Never See Your Light
by Megan Mathia
(livejournal)

As always, my thanks go to Ian for editing. I don't know what I'd do without you.

You think maybe you've always been in love with him, though you'd never really admit it. Not to him, certainly--it was hard enough to admit it to yourself. He's your brother, though nobody would know it to look at the two of you. He's tall and dark, with impressive eyebrows like Oscar the Grouch's that you used to think were kind of funny looking but that you now realize simply fit him--fit what he always was and what he always will be to you--an enigma.

In the beginning, he was hard on you, always yelling, throwing you in your room and telling you to stay away when he, Brian and Howie went to the big parties in German hotel rooms with Lou and strange men in suits who laughed too loud and smelled like sweat and alcohol. You didn't understand he was protecting you until you followed him one night, hiding behind the pillars in the room until someone who could've been Lou's German twin grabbed you. He dragged you to a back room and was grabbing your dick--too hard--when Kevin appeared, his jaw set, eyes blazing with a fury you thought to be meant for you. He grabbed the German Lou and slammed him against the wall, hissing things like "Fucking kill you," and "he's thirteen, you sick fuck," and yanking on the guy's tie until he turned purple. When the guy went limp, Kevin took your hand and led you down the hallway to your room, cursing the whole way. You looked up at him with wide, watery eyes and asked him what you'd done wrong.

"Nothing, baby. Nothing. Did he hurt you?"

You shook your head, afraid of what would happen if you actually said yes.

By the time you hit it big in the States, you were big enough to take care of yourself, and you never hesitated to let him know that, even if it meant shoving him around. He called you a spoiled brat and a stupid fuck and a prima donna, and you pretended it didn't hurt. You never let him see you cry. When he introduced you to Kristen, saying that she was the girl he wanted to marry, you snarled and told him she was an ugly bitch. You were glad when you saw the sadness in his eyes, because finally, finally he was getting at least some of what you'd been going through for three years already.

It got even bigger, you got even bigger, and you shook it for all it was worth and played up the fact that the crowd loved you more than they loved anybody else, 'cause you were Nick Carter, and you were the cute one, and they loved you. You fucked a bunch of girls and even more guys, ignoring Brian's lectures about abstinence and Kevin's stern looks of disapproval, 'cause hell, if he wasn't gonna get you off, then why not somebody else? You always fucked louder and harder on the nights Kevin was in the room next to you, saying things like, "Oh, fuck, yeah, like that!" and "More, more, more," even though you knew they'd never be enough, would always leave you empty, would never really satisfy you. It didn't take much for them, though--the sight of 'ohmygodit'sNICKCARTER's mouth on their cocks and they were shuddering, convulsing, sobbing, coming in your mouth. You'd spit it out in their faces and kick them out of your room, ignoring the haunted looks in their eyes. They looked too much like yours.

You and AJ started buddy-fucking the night of Kevin's wedding and didn't stop until he went to rehab. You broke your hand the night before he left, punching the wall repeatedly after you'd heard Kevin yelling at him, telling him he looked like shit and was acting like shit and was fucking all the rest of you up, too. You screamed right back at him and punched a hole in the wall next to his head, telling him to leave AJ alone and go back to making fucking babies with his wife instead of pretending he fucking cared. He fixed you with steely green eyes and told you to, "grow the fuck up, Nick. You're too old to be pulling this tantrum shit anymore, and I've got more important things to worry about."

You cried on MTV and pretended it was all about AJ.

When AJ came, he allowed Sarah to lead him around by the balls and refused to meet your eyes. He stayed in the hotel room with Brian and prayed. You went out and got drunk. Brian tried to bring you back to God, but you didn't want anything to do with it, and you knew he was really more interested in sheltering AJ and spending time with Leighanne than he was in spending time listening to your problems any more. Finally he walked away all together, disgust as plain in his clear blue eyes as the admiration had once been. You weren't surprised--even saints could only take so much, you figured, and despite his claims to the contrary, Brian had been running for that position for quite some time now.

Nothing was the same anymore. Sure, you had AJ back, theoretically, but it was really more the 'Alex' whom Denise talked about in that Barbara Walters interview, and the five of you were nowhere near as tight as you'd once been. The fans could tell, too. The relationships had changed, and for all that the fans didn't know, they were smart enough to pick that up. Funny how they never picked up on other things, though--like your continued reclusiveness. Kevin continued delivering lectures, long and short, on your behavior, and you continued ignoring him and doing whatever you damn well pleased. He'd held far too much power over you for far too long. It was time to break away.

After 9-11, things changed. There was no making up, no apologies made, but the five of you had at least some new understanding for the importance you held in each other's lives, and something about those three hours you spent waiting nervously with Brian to hear from Leigh changed you all forever. When he finally got the call from her, telling him she was alive, he fell to his knees and wept. You wrapped your arms around him, and for the first time in years, you prayed. You prayed for a change in your life, you prayed for the safety of those you knew, and you prayed for some sort of salvation. When you heard about Danny Lee, all five of you prayed for his family, and decided right then and there that you were providing for that child's upbringing. Money gave you small comfort now, but knowing that it could provide his child with at least a good education meant something, after all.

You did the benefit concerts, and were surprised when Kevin got rid of the chip on his shoulder and stick up his ass to make nice with the *NSYNC boys. You'd never had a problem with them, except for Chris, who insisted on teasing you about your occasional misuse of words, but JC was a sweetheart by all accounts and Joey was the most jovial motherfucker you'd ever met. He reminded you of Brian, minus the sainthood thing. You didn't much mind Chris this time, though, as his jibes were aimed at Kevin's unfortunate statements about the government. It was a nice change, knowing that Kev fucked up sometimes, too. Yet even though he'd managed to make nice with all the rest, even Justin, you did notice that he still kept his distance from one Lance Bass, and it made you smile. At least some things stayed the same.

After that, everything wound down. You knew, somehow, that it was the end. Backstreet was over, though you'd deny it in the press and in your heart for many, many months to come. Brian and Kevin became more and more wrapped up in their marriages, AJ delved into wedding planning with a fervor you'd never seen in him before, and Howie concentrated on commemorating Caro as much and as often as he could. When you got arrested and Kevin only bitched you out because you could've hurt yourself and not because it was a complete fucking nightmare for PR, you knew it was all over. You also knew, somehow, that you'd been forgiven. His parting words to you were "Baby, take care of yourself. It's a wide, rough world out there, and I can't help you with it any more."

"I know," you said. "I know."

And you did. But that didn't make it hurt any less, knowing you were completely alone. You waited until he'd hung up to whisper "I love you."

When you began working on the solo album, you finally thought about Howie. Between the horror of the terrorist attacks, the attempt to rebuild bridges you'd long ago burned with your mother, and your continual attempt to reassert yourself into AJ's life as a friend, if nothing more, you'd forgotten about Howie. You called him one day, invited him down to the studio to listen to some tracks and then go out for lunch. He was busy with something for the Foundation, but he sounded sincerely sorry to miss the opportunity, and you rescheduled for the next week. You didn't realize how much you'd missed him until you heard his voice. You'd never really thought about it before. He'd always been a constant, unintrusive presence in your life. You wanted that back.

You didn't end up having that lunch with him after all, but what you eventually got was even better. He showed up, smiling brightly and looking completely relaxed, to your first video shoot. Your surprise in front of the MTV cameras was completely genuine, and your smile got even brighter when he whispered to you that he'd decided to show up just to fuck with their scripted plans. He waited until you'd wrapped the shoot, then took you out to dinner.

"You're looking good. But how are you doing?" he wanted to know.

"Great, D. Just great. I mean, I just did my first video. My first video!"

He laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners like they always had, and shook his head. "Nicky. Hermanito. You've done at least a dozen videos before this."

"Well, yeah. But this is mine, D. It's mine."

"Do you ever miss it?" he asked softly.

"The fellas?"

He nodded.

"Well, yeah. But. But I finally have something that's just for me, ya know? It's just a part of me, not a part of you, or AJ, or Kev, or Bri, even. I've never had that before," you said, eyes widening with the realization. "AJ had his Johnny No Name thing, Kev has his foundation, Bri has his faith and Leigh, and you--," you cut yourself off when you realized he spent much of his free time dwelling on the memory of his dead sister.

"I have the foundation."

"How is that going?"

"Well. We get more credibility every year we're live, and our donations and programming have increased ten times what they were. But I miss..." he trailed off.

"You miss us being the Boys. But D, we always knew it wouldn't last forever--you maybe most of all."

"Verdad. But I still wasn't ready for it to fall apart," he said softly. "I missed you."

"I've missed you too. How are you doing?" you asked, tilting your head and looking into sad brown eyes. "Are you okay?"

"I'm doing fine, Nicky," he said, rising from the table and dropping a few bills on the table. "Later, mi querido."

You tried to ignore the ache in your heart when he left you sitting alone in the back of the restaurant. You ordered another drink, then went back to your hotel and found a Spanish dictionary.

You flew to his house the next day, rapping on the door impatiently before finally giving up and walking around the back to the deck, where he was sitting in a rocking chair, looking out at the ocean.

"Howie?"

Slowly, he raised his eyes to meet yours, and you knew.

He'd always loved you, though he'd never really admitted it until now.

You wonder why you never saw the light in his eyes before.