Title: Colony
Author: M.F. Luder
Contact: mailto:jmfluder@hotmail.com
Rating: PG-13 for slash connotations
Pairing: K/N -- like I can write anything else.
Status: Completed. Short story.
Archive: My page www.geocities.com/sdlucly/
Feedback: Yes, please. This story is my personal favorite and I'd love to
hear what you people have to say about it. Flames, should you feel the need
to send them, will be cheerfully placed in the chimney so I can be a little
bit warmer in this damn horrible and just freezing winter. Goddamn the fact
that my study doesn't have a thermostat and I just can't take my comp over
to my room.
Disclaimers: Don't know them. Don't own them (not for lack of wishing, that
is). Don't even want to meet them. I don't need Kevin to tell me that he's
married and probably has never stared at Nick for hours at a time. I don't
need Nick telling me Kevin is far too old for him and he'd probably be with
someone around AJ's age. *shrugs* I don't need reality, thank you very much.
I've got enough reality with school and exams.
Thank yous: First and foremost, to the lovely girl that was send my way when
I got in college. Karen, you're the only one who can keep up with my stories
at the rate I'm going. You're awesome girl. You know I get weird and freaky
from time to time and you still put up with me. Amazing.

To Jon, you know you're great. You just know it. I know you know it.
*giggles* It takes one to know one. You said it babe.

Now with the story...


Colony
By M. F. Luder

*****

I enter the room, my eyes looking around it. Brian leaning against the right
wall, his phone in his hands, and I know he's talking with Leighanne. I
laugh privately, the corners of my lips barely twitching up, letting the
others into my own bliss. That guy loves her so very much, it's visible in
everything around him. The way he speaks of her, the way he smiles when she
enters, how much he misses her when she can't join us in the tour, and how
his eyes dance when she talks with him. Brian is so much in love, I can't
help but feel jealous.

I sigh inwardly, hoping no one hears it. I turn around, trying to see the
rest of the guys, trying to see if they've realized my reaction, and let
myself calm down when they don't even turn my way, too focus in the moment
to hear much else.

"Have any of you seen my glasses?!"

My head turns at its own accord, more out of habit than out of need, and my
eyes focus on AJ's. He's looking through his gym bag, shirts and socks
already on the floor, while still trying to find the missing piece. I smile
tenderly. Some things are never going to change, I tell myself. And I know
I'm right. I've known AJ eight years of his life, and I still see youth and
joviality in his eyes, even if they are cover by his trademark sunglasses.

How could I not see it when I've part of it? How could my eyes decide to
blind themselves when I'm proud to say he's half the man he's now because
I've part of it? How could not know his fears and achievements when I've
been there to watch them? How could I not help him through everything when
he's one of the few people I care for so deeply?

Except for *him.*

"Choose another pair!"

I turn to my left, Howie's smile looking back at me. He leans over and picks
up his boot, sitting on the couch to tie it up. I hear his laugher before
continuing his comment.

"You've got another one in your bag, don't you?"

AJ looks up long enough to glare at him, a sour smile on his lips, then
turns his attention back to his bag.

"That's not the point," he answers, "I want *that* pair."

"Oh, please," this time is Brian who interacts with both AJ and Howie, his
hands closing his cell phone before putting it inside his own bag, "like
most of your glasses don't look the same."

I'm surprise to see that Brian had one ear in the conversation taking place
between AJ and Howie, and the other one in his own conversation with
Leighanne. I smile to myself, my eyes probably clearing -- as I've been told
they do when I smile --, forcing myself to remember this piece of
information for the near future. It's been long enough since the last time I
had blackmailing info on my younger cousin and I have every right as a close
relative to taunt him until my last breath. It *is* my birth right.

"No, my friend, they don't." AJ finally accepts that his ever beloved pair
of sunglasses aren't in his gym bag and leaves it alone, the items held
within still on the nearby floor. "You think they do because, let me tell
you Rok, you're getting old. Your sight is the first thing you loose, you
know?"

Brian takes a seat on the couch, runs his fingers through his hair -- even
though he knows he shouldn't, having already gone through hair and makeup --
and glares back. "I might be older than you my friend, but at least I know
where I put my things, while you..."

He doesn't need to finish the thought for the rest of us to catch on, or for
it to bother AJ. Even though he was right -- out of the five, was the one
that misplaced things the most --, AJ would always blame it on the fact that
we are moving from place to place far too much for him to recall every
little step of our already busy schedules. We let him get away with it. Just
barely.

"Maybe you left it in the hotel, don't you think J?"

Howie, at least, is trying to be of some help. Finally having both boots on,
he stands up and walks to the side of the room, where our clothes were
hanging, and looks around.

"Nah," AJ shakes his head, looking at Howie, then walking over to where the
rest of the bags are, "I'm pretty sure I brought them in."

Howie looks up from his small search, then shrugs. "You always say that
Alex, then we end up finding it in the room."

Brian laughs, his eyes dancing and that beautiful toothy smile lighting up
the room. It's probably in his smile that I let myself wonder back to our
childhood. All the times he'd enter the house in a rush, his cheeks pink
with the excitement, and tell me something that had impress him. Either
something about school or, later on in his life, girls. Maybe those are some
of the things I miss the most from home, the intimacy Brian and I seemed to
have. Not that we don't anymore. The group has certainly brought us closer,
but... I sigh softly, frustrated at the fact I don't seem to find words to
describe. It's just not the same.

Even though the trust and love we have for each other, sometimes missing in
other cousins, will always be there -- which reassures and strengths me more
than I let him know --, there are still some things he doesn't know. Things
I know I don't know about him. He knows I'll always be there when he needs
me. I know he'll always be there when I need him. But that's beyond the
point. And I think that's what really frustrates me.

I let both Howie and AJ search for another minute, still finding nothing,
before I speak up. "On the couch by the tv, underneath your leather jacket.
You threw it there as soon as you entered, just forgot to do it *after *you
threw the jacket."

AJ doesn't even look at me, not really having to do it to know I'm right,
and walks to the couch. Picks up the jacket, throwing it unceremoniously on
the arm of it, and finds the pair of sunglasses looking right at him. He
sighs, more out of childishness at the fact that I remembered while he
didn't than out of annoyance, and fixes his eyes with mine. There's a small
smile on his lips, a tender remainder that I've printed my mark on him
through this years. "Thanks bro."

I shrug. "No problem."

"How do you do that?"

I turn to look at Howie, brown soft eyes piercing into mine, right left eye
slightly narrower than the other one, recognizing the question in that
habit. I don't say anything for a moment, knowing he isn't finished.

"How do you remember everything we do, we say, we touch? How do you remember
where we leave our things even better than ourselves?"

Now AJ and Brian are looking at me too, their eyes waiting for an answer. I
shrug again, not really needing to vocal that... instinct of mine. I just
don't know, and that's why I don't say anything -- I really wouldn't have
anything to say.

"How can you not know?"

Brian sounds so sure of his question, it's like he actually heard my
thought.

"Don't know." That's all I say. I pause for a moment, then add something as
an after thought. "I just... it's something I've learned over the years with
you. Maybe out of necessity." Either mine or theirs, I probably won't know
either. "Maybe out of habit. I'm still not sure."

Howie looks hard at me, trying to convince himself if that's really my
answer or not. I thought, out of them four, he would be the once to
understand it most. He's the only one who remembers part of the schedule and
doesn't have to ask me so much about it. He's the one I go to when I wanna
talk and not really worry about anything else. He's the one I can lean on to
be responsible and mature when I'm at the end of my rope. Being the second
oldest, I think he always knew he'd have to be parent to the guys whenever I
just couldn't.

And the way his eyes wide slightly, how his eyebrow slides down slowly, I
know he knows. I stop myself from snorting, not wanting the guys to take it
the wrong way. Howie knows now, probably read it straight from my eyes. Now
he knows my need to control things, to know things about the guys pass mere
friendship, runs deeper than I led on. Then again, I know, by reading his
eyes, he doesn't know the whole truth.

I pat myself mentally, smiling to myself, at my control of emotions. There's
no way anyone else is going to know the truth behind the lie. It's too
risky, I've told myself over the months in the darkness of my room while
looking at the ever similar ceilings of the different hotels. And it is. A
wrong word, a wrong smile or look and everything will crumble in front of my
eyes.

Sometimes I do feel like I'm about to go crazy at having to control
everything I say or do. At not being able to be free with the four people I
trust and care the most in my life. But there are things that just can't be
known. *This* is one of them.

Before I can submerge deeper in my emotions, and fears at the same time, the
door opens and shuts rather quickly, bringing my attention to it.

Nick enters the room, a bright smile on his lips and a sandwich and a coke
in his hands. I hold myself before laughing out loud, making the guys
believe I've lost my sanity. It's just that this picture -- Nick's eyes
bright with joy, a full grin in his lips, his blond locks falling to his
eyes -- always makes me smile. Even in my darkest hours, I think, it'll make
me fell alive.

It's so strange. It feels like Nick has been gone for even an hour, maybe
even more, but I know for sure he hasn't. I know the guys came here after we
were done with hair and makeup, me being the last one. And, by the food in
his hands, I can imagine Nick probably left to go to the mess for a snack. I
do let myself smile tenderly. There's a cooler standing by the side of the
hanger where the coats are, but I know Nick doesn't like the drinks there.
He hates drinking water before a show, even though he knows -- as I've told
him more times than I care to recall -- that he shouldn't have coke.

He walks over to the side of the couch, sitting on the arm instead of on it.
It's a rather weird habit of his, but I think we've all come to get used to
it. I mean, living the way we've lived for the past years, you have to get
used to many things. This, is just one of them.

"What," I hear AJ ask from the side, his sunglasses in his hands as he walks
to the cooler and gets out a bottle of water, "you're gonna have that
sandwich? Now? We're about to be call."

Nick shrugs naturally, munching his turkey sandwich -- I believe it is --
and taking a sip of the open can of Coke in his hands. "Why wouldn't I? I'm
hungry."

"We still have some time." Howie adds from the side looking at his watch
then back at the guys. "We've got about ten more minutes."

"See?" Nick takes another sip of the Coke, eyeing me from time to time,
probably expecting me to tell him to put the can down and drink water if
he's so thirsty, "I still have time."

"Give me." Brian stands up from the couch, walks across the small space and
takes the sandwich off Nick's fingers before he can say anything, giving it
a bite himself.

"Hey!"

Brian waves off Nick's complains, taking one last bite before giving it
back. I can tell Brian did it more to spite Nick than because he was hungry.
The rest of the guys know that as well, even Nick, by that mischievous grin
on his lips and the darker color his eyes have taken.

Nick places his hands protectively on top of his sandwich, as if trying to
shield it from meaner hands -- a.k.a. Brian's hands -- that shall take it
away from him. "If you want a sandwich, get your own!"

Brian laughs at Nick's words and expression, and that supposedly anger in
his young blue eyes. Slapping him, forcefully and intentionally, on the
shoulder, Brian continues laughing until he sit on the couch, looking at
Nick.

Nick, obviously frustrated, resolves to a very childish resort. He sticks
out his tongue.

I think, this time, the medicine was worse than the disease, as it only gave
Brian more ammo to keep on laughing, AJ and Howie joining him in the fun.
The three of them laugh for a good minute, a pout making its way to Nick's
lips at the reaction of the guys.

I smile tenderly. I love that pout. There's nothing else I could say about
it, besides the fact that I love it when he pouts. It reminds me so much of
the thirteen year old I met not so long ago -- at least it doesn't seem so
long ago to me. That boy who made his way through my heart with toothy
smiles and heartfelt hugs. That boy that turned into a man before my eyes,
so very quickly that I'm sure if I had blinked, I would have missed it. That
boy that now, as he sits on the couch not even six feet from where I'm
standing, holds my heart on his hands and doesn't even know it. That boy
that two years ago I fell in love with.

I feel tears pricking in the back of my eyes and I take two deep breaths to
calm myself. I don't want to cry because of the love I feel for him. I don't
want to cry over something that fills my heart with a turmoil of emotions
whenever I look at him. I don't want to cry over something that's matter of
joy instead of hurt.

There are many things I regret in my life. Not spending enough time with my
father before his death. Not being patient whenever I'd come after an
interview with a group and know I hadn't been accepted. Not realizing what
an asshole Lou Perlman was and how he was only using us. Not being able to
comfort, -- to reassure -- AJ after he spoke with his father. Not having the
knowledge or ability to do something to help and even cure Brian when he had
to go to surgery. Not foreseeing Caroline's turn and advising Howie to go
see her. Not understanding that, even though I care for Kristin, I don't
love her the way I should love the person I'm going to marry. Not breaking
up with her before I proposed ought to my own fear of what I was feeling
towards my little brother.

But I will never, ever, regret falling in love with Nick.

I know I've lost a lot. I know I've lost the idealization of the wife, 2.5
kids, and a house with the picket fence. I know I might even have lost my
family already. And I think that's one of the things that it's killing me
inside out. The thinking, or the fear of hearing, that I'm doing something
wrong -- that *I'm* wrong. Because I know I can deal with anything. I know
I've dealt with everything that has come my way until this point, either
personal or professional, but at the same time I know I wouldn't be able to
handle if someone would tell me I'm wrong in love Nick. Let alone Nick
himself.

I'm risking my neck as it is. I'm risking my career, my friends, the group,
but, more important than anything else, I'm risking my sanity.

It does hurt, I can't try to lie to myself saying it doesn't. It does. It
hurts seeing him everyday and just being his friend.

I try not to let it hurt so much, though. I try not to let it get to me as
much as it does whenever I look at him and can't touch him or tell him how I
feel. I try not to feel jealous or hurt when he goes out with a girl and
then see him coming out of his room the morning after with a smile on his
face knowing he got lucky. I try to keep my voice steady when he tells me
about a girl he likes. I try not to die when he's hurt and I just want to
kiss his tears away.

I try to be only his friend.

That's part of my job. That's part of who I am. As long as I'm his friend,
as long as I've got that little piece of him and of his heart, I can deal
with anything else. Or so I tell myself.

I realize I've been deep in thoughts for far too long -- probably even
ignoring the guys -- when Brian's voice brings me from my musings.

"Kevin?"

I blink a couple of times before turning to look at my cousin. His head is
tilted to the side, his blue eyes piercing my soul and I know he's asking
himself wherever everything is alright. He'll want to talk with me tonight,
I know for sure. He'll go to my room after the concert and ask me how I'm
doing. He doesn't know -- and I sure don't plan to tell him --, but he does
know that I've been going on my own little world far too often lately.

'I should watch it', I chastise myself, 'before too long, one of them might
worry too much and start asking questions I don't want them asking.'

He blinks once, then smiles doubtfully, the spark not quite reaching his
eyes. "You ready?"

I nod. I look at each of the guys. My friends. My brothers. The people I
care and trust most in the world -- even if there is a teeny bitsy piece of
information I haven't given out yet.

AJ picks up his sunglasses between his thumb and foreign finger, opens them
slowly and places it on the bridge of his nose. He smiles and walks over to
the closet, gets out his sleeveless coat and puts it on. I can see his
tattoos perfectly fine from where I'm standing. His eyes, once again, find
mine. He, too, wants to know. He, too, is worried about me.

A hand moving in my peripheral vision catches my eyes. Running his fingers
through his hair -- I have the feeling he's going to mess it up even if he
doesn't notice --, Howie stretches up a little bit, trying to reach the
ceiling. He stands up and walks to where AJ is, picking up his own coat on
the way.

Practically jumping to his feet, Brian stands up, not before ruffling Nick's
hair affectionately, and reaches for his jacket. He puts it on, arranges the
collar that always seems to stand up whenever he wears a coat, and then
looks at me. He tilts his head to the side, a soft smile on his lips. His
eyes calm me somehow. I think he's always had that effect on me. It's
like... he irradiates peacefulness and it's just impossible for you not to
feel it too.

Nick groans slightly after having his hair mussed. He takes two huge bites,
finishing the sandwich, then brings the can to his lips, taking one big
gulp. He does this a lot as well. Eating a little bit too much then drinking
something to get it down. It took us a lot longer to get used to this than
most of his other habits, but at the end we did.

He walks to the closet, retrieves his coat, the largest one of the two of
them in there -- I still can't believe he's taller than me now -- and turns
around. Holding it by the neck, Nick gets his right arm in first, then moves
his left hand to the edge of the collar and turns the coat over his head,
getting his left arm in.

Nick turns around, already set for the show, and looks at me. I can feel all
their eyes on me, mine not really being able to focus in anything besides
Nick's coat's third button. It's like, for just a moment, my mind seems to
loose interest in everything around me.

That scares me. It scares me because the longer I space out, the more
opportunity I give the guys to realize something is different in me. I blink
once. Then twice. Then finally I'm able to look at my friends looking back
at me. I smile slightly, not quite reaching my eyes -- but not my fake smile
either, since the guys can recognize that in a heartbeat --, the corners of
my mouth barely twitching up. It, apparently, reassures them that I'm
alright.

Howie opens the door, walking out of the room. AJ joins him, Brian at his
side. Nick, too, walks out. Suddenly I'm alone in the dressing room,
everything around me cold -- lifeless. Maybe it's my self preservation
instinct -- or my responsibility to my job -- that makes me walk to the
closet, pick up the coat and walk out of the room.

Still, as I join the guys on the sub-ground level, link hands with them and
hear Brian praying, I know my heart isn't really in it. Somehow, I had let
everything around me influence me and my spirit has been shot to hell in
point two seconds.

Brian finishes the prayer and we untangle hands. We hear the stage manager
telling us to get in positions, to go over to the platforms, but for me it's
like every sound is muffled by something bigger -- deeper.

The guys walk forward, over to the platforms, but I'm stuck in my place. My
feet not moving at all, my coat still in my hands, my eyes unfocused.

Not seeing me by his side in the platforms, Nick turns around, his eyes
searching for mine. I feel myself compelled to look at him, but at the same
time I don't want to -- I don't wanna let myself see him.

"Kevin?"

His voice brings me back from my very deep reverie like a beacon in the
night. I shake my head slowly, trying to pull away from the cobwebs that
seem to haunt me. Focus comes back to my eyes, the floor visible under the
bright light of the sub-ground. I can still feel his eyes on me and I let
myself fall under his spell.

When my eyes meet his, my heart soars. His dazzling blue eyes are everything
there is to me. Is exactly what I need whenever I feel this lost -- this
dead. His toothy smile -- the real one, not the one meant for the cameras or
the fans -- fills my heart with infinite emotions that seem to sum up in
only one word: LOVE.

Finally, I let myself smile. I know my eyes are clearer now and that my
dimples are showing. I know my head is tilted slightly to the side. And I
know, like I know I love him, that my heart is dancing in my chest. All of
this, just because he looked at me.

"You coming?"

His voice sounds perfectly loud and clear in my inner ears, like they've
finally popped. The sound brings another wave of emotions to my already
overloaded heart. I don't know if I could stop this roller coaster of
comfort. I don't even know if I want to.

I nod slowly, afraid that if I move too sudden, I'll lost this sheer bliss
I'm experiencing. Walking over to him, like I know it's my fate, I put on my
coat.

He grasps my hand, his fingers brushing the inside of my wrist, and pulls me
to where the guys are waiting.

My heart does a summersault and I remember this is it. This is worth every
moment hurt, every stab pain. Every look and kiss not meant for me. This is
worth everything. This teeny bitsy moments that mark and scar my heart.

He is worth everything. He is what matters. Not the pain and not the
solitude. I can deal with that. I can handle that.

Just by looking at him, just by being with him, I'm fine.

Maybe this isn't what I always dreamed of. Maybe this isn't exactly what I
expected of my life. Maybe it isn't what the rest would want or accept. But,
for me, for now, it's enough.

*****