Nick had been dosing on and off the whole evening. One time he was sweaty the next cold and he had every sign that accompanied a high fever or even worse a bad case of the flu. His headache increased all the time and moving restlessly in his bed he had a hard time finding a good position mainly because his back hurt so much and it was getting harder and harder to move his neck. The nausea that had been his companion hadnīt lessened much and he was constantly alternating between a dry and a salty salivating mouth.
It was a real effort turning his head and he had to do his best to read the small digitals on the clock since his eyes hurt all the time, especially looking at lights and his brain was all mushed from the high fever. He had a vague memory of Brian leaving him earlier on in the evening, telling him that he would be back soon, and if he wanted he could call him, but he had no idea how much time had passed since then. All he knew was that he hurt so badly and that he needed something, anything, stop this pain.
The headache was worse than all the migraines he had in his line. Combined. That wouldnīt mean little since Nick was prone to having bad migraines, a treat he inherited from his mother, especially during stressful situations and when exhaustion set in. Heīd even got a prescription for it but didnīt take it very often since it made him feel all loopy, almost high, and that was not a nice feeling at all. Tonight however when he needed the bottle heīd left it back home which was in a way pretty good since the way he was feeling he would probably had digested it all. Death seemed to be the only way out form the discomfort he so cruelly seemed to be a victim off.
Shifting in his bed once again, like heīd done umpteenth of times that night, he found that the sheets were all crumpled and wet from his sweat. It was nasty and the feeling of the wet sheets clinging to his body made him feel cold again. Shivering he reached for the water glass on the bed stand that Brian had left for him only to discover that it was dry and that he didnīt have the energy to get up and get another glass. Instead he had to suffer. Bad.
There had been many times that evening when he had been close to calling Brian, asking him to come back, but heīd stopped himself every time. It would be an unprofessional act to do since the guys were working and it would only serve more fire to the rumour that Nick acted like a spoiled brat, besides he was used to handling things on his own. Being the oldest of five had left him spending too much time alone at home, much more than would be good for the media to find out. Not to mention being alone with the guys on the road. The chaperone that his parents had talked so highly of and that they said was something they aimed for was often nothing but a vision. They were much too busy taking care of his siblings and even if he knew that they wanted to be with him they couldnīt spend the time travelling because his sisters and Aaron needed them as well. This often left him with his uncle Joe but also with Johnny, Donna and sometimes AjÂīs mom Denise to be in charge of him. Even though he loved having the guys with him, he would have preferred that his family followed him on the road, but had as usual very little to say on this subject. Much out of danger from loosing his spot in the group His parents depended on him since he was the one that paid their bills and made it possible for his family to live in their big home in Ruskin. There were obligations connected to being in the group and they were set to follow them. No excuses were allowed.
With tears in his eyes he decided that he had to be the loneliest person in the world when a shot of pain shot through his head, blinding him for a minute. Rolling to his side he grabbed his head and then rocked back and forth in hopes to lessen the pain. This was getting worse and worse and as if things were not bad enough another dizzy spell swept over him. Cold sweat pearled down his forehead and in between his sobbing he wished he would pass out from the pain so he would finally reach some kind of comfort.
Either that or get some help!
But no such relief came and instead the pain in his head and neck kept shooting at him like flashes and he moaned in despair. When the pain was so bad that he had a hard time breathing he reached for the phone in an attempt to call Brian. But the fever in his body made it hard for him to remember the digits and no matter how he tried he couldnīt remember the last two. In despair he had to hang up the phone and instead opted to try another way to get the relief that he wanted. Briefly he thought about calling his mom, maybe she could help him, but decided against it. He would only upset her and she had so much more to think about besides what could she do being thousands of miles away anyway? No he had to deal with this situation alone, like so many other times, if he only could find out how to get the help he needed so badly.
A thought struck him. Maybe he should call a doctor or something since surely it couldnīt be right having this kind of headache, could it?
Sitting up he cradled his head with his hands while gathering his strength to call down to the reception to ask for help. Picking up the phone he dialed zero only to find the line busy. "Oh No not that too," he groaned. Since he was feeling too weak to even talk right now he hung up which seemed like a wise decision to make at that moment. With the luck he had in communication it would probably only serve to be a misunderstanding so therefore he had to take his own actions.
Once again a wave of dizziness swept over him and with that accompanied the hated nausea and a sudden urge to throw up. Leaning over the trash can he dry heaved several times while he mentally screamed, "Please God. If youīre out there, please make this stop." He prayed in despair. He knew he had to sound pathetic yet he couldnīt help it. Puking was never fun but doing it when it felt like your brain was about to explode was pure misery. Someone up above must have been his friend since the dry heaving lessened as soon as they came and the urge to vomit passed momentarily. Once again he felt renewed strength to make it downstairs, since that was the only option he had left. He had to get down the elevator and down to the reception or at least find someone in the hallway.
While he made another attempt to stand up he noticed that his legs were very shaky and with panic he wondered if he would even make it to the door. He could never remember feeling this sick before. Not even when he had the measles as a small kid and had to stay at the hospital overnight or when he at last yearīs tour suffered from pneumonia. Those times were nothing compare to this.
Taking another shaky step he felt cold sweat rinse down his neck from pure exhaustion. It was getting harder to breath and walking hurt so much that he wanted to give it all up and instead sink down on the floor, rolling himself up in a small ball on the floor and willing himself to sleep. Nick was so tired and ached so much that it would be nothing but bliss if darkness could take him away for a while, at least until the headache lessened. "I canīt take much more of this," he sobbed when he realised that there was no way he could even walk a step further, much less make it to the door and out in the hallway. Sinking down on the floor, defeat washed all over him and for the first time that day he gave up. Gave up against his sickness and crumpled up to a small heap on the cold stone floor.
"Iīm so tired," he mumbled out loud, "I need to sleep. Just a little bit and Then maybe I will feel a bit better." With that he rolled into a fetal position and allowed the darkness to come over him, wrap him up in a cold dark blanket. Finally giving him the bliss he so badly needed.
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"I said hold your horses didnīt I?â Kevin yelled at the loud knock on his door. Wiping his eyes he did his best to grip the situation at hand. He woke up minutes ago from his drunken stupor by someone furiously knocking on the door. At first heīd done his best to ignore the intruder but since the knocker seemed to be awful persistent he had no other option then get up and see what they wanted.
It was probably Howie or Brian to come and check up on him. They were the bands care takers and for some strange reason felt it was their task to look after everyone in the band and make sure they were in good shape. Kevin snorted. It could be so annoying sometimes. Another knock on the door and then a "Mister?" could be heard.
With a groan Kevin sat up on the sofa. A loud throbbing sensation in his head, as well as the taste of what could have been him swallowing a rodent, told him that heīd fallen asleep drunk off his ass and was now suffering the nasty consequences of indulging liquid beverages. In other words being drunk as hell.
Grabbing his jeans from the chair he did his best to jump into them as fast as he could but it was not easy since he was still intoxicated and felt a bit wobbly. Then finally he made his way towards the door, even if that was a hard task to achieve. Steadying himself against the doorpost he opened it only to stand face to face with one of the hotels portieres.
"Mr Richardson?" The man asked, dressed in the hotels uniform. The man took in Kevin from top to bottom and it was no doubt that he noticed the drunken condition that the young man was in.
"What do you want?" He sneered in a much too slurred voice to pass for just being a little buzzed. He was in no mood being played with since his head hurt so bad that he was starting to think that a sledge hammer was doing its best to hammer through his skull. "What the hell did I drink?" he pondered, closing his eyes briefly.
Instead of answering his question the man said, "Mr Richardson do you know a man named Mr Littrell?"
Upon hearing his cousins name being mentioned Kevin could feel his heart beating faster and his pulse raised a knot. "Yes. He's my cousin. Why?" Drawing back his breath he added, âDid something happen? An accident?â His throat constricted with fear.
"No," The portiere reassured. "Itīs nothing like that." Then he started to explain the reason for his visit and when Kevin heard that it was Brian who had called him to make sure he checked up on Nick he shook his head in disgust.
âFigures.â This was so much like Brian. Feeling his temper rising he muttered to himself that it was a typical act of his cousin to check up on HIM and not Nick. 'I bet that he is pissed over me getting drunk and all,' he decided and then firmly told the portiere that he would take care of things before shoving the portiere out of his room and closing the door with a slam.
Once he was alone in the hotel room he thought about calling Brian and ask him what the fuck he was doing when his body decided otherwise and his stomach starting doing somersaults. Swallowing hard he did his best to will the nausea to go away but when that didnīt help he found himself head over heals in the bathroom emptying his stomach from the alcohol. After three violent bouts he felt well enough to leave the bathroom, this time feeling so much better and a lot more sober too.
Now when part of the scotch was out of his system and he was able to think more clearly shame rinsed all over him. What had he done? Getting drunk when he was suppose to work was not something heīd done very often in the past but then it was not an ordinary day either. The fight with Kristin bothered him more than he would admit but it was no excuse for him to get this drunk either. His behaviour today was very much out of character and he wished it had never happened. He felt like heīd let the guys down and he guessed that they would be just as mad at him as the management would be. Heīd acted very unprofessional and also jeopardized the groupâs future by missing out on the dinner.
Returning back from his guilt trip he was suddenly reminded of what the portiere had told him earlier. That Brian had called and wanted him to check up on Nick. That had to mean that the kid at least got to stay at the hotel since he had a vague memory of the teen being very ill. With a sigh he pulled on his shoes and then grabbed a sweatshirt. Luckily Kevin had the spare key to Brian and Nickīs room since they often slept in, especially Nick, and he was supposed to go and wake them up. Ok it wasnīt exactly the full truth since in reality it was Howie who did the wake up calls, but tonight, for some strange reason, D had left him the key card and that was before he started to drench his sorrows in the bottle. It was like the Latino had a notion that something bad would happen.
His headache as well as the unsure feeling in his stomach reminded him that he was battling one hell of a hangover and after throwing down a couple of Advilīs together with a cold glass of water he thought about calling Brian, only to decide against it the next minute. They were probably still busy at the dinner besides it would do him no good to call his friend since it would only upset his cousin further.
Opening the door to the hallway he found that it was silent outside and the lighting was dusk. It was an old hotel and it showed on the floors red carpeting which looked like it had seen better days. Every step he took made him wish that he had never touched those bottles and for a moment he feared that he would have to go back to his room for another bout of nausea. Luckily it passed. Hangover was a bitch but being hangover by scotch was a true nightmare and he swore that he would never again touch a drop, at least not in the closest range of time.
Stopping outside Nickīs room he knocked softly, waiting for Nick to open up. When no response could be heard he knocked a bit harder. The kid had been suffering from a fever so he wouldnīt be too surprised if he was asleep and didnīt hear him. When no signs of movement could be heard from the inside Kevin pulled the key card from his pocket and stuck it into the door. He waited a few moments while the card clicked green and then opened the door up slowly.
It was dusk, almost dark in the room and an unpleasant smell hit his nostrils. The smell of sickness. Frowning he opened the door a bit further and walked inside. At the first sight the room appeared empty. Almost deserted.
"Nick? Hello? You in there?" He called out. No one responded. "Weird,"he muttered. 'I thought that Nick didnīt go to the dinner why else would Brian call me?' His thoughts were interrupted when his foot suddenly connected with something large and soft on the floor. Turning on the lamp he was met with a sight heīd never forget!
