look, I wrote a 10k fic! (for the jonas_harlequin challenge)
Title: The First Goodbye
Author: secret_plasures
Pairing: Joe/Nick
Rating: R
Warnings/Disclaimers: AU. Incest. Sex. Not real.
Original Prompt: Sugary Sweet Guilty Pleasures #10 - A decade ago, Alex Williams left her hometown behind so she could chase her dream. Now she has it all-fame, fortune and a glittering music career. It’s everything she’d ever dreamed of, or at least that’s what she thought. Misfortune seems to follow her everywhere and she finds herself thinking about the girl she used to be and the boy she’d always loved, Marc.
Fate strands her in the town she’d grown up in, dredging up the past she’d wanted to forget and making her realise that what she’d thought was her dream, was nothing more than her ambition. What will happen when she sees the boy she’d left behind is now the man of her dreams but realises that it’s too late and what was once within her grasp may now be beyond her reach? Will she be able to settle for closure with Marc, or will she want more? Will Marc be able to forgive her, and will he be the one to catch a falling star?
I sigh and lean against the window of the taxi, the cool pane of glass pressing against my forehead and my cheek the only thing separating me from the world rushing past outside. It's ironic, I think, to be here now, traveling in a taxi bound for my old life (the fare is going to be horrendous, but I can afford it). Instead of another new city, more new sights, it's all the familiar landmarks of my childhood that I'm traveling past at what seems like light speed.
It's funny how fitting that is.
I mean, as a child, I couldn't wait to get away. I was always dreaming of something bigger, something better, something that was just beyond my reach. It was only when I entered adolescence that I realized those bigger and better things didn't have to be out of reach, and I set my sights on getting to them, as fast as humanly possible.
And I did, working hard to get away, escaping everything I'd ever known, leaving it all in a cloud of dust as I worked to get my one-way ticket to fame.
When I left, I saw these same buildings blurring together as I sped past them, everything growing gradually closer and bigger as I neared my destination. Now, everything is getting farther apart and smaller as I near my origin. I’m seeing everything again, in reverse order, saying hello first to the things I’d said goodbye to last, ten years ago.
I dread that final hello, the first goodbye.
I never intended to come back. There was only one thing I really missed when I'd gone, and by now the memories are just old enough not to be a sharp pain anymore, only a dull throb once in awhile, when it rains (or, if I’m being honest, all the time).
But blood is thicker than water after all, and somehow, my oldest brother Kevin’s wedding invitation had made it to me with just enough time for me to make it to him. And I had nothing to prevent me from going, except my own pride, my stubborn determination to hold to the belief that I was right in leaving and staying gone. And even that had fallen when I saw the single line scrawled at the bottom of the card pre-printed with fancy script.
“It’d mean a lot, to all of us, if you could be here. --Joe”
---
I discovered my dream and had it crushed all at the same time. I was all of six years old.
I was always singing the songs from the movies I liked, all the time, and even when I was watching the movies, I had to sing along. Whenever I did, Joe would pout and whine, “Ni-i-ick!” when I first started, but after I’d been silent as long as I could and would start to sing along again, he would just sigh and then shoot me a tolerant little grin.
That particular day, I had an appointment at the local barbershop to get my hair trimmed. I’d just watched Peter Pan with Joe that morning, and couldn’t stop singing the songs from the movie as I waited my turn. Mom told me many times to hush, but I just couldn’t help myself but to sing.
Halfway through my fourth rendition of “You Can Fly,” this woman said to Mom, “Excuse me, is this young man your son?”
Mom smiled politely at the woman as she shot me a look, and I immediately quieted. “I’m so sorry, is he bothering you?”
The woman shook her head. “Not at all. In fact, I think he has a lovely voice.”
I beamed at her. “Thank you!” I said, ecstatic to be complimented by someone who wasn’t related to me, someone who wasn’t obligated to give me compliments.
“Does he sing professionally?” the woman asked Mom.
Mom laughed. “Oh goodness, no.”
“He should,” the woman said seriously. “You should think about getting him a manager.”
My name was called then, and obediently I went over to the barber’s chair while Mom and the other woman talked more, even though I really wanted to listen to what they were saying.
When we got home, I immediately ran to find Joe. “Joe, Joe!” I called, bouncing into the room we shared (two years later when Frankie would come along, Joe would move in with Kevin, who up until then always had his own room).
Joe looked up from the action figures he was playing with on the floor. “What is it, Nicky?” he asked.
I grinned. “When I was getting my hair cut, I was singing Peter Pan, and this woman asked Mom if I sang perfessially, and right when my name got called, she said I should, and she said something about a manager!” I wasn’t quite sure what that had even meant, but it sounded big and important.
Joe’s eyes widened. “Nicky!” he said excitedly. “She thinks you should be famous!”
“I could do that?” I asked him.
Joe nodded emphatically. “Yeah. You’re really good, I bet you could.”
“I didn’t know regular people can be famous,” I said in awe.
Joe laughed. “Even famous people were regular once!” he told me.
I sat there starry-eyed for the rest of the afternoon, even as I joined Joe playing on the floor, imagining hearing myself on the radio one day.
“Absolutely not,” Dad said later.
It was dinner time, and as soon as grace had been said, I’d piped up with, “A lady at the barbershop said I should be famous!”
Joe looked up from his peas to stare at Dad. “Why not?” he asked.
“Joseph,” Dad sighed.
“Why not?” Kevin repeated, also glancing over at Dad.
“Kevin,” Dad said warningly.
I looked at him too. “Why not?” I echoed in a small voice.
Dad sighed again. “It’s just not practical, Nicholas. It’s extremely difficult to succeed in show business, and you’d do better to work hard and do well at something you can succeed in.”
I frowned, not quite understanding what that meant. “But I’m a good singer,” I answered.
“I know sweetie, but it’s just not something you can do except for fun, okay?” Mom said.
It wasn’t fair. I’d only decided I wanted to be famous a few hours before, and I was already being told I wasn’t allowed? I pouted and pushed my food around on my plate.
Under the table, Joe kicked me and I looked up at him, glaring daggers. But he gave me a warm, apologetic smile, and I kicked back, maybe smiling a little bit too.
---
The cab stops outside of my parents’ house, and I pay the driver with a smile and a large tip before I get out into the twilight, my carry on bag slung over my shoulder. The driveway is packed with cars and I suddenly hesitate at the end of the driveway, nervous about being back.
I’m not a completely horrible son, at least I try not to be, I send my parents cards on a few occasions each year. I call them at Christmas. After the first couple years away, when I needed to be hidden from them so they couldn’t try to get me back, I reached out to get back in touch. But still, I haven’t seen anyone in my family in ten years, and I have no idea how they’ll react to seeing me. I’m not sure how I’ll react to seeing them.
I finally gather my courage and walk up the path to the house. I hesitate a moment more on the doorstep, and then ring the bell.
A woman about my own age, who I don’t recognize, opens the door, and squints at me, like she thinks she recognizes me but isn’t sure. “Hi,” she says slowly.
“Um, hi,” I reply. “I um, I’m Kevin’s brother, Nick.”
Recognition suddenly flickers in her eyes. “Oh! Of course, everyone’s in the kitchen, come on in. I’m Danielle’s sister, by the way,” she adds as she heads back into the house. Danielle is Kevin’s soon-to-be wife, I recall from the invitation. I follow her into the kitchen and hover awkwardly in the doorway.
I see a lot of relatives I haven’t seen since years before I left sitting around the kitchen, and a lot of people I’ve never seen in my life, who must be Danielle’s family--or friends that my family has made while I’ve been gone, I realize with a funny jolt in my stomach. In the crowd, I spot Mom and Dad and make my way to them, looking around and failing to find both Joe and Kevin.
Mom looks up as I approach and her eyes widen. “Kevin,” she says to Dad urgently, and he turns away from his conversation to look at her, then follows her gaze to me.
“Hi,” I say awkwardly when I reach them, and Mom immediately stands up and pulls me into a hug. “Nicholas,” she chokes out, pulling back and holding me by the shoulders. “Let me look at you.” While she looks at me, I look back at her. She’s still amazingly pretty, few wrinkles except for the laugh lines around her eyes. There are some streaks of gray in her hair, but she looks almost the same as she had when I left.
“Nicholas,” Dad says, and Mom lets me go so I can turn to him. We look at one another for a moment, sort of sizing each other up. Like Mom, Dad hasn’t changed much--a few more lines in his face, a little less hair on his head. Finally, he nods. “It’s good to have you home.”
I nod back, not quite able to truthfully express similar sentiments. “Where are Kevin and Joe--and Frankie?” I ask, a little thrill running through me at the thought of seeing the brother who’d only been a child when I left.
“Frankie’s probably in his room,” Mom replied. “And Joe might be in the guestroom--his and Kevin’s old room. Kevin’s probably with him, since Danielle has run out for a few things.”
“I’m going to go see if I can find them, then,” I say, then give Mom a peck on the cheek and Dad another nod before winding my way out of the room.
I come to Frankie’s room first, what used to be my room, and I tap on the half-open door, looking around and getting lost in memories for a moment.
“Come in,” he calls, and I push the door all the way open and step inside. As I look at the teenager sprawled on the bed, I think of Kevin at eighteen, Joe, and see both of them in my youngest brother. He’s built like Kevin, a little shorter and stockier than either me or Joe, and his hair is still relaxed in waves, rather than tight curls, like Joe’s.
I smile at him. “Hi, Frankie.”
He gets up off the bed. “Nick?” he asks, and I nod. “Uh, wow. Hi.”
We stand there awkwardly for a moment, strangers who’d been apart longer than they’d been together. I’m struck suddenly by how much I missed, being gone. All the major landmarks in Frankie’s life.
“So you’re back for the wedding?” Frankie asks, and I nod again, frowning.
“Joe sent me an invitation. And I’m guessing that no one else knew, since you all seem so surprised to see me.”
Frankie presses his lips together in a thin line. “Of course we’re surprised to see you,” he says, the resentment that I can always hear in his voice when Mom hands him the phone at Christmas all over his face. “You left, Nick. You left and you never came back, you barely even called. We have to find out about you by reading celebrity gossip blogs as if you were a stranger. You are a stranger.”
I sigh and bow my head as my little brother tells me everything I’ve known for years. “I know,” I whisper. Then I turn and leave his room, making my way down the hall to find my older brothers.
The door to their room--the guestroom, I remind myself--is closed, and I can hear voices inside, mingling with the music coming from the radio.
I hesitate before knocking, worried that I’ll get a reception from them like Frankie had given me. Granted, I know that I deserve it. I sigh. I haven’t let myself feel more than a minor stab of regret once in awhile over leaving for ten years. Why should I regret it so much now?
Finally, not wanting to be caught hovering in the hallway, I raise my hand and knock on the door.
“Come in!” someone calls, and I push open the door, just in time for the radio DJ to finish his sentence with “…and the latest from Nick Jonas, so stay tuned!”
All three of us stare at each other, frozen. Kevin and Joe sit side by side on the bed, a stack of movies between them, obviously in the process of choosing one to watch.
Finally, Joe breaks the silence, chuckling as he reaches over to turn off the radio, which has gone to advertisement. “Awesome timing, Nick J.”
“Guess so,” I agree weakly.
In the next moment, Joe is off the bed, pulling me into a tight hug. “I didn’t know if you’d come,” he murmurs.
I hug him back, nearly choking on regret. “Of course I came,” I reply. Joe releases me and I take a step towards Kevin. “I wouldn’t miss my big brother’s wedding for the world.”
Kevin stands up and hugs me too, and I sigh, glad that for now, they’ve both accepted me back. “We were um, just going to watch a movie,” Kevin says as he lets go. “You want to join us?”
I nod and give them both a small smile.
Joe sits back in the middle of the bed, handing a movie to Kevin before sweeping the rest onto the floor and patting the spot next to him. I sit, cautiously, rigidly. Kevin puts the movie in and then joins us on Joe’s other side. Joe immediately sprawls across both of us, resting his head on my shoulder and his feet in Kevin’s lap.
The easy familiarity is almost too much to take, and I swallow hard around the sudden lump in my throat.
About halfway through the movie, Kevin’s fiancee Danielle slips into the room and into Kevin’s arms, and by the time the movie ends, they’re curled up together, asleep on half the bed while Joe and I lay awake on the other half. At this point, I’m only pretending to watch the movie and Joe isn’t even doing that. I can feel his eyes on me, and eventually I get sick of it and I look over at him.
“What?” I ask, and he shrugs one shoulder.
“Nothing,” he replies quietly. “I just…I can’t believe you came.”
“Well, like I said, I wouldn’t miss Kevin’s wedding,” I answer.
Joe sighs, his breath ruffling my hair. “You’ve missed everything else,” he murmurs.
I wince. “I--”
“You’ve done so well for yourself, Nicky,” Joe continues. “You’re…you’re famous. Just like you’ve always wanted. Just like I always knew you would be. But I gotta ask, was it worth it? Leaving all of us behind?” I look away, suddenly ashamed. Joe sighs. “Just think about it, okay? Where are you staying tonight?”
I open my mouth to respond and suddenly realize that I don’t know. “I--I don’t know. I just got the invitation a week ago, I barely had time to get a flight and I was” worried, afraid, nervous “thinking about seeing everyone again and I just--forgot to make arrangements.”
Joe runs his hand through my hair, affectionately. “Well, I’ve taken over Mom and Dad’s guest room, and since I’m here solo, there’s no reason you can’t share. Obviously the bed is big enough.” He grins, and I can’t help but smile back.
But his remarks about being here alone make me realize even more that I have no idea what’s going on in anyone’s lives anymore. “So are you, um, likely to be getting married yourself any time soon?” I ask.
Joe shakes his head. “Probably not. I’ve dated a few people here and there, but never really seriously.”
“Oh,” I say, biting my tongue before I can add “good”.
The movie suddenly goes back to the title menu, even the credits over by now without any of us noticing, and the sudden louder burst of music jolts Kevin awake. He looks blearily down at the woman in his arms and smiles softly before shaking her awake too. “Dani, there’s someone I want you meet,” he murmurs.
She sits up, blinking sleepily. “Mm, who?”
Kevin sits up too, then nods to me. “Danielle, this is my brother Nick. Nick, this is my fiancee, Danielle.”
I reach across Joe to shake her hand, giving her a smile. “It’s a pleasure,” I say, and she smiles back.
“Same here, Nick.” She turns back to Kevin and pulls him into a short kiss. “It must be late, baby, we should head home.”
Kevin nods, and they both get out of the bed and head for the door. Danielle leaves, but Kevin pauses in the doorway. “Nick,” he says, “I just--I’m glad you came.”
“Me too,” I answer quietly.
Kevin turns to go, but Joe calls him back. “Hey, Kev? Could you let Mom and Dad know Nick’s staying in here with me?”
Kevin rolls his eyes, but nods. “Yes, Joseph.”
Joe bats his eyelashes and blows him a kiss. “Thank you Kevvy, I love you.”
Kevin laughs. “I love you too. Night Joey. Night Nick.”
“Night,” we reply, almost completely in unison.
Joe flops backwards onto the bed. “I’m really glad you came home, Nick. I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” I whisper back, laying down and closing my eyes, though I don’t expect sleep to come.
---
My parents never tried to stop me from pursuing my interest in music; they were supportive to a degree. I sang in the church choir, along with Joe and Kevin, I took piano lessons and later, guitar lessons. But any time I expressed any desire to take it further than a hobby, they frowned and shook their heads before giving increasingly longer lectures the older I got about how music wouldn’t take me anywhere, that I needed to be serious, think of a real career.
Joe though, Joe was different. He’d come into my room when I was practicing guitar just to listen, let me use his room to practice when Frankie was napping in mine, do his homework in the living room when I practiced piano to keep me company. He was just there, a pillar of support.
That’s how he was in everything, really.
When I was thirteen, I was diagnosed with diabetes.
Nothing had been right for a long time. I was eating more and yet losing weight, way too much. And because I was exhausted all the time, the weight loss combined with the deep purple shadows under my eyes made me look like the walking dead.
Joe noticed. Joe noticed everything.
He went to Mom and Dad, he said later, but they just told him that I was growing up, not getting enough sleep, and that everything was normal.
He wasn’t convinced. So he watched me like a hawk.
And eventually, something happened that was enough for him to convince Mom and Dad to take me to the hospital.
It was a Wednesday. I stumbled into the bathroom to brush my teeth, not caring that Joe was already there, brushing his own.
As I put toothpaste on my brush, my eyes met Joe’s in the mirror. He looked concerned, mouth turned down in a foamy frown around the toothbrush in his mouth. “Nick--” he started, no doubt going to comment on my zombie-like appearance for the who-knew-what-number day in a row.
I just shook my head. “Don’t,” I muttered, shoving my toothbrush in my mouth and starting to brush vigorously.
Joe reached out and touched my elbow, and I sighed as I let the toothbrush fall from my mouth. I stepped closer to him and rested my head on his shoulder. “I’m tired, Joey,” I admitted, and Joe slipped an arm around me and rested his head on top of mine.
“You look it. You should stay home and rest today, okay? I’m gonna go tell Mom that you’re sick.”
“But--”
“Nick,” Joe cut me off. “Please, Nicky, just--please?”
Maybe it was the worry in his voice. Maybe I just really didn’t feel too great. But I nodded, dislodging Joe’s head, and lifted my own from his shoulder. I slipped out from under his arm, shuffled around him and made my way back to my room, where I curled up in bed and slept.
I woke up hours later, and I felt--better. Sort of. I got out of bed, and put some clothes on, trying not to look at myself, because even though I mostly scoffed at Joe’s worried stares, the way my ribs stuck out scared even myself sometimes. I was more inclined to believe my parents though, believe that nothing was wrong, it was just puberty, I was just growing up, this was all normal. The alternative was too scary.
I padded downstairs, slipping past my mom in the kitchen, and sat at the piano, not really playing anything in particular, just background noise for my thoughts, something occupy my hands.
I’d been playing for maybe 20 minutes when Joe came home from school. He called a hello to Mom, and then came into the living room, standing in the doorway and leaning against the doorframe.
I could feel his eyes on me, burning into the back of my neck, and instead of being a comforting presence, he was just annoying. When he coughed, I slammed my hands down on the keys, hard.
“Nick, what--?”
“Shut up!” I yelled at him, jumping to my feet and stalking towards him. “Shut up, just shut up! You’re so annoying Joe, you’re always around me and bothering me and would you just LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE?!”
Joe actually took a step back. “Nicky, I just…” he said in a small voice.
I just glared at him and stepped closer. “You just what, Joe, huh? What do you--oh.” I blinked, suddenly not feeling well at all, weird and floaty.
“Nick? Nick!” Joe yelled, panicked, and I just looked at him, not able to wrap my mouth around an answer.
The next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital, with the whole family sitting and standing around the room. I was connected to a million tubes and wires and I was terrified. If that wasn’t bad enough, three words changed my life forever.
“You have diabetes.”
As the doctor started to explain what that meant, I reached up and grasped the nearest hand, which happened to be Joe’s. He glanced down at me, tried to smile, squeezed my hand reassuringly. I squeezed back, holding his hand in a death grip as the doctor talked. I only caught snatches of his words--“type 1 and type 2”…“pancreas doesn’t produce insulin properly”…“dangerously high”… “test your blood sugar”…“daily injections”--too preoccupied to really pay close attention. Finally, I blurted out what was on my mind.
“Am I going to die?”
Joe’s hand tightened around mine, suddenly vice-like, and I winced slightly, glancing over at him where he’d gone pale.
The doctor shook his head and smiled. “No, Nicholas. Diabetes is quite manageable, as long as you take care of yourself.”
I nodded, somewhat reassured for the time being, and listened closely as the doctor resumed his explanations.
A little while later, Mom and Dad and Kevin took Frankie to get something to eat in the hospital cafeteria. I turned to look at Joe, who had stayed behind to keep me company.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured quietly.
Joe looked at me in surprise from the uncomfortable plastic chair he’d dragged next to my bed. “For what?” he asked, confused.
“For the way I yelled at you before,” I answered, ducking my head, ashamed.
Joe just shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, okay? It wasn’t you, it was because your blood was all out of whack. You didn’t know.”
“I’m still sorry.”
Joe reached over and took my hand again, squeezing once and smiling at me.
I squeezed back.
As I learned to live with diabetes, learned to prick my finger without flinching multiple times a day, learned to feed the little strip into a meter and learned what the numbers it beeped back at me meant, Joe stood beside me. The first few weeks of it, before I became all but numb to the lancet, he’d rub my shoulder, pat my back, even kiss my fingertips every time I tested and winced and tears gathered in my eyes. Even after I was used to it, he hovered, heaving learned right along with me what the numbers meant. When they were good, he’d smile and slip away. When they were bad, he’d frown and hover some more, getting me whatever I needed to even them out again before I could move.
He was just like that.
---
Even though I’ve been gone for so long, I can tell immediately how much Kevin and Danielle love each other, and I’m happy for them. The wedding was beautiful, simple, in the church we’d gone to when I was a kid. Kevin and Danielle both cried, and so did quite a few people watching the ceremony. Even Joe furtively wiped his eyes as he stood beside Kevin, his best man.
But that was a few hours ago, and I’m sitting at a back corner table in the hall rented for the reception, nursing a glass of water. Everyone seems to be having the time of their lives, and whenever I catch a glimpse of Kevin or Danielle, they’re still glowing. I found both of them early on and congratulated them, but aside from that, and a few dark looks sent my way by relatives who’ve heard that I’m back, I’ve mostly been ignored in my corner.
Joe whirls by, and I recognize the girl in his arms as Danielle's sister. He catches my eyes, and he slows his spinning, murmuring something to--what’s her name?--before she nods and goes to dance with someone else.
“Hey,” Joe says, plopping down in the chair beside me. He’s slightly out of breath, and his eyes are sparkling with the edge of too much champagne.
“Hi,” I answer. “So are you and…?” I trail off, realizing I can’t ask my question without knowing Danielle’s sister’s name.
Joe cocks his head before he understands. “Me and Katie? No way. She’s like my sister. She is my sister, I guess, now.”
Something clenches in my stomach, and I frown at myself. “Oh.”
“Besides,” Joe says conspiratorially, leaning in to lower his voice, and I lean in too, so close that Joe’s alcohol-tinted breath ruffles my hair. “She’s not my type.”
“And what is your type, Joseph?” I ask, sipping from my glass.
Joe smirks. “Oh, about 5’9”, broad shoulders, little bit of muscle doesn’t hurt.” I nearly choke on my water. “And brunette,” he adds thoughtfully.
“Brunette,” I repeat.
He nods. “Yep. Brunette.”
We fall silent for a moment, watching as Kevin and Danielle dance by.
“They really love each other,” I say. Joe nods. “They…how did they meet?”
Joe smiles. “They met on vacation two years ago. Kev was just instantly smitten, and they were together for the whole vacation, and found out that Danielle only lived a few towns away from him. Kev’s stuck around Wyckoff,” he explains.
“What about you?” I ask, struck again by how little I know about my own family.
“I transferred to NYU my junior year of college, and I’ve been in the city ever since. I work at a coffee shop and do some freelance photography work,” Joe says.
I smile. “That sounds awesome.”
Joe shrugs. “Not as awesome as winning a Grammy, but I try.”
I sigh and shake my head. “I barely had any regrets about leaving and not coming back for so long, until I did come back.”
“That’s generally how those things work, Nicky J,” Joe tells me, but his tone is gentle.
I let my head fall to the table. “It sucks,” I mumble into the tablecloth. “I suck.”
Joe rests his hand between my shoulder blades lightly for a moment, then stands up, holding out his hand to me. “Come on. I’ll buy you a drink.”
I take his offered hand and he pulls me up and drags me across the room towards the bar, still holding my hand.
Halfway there the DJ starts a slower song, and Joe pulls me around, settling one hand at my waist and starts swaying to the music. I shake my head and sway along with him for a moment, before reminding him, “I thought you were gonna buy me a drink?” and he nods before spinning me and then letting go completely, leaving me to follow him to the bar.
Joe buys me a Diet Coke, and I chuckle. “What, I don’t get any rum in that?”
Joe shakes his head. “Absolutely not. I will not be responsible for fucking up your levels and putting you in the hospital.”
I smile at him. “Thank you,” I say, and take a sip of my drink.
Joe smiles back before accepting his own (much more alcoholic) drink from the bartender. He points to a vacant table and says, “Hey, sit there, okay? And I’ll be right back.”
I nod and make my way to the table, sitting down and watching the antics on the dance floor as Joe disappears into the crowd. Watching my family and strangers, the people I once knew and the people I’ve never met, I’m hit once again with regret.
Regret quickly turns to embarrassment as the DJ begins to play my latest single. “This one’s requested by best man Joe!” the DJ informs everyone brightly, and as soon as Joe weaves his way back to me, I glare at him.
“Is this really necessary?” I hiss, and Joe grins.
“It’s completely necessary,” Joe assures me, taking a sip of his drink, which is already half gone.
I sigh and shift uncomfortably as I attract more glances than I have all night. “Joe,” I say plaintively. “Everyone’s looking at me.”
“Shouldn’t you be used to that by now?” he asks, and I shake my head.
“Usually, people are looking at me because I’m Nick Jonas and I’m famous. Now, people are looking at me because I’m Nick Jonas and I abandoned my family to become famous,” I explain, changing my tone to mimic first fans and then disapproving old ladies.
Joe sighs and wraps his arm around me. “When’s your flight back?” he asks, completely changing the subject.
“Monday,” I answer slowly.
“You gonna stay with me in Mom and Dad’s guestroom again tonight?”
I nod. “Yeah, I guess so. If it’s okay with you.”
Joe gives me a sad smile. “Of course it’s okay with me. I’ve missed you, Nicky.”
“I missed you too,” I reply.
I’m only just realizing how much.
---
When I was a freshman in high school, two years after the diabetes diagnosis, I decided I was going to be in the fall musical. I wasn’t really into acting, or dancing, but I just wanted to perform and I was willing to dance if it meant I could sing. I set my sights on the male lead and couldn’t be convinced to shoot for anything less. Everyone told me that freshmen never got lead roles, that I might get a lead my junior year if I stuck through two years of chorus. But I didn’t listen. I was determined. I wanted everyone to see I was good, and they couldn’t do that if my voice was blended in with ten other voices.
Joe lounged on my bed as I went over and over and over the song I was going to sing for auditions, helped me run lines for the scene I’d need to do after the song. He was a senior, and I thought for sure he’d tell me the same thing everyone else had, bestow upon me the wisdom that being older brought.
But he didn’t. He was just there, as always, supporting me in whatever I chose to do.
No one who wasn’t auditioning was allowed into the auditorium, but when I emerged from the room the Friday of auditions, I found him leaning against the wall opposite the doors, gnawing his lower lip nervously.
“Well? How’d it go?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I dunno, they’re gonna post casting decisions on Monday.”
Joe clapped me on the shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll get a part, Nick.”
I gave him a tiny smile back. “Thanks.”
When Monday came around, Joe went with me to check the bulletin board outside the musical director’s classroom before classes started for the day. He stood behind me and peered over my shoulder, almost as nervous as I was.
Joe’s sharp intake of breath told me that we saw it at the same time. There was my name, and it wasn’t bunched in with the dozen or so listed as “chorus.” Instead, it was right under the male and female leads. I didn’t have the main role, but I had a decently large part.
I whooped, pleased enough with that, and tackled Joe in a hug, and he laughed as he regained his balance and hugged me back. “Congratulations Nicky,” he murmured in my ear.
Only a few days later, I was at rehearsal every day after school, learning lines and songs and choreography. I could have done without the lines and choreography, but it was worth it to be able to sing, to learn how to be better and to get compliments and criticism. To talk with other people who had big dreams of what they wanted to do with their lives. People who wanted to make it on Broadway, in Hollywood. It was a mind blowing experience, to have people think my goals were actually attainable, because they had the same ones and none of us planned to take no for an answer.
My parents of course, were less enthusiastic.
“Don’t let your grades slip because of this theater thing,” Mom warned me over dinner one night.
Before I could answer, Dad asked me, “Don’t you think you ought to be focusing on your future?”
I reassured Mom that I wouldn’t and just gave Dad a sullen look. He’d never understood that I wanted music to be my future. Neither of them had.
Joe chimed in then, with, “Dad, he’s got plenty of time to focus on his future.”
“Stay out of this, Joseph, it doesn’t concern you,” Dad said sharply.
“But he’s right,” I piped up. “I still have time to focus on my future. I have two years before I have to start seriously thinking about college or anything. And besides, theater looks good on a college application.”
Mom shook her head. “Not as good as some of the other extra-curriculars you could be doing would look,” she answered.
“But I like what I’m doing!” I argued.
“We never asked you to stop,” Dad pointed out. “Just, make sure to keep things in perspective, that’s all.”
Moodily, I stuck a forkful of potatoes in my mouth.
“Could someone pass the salt?” Frankie asked, completely nonplussed.
But that conversation made me realize that Mom and Dad were right, I needed to plan for my future. It just wouldn’t the future they wanted for me.
Rehearsals went on, although I was extra careful to keep my grades up, not just for my parents’ sakes, but for my own as well. I learned my songs and (if I did say so myself) was pretty good at them. I knew all my lines, and was a decent actor. I…had my choreography down in theory, I really could have been better. Some of the others were just so graceful, they made everything look easy, while there were times when I definitely looked as though I were doing rehearsed dance steps. But after all, I was there for the music, not the dancing. It didn’t bother me to be less than perfect in that regard.
Opening night, after the performance, my family swarmed me, showering me with praise and hugs, as was to be expected. But even the next two nights, Joe came up to me afterwards and hugged me tight, whispering “You did good, Nicky,” into my ear when I wasn’t even expecting he’d be there. And closing night, Kevin found me after we’d thanked our directors and all the parents who had helped out and presented them with gifts of flowers, and each received a carnation in turn.
“Nick!” Kevin called, and I spun around, not believing my ears. But there he was.
I grinned and made my way through the crowd to him. He hugged me tight, then said, “You were so good up there.”
“Thanks,” I replied. “And thanks for coming home from college to see me; you didn’t have to.”
Kevin smacked me gently in the head. “Are you kidding? I wasn’t going to miss my baby brother in his first performance.”
“How’d you even know about it?” I asked, suddenly realizing I’d mentioned it to him in an email, but hadn’t told him the date.
“Joe,” Kevin replied simply.
“Is he here? Again?” I wondered aloud. Just as I’d voiced the question, I felt someone tap me on the shoulder.
I turned around only to be greeted by Joe, holding a dozen red roses.
Speechless, I accepted the flowers that he pressed into my hands. “Congratulations, Nicky. You were amazing. I’m so proud of you.” He pulled me into a hug, and I hugged back, careful to maneuver the flowers behind him and not crush them between us.
He pulled back and placed a kiss on my forehead, and I was suddenly struck by the overwhelming wish that he’d kissed me on the lips. I frowned and shook my head quickly, instead mumbling, “Thanks Joey.”
He flung an arm around my shoulders and steered me to Kevin, who slung an arm around my shoulders himself. “Now, your cast party is tomorrow, right?” I nodded and he grinned. “Good, ‘cause your two big brothers are taking you out to celebrate tonight.”
I grinned at him. “Sounds great. Just let me meet more of my adoring fans and I’ll be ready soon.”
“We’ll be waiting,” Joe promised, and he and Kevin let me go and walked together out of the auditorium, presumably to wait outside, away from the crowd.
Meanwhile, I really did have quite a lot of people coming to talk to me. And, much to my great pleasure, most people complimented me on my singing, seeming to really mean it.
I knew then that no matter what anyone said, that was what I was meant to do for the rest of my life.
---
I sigh as I steer Joe into the bedroom. He giggles as he stumbles over to the bed and collapses onto it.
“Really Joe,” I say disapprovingly, “Did you have to get so completely trashed?”
Joe looks up at me and nods seriously. “Oh definitely. ‘Sides Nicky, I’m not completely trashed. I’m just a little bit tipsy.”
I snort. “Remember that tomorrow when you’re begging me to bring you some aspirin.”
Joe shakes his head at me. “Nuh-uh Nicky. I can guarantee you right now that I will not have a hangover tomorrow.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You wanna bet?”
“That wouldn’t be fair. You’d bet some outrageous amount and then tomorrow, I’d hold you to it when I won,” Joe informs me. “So winner just gets bragging rights, ‘kay?”
“Okay, Joe,” I agree easily. Then I yawn.
“Are you tired, Nicky?” Joe asks, and I nod.
“Yeah, Joe. It’s like two in the morning, of course I’m tired.”
Joe wiggles out of his pants, takes off his shirt, then crawls up the bed and under the covers. “Come to bed then, Nicky.” I hesitate--last night we’d both fallen asleep (or not in my case) in our clothes--and Joe sighs, loudly, exaggeratedly, and impatiently. “Hurry up,” he demands.
I finally strip out of my pants and shirt, turn out the light, and slide into bed beside Joe.
Whereas last night, we’d each carefully kept to our own sides of the bed, Joe snuggles up to me the moment I’m beneath the blankets, I guess emboldened by the copious amounts of alcohol in his system. I first stiffen in his hold, and then slowly relax, closing my eyes and pretending I haven’t been gone for ten years, that I’m sixteen again and have fallen asleep with Joe watching movies.
But then Joe speaks and my fantasy is shattered.
“Are you gonna disappear again?”
“I--I never disappeared, Joe. You all knew where I was.”
“No,” Joe says. “We didn’t. I mean, sure, we knew you were in Hollywood, we knew you were famous, we could read the celebrity gossip to find out where you’d gone for dinner, who you were with, when you got your hair cut. But you…you were a stranger. The Nick we all knew was gone, except for a few scattered cards and phone calls.”
I close my eyes again, trying to block out what Joe’s saying. “I--”
Joe doesn‘t give me the chance to speak. “And Nick, I understand that you needed to make a clean break, for a little while. But once you made it, once you were on your way, couldn’t you have come back? Maybe called more than once a year?”
“I had to--” I begin, not even sure what I’m going to say, but once again, Joe cuts me off.
“No, Nick. You didn’t have to do anything. You let your career get in the way of your family.”
I feel like I could cry. I convinced myself long ago that I made all the right choices, but now Joe, in just a few days, with just a few words, has brought all my doubt to the surface, and more, made me doubt everything a hundred times more. “It’s not just my career, it’s my dream,” I whisper, realizing for the first time that maybe, just maybe, it is only a career.
Joe sighs and tightens his arms around me. “Just some more things to think about, Nicky,” he murmurs. “But sleep now, okay?”
I made a small disbelieving noise. “Like I’ll be able to while I’m thinking about these things.”
“Try, okay?” Joe mumbles into my shoulder. “What time is your flight on Monday?”
Startled the sudden change of topic, I pause to think before answering. “Uh, three.”
Joe yawns. “Wanna come home with me tomorrow, stay at my apartment overnight, catch your flight the next day?”
I want to say yes, I want to say yes so badly. But it can’t be that easy to get Joe back, can it? He’ll act like nothing happened most of the time, only ‘giving me something to think about’ once in awhile? It can’t be. I don’t deserve that. “I don’t want to impose,” I say instead.
Joe sits up to look at me. “Nicholas. You won’t be imposing. I want you to. I want you.”
“Just like that?” I ask. “I…Joe, I fucked up. I fucked up so bad. I don’t deserve--”
“Nicky,” Joe interrupts me. “Yes, you fucked up. But if you’re realizing that, if you’re gonna own up to it, then you deserve a second chance to try to make things right again.”
“I…” My voice dies, and I clear my throat and try again. “I’d really like to stay with you tomorrow.”
Joe smiles at me sleepily and lays back down, curling around me again. “Good.” He presses his lips to my hair, so briefly I half-wonder if I imagined it. “We’ll talk more tomorrow, okay?”
I nod, then allow myself to relax even further into Joe, although it’s a long time before sleep finds me.
---
Shortly after that first high school performance, I’d come to the realization that I needed to get out of New Jersey as fast as possible. I needed the opportunities that a bigger place would provide, I needed the chance to put myself out there. And I didn’t want to wait until I was finished with high school, three years was just too long to wait. I was already fifteen and would be old enough to drop out in only a year, but I knew my parents would never agree to that.
So I had to come up with an alternative plan.
I figured out that if I didn’t plan any study halls into my schedule, I could graduate one year early. But that wasn’t enough for me, and so I thought that maybe I could knock off another year by working on my own and going to summer school. I went to my guidance counselor, teachers and various school officials and, after a lot of arguing and planning and very nearly flat-out begging, arranged everything so that I’d finish all my graduation requirements by the end of what should have been my sophomore year. It would take a lot of hard work, but I knew I could do it. I had to.
I was careful to keep it all hidden from my family until the last minute. I was sure that they’d support my hard work, but was equally sure that none of them would support my plans to leave as soon as it all came to fruition, and I was also sure that I wouldn’t be able to keep up the lie I’d planned to tell for very long.
I mentioned it casually over dinner the day before graduation. Joe was home from college for the summer by then, and Kevin had come over for dinner from his nearby apartment.
“So, I’ve been doing extra work and I’m gonna be able to graduate early,” I announced.
Dad gave me a proud smile. “You’ll be graduating next year? That’s fantastic, Nick.”
“Um, not exactly,” I replied. “I um. I’ll be graduating tomorrow.”
Dad’s jaw literally dropped, and everyone else (except Frankie who, at eight, didn’t understand the significance) stared at me in shock.
“How?” Kevin finally asked.
I dropped my eyes to my plate, as though the rice there was fascinating. “I basically taught myself two years of school on weekends and vacations this year and last year, and during the summer. I passed all the exams, got all the credits, and…I’m graduating with the seniors tomorrow.”
“That’s…that’s incredible,” Dad said. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I wanted it to be a surprise,” I mumbled.
“Well, it certainly is that,” Mom answered. “Do you have plans for what you’re going to do next?”
I looked up from my rice and found Joe still staring at me, a small frown on his face as he tried to figure me out. “College,” I muttered, looking back down at the rice, the lie tasting strange on my tongue.
The whole family showed up to watch me collect my diploma, just a kid in the middle of a group of almost-adults who didn’t really want me there in their midst. I would have much preferred to have been given my diploma in private, but had decided to attend the graduation ceremony mostly for my parents before I broke their hearts.
I had a flight out of New York at four o’clock the next morning. I was going to Los Angeles, I was going to make my dream come true, finally.
At about one, when I was sure everyone was asleep, I crept into the kitchen, carrying a small suitcase, my guitar, and a letter, explaining everything, to leave on the table. I had my hand on the doorknob, and was actually in the act of turning it, when Joe’s voice stopped me.
“You’re not coming back, are you?”
I whirled around and spotted my older brother leaning against the counter, where he’d obviously followed me from my room.
I shook my head slowly. “I…explained everything in the letter. I just…I have to do this, Joe. Music is who I am, I have to go for it, and I couldn’t wait anymore.”
“Not even long enough to say goodbye?” Joe asked, and I knew he was on the verge of tears.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “but I knew Mom and Dad would never let me go, I had to do it this way.”
“And you couldn’t say anything to me? You really think I would try to stop you?”
You’re the only person who could, I didn’t say. Instead, I set my suitcase and guitar case down, and took a step towards him.
Immediately, Joe rushed forward and wrapped his arms around me, as tightly as he could. “I know you’ll be a star,” he whispered against my ear. “I love you, Nicky.”
And then he pressed his lips against mine, just for a moment, before he pulled away and was gone, swallowed by the dark and silent house.
---
Joe (who, just as he’d predicted, woke up hangover-free) unlocks the door to his apartment and then holds it open for me to go through first. I step in and look around.
It’s small, but very Joe. It’s cluttered without being dirty, and there are random funky decorations everywhere, and a plethora of photographs hanging on the wall.
“Are these all yours?” I ask, moving closer to one of the busy cityscape.
Joe nods. “Yeah,” he says, kicking the toe of one shoe with the other and looking almost shy.
“They’re amazing,” I say sincerely.
“Thanks,” Joe murmurs. “Uh, you want a tour?”
I nod, and Joe leads me around the small apartment, showing me the living room, kitchen and bathroom before leading me into his bedroom.
“You can crash in here tonight, or on the couch, whichever you prefer,” Joe tells me as he pushes open the bedroom door, and I step inside and look around.
The clutter is more pronounced in here, with clothes of varying cleanliness all over the floor around the queen sized bed in the middle of the room, CD’s in collapsing piles on the dresser, and more photographs making a collage on the wall. The photographs in here, I realize, are more personal, self-portraits and family photos. I see Frankie grow up before my eyes, learn a family history that I should have been part of. I’m about to turn away from the photos when I catch sight of the photo in the very center of the collage.
I remember Joe taking it, home over Christmas break his freshman year of college. He’d been overflowing with excitement about his photography class, one he’d picked up as an art elective and then fallen in love with. He’d gushed about the photography club he’d joined, and the camera the club’s faculty advisor had allowed him to borrow for the break.
The photo, black and white, is of me, sixteen, sitting on my bed, one leg curled up under me. My guitar is in my lap and I’m not looking at the camera, too engrossed in the music in my head to even realize what Joe was doing until I heard the click of the shutter.
I freeze seeing that. I hadn’t seen any pictures of myself displayed in my parents’ house, as though when I’d walked out of their lives, it made it as if I’d never even been there.
“That’s one of my favorites that I’ve ever taken,” Joe murmurs in my ear, and I turn to find him beside me. “It’s beautiful.”
I blush at the hidden compliment. “You didn’t…just forget about me?”
Joe shakes his head. “I could never. You know, I have all your albums.” He sweeps his arm toward the CD piles, and I realize that the ones at the top of the stack are my own. “And every time you’ve done a concert in New York, I’ve been.”
“I…really?”
Joe nods. “Really. At first, I just wanted to support you. But then I kept hoping that you’d come back, and you never did, and it got so listening to your music, and seeing you live, was the only other way I could feel even a little bit connected to you, aside from your occasional cards and phone calls.”
I understand then, exactly what I’ve done. I left behind my family, but also the most important person in my life, and nothing was worth that, not even gaining fame and fortune, and I’m crying before I have time to realize I’m crying.
Joe’s immediately there, wrapping me in a hug and steering me to the bed, where we both sit, and he just lets me cry, making soothing little noises and murmuring, “Shh, Nicky, it’s okay,” every so often.
“I’m sorry,” I finally manage, when my tears are more or less under control. “I’m so sorry, Joey.”
“I know,” he murmurs.
“I just…I really thought I was doing the right thing. And I know that doesn’t excuse what I did, and I’ll understand if you never accept me back into your life the way you did before, but…music was my dream, or I thought it was. And leaving…it was the only way I could see to ever be able to live my dreams.”
Joe nods. “I know,” he repeats. “And that’s why I let you go. It was so important to you, I knew it was something you had to do.”
I hang my head. “I would have stayed if you asked me to,” I admit, and Joe hugs me again.
“I know that. I knew that then, too. Which is why I didn’t. But I might have if I’d known that you weren’t going to come back for so long.”
I swallow hard to keep from crying again. “I missed you,” I tell him. “I missed you so much. I…I know that I did the wrong thing by having barely any contact with anyone. But I didn’t miss them half as much as I missed you. Joe, I…I’m pretty sure I was…” I trail off and pluck at the comforter.
“Me too,” Joe whispers. “I was in love with you too.”
I look up at him then. “I might be still,” I confess, and Joe inhales sharply. “I’m sorry,” I add hastily.
Joe shakes his head. “Don’t apologize, Nicky,” he admonishes. “Never apologize.”
And then he leans in and kisses me. I kiss back desperately, tangling the fingers of one hand in his hair, wrapping the opposite arm around his waist. I notice dimly that his own arms come up around me as I open my mouth under his, welcoming his tongue’s cautious exploration of my mouth. I slide my tongue against his and past it, swiping his bottom lip before mapping out the textures of Joe’s mouth in turn.
I need to breathe, and I pull back, but Joe doesn’t let me go far, holding me tight, and I rest my forehead against his. “I--” I start, but Joe silences me with another kiss.
“Shh, Nicky,” he murmurs. “We’ll figure it out later.”
“But--” I try again, and again, Joe presses his lips to mine.
“Shh,” he says insistently, and kisses me deep, sensually, hands moving to the buttons of my shirt. I tense for a moment before kissing back, and Joe starts undoing the buttons, starting at the bottom and moving up. Every so often, he lets his fingers slide up the skin of my stomach and chest, and I give little hitching gasps into his mouth whenever he does.
Joe smiles into the kiss as he undoes the last button and pushes my shirt off my shoulders. He sweeps his hands over my bare back, and I shiver as goose bumps rise in the wake of his touch. He breaks the kiss long enough to pull his own shirt over his head, and as soon as he’s rid of the garment, I reattach our mouths, pulling him back into me. The press of skin-on-skin makes both of us gasp, and Joe moves his mouth over to my jaw, kissing down to my neck, where he nips and sucks at the sensitive skin.
I moan and tilt my head to allow him better access and my hands explore the expanse of his back, mapping out each ridge in his spine, each ripple of his muscles, the way his shoulder blades flex as he moves his hand up into my hair.
He moves back up to my mouth, kissing me again, as he slides his hands down my sides to my belt buckle. He pulls back for a second, hesitating, and I nod, reassuring him that I want this with a soft kiss. His fingers move deftly, unbuckling my belt and undoing the button and zipper on my jeans and pushing the denim down my hips, taking the cotton of my boxers with them.
I take over when he can’t get them any further down, lifting my hips and kicking off my shoes to get the clothing down my legs and off my feet. I look up when I’m done struggling to find Joe staring. I blush and fight down the instinct to cover myself.
Joe leans forward and kisses me chastely before sliding his lips over to my ear. “Beautiful,” he murmurs before his lips disappear as he leans back to undo his own belt. He slides out of his jeans much more gracefully than I’ve just done, and I can’t help but watch the way he moves, to stare at every inch of his body as he reveals it to me. He glances up at me, looking somewhat unsure of himself, and I smile, leaning forward to kiss him.
He takes over the kiss, pushing me down to lay back on the bed, and then moves down my body, leaving a trail of kisses and love-bites down my chest and stomach, dipping his tongue into my belly button. He disappears for a moment, and I groan in disappointment. Soon enough though, he’s back, and he wastes no time taking me into his mouth. I gasp and arch my back as he sucks on the head of my cock, flicking his tongue over the slit, before sliding down and taking as much of me as he can.
“Joe--” I choke out, and he pulls off of me.
“Do you want this, Nicky?” he asks me, and I see that he’s holding a bottle of lube, apparently fetched from his bedside table when he’d disappeared before.
I nod, and he opens the bottle, squeezes some of the liquid out. “It’s cold,” he warns me, before circling a finger around my entrance and pressing in.
I hiss at the intrusion, but it’s not painful, just a little uncomfortable. He works in and out of me for a moment, before pulling out and then pushing back in with a second finger. It’s a little more to take, and I whimper slightly.
“You okay?” Joe asks, stilling for a moment, and I nod tightly.
“Keep going,” I tell him, and he does, making sure to stretch me as much as he can. He works up to three fingers before I stop him.
“I’m good. I want you, now, Joey.”
Joe slicks himself up then positions himself at my entrance. I nod again, and he pushes in slowly, giving me time to adjust. When he’s fully inside me, he stops and waits, and after a few minutes I pull him down to kiss him, whispering, “Move, Joseph,” against his lips.
He pulls out and thrusts back in, and again, again, establishing a rhythm. I move with him, suddenly gasping when he finds my prostate and arching up into him. He angles himself to hit that spot over and over, and when he reaches between us to take my cock in his hand to jerk me off in time with his thrusts, I lose it, coming over our stomachs and gasping out Joe’s name.
He thrusts into me a few more times before he finds his own release inside me. He pulls out and collapses beside me, gathering me into his arms and kissing me gently. “Sleep now,” he murmurs. “We’ll figure everything out later.” Then he yawns. “I love you, Nicky.”
“I love you too, Joey,” I reply.
Joe nuzzles into my neck, and I close my eyes, and sleep.
Author: secret_plasures
Pairing: Joe/Nick
Rating: R
Warnings/Disclaimers: AU. Incest. Sex. Not real.
Original Prompt: Sugary Sweet Guilty Pleasures #10 - A decade ago, Alex Williams left her hometown behind so she could chase her dream. Now she has it all-fame, fortune and a glittering music career. It’s everything she’d ever dreamed of, or at least that’s what she thought. Misfortune seems to follow her everywhere and she finds herself thinking about the girl she used to be and the boy she’d always loved, Marc.
Fate strands her in the town she’d grown up in, dredging up the past she’d wanted to forget and making her realise that what she’d thought was her dream, was nothing more than her ambition. What will happen when she sees the boy she’d left behind is now the man of her dreams but realises that it’s too late and what was once within her grasp may now be beyond her reach? Will she be able to settle for closure with Marc, or will she want more? Will Marc be able to forgive her, and will he be the one to catch a falling star?
I sigh and lean against the window of the taxi, the cool pane of glass pressing against my forehead and my cheek the only thing separating me from the world rushing past outside. It's ironic, I think, to be here now, traveling in a taxi bound for my old life (the fare is going to be horrendous, but I can afford it). Instead of another new city, more new sights, it's all the familiar landmarks of my childhood that I'm traveling past at what seems like light speed.
It's funny how fitting that is.
I mean, as a child, I couldn't wait to get away. I was always dreaming of something bigger, something better, something that was just beyond my reach. It was only when I entered adolescence that I realized those bigger and better things didn't have to be out of reach, and I set my sights on getting to them, as fast as humanly possible.
And I did, working hard to get away, escaping everything I'd ever known, leaving it all in a cloud of dust as I worked to get my one-way ticket to fame.
When I left, I saw these same buildings blurring together as I sped past them, everything growing gradually closer and bigger as I neared my destination. Now, everything is getting farther apart and smaller as I near my origin. I’m seeing everything again, in reverse order, saying hello first to the things I’d said goodbye to last, ten years ago.
I dread that final hello, the first goodbye.
I never intended to come back. There was only one thing I really missed when I'd gone, and by now the memories are just old enough not to be a sharp pain anymore, only a dull throb once in awhile, when it rains (or, if I’m being honest, all the time).
But blood is thicker than water after all, and somehow, my oldest brother Kevin’s wedding invitation had made it to me with just enough time for me to make it to him. And I had nothing to prevent me from going, except my own pride, my stubborn determination to hold to the belief that I was right in leaving and staying gone. And even that had fallen when I saw the single line scrawled at the bottom of the card pre-printed with fancy script.
“It’d mean a lot, to all of us, if you could be here. --Joe”
---
I discovered my dream and had it crushed all at the same time. I was all of six years old.
I was always singing the songs from the movies I liked, all the time, and even when I was watching the movies, I had to sing along. Whenever I did, Joe would pout and whine, “Ni-i-ick!” when I first started, but after I’d been silent as long as I could and would start to sing along again, he would just sigh and then shoot me a tolerant little grin.
That particular day, I had an appointment at the local barbershop to get my hair trimmed. I’d just watched Peter Pan with Joe that morning, and couldn’t stop singing the songs from the movie as I waited my turn. Mom told me many times to hush, but I just couldn’t help myself but to sing.
Halfway through my fourth rendition of “You Can Fly,” this woman said to Mom, “Excuse me, is this young man your son?”
Mom smiled politely at the woman as she shot me a look, and I immediately quieted. “I’m so sorry, is he bothering you?”
The woman shook her head. “Not at all. In fact, I think he has a lovely voice.”
I beamed at her. “Thank you!” I said, ecstatic to be complimented by someone who wasn’t related to me, someone who wasn’t obligated to give me compliments.
“Does he sing professionally?” the woman asked Mom.
Mom laughed. “Oh goodness, no.”
“He should,” the woman said seriously. “You should think about getting him a manager.”
My name was called then, and obediently I went over to the barber’s chair while Mom and the other woman talked more, even though I really wanted to listen to what they were saying.
When we got home, I immediately ran to find Joe. “Joe, Joe!” I called, bouncing into the room we shared (two years later when Frankie would come along, Joe would move in with Kevin, who up until then always had his own room).
Joe looked up from the action figures he was playing with on the floor. “What is it, Nicky?” he asked.
I grinned. “When I was getting my hair cut, I was singing Peter Pan, and this woman asked Mom if I sang perfessially, and right when my name got called, she said I should, and she said something about a manager!” I wasn’t quite sure what that had even meant, but it sounded big and important.
Joe’s eyes widened. “Nicky!” he said excitedly. “She thinks you should be famous!”
“I could do that?” I asked him.
Joe nodded emphatically. “Yeah. You’re really good, I bet you could.”
“I didn’t know regular people can be famous,” I said in awe.
Joe laughed. “Even famous people were regular once!” he told me.
I sat there starry-eyed for the rest of the afternoon, even as I joined Joe playing on the floor, imagining hearing myself on the radio one day.
“Absolutely not,” Dad said later.
It was dinner time, and as soon as grace had been said, I’d piped up with, “A lady at the barbershop said I should be famous!”
Joe looked up from his peas to stare at Dad. “Why not?” he asked.
“Joseph,” Dad sighed.
“Why not?” Kevin repeated, also glancing over at Dad.
“Kevin,” Dad said warningly.
I looked at him too. “Why not?” I echoed in a small voice.
Dad sighed again. “It’s just not practical, Nicholas. It’s extremely difficult to succeed in show business, and you’d do better to work hard and do well at something you can succeed in.”
I frowned, not quite understanding what that meant. “But I’m a good singer,” I answered.
“I know sweetie, but it’s just not something you can do except for fun, okay?” Mom said.
It wasn’t fair. I’d only decided I wanted to be famous a few hours before, and I was already being told I wasn’t allowed? I pouted and pushed my food around on my plate.
Under the table, Joe kicked me and I looked up at him, glaring daggers. But he gave me a warm, apologetic smile, and I kicked back, maybe smiling a little bit too.
---
The cab stops outside of my parents’ house, and I pay the driver with a smile and a large tip before I get out into the twilight, my carry on bag slung over my shoulder. The driveway is packed with cars and I suddenly hesitate at the end of the driveway, nervous about being back.
I’m not a completely horrible son, at least I try not to be, I send my parents cards on a few occasions each year. I call them at Christmas. After the first couple years away, when I needed to be hidden from them so they couldn’t try to get me back, I reached out to get back in touch. But still, I haven’t seen anyone in my family in ten years, and I have no idea how they’ll react to seeing me. I’m not sure how I’ll react to seeing them.
I finally gather my courage and walk up the path to the house. I hesitate a moment more on the doorstep, and then ring the bell.
A woman about my own age, who I don’t recognize, opens the door, and squints at me, like she thinks she recognizes me but isn’t sure. “Hi,” she says slowly.
“Um, hi,” I reply. “I um, I’m Kevin’s brother, Nick.”
Recognition suddenly flickers in her eyes. “Oh! Of course, everyone’s in the kitchen, come on in. I’m Danielle’s sister, by the way,” she adds as she heads back into the house. Danielle is Kevin’s soon-to-be wife, I recall from the invitation. I follow her into the kitchen and hover awkwardly in the doorway.
I see a lot of relatives I haven’t seen since years before I left sitting around the kitchen, and a lot of people I’ve never seen in my life, who must be Danielle’s family--or friends that my family has made while I’ve been gone, I realize with a funny jolt in my stomach. In the crowd, I spot Mom and Dad and make my way to them, looking around and failing to find both Joe and Kevin.
Mom looks up as I approach and her eyes widen. “Kevin,” she says to Dad urgently, and he turns away from his conversation to look at her, then follows her gaze to me.
“Hi,” I say awkwardly when I reach them, and Mom immediately stands up and pulls me into a hug. “Nicholas,” she chokes out, pulling back and holding me by the shoulders. “Let me look at you.” While she looks at me, I look back at her. She’s still amazingly pretty, few wrinkles except for the laugh lines around her eyes. There are some streaks of gray in her hair, but she looks almost the same as she had when I left.
“Nicholas,” Dad says, and Mom lets me go so I can turn to him. We look at one another for a moment, sort of sizing each other up. Like Mom, Dad hasn’t changed much--a few more lines in his face, a little less hair on his head. Finally, he nods. “It’s good to have you home.”
I nod back, not quite able to truthfully express similar sentiments. “Where are Kevin and Joe--and Frankie?” I ask, a little thrill running through me at the thought of seeing the brother who’d only been a child when I left.
“Frankie’s probably in his room,” Mom replied. “And Joe might be in the guestroom--his and Kevin’s old room. Kevin’s probably with him, since Danielle has run out for a few things.”
“I’m going to go see if I can find them, then,” I say, then give Mom a peck on the cheek and Dad another nod before winding my way out of the room.
I come to Frankie’s room first, what used to be my room, and I tap on the half-open door, looking around and getting lost in memories for a moment.
“Come in,” he calls, and I push the door all the way open and step inside. As I look at the teenager sprawled on the bed, I think of Kevin at eighteen, Joe, and see both of them in my youngest brother. He’s built like Kevin, a little shorter and stockier than either me or Joe, and his hair is still relaxed in waves, rather than tight curls, like Joe’s.
I smile at him. “Hi, Frankie.”
He gets up off the bed. “Nick?” he asks, and I nod. “Uh, wow. Hi.”
We stand there awkwardly for a moment, strangers who’d been apart longer than they’d been together. I’m struck suddenly by how much I missed, being gone. All the major landmarks in Frankie’s life.
“So you’re back for the wedding?” Frankie asks, and I nod again, frowning.
“Joe sent me an invitation. And I’m guessing that no one else knew, since you all seem so surprised to see me.”
Frankie presses his lips together in a thin line. “Of course we’re surprised to see you,” he says, the resentment that I can always hear in his voice when Mom hands him the phone at Christmas all over his face. “You left, Nick. You left and you never came back, you barely even called. We have to find out about you by reading celebrity gossip blogs as if you were a stranger. You are a stranger.”
I sigh and bow my head as my little brother tells me everything I’ve known for years. “I know,” I whisper. Then I turn and leave his room, making my way down the hall to find my older brothers.
The door to their room--the guestroom, I remind myself--is closed, and I can hear voices inside, mingling with the music coming from the radio.
I hesitate before knocking, worried that I’ll get a reception from them like Frankie had given me. Granted, I know that I deserve it. I sigh. I haven’t let myself feel more than a minor stab of regret once in awhile over leaving for ten years. Why should I regret it so much now?
Finally, not wanting to be caught hovering in the hallway, I raise my hand and knock on the door.
“Come in!” someone calls, and I push open the door, just in time for the radio DJ to finish his sentence with “…and the latest from Nick Jonas, so stay tuned!”
All three of us stare at each other, frozen. Kevin and Joe sit side by side on the bed, a stack of movies between them, obviously in the process of choosing one to watch.
Finally, Joe breaks the silence, chuckling as he reaches over to turn off the radio, which has gone to advertisement. “Awesome timing, Nick J.”
“Guess so,” I agree weakly.
In the next moment, Joe is off the bed, pulling me into a tight hug. “I didn’t know if you’d come,” he murmurs.
I hug him back, nearly choking on regret. “Of course I came,” I reply. Joe releases me and I take a step towards Kevin. “I wouldn’t miss my big brother’s wedding for the world.”
Kevin stands up and hugs me too, and I sigh, glad that for now, they’ve both accepted me back. “We were um, just going to watch a movie,” Kevin says as he lets go. “You want to join us?”
I nod and give them both a small smile.
Joe sits back in the middle of the bed, handing a movie to Kevin before sweeping the rest onto the floor and patting the spot next to him. I sit, cautiously, rigidly. Kevin puts the movie in and then joins us on Joe’s other side. Joe immediately sprawls across both of us, resting his head on my shoulder and his feet in Kevin’s lap.
The easy familiarity is almost too much to take, and I swallow hard around the sudden lump in my throat.
About halfway through the movie, Kevin’s fiancee Danielle slips into the room and into Kevin’s arms, and by the time the movie ends, they’re curled up together, asleep on half the bed while Joe and I lay awake on the other half. At this point, I’m only pretending to watch the movie and Joe isn’t even doing that. I can feel his eyes on me, and eventually I get sick of it and I look over at him.
“What?” I ask, and he shrugs one shoulder.
“Nothing,” he replies quietly. “I just…I can’t believe you came.”
“Well, like I said, I wouldn’t miss Kevin’s wedding,” I answer.
Joe sighs, his breath ruffling my hair. “You’ve missed everything else,” he murmurs.
I wince. “I--”
“You’ve done so well for yourself, Nicky,” Joe continues. “You’re…you’re famous. Just like you’ve always wanted. Just like I always knew you would be. But I gotta ask, was it worth it? Leaving all of us behind?” I look away, suddenly ashamed. Joe sighs. “Just think about it, okay? Where are you staying tonight?”
I open my mouth to respond and suddenly realize that I don’t know. “I--I don’t know. I just got the invitation a week ago, I barely had time to get a flight and I was” worried, afraid, nervous “thinking about seeing everyone again and I just--forgot to make arrangements.”
Joe runs his hand through my hair, affectionately. “Well, I’ve taken over Mom and Dad’s guest room, and since I’m here solo, there’s no reason you can’t share. Obviously the bed is big enough.” He grins, and I can’t help but smile back.
But his remarks about being here alone make me realize even more that I have no idea what’s going on in anyone’s lives anymore. “So are you, um, likely to be getting married yourself any time soon?” I ask.
Joe shakes his head. “Probably not. I’ve dated a few people here and there, but never really seriously.”
“Oh,” I say, biting my tongue before I can add “good”.
The movie suddenly goes back to the title menu, even the credits over by now without any of us noticing, and the sudden louder burst of music jolts Kevin awake. He looks blearily down at the woman in his arms and smiles softly before shaking her awake too. “Dani, there’s someone I want you meet,” he murmurs.
She sits up, blinking sleepily. “Mm, who?”
Kevin sits up too, then nods to me. “Danielle, this is my brother Nick. Nick, this is my fiancee, Danielle.”
I reach across Joe to shake her hand, giving her a smile. “It’s a pleasure,” I say, and she smiles back.
“Same here, Nick.” She turns back to Kevin and pulls him into a short kiss. “It must be late, baby, we should head home.”
Kevin nods, and they both get out of the bed and head for the door. Danielle leaves, but Kevin pauses in the doorway. “Nick,” he says, “I just--I’m glad you came.”
“Me too,” I answer quietly.
Kevin turns to go, but Joe calls him back. “Hey, Kev? Could you let Mom and Dad know Nick’s staying in here with me?”
Kevin rolls his eyes, but nods. “Yes, Joseph.”
Joe bats his eyelashes and blows him a kiss. “Thank you Kevvy, I love you.”
Kevin laughs. “I love you too. Night Joey. Night Nick.”
“Night,” we reply, almost completely in unison.
Joe flops backwards onto the bed. “I’m really glad you came home, Nick. I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” I whisper back, laying down and closing my eyes, though I don’t expect sleep to come.
---
My parents never tried to stop me from pursuing my interest in music; they were supportive to a degree. I sang in the church choir, along with Joe and Kevin, I took piano lessons and later, guitar lessons. But any time I expressed any desire to take it further than a hobby, they frowned and shook their heads before giving increasingly longer lectures the older I got about how music wouldn’t take me anywhere, that I needed to be serious, think of a real career.
Joe though, Joe was different. He’d come into my room when I was practicing guitar just to listen, let me use his room to practice when Frankie was napping in mine, do his homework in the living room when I practiced piano to keep me company. He was just there, a pillar of support.
That’s how he was in everything, really.
When I was thirteen, I was diagnosed with diabetes.
Nothing had been right for a long time. I was eating more and yet losing weight, way too much. And because I was exhausted all the time, the weight loss combined with the deep purple shadows under my eyes made me look like the walking dead.
Joe noticed. Joe noticed everything.
He went to Mom and Dad, he said later, but they just told him that I was growing up, not getting enough sleep, and that everything was normal.
He wasn’t convinced. So he watched me like a hawk.
And eventually, something happened that was enough for him to convince Mom and Dad to take me to the hospital.
It was a Wednesday. I stumbled into the bathroom to brush my teeth, not caring that Joe was already there, brushing his own.
As I put toothpaste on my brush, my eyes met Joe’s in the mirror. He looked concerned, mouth turned down in a foamy frown around the toothbrush in his mouth. “Nick--” he started, no doubt going to comment on my zombie-like appearance for the who-knew-what-number day in a row.
I just shook my head. “Don’t,” I muttered, shoving my toothbrush in my mouth and starting to brush vigorously.
Joe reached out and touched my elbow, and I sighed as I let the toothbrush fall from my mouth. I stepped closer to him and rested my head on his shoulder. “I’m tired, Joey,” I admitted, and Joe slipped an arm around me and rested his head on top of mine.
“You look it. You should stay home and rest today, okay? I’m gonna go tell Mom that you’re sick.”
“But--”
“Nick,” Joe cut me off. “Please, Nicky, just--please?”
Maybe it was the worry in his voice. Maybe I just really didn’t feel too great. But I nodded, dislodging Joe’s head, and lifted my own from his shoulder. I slipped out from under his arm, shuffled around him and made my way back to my room, where I curled up in bed and slept.
I woke up hours later, and I felt--better. Sort of. I got out of bed, and put some clothes on, trying not to look at myself, because even though I mostly scoffed at Joe’s worried stares, the way my ribs stuck out scared even myself sometimes. I was more inclined to believe my parents though, believe that nothing was wrong, it was just puberty, I was just growing up, this was all normal. The alternative was too scary.
I padded downstairs, slipping past my mom in the kitchen, and sat at the piano, not really playing anything in particular, just background noise for my thoughts, something occupy my hands.
I’d been playing for maybe 20 minutes when Joe came home from school. He called a hello to Mom, and then came into the living room, standing in the doorway and leaning against the doorframe.
I could feel his eyes on me, burning into the back of my neck, and instead of being a comforting presence, he was just annoying. When he coughed, I slammed my hands down on the keys, hard.
“Nick, what--?”
“Shut up!” I yelled at him, jumping to my feet and stalking towards him. “Shut up, just shut up! You’re so annoying Joe, you’re always around me and bothering me and would you just LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE?!”
Joe actually took a step back. “Nicky, I just…” he said in a small voice.
I just glared at him and stepped closer. “You just what, Joe, huh? What do you--oh.” I blinked, suddenly not feeling well at all, weird and floaty.
“Nick? Nick!” Joe yelled, panicked, and I just looked at him, not able to wrap my mouth around an answer.
The next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital, with the whole family sitting and standing around the room. I was connected to a million tubes and wires and I was terrified. If that wasn’t bad enough, three words changed my life forever.
“You have diabetes.”
As the doctor started to explain what that meant, I reached up and grasped the nearest hand, which happened to be Joe’s. He glanced down at me, tried to smile, squeezed my hand reassuringly. I squeezed back, holding his hand in a death grip as the doctor talked. I only caught snatches of his words--“type 1 and type 2”…“pancreas doesn’t produce insulin properly”…“dangerously high”… “test your blood sugar”…“daily injections”--too preoccupied to really pay close attention. Finally, I blurted out what was on my mind.
“Am I going to die?”
Joe’s hand tightened around mine, suddenly vice-like, and I winced slightly, glancing over at him where he’d gone pale.
The doctor shook his head and smiled. “No, Nicholas. Diabetes is quite manageable, as long as you take care of yourself.”
I nodded, somewhat reassured for the time being, and listened closely as the doctor resumed his explanations.
A little while later, Mom and Dad and Kevin took Frankie to get something to eat in the hospital cafeteria. I turned to look at Joe, who had stayed behind to keep me company.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured quietly.
Joe looked at me in surprise from the uncomfortable plastic chair he’d dragged next to my bed. “For what?” he asked, confused.
“For the way I yelled at you before,” I answered, ducking my head, ashamed.
Joe just shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, okay? It wasn’t you, it was because your blood was all out of whack. You didn’t know.”
“I’m still sorry.”
Joe reached over and took my hand again, squeezing once and smiling at me.
I squeezed back.
As I learned to live with diabetes, learned to prick my finger without flinching multiple times a day, learned to feed the little strip into a meter and learned what the numbers it beeped back at me meant, Joe stood beside me. The first few weeks of it, before I became all but numb to the lancet, he’d rub my shoulder, pat my back, even kiss my fingertips every time I tested and winced and tears gathered in my eyes. Even after I was used to it, he hovered, heaving learned right along with me what the numbers meant. When they were good, he’d smile and slip away. When they were bad, he’d frown and hover some more, getting me whatever I needed to even them out again before I could move.
He was just like that.
---
Even though I’ve been gone for so long, I can tell immediately how much Kevin and Danielle love each other, and I’m happy for them. The wedding was beautiful, simple, in the church we’d gone to when I was a kid. Kevin and Danielle both cried, and so did quite a few people watching the ceremony. Even Joe furtively wiped his eyes as he stood beside Kevin, his best man.
But that was a few hours ago, and I’m sitting at a back corner table in the hall rented for the reception, nursing a glass of water. Everyone seems to be having the time of their lives, and whenever I catch a glimpse of Kevin or Danielle, they’re still glowing. I found both of them early on and congratulated them, but aside from that, and a few dark looks sent my way by relatives who’ve heard that I’m back, I’ve mostly been ignored in my corner.
Joe whirls by, and I recognize the girl in his arms as Danielle's sister. He catches my eyes, and he slows his spinning, murmuring something to--what’s her name?--before she nods and goes to dance with someone else.
“Hey,” Joe says, plopping down in the chair beside me. He’s slightly out of breath, and his eyes are sparkling with the edge of too much champagne.
“Hi,” I answer. “So are you and…?” I trail off, realizing I can’t ask my question without knowing Danielle’s sister’s name.
Joe cocks his head before he understands. “Me and Katie? No way. She’s like my sister. She is my sister, I guess, now.”
Something clenches in my stomach, and I frown at myself. “Oh.”
“Besides,” Joe says conspiratorially, leaning in to lower his voice, and I lean in too, so close that Joe’s alcohol-tinted breath ruffles my hair. “She’s not my type.”
“And what is your type, Joseph?” I ask, sipping from my glass.
Joe smirks. “Oh, about 5’9”, broad shoulders, little bit of muscle doesn’t hurt.” I nearly choke on my water. “And brunette,” he adds thoughtfully.
“Brunette,” I repeat.
He nods. “Yep. Brunette.”
We fall silent for a moment, watching as Kevin and Danielle dance by.
“They really love each other,” I say. Joe nods. “They…how did they meet?”
Joe smiles. “They met on vacation two years ago. Kev was just instantly smitten, and they were together for the whole vacation, and found out that Danielle only lived a few towns away from him. Kev’s stuck around Wyckoff,” he explains.
“What about you?” I ask, struck again by how little I know about my own family.
“I transferred to NYU my junior year of college, and I’ve been in the city ever since. I work at a coffee shop and do some freelance photography work,” Joe says.
I smile. “That sounds awesome.”
Joe shrugs. “Not as awesome as winning a Grammy, but I try.”
I sigh and shake my head. “I barely had any regrets about leaving and not coming back for so long, until I did come back.”
“That’s generally how those things work, Nicky J,” Joe tells me, but his tone is gentle.
I let my head fall to the table. “It sucks,” I mumble into the tablecloth. “I suck.”
Joe rests his hand between my shoulder blades lightly for a moment, then stands up, holding out his hand to me. “Come on. I’ll buy you a drink.”
I take his offered hand and he pulls me up and drags me across the room towards the bar, still holding my hand.
Halfway there the DJ starts a slower song, and Joe pulls me around, settling one hand at my waist and starts swaying to the music. I shake my head and sway along with him for a moment, before reminding him, “I thought you were gonna buy me a drink?” and he nods before spinning me and then letting go completely, leaving me to follow him to the bar.
Joe buys me a Diet Coke, and I chuckle. “What, I don’t get any rum in that?”
Joe shakes his head. “Absolutely not. I will not be responsible for fucking up your levels and putting you in the hospital.”
I smile at him. “Thank you,” I say, and take a sip of my drink.
Joe smiles back before accepting his own (much more alcoholic) drink from the bartender. He points to a vacant table and says, “Hey, sit there, okay? And I’ll be right back.”
I nod and make my way to the table, sitting down and watching the antics on the dance floor as Joe disappears into the crowd. Watching my family and strangers, the people I once knew and the people I’ve never met, I’m hit once again with regret.
Regret quickly turns to embarrassment as the DJ begins to play my latest single. “This one’s requested by best man Joe!” the DJ informs everyone brightly, and as soon as Joe weaves his way back to me, I glare at him.
“Is this really necessary?” I hiss, and Joe grins.
“It’s completely necessary,” Joe assures me, taking a sip of his drink, which is already half gone.
I sigh and shift uncomfortably as I attract more glances than I have all night. “Joe,” I say plaintively. “Everyone’s looking at me.”
“Shouldn’t you be used to that by now?” he asks, and I shake my head.
“Usually, people are looking at me because I’m Nick Jonas and I’m famous. Now, people are looking at me because I’m Nick Jonas and I abandoned my family to become famous,” I explain, changing my tone to mimic first fans and then disapproving old ladies.
Joe sighs and wraps his arm around me. “When’s your flight back?” he asks, completely changing the subject.
“Monday,” I answer slowly.
“You gonna stay with me in Mom and Dad’s guestroom again tonight?”
I nod. “Yeah, I guess so. If it’s okay with you.”
Joe gives me a sad smile. “Of course it’s okay with me. I’ve missed you, Nicky.”
“I missed you too,” I reply.
I’m only just realizing how much.
---
When I was a freshman in high school, two years after the diabetes diagnosis, I decided I was going to be in the fall musical. I wasn’t really into acting, or dancing, but I just wanted to perform and I was willing to dance if it meant I could sing. I set my sights on the male lead and couldn’t be convinced to shoot for anything less. Everyone told me that freshmen never got lead roles, that I might get a lead my junior year if I stuck through two years of chorus. But I didn’t listen. I was determined. I wanted everyone to see I was good, and they couldn’t do that if my voice was blended in with ten other voices.
Joe lounged on my bed as I went over and over and over the song I was going to sing for auditions, helped me run lines for the scene I’d need to do after the song. He was a senior, and I thought for sure he’d tell me the same thing everyone else had, bestow upon me the wisdom that being older brought.
But he didn’t. He was just there, as always, supporting me in whatever I chose to do.
No one who wasn’t auditioning was allowed into the auditorium, but when I emerged from the room the Friday of auditions, I found him leaning against the wall opposite the doors, gnawing his lower lip nervously.
“Well? How’d it go?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I dunno, they’re gonna post casting decisions on Monday.”
Joe clapped me on the shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll get a part, Nick.”
I gave him a tiny smile back. “Thanks.”
When Monday came around, Joe went with me to check the bulletin board outside the musical director’s classroom before classes started for the day. He stood behind me and peered over my shoulder, almost as nervous as I was.
Joe’s sharp intake of breath told me that we saw it at the same time. There was my name, and it wasn’t bunched in with the dozen or so listed as “chorus.” Instead, it was right under the male and female leads. I didn’t have the main role, but I had a decently large part.
I whooped, pleased enough with that, and tackled Joe in a hug, and he laughed as he regained his balance and hugged me back. “Congratulations Nicky,” he murmured in my ear.
Only a few days later, I was at rehearsal every day after school, learning lines and songs and choreography. I could have done without the lines and choreography, but it was worth it to be able to sing, to learn how to be better and to get compliments and criticism. To talk with other people who had big dreams of what they wanted to do with their lives. People who wanted to make it on Broadway, in Hollywood. It was a mind blowing experience, to have people think my goals were actually attainable, because they had the same ones and none of us planned to take no for an answer.
My parents of course, were less enthusiastic.
“Don’t let your grades slip because of this theater thing,” Mom warned me over dinner one night.
Before I could answer, Dad asked me, “Don’t you think you ought to be focusing on your future?”
I reassured Mom that I wouldn’t and just gave Dad a sullen look. He’d never understood that I wanted music to be my future. Neither of them had.
Joe chimed in then, with, “Dad, he’s got plenty of time to focus on his future.”
“Stay out of this, Joseph, it doesn’t concern you,” Dad said sharply.
“But he’s right,” I piped up. “I still have time to focus on my future. I have two years before I have to start seriously thinking about college or anything. And besides, theater looks good on a college application.”
Mom shook her head. “Not as good as some of the other extra-curriculars you could be doing would look,” she answered.
“But I like what I’m doing!” I argued.
“We never asked you to stop,” Dad pointed out. “Just, make sure to keep things in perspective, that’s all.”
Moodily, I stuck a forkful of potatoes in my mouth.
“Could someone pass the salt?” Frankie asked, completely nonplussed.
But that conversation made me realize that Mom and Dad were right, I needed to plan for my future. It just wouldn’t the future they wanted for me.
Rehearsals went on, although I was extra careful to keep my grades up, not just for my parents’ sakes, but for my own as well. I learned my songs and (if I did say so myself) was pretty good at them. I knew all my lines, and was a decent actor. I…had my choreography down in theory, I really could have been better. Some of the others were just so graceful, they made everything look easy, while there were times when I definitely looked as though I were doing rehearsed dance steps. But after all, I was there for the music, not the dancing. It didn’t bother me to be less than perfect in that regard.
Opening night, after the performance, my family swarmed me, showering me with praise and hugs, as was to be expected. But even the next two nights, Joe came up to me afterwards and hugged me tight, whispering “You did good, Nicky,” into my ear when I wasn’t even expecting he’d be there. And closing night, Kevin found me after we’d thanked our directors and all the parents who had helped out and presented them with gifts of flowers, and each received a carnation in turn.
“Nick!” Kevin called, and I spun around, not believing my ears. But there he was.
I grinned and made my way through the crowd to him. He hugged me tight, then said, “You were so good up there.”
“Thanks,” I replied. “And thanks for coming home from college to see me; you didn’t have to.”
Kevin smacked me gently in the head. “Are you kidding? I wasn’t going to miss my baby brother in his first performance.”
“How’d you even know about it?” I asked, suddenly realizing I’d mentioned it to him in an email, but hadn’t told him the date.
“Joe,” Kevin replied simply.
“Is he here? Again?” I wondered aloud. Just as I’d voiced the question, I felt someone tap me on the shoulder.
I turned around only to be greeted by Joe, holding a dozen red roses.
Speechless, I accepted the flowers that he pressed into my hands. “Congratulations, Nicky. You were amazing. I’m so proud of you.” He pulled me into a hug, and I hugged back, careful to maneuver the flowers behind him and not crush them between us.
He pulled back and placed a kiss on my forehead, and I was suddenly struck by the overwhelming wish that he’d kissed me on the lips. I frowned and shook my head quickly, instead mumbling, “Thanks Joey.”
He flung an arm around my shoulders and steered me to Kevin, who slung an arm around my shoulders himself. “Now, your cast party is tomorrow, right?” I nodded and he grinned. “Good, ‘cause your two big brothers are taking you out to celebrate tonight.”
I grinned at him. “Sounds great. Just let me meet more of my adoring fans and I’ll be ready soon.”
“We’ll be waiting,” Joe promised, and he and Kevin let me go and walked together out of the auditorium, presumably to wait outside, away from the crowd.
Meanwhile, I really did have quite a lot of people coming to talk to me. And, much to my great pleasure, most people complimented me on my singing, seeming to really mean it.
I knew then that no matter what anyone said, that was what I was meant to do for the rest of my life.
---
I sigh as I steer Joe into the bedroom. He giggles as he stumbles over to the bed and collapses onto it.
“Really Joe,” I say disapprovingly, “Did you have to get so completely trashed?”
Joe looks up at me and nods seriously. “Oh definitely. ‘Sides Nicky, I’m not completely trashed. I’m just a little bit tipsy.”
I snort. “Remember that tomorrow when you’re begging me to bring you some aspirin.”
Joe shakes his head at me. “Nuh-uh Nicky. I can guarantee you right now that I will not have a hangover tomorrow.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You wanna bet?”
“That wouldn’t be fair. You’d bet some outrageous amount and then tomorrow, I’d hold you to it when I won,” Joe informs me. “So winner just gets bragging rights, ‘kay?”
“Okay, Joe,” I agree easily. Then I yawn.
“Are you tired, Nicky?” Joe asks, and I nod.
“Yeah, Joe. It’s like two in the morning, of course I’m tired.”
Joe wiggles out of his pants, takes off his shirt, then crawls up the bed and under the covers. “Come to bed then, Nicky.” I hesitate--last night we’d both fallen asleep (or not in my case) in our clothes--and Joe sighs, loudly, exaggeratedly, and impatiently. “Hurry up,” he demands.
I finally strip out of my pants and shirt, turn out the light, and slide into bed beside Joe.
Whereas last night, we’d each carefully kept to our own sides of the bed, Joe snuggles up to me the moment I’m beneath the blankets, I guess emboldened by the copious amounts of alcohol in his system. I first stiffen in his hold, and then slowly relax, closing my eyes and pretending I haven’t been gone for ten years, that I’m sixteen again and have fallen asleep with Joe watching movies.
But then Joe speaks and my fantasy is shattered.
“Are you gonna disappear again?”
“I--I never disappeared, Joe. You all knew where I was.”
“No,” Joe says. “We didn’t. I mean, sure, we knew you were in Hollywood, we knew you were famous, we could read the celebrity gossip to find out where you’d gone for dinner, who you were with, when you got your hair cut. But you…you were a stranger. The Nick we all knew was gone, except for a few scattered cards and phone calls.”
I close my eyes again, trying to block out what Joe’s saying. “I--”
Joe doesn‘t give me the chance to speak. “And Nick, I understand that you needed to make a clean break, for a little while. But once you made it, once you were on your way, couldn’t you have come back? Maybe called more than once a year?”
“I had to--” I begin, not even sure what I’m going to say, but once again, Joe cuts me off.
“No, Nick. You didn’t have to do anything. You let your career get in the way of your family.”
I feel like I could cry. I convinced myself long ago that I made all the right choices, but now Joe, in just a few days, with just a few words, has brought all my doubt to the surface, and more, made me doubt everything a hundred times more. “It’s not just my career, it’s my dream,” I whisper, realizing for the first time that maybe, just maybe, it is only a career.
Joe sighs and tightens his arms around me. “Just some more things to think about, Nicky,” he murmurs. “But sleep now, okay?”
I made a small disbelieving noise. “Like I’ll be able to while I’m thinking about these things.”
“Try, okay?” Joe mumbles into my shoulder. “What time is your flight on Monday?”
Startled the sudden change of topic, I pause to think before answering. “Uh, three.”
Joe yawns. “Wanna come home with me tomorrow, stay at my apartment overnight, catch your flight the next day?”
I want to say yes, I want to say yes so badly. But it can’t be that easy to get Joe back, can it? He’ll act like nothing happened most of the time, only ‘giving me something to think about’ once in awhile? It can’t be. I don’t deserve that. “I don’t want to impose,” I say instead.
Joe sits up to look at me. “Nicholas. You won’t be imposing. I want you to. I want you.”
“Just like that?” I ask. “I…Joe, I fucked up. I fucked up so bad. I don’t deserve--”
“Nicky,” Joe interrupts me. “Yes, you fucked up. But if you’re realizing that, if you’re gonna own up to it, then you deserve a second chance to try to make things right again.”
“I…” My voice dies, and I clear my throat and try again. “I’d really like to stay with you tomorrow.”
Joe smiles at me sleepily and lays back down, curling around me again. “Good.” He presses his lips to my hair, so briefly I half-wonder if I imagined it. “We’ll talk more tomorrow, okay?”
I nod, then allow myself to relax even further into Joe, although it’s a long time before sleep finds me.
---
Shortly after that first high school performance, I’d come to the realization that I needed to get out of New Jersey as fast as possible. I needed the opportunities that a bigger place would provide, I needed the chance to put myself out there. And I didn’t want to wait until I was finished with high school, three years was just too long to wait. I was already fifteen and would be old enough to drop out in only a year, but I knew my parents would never agree to that.
So I had to come up with an alternative plan.
I figured out that if I didn’t plan any study halls into my schedule, I could graduate one year early. But that wasn’t enough for me, and so I thought that maybe I could knock off another year by working on my own and going to summer school. I went to my guidance counselor, teachers and various school officials and, after a lot of arguing and planning and very nearly flat-out begging, arranged everything so that I’d finish all my graduation requirements by the end of what should have been my sophomore year. It would take a lot of hard work, but I knew I could do it. I had to.
I was careful to keep it all hidden from my family until the last minute. I was sure that they’d support my hard work, but was equally sure that none of them would support my plans to leave as soon as it all came to fruition, and I was also sure that I wouldn’t be able to keep up the lie I’d planned to tell for very long.
I mentioned it casually over dinner the day before graduation. Joe was home from college for the summer by then, and Kevin had come over for dinner from his nearby apartment.
“So, I’ve been doing extra work and I’m gonna be able to graduate early,” I announced.
Dad gave me a proud smile. “You’ll be graduating next year? That’s fantastic, Nick.”
“Um, not exactly,” I replied. “I um. I’ll be graduating tomorrow.”
Dad’s jaw literally dropped, and everyone else (except Frankie who, at eight, didn’t understand the significance) stared at me in shock.
“How?” Kevin finally asked.
I dropped my eyes to my plate, as though the rice there was fascinating. “I basically taught myself two years of school on weekends and vacations this year and last year, and during the summer. I passed all the exams, got all the credits, and…I’m graduating with the seniors tomorrow.”
“That’s…that’s incredible,” Dad said. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I wanted it to be a surprise,” I mumbled.
“Well, it certainly is that,” Mom answered. “Do you have plans for what you’re going to do next?”
I looked up from my rice and found Joe still staring at me, a small frown on his face as he tried to figure me out. “College,” I muttered, looking back down at the rice, the lie tasting strange on my tongue.
The whole family showed up to watch me collect my diploma, just a kid in the middle of a group of almost-adults who didn’t really want me there in their midst. I would have much preferred to have been given my diploma in private, but had decided to attend the graduation ceremony mostly for my parents before I broke their hearts.
I had a flight out of New York at four o’clock the next morning. I was going to Los Angeles, I was going to make my dream come true, finally.
At about one, when I was sure everyone was asleep, I crept into the kitchen, carrying a small suitcase, my guitar, and a letter, explaining everything, to leave on the table. I had my hand on the doorknob, and was actually in the act of turning it, when Joe’s voice stopped me.
“You’re not coming back, are you?”
I whirled around and spotted my older brother leaning against the counter, where he’d obviously followed me from my room.
I shook my head slowly. “I…explained everything in the letter. I just…I have to do this, Joe. Music is who I am, I have to go for it, and I couldn’t wait anymore.”
“Not even long enough to say goodbye?” Joe asked, and I knew he was on the verge of tears.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “but I knew Mom and Dad would never let me go, I had to do it this way.”
“And you couldn’t say anything to me? You really think I would try to stop you?”
You’re the only person who could, I didn’t say. Instead, I set my suitcase and guitar case down, and took a step towards him.
Immediately, Joe rushed forward and wrapped his arms around me, as tightly as he could. “I know you’ll be a star,” he whispered against my ear. “I love you, Nicky.”
And then he pressed his lips against mine, just for a moment, before he pulled away and was gone, swallowed by the dark and silent house.
---
Joe (who, just as he’d predicted, woke up hangover-free) unlocks the door to his apartment and then holds it open for me to go through first. I step in and look around.
It’s small, but very Joe. It’s cluttered without being dirty, and there are random funky decorations everywhere, and a plethora of photographs hanging on the wall.
“Are these all yours?” I ask, moving closer to one of the busy cityscape.
Joe nods. “Yeah,” he says, kicking the toe of one shoe with the other and looking almost shy.
“They’re amazing,” I say sincerely.
“Thanks,” Joe murmurs. “Uh, you want a tour?”
I nod, and Joe leads me around the small apartment, showing me the living room, kitchen and bathroom before leading me into his bedroom.
“You can crash in here tonight, or on the couch, whichever you prefer,” Joe tells me as he pushes open the bedroom door, and I step inside and look around.
The clutter is more pronounced in here, with clothes of varying cleanliness all over the floor around the queen sized bed in the middle of the room, CD’s in collapsing piles on the dresser, and more photographs making a collage on the wall. The photographs in here, I realize, are more personal, self-portraits and family photos. I see Frankie grow up before my eyes, learn a family history that I should have been part of. I’m about to turn away from the photos when I catch sight of the photo in the very center of the collage.
I remember Joe taking it, home over Christmas break his freshman year of college. He’d been overflowing with excitement about his photography class, one he’d picked up as an art elective and then fallen in love with. He’d gushed about the photography club he’d joined, and the camera the club’s faculty advisor had allowed him to borrow for the break.
The photo, black and white, is of me, sixteen, sitting on my bed, one leg curled up under me. My guitar is in my lap and I’m not looking at the camera, too engrossed in the music in my head to even realize what Joe was doing until I heard the click of the shutter.
I freeze seeing that. I hadn’t seen any pictures of myself displayed in my parents’ house, as though when I’d walked out of their lives, it made it as if I’d never even been there.
“That’s one of my favorites that I’ve ever taken,” Joe murmurs in my ear, and I turn to find him beside me. “It’s beautiful.”
I blush at the hidden compliment. “You didn’t…just forget about me?”
Joe shakes his head. “I could never. You know, I have all your albums.” He sweeps his arm toward the CD piles, and I realize that the ones at the top of the stack are my own. “And every time you’ve done a concert in New York, I’ve been.”
“I…really?”
Joe nods. “Really. At first, I just wanted to support you. But then I kept hoping that you’d come back, and you never did, and it got so listening to your music, and seeing you live, was the only other way I could feel even a little bit connected to you, aside from your occasional cards and phone calls.”
I understand then, exactly what I’ve done. I left behind my family, but also the most important person in my life, and nothing was worth that, not even gaining fame and fortune, and I’m crying before I have time to realize I’m crying.
Joe’s immediately there, wrapping me in a hug and steering me to the bed, where we both sit, and he just lets me cry, making soothing little noises and murmuring, “Shh, Nicky, it’s okay,” every so often.
“I’m sorry,” I finally manage, when my tears are more or less under control. “I’m so sorry, Joey.”
“I know,” he murmurs.
“I just…I really thought I was doing the right thing. And I know that doesn’t excuse what I did, and I’ll understand if you never accept me back into your life the way you did before, but…music was my dream, or I thought it was. And leaving…it was the only way I could see to ever be able to live my dreams.”
Joe nods. “I know,” he repeats. “And that’s why I let you go. It was so important to you, I knew it was something you had to do.”
I hang my head. “I would have stayed if you asked me to,” I admit, and Joe hugs me again.
“I know that. I knew that then, too. Which is why I didn’t. But I might have if I’d known that you weren’t going to come back for so long.”
I swallow hard to keep from crying again. “I missed you,” I tell him. “I missed you so much. I…I know that I did the wrong thing by having barely any contact with anyone. But I didn’t miss them half as much as I missed you. Joe, I…I’m pretty sure I was…” I trail off and pluck at the comforter.
“Me too,” Joe whispers. “I was in love with you too.”
I look up at him then. “I might be still,” I confess, and Joe inhales sharply. “I’m sorry,” I add hastily.
Joe shakes his head. “Don’t apologize, Nicky,” he admonishes. “Never apologize.”
And then he leans in and kisses me. I kiss back desperately, tangling the fingers of one hand in his hair, wrapping the opposite arm around his waist. I notice dimly that his own arms come up around me as I open my mouth under his, welcoming his tongue’s cautious exploration of my mouth. I slide my tongue against his and past it, swiping his bottom lip before mapping out the textures of Joe’s mouth in turn.
I need to breathe, and I pull back, but Joe doesn’t let me go far, holding me tight, and I rest my forehead against his. “I--” I start, but Joe silences me with another kiss.
“Shh, Nicky,” he murmurs. “We’ll figure it out later.”
“But--” I try again, and again, Joe presses his lips to mine.
“Shh,” he says insistently, and kisses me deep, sensually, hands moving to the buttons of my shirt. I tense for a moment before kissing back, and Joe starts undoing the buttons, starting at the bottom and moving up. Every so often, he lets his fingers slide up the skin of my stomach and chest, and I give little hitching gasps into his mouth whenever he does.
Joe smiles into the kiss as he undoes the last button and pushes my shirt off my shoulders. He sweeps his hands over my bare back, and I shiver as goose bumps rise in the wake of his touch. He breaks the kiss long enough to pull his own shirt over his head, and as soon as he’s rid of the garment, I reattach our mouths, pulling him back into me. The press of skin-on-skin makes both of us gasp, and Joe moves his mouth over to my jaw, kissing down to my neck, where he nips and sucks at the sensitive skin.
I moan and tilt my head to allow him better access and my hands explore the expanse of his back, mapping out each ridge in his spine, each ripple of his muscles, the way his shoulder blades flex as he moves his hand up into my hair.
He moves back up to my mouth, kissing me again, as he slides his hands down my sides to my belt buckle. He pulls back for a second, hesitating, and I nod, reassuring him that I want this with a soft kiss. His fingers move deftly, unbuckling my belt and undoing the button and zipper on my jeans and pushing the denim down my hips, taking the cotton of my boxers with them.
I take over when he can’t get them any further down, lifting my hips and kicking off my shoes to get the clothing down my legs and off my feet. I look up when I’m done struggling to find Joe staring. I blush and fight down the instinct to cover myself.
Joe leans forward and kisses me chastely before sliding his lips over to my ear. “Beautiful,” he murmurs before his lips disappear as he leans back to undo his own belt. He slides out of his jeans much more gracefully than I’ve just done, and I can’t help but watch the way he moves, to stare at every inch of his body as he reveals it to me. He glances up at me, looking somewhat unsure of himself, and I smile, leaning forward to kiss him.
He takes over the kiss, pushing me down to lay back on the bed, and then moves down my body, leaving a trail of kisses and love-bites down my chest and stomach, dipping his tongue into my belly button. He disappears for a moment, and I groan in disappointment. Soon enough though, he’s back, and he wastes no time taking me into his mouth. I gasp and arch my back as he sucks on the head of my cock, flicking his tongue over the slit, before sliding down and taking as much of me as he can.
“Joe--” I choke out, and he pulls off of me.
“Do you want this, Nicky?” he asks me, and I see that he’s holding a bottle of lube, apparently fetched from his bedside table when he’d disappeared before.
I nod, and he opens the bottle, squeezes some of the liquid out. “It’s cold,” he warns me, before circling a finger around my entrance and pressing in.
I hiss at the intrusion, but it’s not painful, just a little uncomfortable. He works in and out of me for a moment, before pulling out and then pushing back in with a second finger. It’s a little more to take, and I whimper slightly.
“You okay?” Joe asks, stilling for a moment, and I nod tightly.
“Keep going,” I tell him, and he does, making sure to stretch me as much as he can. He works up to three fingers before I stop him.
“I’m good. I want you, now, Joey.”
Joe slicks himself up then positions himself at my entrance. I nod again, and he pushes in slowly, giving me time to adjust. When he’s fully inside me, he stops and waits, and after a few minutes I pull him down to kiss him, whispering, “Move, Joseph,” against his lips.
He pulls out and thrusts back in, and again, again, establishing a rhythm. I move with him, suddenly gasping when he finds my prostate and arching up into him. He angles himself to hit that spot over and over, and when he reaches between us to take my cock in his hand to jerk me off in time with his thrusts, I lose it, coming over our stomachs and gasping out Joe’s name.
He thrusts into me a few more times before he finds his own release inside me. He pulls out and collapses beside me, gathering me into his arms and kissing me gently. “Sleep now,” he murmurs. “We’ll figure everything out later.” Then he yawns. “I love you, Nicky.”
“I love you too, Joey,” I reply.
Joe nuzzles into my neck, and I close my eyes, and sleep.