Yet another wonderfully written chapter by the brilliant writer: Jennifer Stevens. We are so honored that she wanted to guest write for us, Carrie and Swenglish. send feedback to her on: Chapter written by the very talanted and wonderful writer; Jennifer Stevens. Please write her your comments on this totally awesome chapter! tallories@insightbb.com
Nick blinked once, then again, and didn’t realize he had fallen asleep again until he turned his head a little and saw A.J. across the room, sprawled casually across the couch. “’J?”
“Hi.” A.J.’s head was pillowed on an armrest, and he didn’t bother to look over.
“Shit,” Nick muttered, bringing a hand to his eyes.
“Nice to see you too.”
“I can’t believe I fell asleep again.”
“It’s okay. You must need it.”
“I guess.” He looked over and squinted. A.J. seemed a bit thinner than he’d remembered. “Did you just get in?”
“I didn’t go anywhere. I was in your backyard.”
“This whole time?”
“What, you thought we would all just take off?”
He smiled a little at that. “Maybe.”
“Like hell.”
“I’m all right. I don’t need a baby-sitter.”
“You’ve always needed a baby-sitter, Kaos,” A.J. replied. There had been a day, once, when Nick would have bristled at such a remark, but he was tired, and besides that he could detect the tenderness in A.J.’s voice. “I guess we all do, sometimes.”
Nick snuggled deeper into the chair’s embrace, leaning his cheek against the soft cushions. A.J. had not moved, his lithe frame spread like butter across the sofa. He was staring absently up into the shadows of the ceiling, his head turned just enough to keep Nick from reading his expression. Whether it was intentional or not, he couldn’t tell. Knowing A.J., probably. “So, where is everybody?” Nick asked.
A.J. moved his head a little. “Uh… Kevin hooked up with some guy from MTV - shut up, not like that. He’s trying to work out the details for the press conference tomorrow. I think we’re going to do it from some setup they’ve got in Saint Petersburg; that cool?”
“Sure.” His eyes drifted closed.
“Brian, um… well, he went to the grocery.”
“God A.J., I’m not even looking at you and I can tell you’re lying.”
“Well…”
Nick opened his eyes. “He went to talk to Dr. Anderson, didn’t he?”
A.J. looked at him then, swallowing sharply and his features tense with worry. “Well… yeah, but don’t flip out on me, Nick. He was going to see if you wanted to come, but you were asleep. He didn’t want to wake you. Listen, he left the number someplace if you want to call. They can probably put you on speakerphone or something…”
Certainly, there had been a day when Nick would have flipped out; would have seethed with rage for them going behind his back with this, invading his privacy and tattering his pride. Once upon a time, he would have lashed out. Now, he didn’t have the energy to even work up the emotion.
“Nah, that’s okay,” he sighed. “I don’t mind.”
God, how defeated he sounded, even to his own ears.
“You don’t care?” A.J.’s gaze was dark and concerned. “Nick - you don’t care?”
“If he wants to talk to her, let him. After the press conference, everybody’s going to know anyway.”
“But… I thought--”
“I’m just tired, ‘J.” It came out as a whisper, but was enough to steal away whatever words A.J. had for him next. They looked at one another for a moment, and Nick took in the mix of ugly emotions brewing in A.J.’s eyes for only a moment before his brother abruptly turned away, focusing on the ceiling once more.
Nick swallowed. “So… where’s Howie?”
“Huh?”
“Howie. Remember him?”
“Yeah, but I don’t know where he is.”
“No?”
“Well…” A.J. reached up and scratched at the back of his head. “Actually, the cops called a little while ago. He’s locked up downtown. I just didn’t want you to go nuts, you know.”
It took a minute for the words to sink in. “What?”
A.J. glanced over, but this time with a familiar smirk. “Just seeing if you were paying attention.”
“If I had the energy to smack you upside the head right now, I would.”
“Like to see you try, Carter.”
“I bet. So where is he?”
“Don’t know. He was… upset.” A.J. shrugged halfheartedly, gazing up at the ceiling. “You know how it is.”
He did.
“So you stayed to watch me, huh?” Nick asked softly, tucking his legs up beneath him.
“Yeah, just making sure everything’s taken care of here. Did you think I wouldn’t?”
“Frankly, yeah.”
“I wanted to stay.” A.J. ran a finger along the dark lines of a tattoo on his forearm, tracing the image. “Besides, there’s a lot of media starting to prowl around out there. Like hell I’m getting caught up in that.”
“Media? Here?”
“Yeah. MTV and Jive sent out a media advisory about our conference tomorrow. It’s like sharks smelling blood.”
“Yeah, well, it’s their job.”
“Right.” A.J. shifted a little, then cleared his throat. “Have you thought about what you’re going to say?”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yeah. You said, everybody’s going to know… are you really going to tell them?”
“I wouldn’t be having a press conference otherwise.”
“I don’t mean about the cancer. I mean… tell them what you told us.” He continued to stare at his arms, not glancing in Nick’s direction for even an instant.
“That I’m dying?”
A.J. flinched, visibly. “You don’t know that. They’ll go crazy if you say that, Nick. The press, the fans - you shouldn’t scare people like that. You shouldn’t say it unless it’s true.”
“What makes you so sure it’s not?” he asked softly.
“Because you’re twenty-two goddamn years old, that’s why,” he snapped. “Jesus Christ.”
The silence between them then was thick, and Nick watched A.J. for a long time before he returned his eyes to the ocean, waves moving in an endless, hypnotic dance.
A.J. who broke the silence. “Nick.”
“Yeah?”
“That shit about being sick… you were serious, huh?”
“You knew I was sick.”
“I didn’t,” he snapped, then paused and closed his eyes. His voice wavered, just for a moment. “I didn’t know… that it was bad.”
“You knew it was bad.”
“What did the doctor say? Exactly?”
“I told you,” he sighed, and closed his eyes to rest them once more.
“Nick!”
“What?”
“Don’t fall asleep when I’m talking to you.”
“I don’t mean to.”
“Nick…”
He looked over. “I’m dying, A.J.” he said, quietly, and A.J. stared at him with eyes furious and accusatory. “She said, I’m dying.”
The words hung ominous between them, sucking the air out of the room. A.J. ran a hand across his face. “Your doctor said that?”
“Yeah.” He spoke easily, calmly. He could face it, so long as those terrors stayed locked away, so long as he could still believe deep down that he was talking about somebody else. “Yeah, she did.”
“And you believed her?”
Tears pricked the back of his eyes, and he cautiously wrapped one arm around his tender middle while tugging down a quilt that had been casually draped over the back of the chair. “She only confirmed it. I’ve known for a while that I haven’t been getting better, ‘J.”
“So, what? She said act like a pussy and just…”
“No.” He pulled the blanket around himself. “She wants me to do a bunch of treatments.”
“Which means you’re going to beat this, Nick.” He nodded firmly and propped himself up on one elbow. “Don’t you see?”
“I won’t be doing any treatments.”
A.J.’s jaw dropped and he sat up abruptly, his hands clenching into fists. “Why the fuck not? Nick, why the hell are you giving up? You fought harder than this to get to the tenth level on goddamn Super Mario Brothers, for God’s sake! You can’t just roll over and accept this; this is your life we’re talking about!”
“She’s not talking about a cure, A.J.,” he snapped. “It’s buying time. That’s all.”
“Life isn’t worth that to you?”
“Life is worth everything to me,” he whispered.
“Well then?”
“I don’t want to live it exhausted, and sick, and hurting. That’s what the treatments would do to me, ‘J. I don’t want that to be all that’s left.”
A.J. pressed his fingers deeply into his eye sockets, and when he took them away there was such a raw desperation there that Nick had to look away. “Kaos, you… you can’t just let this happen. You… can’t… give… up!”
Those last four words were staccato, almost screamed, and there had been a day when Nick would have flinched, or cried, or jumped up to plant himself inches from A.J.’s face and scream right back. But the exhaustion was so deep in his bones, in his soul, all he could do was gaze up with wet and weary eyes. “A.J.,” he said softly. “I didn’t want this; I didn’t ask for this. What the hell am I supposed to do, huh? What do you want from me?”
“I don’t want you to sit here and tell me you’re dying!” A.J. jumped to his feet, almost shaking with rage. His body was curved into a taut question mark, and every emotion of his panic was scratched deeply into the lines of his face. “I don’t want you to give up, because if you do there’s no damn chance! How can you let this thing win, Nick? My God, Nick, how the fuck can you sit there and just look at me like that? How can you tell me you’re just going to die?”
Nick didn’t reply. He honestly didn’t know what to say.
“Nick…” A.J. swallowed hard, his eyes trailing up to the ceiling again, his fists gone white, and Nick expected at any moment to see blood drip from them, where his fingernails were surely cutting into the flesh of his palm. “This… can’t… happen. I can’t let this happen. You can’t let this happen.”
“I’m tired, A.J.”
“I don’t care!” His voice was wicked sharp. “There’s nothing more important than this, Nick! I don’t give a shit how you feel! You can’t stop fighting!”
“Don’t tell me how I’m supposed to deal with this.”
A.J. stared at him for an incredulous moment, then threw his head back and let loose a harsh, ugly laugh. “Okay Nick, sure. Why don’t I just stand here, and you go ahead and die, and I’ll wait, huh? Let me know when you’re done.”
It was Nick’s turn to stare incredulously, and after a second A.J. swallowed sharply. “I’m… sorry.”
“No you’re not.”
“I… Nick, I don’t know what to do.” His voice cracked with unshed tears, and just like that, A.J. sat down hard, on the carpet, his legs crumpling uselessly beneath him.
Nick watched him. “You know… there are some problems in life that you can’t beat into a bloody pulp, A.J. Remember what your mom told you that day you tried to beat up Kevin in Monaco? Fighting doesn’t always work.”
“Like hell it doesn’t.”
“I’ve been fighting, A.J. Harder than you know.” He sighed, and even that took more energy than he had. “I’ve been doing everything I can… everything you’re telling me to do.” He looked towards the water again, feeling A.J.’s eyes upon him. “But my best isn’t enough anymore. I’m too tired, A.J. I can’t even keep my eyes open; I don’t have anything left.”
A.J. sucked in several shallow breaths before he spoke again. “…Nothing?”
“I’m sorry,” Nick whispered. “I’m sorry.”
A.J. put his hands over his face.
And such silence hung between them, caught up like glimmering bits of dust in the sunlight that trailed across the floor.
Nick closed his eyes again. “God help me,” he whispered. “A.J…”
“What?” His voice was broken and muffled.
“Don’t. Come over here, would you?”
A.J. took his hands away, pushing his fists down into the carpet, and looked up. His eyes were dry, but sharp and narrow with pain. He did not move.
“Come here, dammit.”
He scooted over to the foot of the chair. “What?”
“You’re a pain in the ass,” he said, laughing dryly. “But I love you anyway.”
“Yeah.” A.J. curled up at the foot of the chair, resting his head against the cushion beside Nick’s knees. His eyes were shielded and hard. “Please don’t give up, Nick.”
“I’ll try.”
“That’s not enough.” A.J. pulled one arm onto the cushion and buried his face within it. His muscles pulled together beneath the thin shirt he wore, tensing against reality. “It’s not enough.”
When Kevin came in an hour later, his nerves shredded, stone-face and his frame tense and angry from the sight of a dozen media outlets already stalking about outside the gates, he cut a sharp glance into the living room as he walked by, and froze midstep. Stared.
Nick and A.J., who for years couldn’t be in the same room without going for each others throats, curled up together in sleep, Nick folded into a chair with A.J. at his feet. And as swollen and pale and blotchy as Nick looked, A.J. might have looked worse, his body thrown down like one of the Greek women in the National Geographic magazines, who mourned by falling face-down on temple steps with their faces hidden in grief. Nick, at least, seemed a bit peaceful, but A.J. was a tangle, one arm limp at his side as the other cradled his head. Kevin hadn’t thought it would be a good idea to leave A.J. and Nick together. They would fight. A.J. would drink. Nick would upset himself.
But there they lay.
The world outside forgotten, Kevin leaned against the doorframe for support and looked, taking in every detail of the sunlight that draped his little brothers in gold and warmth, the uneven lumps of Nick’s body under the patchwork quilt, his thin face so beautiful in sleep; A.J.’s rumpled black bandana slightly askew on his head and the tattoos roaming unchecked over the bare skin of his arms. Kevin tried to cup it all in his hands, to remember every smell and every emotion and seal it deep within his soul. He was content to stand there forever, heart bursting with fear and aching love; willing to do whatever it took to keep Nick safe in this endless moment of time, safe and sheltered from media and sickness and tomorrows.
He smiled, just a little, hesitating there, silent in the silence and oblivious to his unchecked tears.
