One drink turned into two, then three and then…well Nick didn’t care to count just how many he’d had. What did it matter anyway?

He’d always thought that maybe his reason for going back fifteen years in time had been to put events right which had gone wrong the first time around. But if Kevin was quitting the band anyway, then it stood to reason that this was the end of the road for the Backstreet Boys. Look at other boy bands that lost a member, how long did they go on a four piece? They didn’t!

So why else was he still here and what the fuck kind of difference would it make whether he drank himself into a stupor or not?

“Another JD…make it a double” he told the barman and slapped a twenty down on the counter.

“You sure you haven’t had enough already buddy?” the barman asked.

“I’m not your buddy, and when I want your opinion on how much is too much, I’ll ask for it. Now get me my damn drink if you don’t mind” Nick slurred slightly. Why did people have to be so interfering? Why couldn’t they just do their job and fuck off out of his face?

The barman turned his back on Nick, muttering as he did so. He poured a double measure of Jack Daniels into a glass and placed it in front of Nick, then gave him his change. He just hoped the guy wasn’t going to be driving home because he was in no fit state to do so.

Nick drank until he no longer felt the pain. He no longer felt much of anything. Why had he even given up drink in the first place? Drink was the answer to all of his problems. He could slip off into another world when he was under the influence of alcohol and put all of his troubles behind him.

“Hey, I hope you don’t think you’re driving in that condition” someone called out to him as he walked towards his car. The bar had closed for the night and Nick had no choice but to vacate it.

He turned towards the direction of the voice, wobbling on his feet as he did so and squinted his eyes to see her. “What’s it to you?” he slurred, trying to get his keys out of his pocket.

“What’s it to me? I’ll tell you what asshole…it’s people like you that could cause people like me to get into a car crash!” she fumed at him.

“I’m perfectly capable of driving” Nick tried to sound sober.

“No you are not. What kind of a person would I be if I just stood by and let you get in that car?” she pulled out a phone and tapped some numbers in, a few seconds later she was ordering a taxi.

“You coming with me?” Nick slurred and tried to give her the trademark Carter smile.

“In your dreams! I’m just looking out for all those innocent people you might run into tonight, nothing more” she replied and waited until the taxi had arrived and he’d got into it.

Nick wasn’t used to getting the knock back from girls, even if he was acting like a dick. It very rarely happened.

“Where to?” the taxi driver asked, tapping his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel.

He wasn’t in the mood for going home just yet and wondered if he’d run into any of his old friends if he went to one of the clubs he used to go to. “Revolution” he replied and slumped back against the seat.

~*~

“Well, look who it is!” called a familiar voice when Nick walked through the crowd towards the bar in Revolution. He turned to see Matt, one of the guys he used to hang out with. “Thought you’d vanished off the face of the earth man!”

“No, I’m still around” Nick replied and before long he was knocking back shots and snorting lines of cocaine with the rest of the old gang, it was as if he’d never left the club scene.

The following morning he woke up with the mother of all hangovers. Not only did he feel like shit, but he wasn’t even in his own bed. Where the fuck am I?

“Hey there gorgeous” murmured a high pitched annoying voice, right on cue to answer his unspoken question.

Nick inwardly groaned. He didn’t remember anything about last night…well anything after the first few drinks in Revolution. He was pretty sure that if he had his wits about him, he wouldn’t have gone home with this girl who turned out to be ugly as fuck without his beer goggles. Well, maybe that was a bit harsh, but she was the type of girl he wouldn’t usually look twice at when sober.

“Hi” he replied, his voice sounding hoarse and his mouth feeling like sandpaper.

“I had a great time last night” she said and slid her lithe body over his, obviously hoping for a repeat of whatever they’d done the night before. Nick shuddered at the thought.

Not being in the mood, nor having the inclination to play along, he extricated himself from her clutches and made his excuses to get out of there.

“Ugh” he muttered to himself as he fled her apartment. That was just one of the many reasons he’d decided to quit the drink and drugs in the first place.

At that moment in time, he hated himself. He’d failed epically.

~*~

Later that day (after collecting his car from the bar and grabbing himself a nice greasy McDonalds to ease the hangover) he took a drive down to the beach. The ocean had always had a calming influence on him and it was just the place to go to clear his head and think things through.

He parked up and looked out at the beach. It was mostly deserted, which is just how he liked it when he wanted some thinking time. Hopefully no one would notice him.

Kicking at the sand with his flip-flopped feet, he contemplated his future once more. He knew he’d made a huge mistake last night and he knew he didn’t want to go back to those drug and drink fuelled ways. He knew that if he carried on like that, he was looking at a miserable future. Last night had just been a one off…a minor slip up. No one else had to know about it.

He didn’t know what the future held for the Backstreet Boys, but Nick knew that drinking again wasn’t going to solve anything.