Ficlet: Carpenters and Sons
Carpenters and Sons
Fandom: popslash
Pairings: Genish, Nick
Comments: boomingvoice asked for a Nick something-or-other in the style of JD Salinger, and this is what came out. I am not sure it's successful, but I think we can all see the Holden Caufield in Nick Carter, so um. Yeah.
Nick doesn't like the wind. When they're on the road, the thing he really misses about home is the sunshine and the warmth; everywhere else just feels cold and grey and harsh. The people here all wear plaid down jackets in dark red and green, their heads covered by scraps of dark cloth and their hands encased in the sort of leather that looks like it would rub the skin raw. Nick leans back against the bleachers and watches the local crew set up the stage, rubbing the fingers of one hand over the knuckles of the other. He picks up his book and finds his place, wrapping his coat more tightly around him, tucking the ends of his long yellow scarf around his throat and down the front of his shirt. He shivers and begins to read.
Nick doesn't like the wind.
*
AJ looks up when Nick comes in the room, cheeks flushed red from outside, still shivering a little in his coat.
"What the fuck were you doing outside?" AJ says, eyes on the book in Nick's hand. Nick waves it around a little before tossing it on the couch.
"School stuff. It's fucking cold out there." He unzips his coat and lies it over the back of the couch. His scarf is soft against his neck, though, and he doesn't want to take it off. He strokes the ends carefully so AJ doesn't see, turning his back to look at the selection of teas on the side board. AJ can be so damned judgmental and fake sometimes, and it's not that Nick thinks he's some kind of grand person or whatever, or at least not compared to AJ, but he gets sick of seeing that look in AJ's eyes all the time. He's happiest when AJ is wearing sunglasses.
He decides to have some tea after all, if only just to hold it warm and steaming in his hands. He sits down on the couch and takes a few careful sips before picking up his book again. He doesn't understand The Scarlet Letter. It just seems really obvious or something and he hates all the characters, even Hester. Even Pearl. It's maybe not Pearl's fault about being born a bastard baby and all that, but there's a contempt there that Nick's pretty sure he's not supposed to be feeling. They're all phonies. It's all so contrived.
AJ says, "Nice scarf." Nick can't tell if AJ is mocking him or not. He can't tell anything when AJ wears the sunglasses, but he thinks probably AJ is mocking him because lately AJ doesn't ever have anything nice to say.
"Fuck off," Nick says, and opens his book to the page where he left off.
*
A year ago, maybe a little more, Nick spent a day in Central Park with just Brian. They split a salad at the Tavern on the Green because it was the only thing they could afford and walked all around the park until Nick's legs ached and his muscles felt hot and loose. They bought shaved ice from a street vendor who overcharged them and Brian got wedding cake flavor on his. Nick can't remember what flavor he got, just that it was good and Brian let him try his, too. It really did taste like wedding cake.
They passed by an electronics shop on the way back to the train and next to it was one of those junk shops Nick always wondered about, because it never seemed like anyone would have use for cracked tea cups and broken vacuum cleaners. In the window was a line up of ceramic figurines from the 50s. Brian pointed out the unicorn with the washed-out golden horn.
"Aaron would like that. I bet it's not expensive."
Nick didn't have any money but Brian had just gotten a birthday check so he helped Nick out. It was stupid, Nick thought, but Aaron really would like it and he hadn't seen his brother in so long, it seemed important that he should think about him now.
Brian was one of the nicest people Nick knew. Brian was never a phony.
*
It's their last show for a while, and then they have a break. They have a week and Nick is supposed to go home but he's pretty sure he's not going to do that. He's eighteen now, or near enough anyway, and he's been going where other people tell him to for the past six years. He doesn't know where he's going to go, exactly, but he can't go home. He deserves a break.
The show is good, the show is always good. When Nick's on stage he feels alive and real and perfect, even though he knows that performing is pretty much the opposite of all that. He sees himself reflected in the faces of the girls pressed up tight and screaming against the barriers and he wants to be the person they think he is. Nick remembers this quote he read once for his tutor, about how if you give a man a mask, he can tell you the truth. Nick's not sure what it means, but it sounds right.
After the show Nick is supposed to take a car out to his parents' house and everyone will be there. Instead, he carefully packs the unicorn, his books, and a few changes of clothes in his backpack and takes a cab to the bus station. He has some money. Not a lot, but enough for a week at the cheapest Disney resort on the very edge of the park, which is fine because he's done all the rides and he's not really into that stuff anymore, anyway. It's just a place to stay that isn't home, and that's good enough for Nick.
*
After a few days alone the hotel sleeping and eating dry ramen packets and sitting in the window just to feel the sun on his face, Nick decides to leave his room and walk around the park. There's lots of clubs that open at night and even though Nick's not old enough to drink, he can still get into some of them and there are always women and sometimes men who will buy him drinks without him even asking. One of them is called Marley ("Short for Marlene," she says, snapping her gum loudly in Nick's ear) and she smells like clove cigarettes and gin. She buys Nick two long island ice teas and tells him about her performance art group back home.
"We travel around in one of those old mini-buses and at the end of the show, we get women to volunteer to shave their heads for charity. It's so important to show, like, solidarity with our cancer-afflicted sisters, you know?" Marley doesn't have her head shaved, though. Her hair is fine and blonde and she looks like she could be Nick's sister, but she doesn't look anything like any of Nick's sisters. She looks a little like Aaron because she's got one of those pixie faces and her eyes are big and dark. She says, "Wanna go back to my room and party?" Nick finishes his drink and goes with her. It's not like he has something better to do.
Nick's had sex before. He's had sex with more than one person, even, but he's never had sex with someone who didn't already know who he was. He's famous in Europe and they're getting pretty big at home, too, but Marley doesn't even own a CD player or a tape deck or a car with a radio. She hands him the pipe and reads him poetry that's angrier than any poetry Nick's ever read for class. He's read some Whitman and some of that recluse girl, but his tutor isn't big on poetry and Nick never really got it unless he could sing it, anyway. Marley is okay at sex but she won't go down on him because of something to do with the patriarchy and even high and drunk, Nick rolls his eyes at that. She climbs on top of him and Nick lies flat on the carpet, arms stretched out to feel the fabric squirm and slide between his fingers and against the bare skin of his back like a restless animal, like a creature trying to crawl inside him.
He must have come at some point, but when he wakes up still on the floor, arms still stretched out like a cross, he can't remember exactly. His thighs are sticky and a little wet, so it must not have been too long ago. Marley is asleep on the bed, hair covering her face and sticking to her arms like straw. He wonders if she'll shave her head like she says, but he thinks probably not. Nick pulls his pants on and finds his t-shirt and goes back to his hotel. The unicorn is still in his bag, safely wrapped up in two pairs of socks.
*
Once, a while back when they were in Germany and Nick was feeling homesick, AJ called him a baby and a whiner, and Kevin told AJ to shut up and Howie put his arm around Nick's shoulders and said, "It's okay, I miss my mom, too."
Nick didn't want to seem like a jerk, so he didn't say anything but Howie got it all wrong as usual. Nick's mom left a few days ago and he knew she must be back home by now; and he thought, his dad was a fuck up and an alcoholic but he wasn't trying to sell Aaron off to the highest bidder, either. Aaron was only a kid and Nick should be there for him. Nick was the older brother and he should be there, but instead he was in Germany trying to get famous and it didn't seem right. It wasn't right.
*
Nick has one night and one day left before he has to get back to the tour, and just enough cash to take a bus south and a cab from the station to his parents' house. It's late, past midnight, when the cab drops him off just down the road from the dark house. Nick doesn't want headlights or engine noise waking anyone up.
The house is silent except for the hum of the air conditioner on full blast, and Nick rubs his arms a little and shivers as he makes his way up the stairs to Aaron's room, lit by the soft glow of a night light in the shape of a Glow Worm that used to be Nick's when Nick was a little kid. Nick drops his bag at the foot of the bed and toes off his shoes, slides carefully under the blankets so he doesn't wake up Aaron, who mumbles a little and turns on his side away from Nick. Aaron's back is narrow and his hair has gotten longer, fine blond hairs just brushing the collar of his t-shirt. Nick presses his palm against Aaron's back and his fingers can almost wrap around his ribcage. Aaron is so delicate, he thinks, and falls asleep that way, feeling the sharp bones of Aaron's spine beneath his fingers.
*
In the morning Nick wakes slowly, pulled from a strange dream about Marley's shaved head beneath a scratchy black bonnet, tattooed with a scarlet 'A' on the right side. Aaron is lying on his side, head propped on one hand, watching Nick through gritty eyelashes like he hasn't rubbed the sleep out yet. "You're here," he says, and smiles. "Mom said you weren't coming."
"I got you a present," Nick says. "It's in my bag."
Aaron climbs over Nick to grab the bag, handing it over with wide eyes like he never gets presents or something, even though Nick knows he does all the time. Nick digs through the front pocket until he finds the ball of rolled up socks and hands it over. "It's not socks," he says, laughing a little at the way Aaron's staring at it. "Unwrap them. That's just for protection."
But when Aaron unwraps the socks and pulls out the unicorn, the washed-out golden horn is missing, just a rough, tiny patch of ceramic in its place where it broke off. Aaron holds it in his hand and rubs his thumb over the tiny rough patch. "This is so cool, Nick. Thanks."
"It's supposed to be a unicorn," Nick says, frowning. He looks through the socks but he can't find the little gold horn anywhere. "I could--we could fix it, I think, if we can find the horn. I got it in New York last year and I don't think I could find the shop again anyway, though, so--"
"No, I like it this way," Aaron says, lying back against the pillows and standing the unicorn up on his chest so he can look at it. "Unicorns aren't even real, so it's better this way, you know?"
"So it's just a horse now," Nick says. "You like that better?"
"Horses are cool," Aaron says. He smiles. "I'm glad you came home."
"Me too," Nick says, looking at the small ceramic horse balanced on Aaron's chest. And he's telling the truth.
Fandom: popslash
Pairings: Genish, Nick
Comments: boomingvoice asked for a Nick something-or-other in the style of JD Salinger, and this is what came out. I am not sure it's successful, but I think we can all see the Holden Caufield in Nick Carter, so um. Yeah.
Nick doesn't like the wind. When they're on the road, the thing he really misses about home is the sunshine and the warmth; everywhere else just feels cold and grey and harsh. The people here all wear plaid down jackets in dark red and green, their heads covered by scraps of dark cloth and their hands encased in the sort of leather that looks like it would rub the skin raw. Nick leans back against the bleachers and watches the local crew set up the stage, rubbing the fingers of one hand over the knuckles of the other. He picks up his book and finds his place, wrapping his coat more tightly around him, tucking the ends of his long yellow scarf around his throat and down the front of his shirt. He shivers and begins to read.
Nick doesn't like the wind.
*
AJ looks up when Nick comes in the room, cheeks flushed red from outside, still shivering a little in his coat.
"What the fuck were you doing outside?" AJ says, eyes on the book in Nick's hand. Nick waves it around a little before tossing it on the couch.
"School stuff. It's fucking cold out there." He unzips his coat and lies it over the back of the couch. His scarf is soft against his neck, though, and he doesn't want to take it off. He strokes the ends carefully so AJ doesn't see, turning his back to look at the selection of teas on the side board. AJ can be so damned judgmental and fake sometimes, and it's not that Nick thinks he's some kind of grand person or whatever, or at least not compared to AJ, but he gets sick of seeing that look in AJ's eyes all the time. He's happiest when AJ is wearing sunglasses.
He decides to have some tea after all, if only just to hold it warm and steaming in his hands. He sits down on the couch and takes a few careful sips before picking up his book again. He doesn't understand The Scarlet Letter. It just seems really obvious or something and he hates all the characters, even Hester. Even Pearl. It's maybe not Pearl's fault about being born a bastard baby and all that, but there's a contempt there that Nick's pretty sure he's not supposed to be feeling. They're all phonies. It's all so contrived.
AJ says, "Nice scarf." Nick can't tell if AJ is mocking him or not. He can't tell anything when AJ wears the sunglasses, but he thinks probably AJ is mocking him because lately AJ doesn't ever have anything nice to say.
"Fuck off," Nick says, and opens his book to the page where he left off.
*
A year ago, maybe a little more, Nick spent a day in Central Park with just Brian. They split a salad at the Tavern on the Green because it was the only thing they could afford and walked all around the park until Nick's legs ached and his muscles felt hot and loose. They bought shaved ice from a street vendor who overcharged them and Brian got wedding cake flavor on his. Nick can't remember what flavor he got, just that it was good and Brian let him try his, too. It really did taste like wedding cake.
They passed by an electronics shop on the way back to the train and next to it was one of those junk shops Nick always wondered about, because it never seemed like anyone would have use for cracked tea cups and broken vacuum cleaners. In the window was a line up of ceramic figurines from the 50s. Brian pointed out the unicorn with the washed-out golden horn.
"Aaron would like that. I bet it's not expensive."
Nick didn't have any money but Brian had just gotten a birthday check so he helped Nick out. It was stupid, Nick thought, but Aaron really would like it and he hadn't seen his brother in so long, it seemed important that he should think about him now.
Brian was one of the nicest people Nick knew. Brian was never a phony.
*
It's their last show for a while, and then they have a break. They have a week and Nick is supposed to go home but he's pretty sure he's not going to do that. He's eighteen now, or near enough anyway, and he's been going where other people tell him to for the past six years. He doesn't know where he's going to go, exactly, but he can't go home. He deserves a break.
The show is good, the show is always good. When Nick's on stage he feels alive and real and perfect, even though he knows that performing is pretty much the opposite of all that. He sees himself reflected in the faces of the girls pressed up tight and screaming against the barriers and he wants to be the person they think he is. Nick remembers this quote he read once for his tutor, about how if you give a man a mask, he can tell you the truth. Nick's not sure what it means, but it sounds right.
After the show Nick is supposed to take a car out to his parents' house and everyone will be there. Instead, he carefully packs the unicorn, his books, and a few changes of clothes in his backpack and takes a cab to the bus station. He has some money. Not a lot, but enough for a week at the cheapest Disney resort on the very edge of the park, which is fine because he's done all the rides and he's not really into that stuff anymore, anyway. It's just a place to stay that isn't home, and that's good enough for Nick.
*
After a few days alone the hotel sleeping and eating dry ramen packets and sitting in the window just to feel the sun on his face, Nick decides to leave his room and walk around the park. There's lots of clubs that open at night and even though Nick's not old enough to drink, he can still get into some of them and there are always women and sometimes men who will buy him drinks without him even asking. One of them is called Marley ("Short for Marlene," she says, snapping her gum loudly in Nick's ear) and she smells like clove cigarettes and gin. She buys Nick two long island ice teas and tells him about her performance art group back home.
"We travel around in one of those old mini-buses and at the end of the show, we get women to volunteer to shave their heads for charity. It's so important to show, like, solidarity with our cancer-afflicted sisters, you know?" Marley doesn't have her head shaved, though. Her hair is fine and blonde and she looks like she could be Nick's sister, but she doesn't look anything like any of Nick's sisters. She looks a little like Aaron because she's got one of those pixie faces and her eyes are big and dark. She says, "Wanna go back to my room and party?" Nick finishes his drink and goes with her. It's not like he has something better to do.
Nick's had sex before. He's had sex with more than one person, even, but he's never had sex with someone who didn't already know who he was. He's famous in Europe and they're getting pretty big at home, too, but Marley doesn't even own a CD player or a tape deck or a car with a radio. She hands him the pipe and reads him poetry that's angrier than any poetry Nick's ever read for class. He's read some Whitman and some of that recluse girl, but his tutor isn't big on poetry and Nick never really got it unless he could sing it, anyway. Marley is okay at sex but she won't go down on him because of something to do with the patriarchy and even high and drunk, Nick rolls his eyes at that. She climbs on top of him and Nick lies flat on the carpet, arms stretched out to feel the fabric squirm and slide between his fingers and against the bare skin of his back like a restless animal, like a creature trying to crawl inside him.
He must have come at some point, but when he wakes up still on the floor, arms still stretched out like a cross, he can't remember exactly. His thighs are sticky and a little wet, so it must not have been too long ago. Marley is asleep on the bed, hair covering her face and sticking to her arms like straw. He wonders if she'll shave her head like she says, but he thinks probably not. Nick pulls his pants on and finds his t-shirt and goes back to his hotel. The unicorn is still in his bag, safely wrapped up in two pairs of socks.
*
Once, a while back when they were in Germany and Nick was feeling homesick, AJ called him a baby and a whiner, and Kevin told AJ to shut up and Howie put his arm around Nick's shoulders and said, "It's okay, I miss my mom, too."
Nick didn't want to seem like a jerk, so he didn't say anything but Howie got it all wrong as usual. Nick's mom left a few days ago and he knew she must be back home by now; and he thought, his dad was a fuck up and an alcoholic but he wasn't trying to sell Aaron off to the highest bidder, either. Aaron was only a kid and Nick should be there for him. Nick was the older brother and he should be there, but instead he was in Germany trying to get famous and it didn't seem right. It wasn't right.
*
Nick has one night and one day left before he has to get back to the tour, and just enough cash to take a bus south and a cab from the station to his parents' house. It's late, past midnight, when the cab drops him off just down the road from the dark house. Nick doesn't want headlights or engine noise waking anyone up.
The house is silent except for the hum of the air conditioner on full blast, and Nick rubs his arms a little and shivers as he makes his way up the stairs to Aaron's room, lit by the soft glow of a night light in the shape of a Glow Worm that used to be Nick's when Nick was a little kid. Nick drops his bag at the foot of the bed and toes off his shoes, slides carefully under the blankets so he doesn't wake up Aaron, who mumbles a little and turns on his side away from Nick. Aaron's back is narrow and his hair has gotten longer, fine blond hairs just brushing the collar of his t-shirt. Nick presses his palm against Aaron's back and his fingers can almost wrap around his ribcage. Aaron is so delicate, he thinks, and falls asleep that way, feeling the sharp bones of Aaron's spine beneath his fingers.
*
In the morning Nick wakes slowly, pulled from a strange dream about Marley's shaved head beneath a scratchy black bonnet, tattooed with a scarlet 'A' on the right side. Aaron is lying on his side, head propped on one hand, watching Nick through gritty eyelashes like he hasn't rubbed the sleep out yet. "You're here," he says, and smiles. "Mom said you weren't coming."
"I got you a present," Nick says. "It's in my bag."
Aaron climbs over Nick to grab the bag, handing it over with wide eyes like he never gets presents or something, even though Nick knows he does all the time. Nick digs through the front pocket until he finds the ball of rolled up socks and hands it over. "It's not socks," he says, laughing a little at the way Aaron's staring at it. "Unwrap them. That's just for protection."
But when Aaron unwraps the socks and pulls out the unicorn, the washed-out golden horn is missing, just a rough, tiny patch of ceramic in its place where it broke off. Aaron holds it in his hand and rubs his thumb over the tiny rough patch. "This is so cool, Nick. Thanks."
"It's supposed to be a unicorn," Nick says, frowning. He looks through the socks but he can't find the little gold horn anywhere. "I could--we could fix it, I think, if we can find the horn. I got it in New York last year and I don't think I could find the shop again anyway, though, so--"
"No, I like it this way," Aaron says, lying back against the pillows and standing the unicorn up on his chest so he can look at it. "Unicorns aren't even real, so it's better this way, you know?"
"So it's just a horse now," Nick says. "You like that better?"
"Horses are cool," Aaron says. He smiles. "I'm glad you came home."
"Me too," Nick says, looking at the small ceramic horse balanced on Aaron's chest. And he's telling the truth.