Pictures of Another Time

Balancing precariously on a chair, Howie inwardly cursed his lack of height and reached as far above his head as he could, barely managing to grasp the wreath in his fingertips. As he quietly hummed Christmas carols to himself, he gently placed the wreath on a pile of boxes before jumping off the chair.

Once both feet were back on solid ground, Howie picked up the wreath and found himself staring at the top box in the pile -- a battered blue shoebox that had his name on the lid and looked as though it had seen better days. Many of them.

Moving the wreath to the stack of Christmas decorations he had already set aside to take downstairs for his parents, Howie picked up the box in his hands and looked on every surface for some clue as to what might be inside. Not finding one, he began to remove the tape from around the lid.

Lying in the box, Howie saw a few brightly coloured envelopes of photographs. Curiously, he pulled the top envelope out of the box and looked inside. The first photo was a black and white shot of a beautiful old building with distinctly European architecture. The building, like the box, looked familiar, but Howie couldn’t quite manage to place where he’d been when he’d taken the photo.

Next was a picture of an old wooden sign that read Alt Wein in thick cursive. As Howie stared at the sign, the remaining photos fell silently out of his hand and he crumbled slowly to the floor, his knees collapsing under himself. The sign from the coffeehouse had not only reminded Howie when and where the photos were taken, but also why they were now in a box in his parents’ attic.

Vienna. April 1997. Right before the Backstreet Boys turned their attention to North America, and ‘N Sync was just about to hit it big in Europe. One of the last times the two groups had been in Europe at the same time before either group had been successful in their own country.

Seeing the pile of photos that now lay scattered on the floor, Howie sighed and reached for the one that was closest to where he sat.

Looking at the next photo, also in black and white -- it appeared that the whole roll was -- Howie had to smile. It was a photo of himself, looking entirely contented. He was standing next to an ornately sculpted fountain, tossing a coin into the water, and laughing as rain poured down around him, his hair and skin sparkling.

At the sight of the next photo, Howie’s breath caught audibly in his throat. It was the same fountain, but from a different angle. The person in this photo was smiling and laughing as he stood in the water at the base of the fountain, pants rolled up to his knees, and arms raised above his head in an attempt to imitate the pose of the figure in the statue.

Even back then, JC Chasez had been undeniably beautiful and breathtakingly photogenic.

As he stepped off the subway, Howie was once again grateful that, as the least recognizable member of his group, he was often the least noticed. A fact that had both advantages and disadvantages, the biggest advantage being that he was usually able to slip under the radar much more easily than the other Boys. In a city as culturally diverse as Vienna, Howie was able to blend in, unnoticed.

Idly wandering the streets of Vienna, Howie peered curiously through storefront windows and into open cafe doors. When he’d passed Alt Wien, he’d been initially attracted to the coffeehouse by the soft music he’d heard floating out onto the street, but had been drawn in by the dark, smoky atmosphere of the interior.

Howie glanced around and it quickly became apparent that he was going to be unable to sit at a table by himself in the busy cafe.

In the corner, Howie noticed a young man sitting alone, absentmindedly sipping his beverage and flipping the pages of a book, oblivious to the world around him.

A look at the cover of the young man's book revealed that it was English. Encouraged, Howie approached the table and gently tapped the young man on the shoulder.

As he was about to speak, the young man at the table turned around and Howie found himself rendered speechless when he recognized the pair of eyes that looked back at him, clear blue and shining almost navy in the dim, candle-lit ambiance of the cafe.

Marginally regaining his composure, Howie asked in a rushed voice if it might be possible, if it wouldn’t be a bother, if he could maybe join him at the table.

Much to Howie’s relief, and pleasure, JC looked up at him and insisted that it would be no trouble at all, that he would actually really enjoy the company.

As Howie settled himself in the chair across from JC, he used his somewhat limited German to politely order Einen Kaffee, bitte. Schwarz, from the waiter that approached the table and he listened as JC informed him that he and the rest of ‘N Sync were in Vienna, filming a video during a week-long “break” between shows in Germany. Howie smiled in sympathy. It was part of a rough, relentless schedule that he himself was all too familiar with. Grinding along, fueled by nothing but dreams and determination. Getting out of bed on the mornings when all that was waiting for you when you got up was another day of headaches, heartaches and muscle aches.

Howie tried to listen to what JC was saying. He really did. But, there were times when JC would smile, or the light would shine just right and cast the shadow of JC’s eyelashes over his cheeks, and Howie would find it very hard to concentrate. Howie would know that JC was still speaking by the movement of his lips, even though he couldn’t hear a sound coming out of his mouth.

The first minutes of polite conversation stretched into an hour of getting to know more about each other. The first hour turned into many, and the night grew late, as the pair laughed together, drinking coffee and tea, sharing stories and a piece of Schwarzwäldertorte -- black forest cake that Howie decided he could happily live on for the rest of his life.

As he finished his third cup of coffee, Howie heard the clock on the wall chime heavily. Glancing down at his watch, he noticed it read 11:45pm and he sighed lightly.

Motioning to the time, Howie quickly explained that he had to catch the train back to the hotel, and that the last train left Stephansplatz at midnight.

Taking a final sip of his tea, JC picked his long-abandoned book off of the table. Throwing a few notes on the table and grinning broadly, JC began walking out the door and towards the station. All the while talking animatedly, thanking Howie for being there to keep him company and pull his head out of the clouds, saying that he wouldn’t have remembered to be out of the cafe in time to catch the last train back, and since he didn’t know any other route back to his hotel, and no one knew where he’d disappeared to that evening, Howie had saved JC a whole lot of trouble.

If Howie hadn’t been completely infatuated with JC by that point in the evening, he would have been by the time JC stepped off the train. Listening to JC chatter easily, being simultaneously humourous and intelligent, and watching as JC held onto the handrail, spinning himself casually around it, as though his joints were completely fluid, and it was entirely natural to be practically pole-dancing at midnight on a half-full subway.

Howie laughed nervously as the train came to a sudden stop, causing JC to lose his balance and fall to the floor. Still holding onto the pole with one hand, JC landed with his upper body in Howie’s lap.

Before pulling himself up again, JC flashed an upside-down grin at Howie, blue eyes twinkling. Howie was exceedingly happy, not for the first time that evening, that he’d run into JC in the cafe.

A few minutes later, the subway pulled to JC’s stop. As he moved to step out the door, JC muttered a few quick words about how he’d probably be at the cafe again tomorrow night, since, you know, he’d had such a great time that night, and he was never opposed to having fun.

At the last second, JC leaned back towards Howie and kissed him lightly on both cheeks before stepping onto the platform.

It was very European, and very confusing, Howie thought as he watched JC walk up the stairs to the street above.

Blushing furiously, but grinning from ear-to-ear, Howie stepped off the subway two stops later, knowing he’d probably be stopping by Alt Wien the next night.

At the end of a long day of interviews and radio appearances, Howie walked through the door of the coffeehouse and tried to convince himself that he wasn’t there to look for JC. But when his eyes immediately scanned the cafe, and his heart sank with disappointment when he didn’t see him, Howie was unable to continue lying to himself.

Howie grabbed a copy of the London Times, the only English publication at the counter, ordered a cup of coffee from the waitress who approached the table, and distracted himself with an article concerning the instability of the British parliament.

A short time later, he jumped about six feet in the air when he felt a warm breath on his neck and heard a soft voice in his ear. Dropping a handful of coins on the table, JC squeezed Howie’s shoulder and pulled him towards the door.

As he led Howie down the street, JC provided a running commentary on his day’s events. Once again he was speaking in a stream of seemingly endless sentences and Howie decided that JC was apparently incapable of using punctuation when he spoke, rarely stopping to breathe, and often interrupting himself to point out a building, car or a statue. Howie tried to stop himself from thinking about how endearing it was.

It appeared to Howie as though JC was a man with a plan, so he followed along willingly. He stopped walking only when JC did, and looked over at him, waiting for an explanation.

JC simply grinned and pointed to a sign.

An amusement park.

Shaking his head slightly, Howie allowed himself to be pulled across the street and through the gate. He waited patiently as the boy at the wicket slowly fastened a red plastic band around his wrist, laughing at JC who was grinning widely and practically bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet in anticipation.

Howie had to admit that the atmosphere was pretty exciting. There were people everywhere, the air was thick, smelling of cotton candy and popcorn, and a multitude of coloured lights flashed around them, alternately illuminating and obscuring their faces from view.

Fifteen minutes, one small fortune, and 18 multicoloured rings later, Howie managed to win a hard fought battle with a game of ring toss. When offered his choice from the plethora of animals dangling above his head, Howie pointed to a long, fuzzy purple snake that was covered in translucent pink sequins.

JC took one look at the prize, pronounced it fantastically hideous and ran off, giggling.

Left with no choice but to follow, Howie ran after JC, who was winding his way through the crowd, deftly dodging people and food vendors. If it weren’t for the light-up, flashing, green antennae perched atop JC’s head, Howie was sure he would have lost him in the chaos.

When he finally caught up with him, JC had a slightly mischievous smile on his face and was standing strategically under a brightly flashing sign.

Taking one look at the gigantic Ferris wheel, Howie shook his head, crossed his arms and began walking in the opposite direction.

Unfortunately for Howie, JC wasn’t going to be accepting any of that behaviour. JC walked up behind Howie and tapped him on the shoulder. Catching him slightly off-guard, JC grabbed Howie’s prized snake out of his hands, whapped him over the head with it, and ran back towards the Ferris wheel.

Looking back at JC with his hands on his hips, Howie shook his head. Again.

Howie was firm in his resolve not to get on the Ferris wheel.

He was not going to be persuaded.

He planted his feet firmly on the ground and absolutely refused to move from where he stood.

When JC crinkled his nose at Howie, bit his lower lip, and beckoned Howie over to the Ferris wheel with a crook of his index finger, Howie mentally berated his feet for disobeying his brain and walking towards the ride.

Satisfied, JC hopped onto the Ferris wheel, slid over and patted the seat next to himself, motioning for Howie to sit down.

Making a big production of climbing into the carriage and sighing very loudly, Howie settled in next to JC, smiling and saying a quick hello to other people in the carriage with them. As Howie watched the ground below him get further and further from his feet, he gradually became aware of JC singing next to him.

Surprised, Howie tore his gaze away from the ground, ready to ask JC why on earth he was singing a Backstreet Boys song. He was unable to, however, when JC leaned towards him, uncaring of the fact they were not alone, and kissed him softly and slowly on the mouth. He then took Howie’s right hand in his left, and resumed singing, looking down at the city below as if nothing had happened.

Tasting the salt from the popcorn they’d shared earlier, and the sugary coating of JC’s candied-apple, Howie just licked at his lips, trying to ignore the onslaught of emotions that were suddenly running through his head.

As he stepped off the ride, Howie didn’t relinquish his hold on JC’s hand. The two of them walked around the grounds, hand in hand, stopping occasionally when Howie wanted to look at the toys on display, or JC wanted to stop for something else to eat.

When a voice came over the loudspeaker, announcing in four different languages that the park would be closing shortly, Howie realized that they had to leave if they wanted to catch the subway back to their hotels. Muttering something about turning into a pumpkin at midnight, Howie began running towards the station, pulling JC along with him.

JC retaliated with a comment about trying to get a better pair of shoes from his fairy godmother the next time she came around and the two of them ran down the street, laughing wildly.

They managed to jump on the subway as the doors were closing behind them. Winded from running and laughing, the pair fell loudly and messily into a couple of seats by the door. Or, at least into one and a half seats. Having landed sprawled awkwardly in JC’s lap, Howie wasn't really taking up an entire seat.

Howie was glad that the car they were riding in was nearly empty, since he was fairly sure that he and JC were being rather disruptive. JC, who still retained custody of the prized snake, whacked Howie in the head with it again, holding it just out of Howie’s reach when he tried to grab it back.

Howie felt the train slow down as it approached JC’s stop. Regretfully, Howie unwrapped JC’s arms from around his waist and moved to let him stand, vowing to JC that he would never let him eat anything with sugar in it ever again.

JC just smiled and surrendered the stuffed animal back to Howie. Just before the doors opened, JC leaned over, kissed Howie thoroughly on the mouth and wandered off the car, humming Just To Be Close To You under his breath.

As the taste of JC’s vanilla fudge lingered on his tongue, Howie decided that it really was his decision if he wanted to change his mind about such matters, and wondered if there was anywhere near his hotel where he could buy vanilla fudge.

When his wake up call came at 5:15 the next morning, Howie groaned loudly as he blindly reached out for his phone, knocking it purposefully to the floor. Pulling his pillow over his head, Howie pretended that he hadn’t heard the phone ring and attempted to go back to sleep.

He’d actually been succeeding rather well until he felt his mattress being lifted from his bed and found himself being dumped unceremoniously onto the floor, blankets and all.

Managing to orient himself in the blankets he was now tangled in, Howie looked up to see Kevin staring down at him, wearing an expression that expressed his obvious displeasure.

As soon as it became apparent that Howie was paying attention to him, Kevin wasted no time launching into a full tirade about how he was really getting sick of having to explain why Howie was never around when someone from management came to the hotel at night, and that Howie had better have a damned good explanation, or Kevin was apt to go postal on his ass. And, since they had a radio interview in less than an hour, Howie might want to put on some clothes that he hadn’t worn the previous day, and possibly take a shower.

Looking down, Howie realized that he’d fallen into bed without even changing his clothes. He blushed slightly, and began trying to untangle himself from the blankets. As soon as he had extricated himself from the bundle of linen, the purple snake fell out of the pile and rolled onto the floor.

Howie looked down at the purple snake, smiled to himself and threw the snake at Kevin as he got up and marched into the shower, not feeling as though he needed to explain himself.

Upon arriving back at the hotel after a long morning of radio promotion, Howie wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed. However, as he stepped through the door, the desk clerk informed him that he had a message waiting for him.

Thanking the employee, Howie unfolded the paper as he walked toward the elevator.

H.
Well, I stopped by. But, you and your crew aren’t back yet.
Due to some questionable potato salad provided by craft services, pretty much the entire crew (and Lou and Justin and Joey and Chris) have all come down with a really nasty bout of food poisoning.
So, long story short: video shoot’s canceled for today, postponed and all that jazz.
If you’re gonna be free sometime today, give me a call. We could go for coffee. Or something.
01 890 157 (Rm#1156)

Hit with a fresh burst of energy, Howie practically leapt onto the elevator, pushed the button for the 12th floor, and tapped his feet impatiently as he watched the red numbers on the display slowly ascend.

Minutes after Howie hung up the phone, Kevin stopped by Howie’s room on his way down to the pool and noticed that Howie was changed to go out and was packing some things into a backpack.

Howie didn’t have to look at Kevin, who was standing in the doorway of his room, to know that he was pretty furious. As Howie folded a blanket to put in his bag, Kevin told Howie that he wasn’t going to cover for him again today, so if he wanted to go gallivanting around town today, it was his ass on the line.

Howie hadn’t meant to start yelling, he’d meant to explain in a calm manner, and possibly beg Kevin to please just go along with it.

Of course, though, his verbal assault led to Kevin jumping quickly to his own defense, and it wasn’t long before the two of them were yelling at each other. Loudly.

Unsurprisingly, the sound of their two oldest bandmates shrieking profanities at each other into a hotel corridor caught the attention of Nick, AJ, and Brian who quickly hurried to Howie’s hotel room and began listening to the exchange in rapt fascination.

Nick grabbed Howie’s camera from where it lay on the bed, and took a photograph of Howie and Kevin arguing, Howie’s hands flailing wildly. Then, Nick and Brian started bouncing around the room, loudly commenting and questioning Howie about having a secret love affair.

AJ, who was still lurking beside Kevin in the doorway, just grinned silently. Winking at Howie, he commented that he guessed he wasn’t imagining the ‘just got laid’ look that Howie had been wearing on his face all morning.

Howie dutifully ignored each of his bandmates’ comments, grabbed his camera out of Nick’s hands, and asked through clenched teeth if the guys could please leave him alone with Kevin, and that he promised they wouldn’t kill each other if they did so.

As soon as they were alone in the room, Howie looked up at Kevin and tried to plead his case like a rational 23-year-old adult, instead of a screaming child.

Taking a deep breath, Howie looked directly at Kevin and tried to explain. Well, explain as best he could without naming any names. He’d eventually had to tell Kevin pretty much everything, but by the time he had, Kevin’s expression had softened remarkably. It was easier for Kevin to be mad at Howie when he hadn’t seen how happy Howie was. He knew how hard it was for Howie to meet people, seeing as he was still in the closet to everyone outside of Kevin -- who’d happened upon the information accidentally -- and his immediate family. As far as Kevin could remember, it was the first that he had heard of Howie getting involved with anyone, on any level, since they’d started this group.

Kevin sighed finally and reached over to Howie, handing him the hat and sunglasses from the bureau. Placing them in Howie’s hand, he told Howie that he didn’t fucking care if it was raining and overcast, he’d better goddamned wear both of them all fucking day and stay the hell away from any places that might have members of the press.

Howie just reached over and gave Kevin a hug, knowing that Kevin was, in his own way, telling Howie to be careful and have fun. As Kevin hugged him back, he whispered in Howie’s ear that he hoped Howie had fun today, visiting with Uncle Carlo who was in Vienna on business and just had to spend the day sightseeing with his favourite nephew. Smiling at Howie, Kevin winked and walked out of the room, finally heading towards the pool.

Howie grinned, pulled the cap over his head, threw the last of his things into his bag, and headed out the door.

Waiting for JC in front of Alt Wien, Howie whistled softly and busied himself with watching the people go by.

Howie was removed from his daydream, however, when JC came bounding down the street, shouting loudly and jumping onto Howie’s shoulders. When he recovered from his near heart attack, he noticed that JC was excitedly waving a bright orange piece of paper at him.

Shoving the flier into Howie’s hand, JC announced that, since the rain had finally stopped, and the sun had finally come out, they should definitely go, 'cause it would probably be a lot of fun -- not to mention that it was something that was an integral part of the history of the city.

Aufführung der Wiener Philharmoniker
Openair-Konzert
Rathausplatz
4 April 1997
Zeit: 15 Uhr

Howie looked at the flier and laughed when he realized that, even with the little German he’d managed to pick up thus far, JC could recognize a concert advertisement anywhere.

It wasn’t a far walk from the cafe to where the concert was to be held, so Howie, dutifully donning his hat and sunglasses, walked with JC to the city centre.

Spreading his blanket out underneath a tree of JC’s choosing, Howie looked around for JC and saw that he wasn’t anywhere to be found. Shrugging, Howie stretched himself out on the blanket, and watched the orchestra file into their seats.

Busy watching the musicians, Howie was distracted when JC finally made his way back to the blanket. Settling himself beside Howie, JC handed him an ice cream cone, already melting slightly from the heat of the sun.

Finishing his ice cream quickly, Howie watched as JC slowly finished his. It was melting quickly, so between bites of the ice cream, JC had to pause to lick the ice cream off his fingers. It was entirely unintentional, but JC looked, in Howie’s opinion, impossibly adorable -- a positively intoxicating combination of innocence and raw sexuality. Howie reached over and pulled his camera out of his bag, and quickly snapped a photo before placing his camera on the blanket beside him.

It was a beautiful day, and a beautiful setting for a concert. The sun was shining, there was a slight breeze, and a happy, relaxed vibe in the air. It wasn’t something tangible, but Howie couldn’t remember a time on tour in Europe when he’d been so... relaxed? Calm?

He looked over at JC who was watching the concert in rapt fascination --

Content.

Falling back on the blanket, Howie removed his hat and sunglasses and closed his eyes. He sighed as he felt the sun shine on him and let the music float around him, painting pictures in his mind the way classical music always did.

Maybe it was the relaxing music, maybe it was the feeling of contentedness, maybe it was the warmth of the sun, or maybe it was simply the fact that he was exhausted. Maybe it was none of those things, or a combination of each of them. In any case, Howie hadn’t even realized he’d been close to falling asleep until he felt himself awaken suddenly.

Sleepily, he rubbed his eyes and turned to JC, ready to apologize for being less-than-stimulating company. He nearly laughed aloud when he saw that JC was fast asleep.

Moving himself so he was leaning against the tree, Howie listened to the orchestra, now partway through the third movement of Beethoven’s Sixth, The Pastoral Symphony. Howie hummed along under his breath and watched JC breathe softly and evenly.

At the sound of the audience clapping at the end of the symphony, JC awoke slowly and asked if Howie was enjoying the concert. Howie replied with a comment about how he and JC were probably a disgrace to musicians everywhere.

JC, still bleary-eyed and groggy, laughed slightly. Howie didn’t mean to, especially not in the middle of an open field, but JC looked so adorable that he couldn’t resist. He bent over and gave JC an upside-down kiss on the mouth. JC smiled into Howie’s lips and kissed him back, softly and quickly.

In traditional Viennese style, the orchestra ended the concert with a Strauss waltz. All around them, members of the audience stood up and began waltzing around the grounds with each other. From their position under the tree, Howie and JC watched as the couples spun and twirled each other, happily partaking in part of the rich, cultural tradition of the city.

JC, who was sitting with his shoulder pressed to Howie’s, began trying to dance from his sitting position. Whispering in his ear, Howie told JC to go find someone to dance with, knowing that JC would rather be actively joining in the festivities. And also knowing that, even if Howie had any idea how to waltz, there was no way the two of them could, at least not together. Especially not together.

JC looked at Howie, prepared to protest that he didn’t want to leave Howie sitting alone when two women, both older than themselves, approached the pair and asked, in slightly broken English, if they would like to dance.

Stammering that he didn’t know how to waltz, the two women pulled JC and Howie to their feet, assuring Howie that they could teach him.

Within minutes, the four were waltzing around the park, spinning and laughing, Howie and JC smiling to each other as they danced.

Bowing grandly to their dance partners at the end of the song, Howie and JC thanked the women for teaching them to waltz. The women just smiled and said that they hoped the two of them enjoyed their stay in Vienna, before heading back to where they had been sitting.

At the conclusion of the concert, Howie and JC packed all of their belongings, save for Howie’s camera, into Howie’s backpack and started walking slowly around town.

Wandering in and out of little stores, it took the two young men a great deal longer to walk back to the cafe than it had taken them to walk to the concert. When they were about halfway back, the rain began to fall again. Where Howie tried to speed up, and walk under bridges and overhangs, JC walked out in the middle of the street, arms spread wide, feeling the rain fall down on him. When the two of them walked past a fountain, JC had run over, pulling a coin from his pocket.

Calling to Howie, JC waved him over to the fountain, handed him the coin and told him to make a wish. Grabbing Howie’s camera, JC quickly snapped a photo.

JC handed the camera back to Howie and literally skipped back to the fountain, kicked off his sandals, rolled up the legs of his pants and jumped into the water. When JC tilted his head back and threw his hands in the air, Howie was laughing so hard, he could barely hold the camera steady.

After he snapped the photo, Howie ran back over to where JC was standing and pulled him out of the fountain, holding his arms around JC’s waist as he tried to stop JC from pulling him into the water. Just because it was raining, Howie didn’t see any reason to jump willingly into a fountain. He’d leave that to JC.

Later, after the boys had stopped for a quick shop in St. Stefan’s Plaza, and a meal at Nordsee, a buffet-style seafood restaurant where JC had introduced Howie to the wonderful world of shellfish, they finished their walk back to Alt Wien. Pausing outside the door, they discussed what they should do with the rest of their night; they hadn’t planned to be back at the cafe, it just sort of happened. It was true, at least on Howie’s part, that he was much more at ease in the dark, smoky atmosphere of the cafe than wandering the street. He felt less exposed when he could hide in a corner. He was so used to hiding that he was more comfortable when he could.

Looking around the cafe for somewhere to sit, the tables were full, but there was space for the two of them in on an old, worn sofa in the circle of couches set around a few coffee tables in the front corner of the cafe.

As Howie and JC settled onto the couch, they were quickly joined by two young men carrying musical instruments who sat in the sofa adjacent to theirs, chatting easily to each other in Denglish, a sort of hybrid of both German and English. They quickly introduced themselves to JC and Howie as Petr and Thomas, two students from the university, stopping by for coffee on their way to orchestra rehearsal.

The four men chatted easily. Thomas and Petr asked how JC and Howie were enjoying their stay in Vienna, what they had done so far, and suggested other aspects of the Viennese night life they might want to check out. Then, they suggested that the four of them play a game of cards while they enjoyed their time in the coffeehouse.

The invitation was readily accepted and resulted in JC and Petr teaching Howie and Thomas how to play Euchre. Thomas, it turned out, was pathetically bad at the game, and apparently cards in general, so Howie and JC won most of the hands quite easily, celebrating loudly at each victory. However, buying Petr and Thomas Fiaker und Waschermadel as compensation -- deserts shaped frighteningly like people, choosing ones that most closely resembled the two men.

After about an hour of drinks, laughter, and camaraderie, JC quietly excused himself to the bathroom, leaving Howie alone to continue the conversation.

When Petr turned to Howie and asked, casually, how long he and JC had been together, Howie found himself at a loss for words, stammering a somewhat incoherent statement about how he wasn’t sure how Petr had gotten the idea that they were “together.” Petr looked over at Thomas, and then both men looked back at Howie, expressions of amused disbelief on their faces, waiting for an answer.

Staring at his coffee as though it had suddenly become inexplicably fascinating, Howie mumbled that they had known each other casually for a while, but had only really started getting to know each other in the last couple of days. And, that he wasn’t even sure if they were together, actually. They’d never really talked about it.

Looking over to where JC was returning from the bathroom, JC caught Howie’s eye, smiled slightly and blushed.

Seeing the connection between the two men as though it were something physical, Thomas looked at Howie earnestly and suggested that maybe the two of them should discuss it -- they probably would have a lot to talk about.

Under his breath, Howie mumbled about how it probably didn’t matter, since he was leaving the country to head back to the US the next day, anyway.

As the clock on the wall chimed half-past 6 pm, Thomas and Petr regretfully informed Howie that they had to be going, if they wanted to make it back to the Konservatorium in time for rehearsal.

Securing the strap of his viola case on his shoulder, Thomas handed the other case over to Petr. Adjusting the length of the flute case before pulling it over his head and across his chest, Petr reached over to Thomas, ran his hand down Thomas’ lower arm and tangled their fingers together. He leaned over and kissed Thomas softly on the forehead before leaning over to whisper in Howie’s ear.

Howie hadn’t understood all of the words at the time, but they echoed through his head and he was unable to forget them.

Wenn es sein soll, wird deine Zeit kommen.
(If it is meant to be, your time will come.)

Waving at JC, they called a few words of goodbye to both Howie and JC as they walked out the door, hand in hand.

Handing Howie a steaming mug, JC watched Thomas and Petr leave, and fell back onto the couch. Before making himself comfortable, JC bent forward and gave Howie a kiss on the nose.

When Howie asked what that was for, JC just shrugged and replied that Howie looked like he needed it.

Curling up together on the couch, Howie and JC watched people on the street walk by, going about their lives. Sometimes talking quietly to each other, sometimes saying nothing.

The time passed quickly as the pair enjoyed each other’s company, knowing that Howie was getting on a plane in a matter of hours. Distracted and self-absorbed, they didn’t even notice the hours pass, wired on a steady supply of sweet food and caffeine. Only realizing how late it had gotten when the staff of the coffeehouse began to clean up around them.

A look to the clock on the wall revealed that not only had they talked through their way through the night, but deep into the early hours of the morning.

3 am.

Slowly and regretfully, the two men pushed themselves off the sofa, leaving behind a large pile of money on the table.

Walking down the street, the pair debated the merits of walking back to their respective hotels, decided against calling a taxi, and decided that, logically, there was no reason they just couldn’t wait for the U-Bahn to begin running again at 5 am.

Leading JC to a clearing in the small, forested area at the base of a hill in the Prater parklands, Howie pulled the blanket out of his bag and wrapped it around himself and then wrapped JC in his arms. Wrapped in the blanket, the two men just stood there, holding each other, thinking and breathing.

After a few minutes, Howie pulled JC to the ground, settling him between his legs. Lying together, talking quietly and watching the stars, Howie slowly ran his fingers along JC’s hipbone, under his shirt.

Rolling over, JC pressed his lips to Howie’s jaw and kissed him softly. Lying in the grass, the stars shimmering above them, the pair just lay there, kissing each other slowly and deeply. Hands exploring and feeling, lips tasting and discovering. A tangle of lips and limbs, and an isolated pocket of warmth that was in sharp contrast to the crisp, cool morning air.

Knowing they had so little time, it would have been expected that there would be a sense of urgency in the air. This, however, was not the case. They lay together, sometimes talking, sometimes touching, and sometimes just... existing, as though they had all the time in the world to figure things out.

They didn’t, however, and regretfully, JC pulled away from Howie sometime later, hard and hot, breathing heavily.

It was time to leave. The train left at 5 am, and JC had to be back at the hotel in time for his 5:45 am call, and Howie had to leave the hotel at 6:00 am to be at the airport. There really was no way of getting around it.

With swollen lips, JC kissed Howie’s eyelids and pulled him off the ground. Sliding his fingers into the back pockets of Howie’s pants, JC pulled him close one last time before beginning to lead the way back to the subway.

On the train, the two rode back to JC’s hotel saying nothing, the silence speaking volumes. They could communicate easily through a look, or a touch.

Not wanting to say goodbye on a subway, Howie followed JC onto the platform. JC turned to Howie, mumbled a goodbye in Howie’s ear, wishing him well. Howie pulled JC close to himself and whispered an incoherent goodbye, thanking JC for the great time they’d had.

Quickly, JC pressed a quick kiss to Howie’s lips and pressed a folded piece of orange paper into his palm and whispered “goodbye” so softly that Howie wasn’t sure that he hadn’t imagined it.

The subway chimed dissonantly, indicating that the train was about to exit the station. Howie stepped backwards onto the train, watching in silence as the doors closed in front of him.

Riding for the remainder of the trip standing in front of the doors, staring blankly out the window, Howie got off at his stop, wandering towards the hotel and up to his room as if in a fog.

Red-eyed and smiling, Howie ignored the knowing glances of the security team as he opened the door to his hotel room.

Upon entering the room, the first thing Howie noticed was that all of his stuff was already packed and ready to go. The second thing he noticed was that Kevin was sitting in the middle of his bed, amongst all of Howie’s luggage, looking at him with an expression of genuine sympathy on his face.

Taking one look at his sleepy friend, bags under his eyes, and a couple of bruises visible at his collarbone, Kevin asked how it was possible that Howie looked thoroughly happy and utterly miserable at the same time. Howie just shook his head, letting himself be enveloped in Kevin’s arms.

Quietly asking if Howie had gotten any sleep, Howie just shook his head against Kevin’s shoulder and mumbled that that’s what the flight was for.

Knowing they only had 20 minutes before they had to be out of the hotel, Kevin pushed Howie toward the shower saying that he’d order Howie some breakfast while he got cleaned up.

As Howie shuffled slowly toward the bathroom, he heard Kevin behind him, reaching for the phone.

Shaking himself back to the present, Howie forced himself to pick the photos off the floor. So many moments were preserved from that last day.

In addition to the two photos from the fountain, there was also the photo of Howie and Kevin arguing early that final morning, a picture of an older gentleman playing a violin on Kartnerstrasse, a lovely photo of the Hofburg Palace, JC chatting in a phone booth, rain falling into a puddle, Howie drinking from a mug inside of Alt Wien, JC licking ice cream from his fingers, two women trying on extravagant hats in a storefront window, and JC carefully inspecting a chocolate croissant before tasting it.

In the last photo, Howie could see Thomas and Petr in the background, legs pressed together intimately, and watching JC with smiles on their faces. Howie smiled at the photo -- two people he’d met only briefly, but the only two people he’d ever explicitly told about he and JC and their time in Vienna. Once again, Petr’s words echoed through his head like a proverb: Wenn es sein soll, wird deine Zeit kommen.

Howie wondered if it would ever be his time.

Looking to his left, Howie saw one last photo lying on the floor, picture side down. Closing his eyes, he reached out for the picture. He didn’t have to turn it over to know what it was. Before he’d put these photos in his parent’s attic, Howie had looked at that picture so often that he’d memorized nearly every detail.

Holding the photo in his hand, Howie actually had to force himself to open his eyes. When he finally did, he felt the tears prick behind his eyes. The photo was exactly as he remembered it.

It was a photo from the concert at the Rathausplatz. It was a picture of both he and JC lying side by side on the blanket, both fast asleep. Lying on their sides, the two young men in the photo were facing each other, their foreheads almost pressed together, small smiles and looks of relaxed contentment on both their faces.

Howie’s left hand was splayed protectively over JC’s hip and JC’s right leg was resting atop of Howie’s.

Though a black and white photo, the sun, combined with the tall tree in the corner of the photo, cast a slight shadow over their faces. The shadow, combined with the drastic change in their appearances since that time, made the two of them almost unrecognizable, even to Howie. Even knowing exactly when that photo had been taken, Howie struggled to reconcile the two young men -- boys, really -- in the photo with the two of them as they now were. He looked at the photo of himself at 23 and JC at 20, realizing just how much had changed since then.

Howie never knew who had taken the picture. When he’d awoken from his unintentional nap in the park, Howie’s camera -- and all of his other belongs -- had been exactly where he’d left them. It wasn’t until he’d gotten the roll of film developed that he’d even known the photo had been taken.

Swallowing thickly, Howie admired the photo once again and wished he could thank the anonymous person who’d thought to preserve such an intimate moment.

Looking back in the box, Howie pulled out a second envelope of photographs and a folded piece of paper.

Unfolding the paper, Howie looked at the flier in his hands. Flipping it over, among a number of scribblings of random words and phrases -- lyrics, probably -- was JC’s home address in Maryland and his telephone number.

In the second envelope, Howie knew that there was a second set of the photos he had just looked at. JC’s copies. He’d never had the chance to give them to him.

The time after Vienna was a busy one. The Boys, as planned, headed back to the US, leaving ‘N Sync in Europe to try and pave their own path to success.

A whirlwind of radio and television appearances had taken Howie and the rest of the Boys all over the US, promoting their album, released 4 months after they left Europe.

With both groups enjoying success on different continents, they were very busy. Even still, JC and Howie had kept in touch, at least at first. A postcard here and there, and rushed phone calls at random hours, neither JC nor Howie knowing what time it was where they were most of the time, let alone what time zone the other was in. Suddenly, though, Howie stopped hearing from JC altogether.

Disappointed, Howie did the best he could to push Vienna to the back of his mind. But, when news filtered back to the Boys that they would be heading back to Germany to perform in the Pop Explosion concert, and that ‘N Sync was also scheduled to perform, Howie couldn’t stop himself from getting a little bit excited.

When packing for Germany, Howie had made sure to pack the duplicate set of photos into his bag. Even though he hadn’t heard a word from JC since he’d sent him a birthday card for his 21st birthday, JC had asked for copies, and Howie wanted to give them to him.

Howie had been disappointed when he hadn’t had a chance to catch up with JC backstage at the concert, not seeing much of any of the members of ‘N Sync throughout the entire evening. But, he assumed he would have his chance four days later, when the Backstreet Boys, ‘N Sync, and a number of other celebrities were participating in a charity basketball game.

When they’d gotten to the arena, straws had been drawn as a method of choosing teams. Through the whole procedure, Howie couldn’t decide if he wanted to be on JC’s team.

It ended up being a non-issue, however, since AJ ended up on a team with four-fifths of ‘N Sync, while Lance ended up with the remaining four Backstreet Boys.

Before the game, Howie tried to talk to JC, but was ignored at every attempt. Even though it stung a little, Howie tried to tell himself that it was probably just nerves. Or maybe even a little gamesmanship.

After the game, which Howie’s team had managed to win, JC still walked away from him, looking away when Howie tried to get his attention.

Hurt and confused by JC’s behaviour, Howie left the package of photos untouched at the bottom of his bag. Sitting on the bench in the locker room, Howie was at a loss. He didn’t know what to make of the situation. He hadn’t expected that he and JC would pick up where they left off - he didn’t even know where that was, actually -- but he also hadn’t expected to be treated as though he were invisible. They’d been so close. Or, so he had thought, anyway.

As Howie sat on a bench in the locker room, his self-deprecation was interrupted when Kevin came over and sat beside him.

Kevin began talking, empty words that went in one ear and out the other. Over Kevin’s shoulder, Howie subtly watched as JC packed his stuff from the locker into his bag.

When Kevin got up to grab a bottle of water, JC caught Howie looking at him and met his eyes shyly, and with a small, sad smile on his face. The look confused Howie, who was still, inexplicably, quite proficient at reading JC’s expressions.

Suddenly, JC looked as though he was going to walk over to Howie -- finally, Howie thought -- when he was quickly stopped by a not-so-gentle hand on his shoulder.

Tensing visibly, JC looked back at Lou who was now standing directly behind him, and an expression of panic crossed over his face.

Though he couldn’t hear everything that was being said, Howie could hear Lou speaking in a low, threatening voice, telling JC to remember what they’d talked about and that bringing up the past again wasn’t going to do anything but hurt the people involved.

Smiling a genuinely insincere smile at JC, Lou glared sideways at Howie before he turned and walked out the door.

JC bit his lip and looked down at the ground, not raising his gaze until he heard the door close behind Lou.

As he picked his bag off the floor, JC walked quietly past Howie and out of the dressing room, mumbling under his breath about leaving the past behind him.

Howie didn’t turn around to watch JC walk out on him, so he never saw JC hesitate at the door, taking one last look at Howie. Still looking as though he had something he wanted to say, his eyes glassy, as though he was near tears.

Kevin, who had walked back into the locker room, however, hadn’t missed the exchange, seeing both the look of hurt and confusion pass over Howie’s face, and the look of loss and regret that passed quietly over JC’s.

Kevin opened his mouth to speak, but was temporarily silenced by the look of utter desperation that passed across Howie’s face. Sitting back on the bench, Kevin put his arm around Howie’s shoulders.

After a few minutes, Kevin squeezed Howie’s shoulders and quietly asked if JC was the reason that Howie had been so upset when they’d left Europe, and why he’d been so excited to come back, when the rest of the boys were less than thrilled to be flying halfway around the world when they were finally getting recognition at home.

Leaning his head on Kevin’s shoulder, Howie nodded slightly. He sat motionless for a few minutes, but then reached over and grabbed his bag and told Kevin he would meet him outside shortly.

Locking the bathroom door behind him, Howie pulled the photos out of his bag, taking out his favourite photo. Running his fingers lightly over JC’s face, Howie silently cursed whatever had caused JC to turn away from him.

When the Boys left Europe and headed back to North America, Howie got distracted by the craziness of the touring schedule and successfully managed to push all things even remotely related to JC, ‘N Sync, and Europe from his mind, chalking the whole experience up to adolescent experimentation and curiosity on JC’s part.

It helped that the Backstreet Boys were in the midst of a yearlong tour when ‘N Sync released their first album in the US. It was easy to completely ignore the other group when you weren't even in the same country. Except, of course, when they were asked about the rivalry in interviews. Even then, though, Howie didn’t have to give it much thought. Kevin eagerly fielded most of those questions.

Howie wasn’t naive enough to think that all of Kevin’s hostility towards 'N Sync was a result of anything that had or hadn’t happened between Howie and JC in Europe. But he knew that it certainly hadn’t helped matters.

Although Kevin really did have issues with other group, more of them initially stemmed more from the betrayal of their management than were about the other guys themselves. To a point, however.

Kevin had a protective streak a mile and a half wide when it came to his brothers. Most of the time, his attitude was more of a protective barrier around himself than a verbal attack on ‘N Sync personally. That being said, Kevin really had never given JC much of chance after Europe. Howie hadn’t really been with anyone since JC had walked out on him, and even though Kevin had to admit that it almost as much to do with maintaining a public image as repairing a broken heart, he wasn’t willing to forgive and forget.

For the most part, the rivalry wasn’t personal. Except when it was.

But, at the beginning, it never played out that way in the media, who had sunk their claws into the rivalry and ran with it. And it worked, eventually helping to spread some of the hostility from their professional lives to their private lives.

At any given time, one member of one group was mad at at least one member of the other group for some reason or another. Relationships changed with changes in management, recording contracts, legal battles, album sales, concert dates, endorsement deals, performance invitations, and, evidently, planetary alignment, barometric pressure, and day of the week.

Howie looked again at the photo. Pulling it out of the envelope, Howie thought he would take it home. He figured he could probably find a frame for it somewhere in his apartment. It was a lovely photo, after all.

Brushing the dust off his knees, Howie rose, squinting as the bright sunlight flooded through the dusty window.

Leaving the long since abandoned pile of Christmas decorations on the floor, Howie took the packages of photos downstairs.

Taking JC’s set, Howie scribbled a quick note and tucked it in with the photos. Putting the photos into a larger envelope, he addressed it to JC Chasez. He’d send it through the Jive internal mail system on Monday.

As he sealed the envelope, Howie mentally slapped himself -- he had more courage than that.

Leaving the envelope on the counter, Howie went to the room he was staying in while he housesat for his parents and grabbed his Palm Pilot. As he turned it on, Howie made a mental note that, based on the outcome of this momentary burst of bravery, he had to remember to either kill, or kiss, Chris Kirkpatrick.

A week previous, at the Billboard Music Awards after party, Howie had been chatting away to a couple of journalists when Chris had, in the way only Chris could, come bouncing up to him, greeting him with a loud, sloppy kiss on the cheek.

Howie laughed, thinking about it now. Ted Casablanca had a field day with the whole situation, the kiss garnering quite the write up in his next column. What hadn’t been reported, however, was that when Chris had bounced away from Howie, he’d taken Howie’s Palm Pilot with him.

Returning to Howie about 15 minutes later, Chris had handed the device back with a casual comment about how, since he and the other guys were going to be writing and recording their new album in Orlando, Chris had done Howie the courtesy of updating his address book. Though, JC was the only one with an address change as of yet.

Trying to keep his voice free of emotion -- he wasn’t sure how much Chris was implying, and how much was coincidence -- Howie thanked Chris for returning his palm pilot before watching Chris head back to his date for the evening.

Winking back at Howie over his shoulder, Chris told Howie, in a rather loud voice, that he expected to be seeing much more of Howie’s sorry ass in the future.

At times, he’d thought about deleting the address. Now, though, he was glad that he hadn’t gone through with it.

Grabbing his keys and the photos off the counter, Howie headed out to his car.

Howie knew it wasn’t going to be a far drive, so he was prepared when he pulled up in JC’s driveway only a short time later. Taking a deep breath, Howie grabbed the photos off the passenger seat and headed toward the door.

Knocking nervously, Howie prayed that JC was home; he didn’t think that he’d have the courage to try this again.

When JC opened the door to see Howie standing on the other side, a number of emotions passed visibly over his face. Surprise, confusion, nervousness.

Holding out the envelope, Howie said softly, “I’ve always wanted to give you these.”

Silently, JC flipped slowly through the photos while Howie stood in the doorway, nervously biting his lip and twisting his hands together.

When JC saw the last photo, the one of he and Howie sleeping together at the concert, he sighed audibly and looked up at Howie, his hands trembling slightly and his eyes shining.

JC hesitantly stepped back from the door, smiling shyly at Howie. It was a small smile, but it was real, and it told Howie that maybe he hadn’t made a huge mistake in bringing the photos to JC.

It was the first real smile JC had directed at him in more than 3 and a half years.

He held out his hand to Howie who grasped it and shook it eagerly. Taking another look at the photo in his hand, then looking Howie directly in the eye, JC motioned for Howie to step into the house.

“Please, come in. I think we have a lot to talk about.”

Based on:"Vienna" (Linda Eder)
[click here for lyrics]
Written for Allecto's "Mix 'n Match" Challenge

Thanks to Tanya for the readthrough and the cheerleading, and to Evamaria who made me sound like I had a clue what I was talking about - and who was exceedingly patient, even when I messed up. A lot.