking me about girlfriends, and trying to get me to go out with a girl (I haven't come out to them yet), I came back to my room and in about two hours wrote the story. I posted it that night, with minimal editing (ie, I ran it through a spell checker). The formatting got messed up, so I sent a fixed version the next night, but didn't actually re-read it for a few days. When I did go back and read it, I was... dismayed. There was much that I had thought I mentioned which never showed up. There were grammatical errors, as well as repetitious sentence structure, run-ons -- and, as one of the few respondents noted, excessive use of the em-dash. (If anyone else has other comments on the difference between the two versions, I would be more than happy to receive advise -- I'm new to fiction writing, and I'm not sure how well I do... email me at rem14@cornell.edu -- Thanks!) So, this is a complete rewrite, from scratch (the only text I copied over was the Shakespeare). I've redone many of the incidents, changed the order of the rooms, and generally made it better. Every single one of the (three) responses I received asked for me to continue the story. I tried -- however, much stood in the way. For one, the conceit (if you will) is over. The four doors have been traversed. Any continuation is perforce not "Four Doors". Also, part of the original intention of the story was to present an occurrence that takes place in a very short time (the time to walk past four doors in a hallway) -- although the story spans about five years, it occurs in about two minutes. In order to wrap it up completely, the story would balloon by at least an order of magnitude timewise, which felt... wrong to me. Just for the heck of it, I did try -- but found myself more and more unhappy with the result. So, I have provided, for those of you who really want it, a two paragraph (approx) "happy" ending (I like happy endings, darn it). See below. It may leave as many threads hanging as the above ending, but at least there is hope... One last brief note: the ending below is _not_ canonical. Any ending to this story that *you* think is correct is correct. ******************************* (Ending episode:) After resting for moment, relaxing into the sudden feeling of peace that had descended on him, Nick started to stand up -- and froze. Instead of looking at a solid door, his eyes were looking at a red bathrobe, with blue pyjama bottoms sticking out below. Kevin's red bathrobe with Kevin's blue pyjama bottoms sticking out below. Nick slowly stood up. Kevin was standing in the doorway, clad in his blue pyjamas and red bathrobe. His face was a bit bleary, but his eyes were still alert. His hair was mussed, but only a bit. But all that Nick could see was that in one of his hands was the note. "I think, Nick, that we need to talk."