AN: Cause he's damn addicting to write. And its his birthday. Happy Birthday AJ. I wish you all the best, whatever you do in life. Pre-rehab PS: If anyone has ideas on how to increase traffic to my site, I'm all ears! =) ************************************* The Twistinside ************************************** *We have been sleeping with the lights on Just about every night Because we are afraid of what the dark might bring I know, I know it's just a childish fear That grows and grows wild in the middle of me* AJ remembered when they had still been nobodys in the States and their only chance to make it big was in Europe. Hard to believe how young they had all been then, wide eyed, scared, homesick. Even Kevin hadn't been much more than a kid, though he had tried so damn hard to pretend differently. Nick had been a baby, barely out of diapers in more ways than one. AJ remembered him bounding around, all limbs and knees, laughing and loud, dirty and gangly like some god damn colt half the time. He remembered when all you saw when you looked at Nick's face was big blue eyes. Sometimes he looked at the suave Nick of today and wondered where he came from. AJ had always been small, dark, old before his time. Nick had made him feel young and ancient in one breath. Nick had taught him how to play Nintendo when AJ had never held a game controller in his life. Alex had taught him how to drink. They had shared hotel rooms in those days, sometimes all five of them split unevenly between two twin beds and so damn tired after doing two shows in a row it didn't really matter. AJ remembered how they had always slept with the lights on. They did it for Nick, so he wouldn't cry so much at night, though it helped them too. The four of them had just learned how to cry silently, long ago. *I'm gonna get a new tattoo Black and stretching around my arm Like a life that is visible and real I know, I know it's stupid and immature I just want to give shape to the face That twists inside both you and me* Their lives were insane, unreal. Some days he pinched himself so hard he left a bruise. He wasn't sure if he thought he was in a dream or a nightmare. Was less sure he wanted to decide. That's why he loved his tattoos so. Loved to see the dark ink staining his skin, reaffirming his existence, if only to himself. He savored the pain, the needles, and the tears they brought to his dark eyes. AJ cherished the dull ache of healing that came after. It made him real and alive. He felt concrete. He feared the day he ran out of skin to cover. *Breathing fire doesn't look good on a resume Neither does anything else we do We got to get ready for the real world Yeah yeah we got to grow up* He drank too much, AJ knew he did. He swore too much too, and wore too meany sunglasses. He did a lot of things he wasn't supposed to but he was Backstreet's resident "bad boy". Besides, at least he was open with his addictions and faults. He loved his band mates like brothers but he didn't always like them, like the men they had become. Didn't like himself when he woke up hungover, Jack Daniels in hand, feeling like shit. He didn't drink any less, he just felt more guilty about it. Some mornings he looked in the mirror and didn't recognize the man staring back at him. Those days he'd go to the studio, or practice, and stare at the men he had watched grow up. It was hard to see the scared little boys who had left the light on every night in their hotel rooms in them. It was harder to see anything else. AJ drank to wash the bitter taste in his mouth away on those days and tried not to cry. Not where people could hear him. Silence, depsite all he was being paid to sing, was golden. That was a lesson older than Lou. *You know I like to die for awhile Everyday in the afternoon I like to let the arms of a bar wrap around me tight I'm just going to sprawl in the front booth Big drink above my head Cross eyes and smiling as I watch the world go twisting by* Alexander James McLean was a drunk. He usually didn't acknowledge this fact until he was half way to passed out at his local bar, but after the tenth beer it was hard to remember the truth, let alone the lies he told himself. He was a happy drunk. He sang off key songs about love and maturity and laughed until tears ran down his face. He was still sober enough not to pretend that he was hysterical. Someone, a bodyguard or one of the guys, usually found him before closing. He told them how much he loved them until he got sick and tried not to see the worry in their eyes. AJ was stronger than their fear. *I don't want to die with you, Or live in the same dark room I don't want to see your bloodshot eyes no more, no more I just want to take this girl All curls and big brown eyes Man I can't take the pain of wanting her, needing her* At heart, all AJ McLean had ever wanted was a happy wife, 2.5 children, and a white picket fence. Usually the money and the fame and the adoring fans were enough to quell any regrets he had. Usually wasn't often enough. He drank to drown his regrets and to forget the woman he had dreamed of when he had been a boy without ambitions. He hated poverty. It had made him strive and do great things. AJ had been made for mediocrity. It seemed cruel that Chance had granted him the success that others would kill for. He loved to perform, just not enough. There were too many hours in the day and not all of them could be spent onstage. AJ drank to forget that too. *I know the secret of your soul And I just don't want to know Yeah, man we got to grow up* He went into rehab months later. He was tired of forgetting, and of being that sad little boy who slept with the lights on. It was hard to get used to the darkness but sooner or later, everyone had to grow up.