Exodus
~*~
Pain-inflictor. Treacherous. Cold-hearted. Benedict Arnold. Deserter. Sufferer.
"I know, I know," he murmured in reply to his conscience's last attempt to convince him to stop. He studied the blade while blinking back tears, watching the cold metal warp into confusing shapes because of the salty water clouding his vision. Before one of those tears could escape, he slashed his skin, cutting the veins just the way he knew imposed the least amount of pain but provided the easiest way out.
He watched the blood trickle down his palms and dabbled the carpet, rolling off his fingers and cascading to the floor. Tears hit his wrist and mingled with the blood. He cut again. Again. The pain flared up every time but after some time it began to deaden. His mind crawled and he became aware of nothing more than the automatic slicing of his skin.
The floor was getting closer for some reason, the world hazing. His tears were still falling, but that was not the cause of this sudden distorting of his world. He moaned and tumbled the rest of the way into a fetal position, the razor hitting the carpet beside him. His cheek scratched against the rough carpeting as he looked up the floor to see a glimmer of light travel across the blade and wink at him. His breathing was struggled now, pain beginning to flood back to him.
No, he protested inside his mind, I don't want this, I don't want this, I don't...don't want...I... ... ...
~*~
The fading sun struck his eyes as a desperate final effort to blind him before it was gone for the night. He shielded the orange rays from his eyes impatiently and walked faster.
Something was wrong. Very wrong. He felt it even in the depths of one of his more pleasant dreams. None of them dreamt anymore.
They were chased and tormented by the nightmares their worlds had transformed into during the day and at night. Their dreams, when they did come, were of the past. The carefree past when they had problems, but they had each other to soothe them.
Now he was alone. Two of them had started families and another married weeks after the break-up, leaving the last two to try relationships out of the spotlight. Personally, he had no interest. He was barely hanging on, if he wanted to look at his position realistically. He had not heard from any of his old band mates in months. It worried him on a daily basis, but he did not intrude. If they wanted to talk to him they would return his calls. But they never did.
He found the extra key for his friend's house behind the panel of wood to the right of the door's frame. Over the years they lost a few senses of common courtesies. Like knocking. He let himself in and called his friend's name. When the cold silence shouted back at him, he sighed and shut the door with his foot.
He called for him again, but still the silence remained intact. He traveled through the hallways, looking in rooms as he went.
Finally, his eyes stumbled onto a sight he could not suppress the urge to gasp at. His legs almost gave out on him, but he managed to scramble to his fallen friend before he crumbled to his knees. He grabbed the razor out of the pool of blood near his friend's golden locks. He stared at the bloodstained blade with fear and disgust and threw it as hard as he could in some unplanned direction. It hit the coffee table and shattered. The blade remained intact and embedded itself into the carpet.
He pressed his hand against his friend's cheek, his eyes widening when he felt the lack of warmth there. His face was pale but his arm was stained with crimson. He gingerly plucked his wrist off the floor and gently wiped the blood from the numerous cuts, barely resisting the urge to cry. He dropped his wrist and ran for the phone. He felt sick. He called their oldest band mate and got his answering machine. He tried the middle member's home to find "this number has been disconnected". That left him with his former best friend. The one that he had been best man to at his wedding. The one he had not heard from since the wedding. The one that he had nightmares about every night. The one he tried not to kill himself over. The one he had been in love with for a number of years he could not even guess at.
He dialed the number and waited.
"Hello?"
His breath clung to his throat. "I...Howie?"
"Alex? What's going on? You sound so out of breath."
He fought back tears. Why don't you call me? Don't you know how badly you hurt me? Would you even care if you did? How would you feel if you knew I consider suicide because I lost you to some girl you hid from the public for two years? As badly as he wanted to ask those questions and more, it was the wrong time and place. "I'm at Nick's," he choked out. His voice faltered and he whimpered. "D, he... He cut himself. He's... I think he's dead."
"What?!"
"Please, How, you have to get over here, it's...it's making me sick... There's so much blood..." He felt dizzy. "Please. I can't take this, it-it..." He gave into the sobs that fought to control his already shaking body. "I'm scared," he confessed shakily.
"I-I... Calm down, Aje, I'll be there. Did you call Kevin?"
"Y-yuh-yeah," he stammered. "B-but he wasn't there. He... I don't... Brian didn't answer."
Silence. "Yeah, I know. He moved."
He felt betrayed. "Why didn't anyone give a fuck to tell me?!" he cried, tears freely attacking his face. Red crept up his neck and seized his face.
"I'll be there," repeated Howie. "Just hold on. Call the hospital. If I don't get there before the ambulance does, leave the address or the number. I'll find you. Wrap something around his wrist so he doesn't lose any more blood. Hang in there, buddy, I'll try to get there as soon as I can."
Nodding before he could remember Howie could not see the action, he murmured, "Okay, I will."
Click.
He called 911 and told them Nick's address and what happened in a faltering voice. When he hung up, he went to the bathroom and grabbed gauze out of the medicine cabinet. He wrapped Nick's wrist clumsily but tightly, sobbing quietly.
When he had done everything Howie had told him to, he knelt beside him, sliding his hand into Nick's. He bit his lip. He had cleaned the blood from Nick's arm, but there were bloodstains all over his sweatshirt and all over the floor. Trying to ignore the flush of red soiling the area around him, he took to running his hand through Nick's hair.
Seeing Nick curled up so defenselessly on the floor made him see suicide in a new light. His baby "brother" was a breath away from death. His pulse was weak and his chest jaggedly rose and fell. His complexion was barely a shade over white and his muscles were all lax. He knew all too well he himself had been an undecided gash from being exactly like Nick was right now. All because of Howie.
He struggled through his own relationship with Sarah after he got out of rehabilitation for anxiety, abuse of alcohol and depression. He proposed in December of 2001 and she accepted.
They planned their wedding. The fans cried or supported. The month before the wedding, A.J. broke the engagement off. He was scared and he had no idea what he thought he was doing. He had known Sarah little over a year, maybe even less. Who did he think he was deciding he was ready to settle down for the rest of his life with her? He already found his soul mate. But after the group broke up, his soul mate revealed his fianc�e and they married in the late summer.
Ever since then his life had been miserable. Howie was happy. He should be too. Then why did he feel so rejected? He knew why.
Howie was a flirt just as he was, but the friendly spats they had early in their friendship eventually evolved into something heavier than simple teasing. Friendly touches lingered moments after they were supposed to, arms tightened when wrapped around the other's neck, hugs were closer and longer and the joking kisses they had grown accustomed to as being part of their business became farther away from cheek and closer to lips.
What had happened?
He knew about Ava for the two years Howie saw her on and off, but he never expected them to grow so close. Ava flirted, Howie flirted, Ava kissed, Howie kissed back. They dated. Howie saw him less. He lost his best friend to a woman. He retreated to Sarah. Howie became serious with Ava. They got engaged a month after Sarah and he. Their engagement lasted. They got married. Sarah went away.
Nick's grey sweatshirt was now dotted black with tears. The door opened and paramedics flooded in. Nick was hoisted onto a gurney and wheeled out of his living room. He followed numbly, head hung. He answered questions fired at him with a hesitant sort of manner. He climbed into the back of the ambulance and seated himself next to his little brother and held his hand again, watching the paramedics tend to him through unresponsive eyes.
~*~
Four hours later found A.J. curled around himself in one of the thinly cushioned waiting room benches. His breath was uneven, for his sleep was once again disturbed with nightmares. Nick was gone. Howie had not gotten there yet. A.J. had forgotten to leave the address of the hospital or the number. Howie would not come. There were too many hospitals in Florida for him to find the right one in time. A.J. had fallen asleep praying he would not have to greet Ava if he ever saw Howie again.
In his nightmare he found the friendship ring whose brother Howie used to wear. Months before, A.J. went to a club and while he did not drink, he lost his ring. He doubted Howie would care. Howie was too busy with his wife to care, most likely. He dreamt he found the ring on his finger, as if undisturbed. He dreamt he went to tell Howie and found that he and Ava had moved away. He woke up in hysterics, shaking and sobbing.
He was taken by surprise when someone whispered at him to calm down and smoothed out his hair. Prying his eyes open, A.J. saw, to his complete shock, Howie kneeling in front of him, looking up at him with those gentle brown eyes, worried and calming at the same time. A.J. sucked in a breath and began to sob all over again. Howie leaned up and pulled him into his arms. A.J. did not waste his time resisting his embrace. His forehead entrenched in Howie's neck, he cried until he felt his throat burn with the involuntary effort.
He did not know which he was crying for, his love lost and now so close or Nick, whose life was hanging in the balance. Howie rose to his feet and never breaking the embrace sat beside him, readjusting A.J.'s body so he could hold him closer. He breathed deeply, leaning his head against A.J.'s. He whispered soothing words, his hand caressing the back of his neck.
When A.J. calmed down enough to form coherent sounds, he muttered, "How did you find me?"
Howie repositioned himself and pulled him incrementally closer. "I followed my heart. We may not see each other twenty four seven anymore, but I still read your mind better than anybody else, Aje," he breathed, squeezing his arms around A.J.'s back.
A.J. nodded and instead of asking more questions like the ones he had considered asking before, he let his body ease into Howie's arms and relax. Moments later he felt lightheaded and he fell into an almost drugged sleep to the sounds of Howie's breathing.
~*~
He woke up because of the sudden quaking surrounding him. Howie was shaking. A.J. opened his eyes and was met with Howie's tear-filled gaze already set on him. A.J.'s fear snatched his conscious mind and dragged it ruthlessly to the surface of A.J.'s sleep-drugged mind. He was now lying across the bench, his head resting on Howie's lap. He sat up and frowned, asking what was wrong.
Howie bit his lip and hugged him soundly. His fists closed around the fabric of A.J.'s shirt, his hands trembling with the restraint he was putting himself through. "Nicky died a few hours ago," he whispered, swallowing hard. He pressed his cheek against A.J.'s and A.J. could feel the tears searing his face.
Dazedly A.J. wrapped his arms around Howie's back and they cried together, both clinging to the other with desperate need. Nick was dead. Their heartthrob, the pretty blonde with the dazzling blue eyes and the manic sense of humor and personality that the others had grown to love had committed suicide out of a bout of depression neither one understood now but would someday realize was caused by the breakup of his life. Their group was Nick's whole being.
The Backstreet Boys was his career and the Backstreet Boys was his backup plan. He had nowhere to go when everyone went off into their own worlds, he retreated into himself and became an introvert until he had curled so deep into himself he had nowhere to go. The blade was his release.
Howie's forehead was nestled deep into A.J.'s shoulder, he now the one that leaned into A.J. for support and consolation.
A.J.'s hand made beelines through his hair; his voice giving him words of soothing neither of them paid any attention to. Finally, A.J. took Howie's head between his palms and lifted his face. "Where's Ava?" he asked quietly, watching Howie's tear-streaked face twist into an expression of pain.
Having his answer, A.J. pulled him into his arms and cradled his body, shaking his head sadly. She was gone. She left him. He did not have to ask, he just knew.
Brian and Kevin arrived with their wives and they all went back to A.J.'s house. They sat around his living room, not talking and not looking at each other. No one asked when Howie got up from the floor and curled up beside A.J., putting his head in his lap. No one said anything when A.J. took his hand and stroked his hair with his free hand. And no one said good-bye when the others left.
A.J. stroked Howie's face before deciding to break the silence between them. "I never liked her," he said softly.
Howie nodded and sighed against A.J.'s thigh. "I know," he murmured.
"Why did you marry her?"
"I was scared."
"Of what?"
"You."
A.J.'s eyes widened. "What?"
Howie opened his eyes and turned onto his back, looking up into A.J.'s eyes. "I was scared of you," he said quietly.
"But...but why?" A.J. failed to understand. Why would Howie marry Ava just because he was scared of his best friend? It made no sense. Not then, at least.
Howie pushed himself up and gave the question thought. "I was trying to get rid of you," he said after a moment. He must have seen A.J.'s frown and the hurt in his wide eyes because he continued; "I couldn't go a day without trying to... I don't know... Seduce you, I suppose. I thought it was a phase, you know? Something I'd get over. I thought I loved Ava. I didn't. She saw that. She left." He sighed shakily. "It's been four months since she left."
A.J. pried his hand into Howie's, unconsciously squeezing his fingers around his hand. "Why didn't you call me?" he asked.
"Because I didn't want you telling me you told me so," Howie replied, his eyes straight ahead.
And A.J. remembered in a sudden flash when he had said that. It had been at the bachelor party. Howie had been drunk off his ass - or so A.J. had thought at the time, for he had told him he was making a royal mistake for marrying her. He had not given him reason; he just said, "You're going to regret this someday." And now here he was, not even a full year after his wedding day single once more.
"It's like a curse with me," sighed Howie, bringing A.J. spiraling back to the present. "I never stay with someone. I'm almost thirty for God's sake and I'm still single... I guess I'm one of those people that never marries, just stays single for the rest of my life." Tears spilled down his face. He took in a trembling breath and wiped his tears away.
In a burst of indiscretion, A.J. turned Howie's face to his and leaned in. A single touch of Howie's lips sent A.J.'s arms around Howie's back and his back arching. Howie was surprised, he could tell, because he froze at the first contact. A.J. gently nudged his lips with his tongue and Howie was shot back to reality. He let A.J. in and they began an unsure kiss that slowly escalated into something more certain, more affectionate.
Howie lost his fingers in A.J.'s hair, pressing his chest closer to A.J.'s. When the need for air was painful enough, the kiss was broken, but they remained just as close, their lips micrometers apart. A.J. could feel Howie's panting against his lips.
"I-I love you," A.J. managed to rasp out.
Howie moved closer and kissed him again, ignoring A.J.'s gasp for air and if possible, pulled him tighter into his arms. The kiss grew deeper as their hands began to wander. A.J. grabbed Howie's hand, squeezing as hard as he could as Howie's hand tightened around his hair. A.J. felt his head become lighter with every passing second, but he was desperate from waiting years for a kiss so real and so chaste while being so ardent from him.
Finally they had to move apart. A.J.'s lungs were burning and he felt ready to pass out. Breathlessly he leaned his forehead against Howie's, sucking in air covetously. Howie rested his hand against A.J.'s cheek, his eyes locked with A.J.'s.
"I know," he gasped.
When A.J.'s breathing was even enough, he asked, "Why didn't you ever tell me?"
Howie squeezed A.J.'s hand. "Because I was scared." He kissed A.J.'s lips briefly, still resting his forehead on A.J.'s.
"Scared of you, scared of me, scared of the possibility it wouldn't work, scared I couldn't deal with the hatred that would come with a relationship..." He consumed a long breath of air before he whispered, "But more than anything I was scared of my heart."
"Why?"
Howie shook his head. "Because I had no idea whether or not it was real. I didn't know what emotions were true and which were just fucking around with my head."
A.J. shifted his weight in Howie's arms, moving closer. "Do you know now?" he inquired softly.
Howie nodded. "I never told you also 'cause I didn't know how you'd react. But I won't live forever, and if I never told you I'd die never knowing what would have happened. But the fear beat me." His eyes became pained again. "I'm sorry, Alex. I was a coward..."
"No," A.J. said fervently. He kissed him just long enough for him to understand just how wrong he was. "Don't torture yourself about this. Nick showed me how fast life can end. If I had died instead of Nick, you never would have known...and that scared me more than death. That's why I never went through with suicide."
Howie hugged him and A.J. pressed his lips against his ear, resting his head on Howie's shoulder. After a few minutes, A.J. heard Howie whisper, "I love you too" and Nick's death was avenged. Suddenly there was meaning to Nick's death and Nick's soul kissed both his friends before leaving them to live the life of joy and love that he had lost.
The End
Back
Home