1999

You had reached almost the end of 1999 and what a year it had been for you! On the music front, everything was oh so damn good! As a Backstreet Boy, everything seemed perfect. Sure you went into a funk when you learnt both Kevin and Brian were getting married. It was such an alien concept for you, to see your brothers all grown up and now acting like the adults they should be; naturally the next step would be getting themselves a wife! You did cheer up when AJ said, and I quote, ‘look at it this way Kaos, more ladies for us eh?’

Of course that lasted for five minutes until you realized you still were very much involved with your girlfriend, whom you happened to love. And that somehow made it okay.

You were busy promoting Millennium and touring all over the country and when you think you couldn’t possibly have gained more fans, you did. They came to the shows to see the Backstreet Boys and you were elated that there were millions out there who loved you and your boys. More importantly you just LOVE performing. It always feels right when you’re up there on the stage, doing what you know best.

You also loved the fact that they attached all these wires on you, fastened a Milleniumish skateboard on your feet and then proceeded to hang you in mid air and pretty much flung you all around. For that few moments, you pretended you were flying, beyond reach and free from everything.

You also enjoyed the sight of Brian out right cussing every time the technicians were about to pull him mid air.

Believe it or not, you were still grasping with the idea of being a celebrity. If one would pay attention to how you stand, or walk, or talk or sit when you were being interviewed instead of crying their eyes out (another thing that really puzzled you), they’d see that hint of shyness that was often blindsided by the presence of four other guys around you.

How many times were you caught off guard while being interviewed? Often being saved by Kevin as he took over. You lost count when it reached ten. You’d rub the back of your neck and as you mumbled something incoherent, you looked at him, desperately pleading for some kind of help as your eyes met his and he’d always give you the same look. That split second where you swore his green eyes actually smiled back at you and said don’t worry, I have your back little man.

That was the awkward part of being a teenager at 19. You suddenly seemed to be aware of a lot of things that was going on around you. There was a new feeling of terror as you feel all those eyes on you, twenty-four seven. You weren’t really a kid anymore and they were beginning to take notice.

They unnerved you for some reason.

You really believed the video of that young girl’s mother claiming you had the sexiest ass she’d like to squish had changed your life forever. For a long while, you let the paranoia set in. Were they looking at your butt while you walk pass them? Were they all staring down there?

You got acquainted with long coats and for a long time, they became your bestfriend, your fashion statement. It helped that you were tall and had long legs and the coat made Howie less of a hobbit should you stand next to him.

And as you toured and take in the beauty of the places you were fortunate enough to visit, you realized just how blessed you are, to be able to use your voice as a tool to reach out to millions out there.

But one day you reached for the tabloids because you were bored and had nothing else to read. There was The Catcher In The Rye lying next to the tabloid but you didn’t quite like reading back then, did you? You could never sit down long enough to finish a book, your short attention span often urging you to just get up and do something. Like scream out loud as Howie was about to doze off just to get a reaction. That was your kind of thing.

So you reached for the tabloids because you were bored and they always had nice pictures to look at. You could stand pictures, they hold your attention longer than pages of words. And then you saw your own face, from perhaps a year ago, when you were still rather scrawny and wearing that godawful suit – another attempt at trying to be as cool as AJ.

For the first time, the words seemed to align properly to make full sentences and you realized you could read and understand them. You were curious, if not interested, to find out what that article with your picture on it, was all about.

And it hit you like a ton of bricks.

Betrayal set it.

And then you wondered if it was a retribution of some sort.

Your mom had decided to talk to the tabloids.

You figured it was easier for her to talk to the press than to you. Besides, you had gone a record of five months without talking to her, hadn’t you? And it wasn’t as if she didn’t try. She called, thousands of times it felt, but you never answered. You figured what was the point when you knew all she’d do was yell in your ears until she got her way?

She said she missed you. You read that in the article.

And you did miss her.

You remembered the good old days when it was only her and you in the old family car, driving all the way to your next audition, hoping that this one would be IT. She’d whisper words of encouragement as you made it through that door and face whatever fate had in store for you. And she always had that same hopeful smile on her face when you walked out that door; and even when you told her the bad news time and again, the reasons they had given you for not letting you have the part, she’d be there to smile and tell you there was always the next audition to look out for.

You missed your mother.

But again you were confused. Why had your mother just sold you out to the tabloids? Did she not make it sound as if you were ungrateful? Did she just taint your very image to the public?

Perhaps this was your own undoing?

You couldn’t think straight so you threw the voice of reasons out the window and allowed that dark pit of self-doubt hit you again and again.

Funny how at the time when you felt like you were at your peak, having the time of your life, you were also right there at the bottom, tasting the worst form of betrayal at the tip of your tongue.

But you’re Nick Carter and you’ve heard that being said right in your face many times before.

Hey, you’re Nick Carter!

Oh my God you’re Nick Carter!

You’re THE Nick Carter right?

I can’t believe it, it’s YOU! Nick Carter!

Nick Carter prefers dwelling on the good side of things. Back then, you felt like this was the best way to go. Didn’t they say always look on the bright side of life? You loved being positive and you love to laugh. It didn’t take you much to crack up at something silly. You’d later realized that what you were doing were pushing the problems aside, pretending they didn’t exist, but that would be something you’d tackle later on in life. Right now, this felt right. Laughter is the best medicine you say, so you embraced it.

A tattoo artist came to one of your dress rehearsals one day because AJ was going to have another tattoo done. You decided heck, why not? Sam was beginning to feel lonely anyway.

You pondered on your next tattoo, looking through the files of pictures plopped on your lap as Kevin looked at you in amusement.

Hey remember that time when we sent AJ to get his first tattoo done? Howie asked.

You smiled because you remember but you didn’t say anything because you were still busy looking through the pictures.

Oh yeah, and we walked in on a guy having his eyebrow pierced! Brian added and this time you let out a snort.

Dude Nick almost wet his pants! AJ bellowed.

I did NOT! You said. You felt it your duty to defend whatever was left of your dignity when someone was spreading lies about you wetting your pants in public.

You almost ran out of that parlor, admit it Kaos! AJ taunted. You rolled your eyes because AJ was saying the truth for once.

You recalled how your heartbeat began hitting a notch higher than usual. You felt that sickening feeling at the pit of your stomach and if you didn’t look away, didn’t walk out of there, you’d be redecorating the tiles with the contents of your stomach. Never mind if a part of you thought that’d be colorful since you just had pizza with everything as topping not ten minutes ago and you were curious what they’d look like once they were in your tummy; you knew the good thing to do was to get out of there and find some good bush to throw up on.

So you walked out.

Fine, you ran.

Brian was the one who coaxed you back in. You made him do the pinky swear that the man with the pierced eyebrow was nowhere in sight.

You were fifteen and pinky swear seemed about right at that time.

Well, have you decide what you’re going to get little man? Kevin asked as he walked up and plopped himself next to you on the seat.

You scrunched up your face, shook your head, sighed dramatically and closed the book. Nope, you muttered.

Why do you even want to have another one then? Kevin asked.

You shrugged. You were bored, to be honest, and you were planning on timing how long you had to sit still while someone was drawing on your back just for the heck of it but you weren’t planning on telling Kevin this.

You told them you thought it’d be fun instead.

It’d also be permanent Nicky, so make sure you don’t regret it later, came Kevin’s advice.

Deep inside, you decided Kevin always gives good, logical advices but telling him this to his face was something you’d rather not do. As if the man need anymore reason to add to his ‘why I, Kevin Richardson, is perfect’ list.

I think I want a frog.

This, of course, wasn’t true, at all. You just wanted to see a reaction out of it. You thought Brian choking on his own drink was the funniest shit you’d seen all week.

Howie exclaimed that you can’t be serious while he patted Brian’s back and everyone else waited for his face to go back to it’s natural color.

Sorry Bri, you grinned. As much as a prick you were, you really felt bad for turning your Frick blue in the face.

And then Kevin suggested that perhaps you’d like something done that define 1999 for you.

You saw Howie hmmm thoughtfully on his own.

AJ was worried his tattoo would looked disfigured if he even moved a muscle so you got no reaction out of him.

Brian actually nodded thoughtfully but was still afraid to take another sip of his drink.

And your brain was already working on a shape, a symbol. What had 1999 been to you, you wondered. There were hints of that dark cloud wanting to make it’s way to the forefront of your mind but you quickly made a quick manouevre that would put the best gamer to shame. You allowed the happy thoughts to come through and before you knew it, you were smiling.

It had been one heck of a musical year for you, hadn’t it? All the touring and singing, performing in front of millions, sold out concerts and record breaking album sales.

You also noticed that it didn’t matter where you were, really, be it in the dressing room, at the hotel or right then, at a makeshift lounge where you’d take a break from rehearsing; because as long as you are with these four other guys you care so much about, and you are doing the one thing you are passionate in doing, you felt right.

So then you decided.

It’d be a musical note, on the back, just by your right shoulder.

You also had a very good reason for it’s strategic location. Like a fengshui.

No matter good or bad, happy or sad, music always have your back. All you have to do is stop and look behind you.

Or over your shoulder, if you want to be technical about things.

A music note – it not only represent your passion for music, but it also reflects on the positive energy that you were so desperate in hanging on to. You also figured that no matter rain or shine, happy or sad, music always heal your soul.

Besides, you just felt that it was right to have it done while the four guys were there with you then. They were all talking right now, giving you their opinion of your choice for the second tattoo. And you couldn’t help thinking just how blessed you were to find them, to be a part of their lives. It was like when you finally hit the right note, everything else just falls into place.

You also told yourself, should your girlfriend asked about this second tattoo, you’d give her the ungay version. Right now you were going for ‘cause you and I, we make wonderful music together’.

Hey, the worst she’d do was laugh at you. Right?