Point of View: Eric
Nick was still talking when Tattoo and Scar headed our direction, but I didn't hear him. They were grinning like hyenas. I recognized that grin. I quickly put out my cigarette and jumped up to get between them and Nick. There wasn't a lot I could do, but they were going to have to get through me if they wanted to go anywhere near Nick.
If only that were a challenge.
"Go the fuck away," I said in my strongest voice. They started laughing. I felt Nick's presence behind me as he stood up, too. I steeled myself.
"Hey Queers," sneered one of them. I heard Nick shift his weight behind me.
I grit my teeth. Nick stepped up. "I'm pretty sure Eric said to fuck off."
They laughed again.
It happened fast. They moved to challenge my nerve, and Nick moved around me, grabbed Scar by the arm and backed him into the wall roughly. "I'm pretty sure," he said in a hissing snarl, "That I told you to stay the fuck away from Eric, did I not?"
Scar was blinking up at him in fear as Nick towered over him.
But then Tattoo was on Nick's back.
I was completely mesmerized by his reaction. Nick was like a fucking ninja. He just whipped around and slammed himself back-first into the brick and Tattoo went down. Nick backed away quickly and stared at them both. "Seriously, assholes, how many times do I gotta tell you this? You hurt Eric, and I'ma make you fucking sorry. I'm not joking around."
Nick started walking towards me.
"Next time, we ain't hurt him," laughed Tattoo suddenly from the ground as he got back up, "We're gonna kill him."
Nick stopped in his tracks, staring at me. I could feel him wondering if he should turn around. I shook my head 'no' ever so slightly. If he turned around, he was gonna end up in trouble... and I wasn't worth it.
I was sitting outside Nick’s room again later that evening. He was leaning against the inside of the door and I was leaning against the same spot on the outside. I doubt he felt it, but I felt like we were extra-close because of the way we were sitting. I hugged my knees to my chest and wondered how he was sitting inside.
Though I liked being able to talk to Nick like this, I missed watching his face, seeing his expressions when he spoke, or the hand gestures he did. Nick’s face and hands were very expressive.
“What’s your favorite part of being a Backstreet Boy?” I asked. We’d been taking turns asking questions about each other. I felt closer to him the more I knew, and that soothed my crush. To him, it was probably like practicing for interviews and nothing more. But I treasured these quieter times when we talked.
Nick was hesitant. “Well, the weird thing was when I was little, I was just glad that it got me the hell away, you know?”
“Yeah, that makes sense.”
“But then we started really working on it, and it became a part of me, and the fans became my friends and the fellas, my family, my brothers…” I heard Nick sigh and lay down on the other side of the door. He got quiet a moment. “I like that I never feel completely alone. That’s my favorite part.”
I laid down, too, and I could see him through the jamb. His eyes were closed. “That’s your favorite part of being a Backstreet Boy?” I asked.
“Yes,” Nick answered. “If I wasn’t a Backstreet Boy, I’d be nothing, and I’d have no one.” He paused and I could see the bump of his tongue running over his teeth under his lips. “I like that even when I’m alone, I’m not alone because the fans are there. They’re always out there, they always give a damn. I’ve lost sight of that before, but they really care about me. They’re very unconditional, most of them.”
“It must be nice,” I said, “To always know, regardless of where you are or what you’ve done, that someone loves you like that.”
Nick responded without opening his eyes, “Well I love you Eric.”
My heart nearly stopped. I knew he didn’t mean it like that, but like a girl imagining the BSB were singing directly to them through the speakers, I wanted to believe he meant it. He didn’t realize what he’d said, or he didn’t realize it was my every dream to hear it, because he didn’t move or open his eyes or nothing. I whispered my response, “I love you too.” I sat up quickly. I couldn’t look at him.
It was quiet a few minutes. Finally, his finger tips stuck out from under the door. “Eric? You still there?”
I stared at his fingers. “Yeah. I’m here.”
“You got quiet,” he accused.
“Yeah.”
Nick laughed, “Okay, my turn. Who’s your celebrity crush? Do not say Justin Timberlake,” he joked.
I laughed, too. My mind rushed. “Uhhh,” I said. I was pretty sure you was not the response he wanted to hear. Finally I squeaked out, “Johnny Depp, I suppose.”
“Dude if I was gay, I’d think he was hot too, that’s funny,” Nick laughed.
Nick bent his fingers so that he was holding onto the bottom of the door, and rubbed the wood gently. I studied his fingernails. They were all chewed up and raw looking. I imagined they must hurt. I laid back down on my side. “Your favorite place in the world?” I asked.
“The arms of someone I love… no matter where that may be, geographically,” he answered with a contented smile. He was staring out at me under the door. Suddenly he laughed, his nose crunching up and eyes squinting, “Oh dude, I feel like such a dork right now…”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because we’re laying here like a couple of high school girls,” he laughed.
His hand dropped flat to the floor as he rolled onto his back and all I could see of him was his ear and his hair against the floor. His fingers and the edge of his palm stuck out. I hesitated, them dropped my hand on top of his.
He didn’t move, so I wrapped my fingers around his and squeezed.
“Are you excited to get out of here?” I asked.
Nick laughed, “You already asked a question.”
“My bad.”
“Yes I am.” He paused, “What do you miss most about out there?”
“Feeling safe,” I answered. Although I was feeling pretty safe holding Nick’s fingers like this.
Nick said, “I miss my friends really bad. Like Brian and Kayla.”
That’s what I’m gonna miss about being HERE, I thought.
“Hey Eric? We kinda got interrupted earlier. I wanted to talk to you about…”
“Hey Queer.” The voice echoed down the hall as they approached.
I looked up. “Shit, “I muttered. I stood up. Nick’s hand disappeared into the door the moment I let go of it.
“Eric?” he called, “Eric? What’s the matter?”
“I gotta go,” I answered, not wanting him to overhear anything that happened and feel helpless on the other side of the door.
“Eric?” he called. “…Eric?”
I walked away, though, without answering; boldly going towards the oncoming attack.
