Shaking the bottle, the few remaining pills inside it started to dance creating a discordant melody every time they banged against the circular walls made of plastic.

There were days when he wondered what was the reason he continued to take the pills with religious punctuality when it was clear and limpid that they weren’t doing anything to help him. Just like all the other different they had tried in the past twelve months. In not so rare few moments, when the chaos around him was too heavy and thick to breathe normally, he listed those medicines in alphabetical order, and if that wasn’t enough, he ordered them for how much he had hated those pills. And the winner was always her, the first, which had given him more hope and then brought him down in the cruelest of ways: she had been the one that would had been able to solve his situation even before the problem could begin to show signs of growing bigger and taking away his voice.

Instead, she failed. New pills had made their appearance, new names, new bottles; colors, sizes, and side effects had changed. What had never changed were the promises of healing and the subsequent surrender, as if he were the only person on which those medicines fail to carry out their task.

The shame of failure, yet another, took possession of his body, turning him into its favorite toy to play with for a few hours. Those games were boring, they never didn’t differ from time to time and, if he had the strength, he would had been able to prevent and defeat them before they could even turn against him. But, weak as he was, he couldn’t do anything if not letting the failure launched trembles and chills against him while it let him see again, moment by moment, the images that had awakened from their warmth. He didn’t have to close his eyes, he had a hundred times but those scenes didn’t disappear nor ever dissolved behind the darkness offered by the eyelids. It was impossible to escape, so all he could do was to meet himself as he tried notes that had once been so easy to find, almost as if they were born naturally as a breath or a heartbeat. All he could do was to see again while the flames of pain went up on the vocal cords, making them visible and apparent to millions of people while choking sounds came from his lips, like a kitten who was trying to make itself heard so he wouldn’t be suffocated. The sounds, his voice was the most terrible of all that revisiting. Those sounds were the cause of the worst of games at the hands of the sense of failure, those flames that rose to his face and gave rise to tears, leaving them free to take more and more place in the eye and challenging each other with each other for the chance to come down and drop off. Over those, at least, he still had a thread of control and he didn’t let precious moments pass before he began to fight them, clenching his fist so hard that he could feel the nail sticking in the skin. The flash of pain was welcomed as a blessing, considering that it was like a breath of breath from that sense of emptiness that was wrapped around him like a blanket.

The pills continued to dance in front of him. What was the point of taking them if they didn’t work? He was so ready to give up everything and it would had been so easy: no more visits, no more collections of embarrassing performances and no more new medicines that ate away his hopes.

Yet, despite this, his fingers tightened around the lid, opening it; he tilted the bottle until one white pill fell on his palm. Without too many other thoughts, no doubts or second thoughts, his hand went to his lips and took the pill that, in a second, disappeared. Along with the small hope that, at least at that time, it would fulfill its duty.

Before him, the large window opened its eyes to the skyline and those so typical, famous and breathtaking views of Tokyo. Impressive, elegant and stable skyscrapers loomed on the horizon, almost like they were trying to reach the sky with their antennae. Buildings, those inhabited until the last remaining space was occupied by a person, a family, a life. People, people who woke up every morning at the same time and in the day juggling between work, friends and who knows, maybe even love or just sex. And with the sun, with the start of the day and the night behind them, those buildings were emptied to take the plunge and fill the streets around them like veins and arteries of an infinite body: the streets were beginning to swarm of busy life, turning traffic noise mixed with music held too high and what one could guess that could be the first talk of a long day. Observing all this, he couldn’t help but wonder how many other people found themselves in his same position, tangled with problems and fears without knowing how to begin to break free. How many of them continued to walk with their head held high and a smile on their face that was used to tell the world that there was nothing to worry about, a perfect lie to hide imperfections and skeletons? How many of them continued to look for new ways to keep themselves afloat, even though each new failure was a stone that threw them deeper into the sea? How many of them were wondering what was the reason why they continued to fight a battle that seemed to be already lost? How many of them had found the perfect opportunity to raise a white flag between their fingers but to let it escape, because nobody had taught them to surrender?

Those people, those individuals so like him, they could have raised stakes and defenses in many moments, they could have taken a step back and let the reins to others of what they were no longer able to be the protagonists. Instead they hadn’t done it. Instead, he hadn’t done it. He could blame his stubbornness and obstinacy for that but, in reality, there were so many other factors that had united and built his armor and those were the supplications and offers of total support from the group. Those had overcame his resistance and let him continued as if nothing had changed in his professional life. It was his sense of loyalty to them that had built and cemented the refusal to give up. It was the loyalty he felt for all those people who still supported him without even expect something in return; loyalty to all those who had confidence in him and continued to fill it with messages of support. Like the Japanese heroes, those samurai who continued to fight even though they knew that their cause was already lost but the only thing that kept them afloat was their honor. And then he wasn’t a lone fighter. How could he abandon the battle when he had four other warriors ready to cleave weapons in his place?

The eyes had never detached from the view in front of him, even when his body had begun to give way under the effect of the pill just taken. His eyes had continued to follow the lines of the skyscrapers even when they began to become blurry heavy punishment that melded into one another, until he surrendered to the complete darkness.




************



The restaurant was vibrating with the comings and goings of people in and out, customers who stopped at the corner to make a call and waiters who, with the craftsmanship Japanese elegance, were carrying orders to the tables. One of them came out of the kitchen, making sure to avoid people and tables and walked to the reserved area on the back of the restaurant, the room that was assigned regularly to important business people or celebrities or anyone with enough money to rent it. A bow, then she took care of the dishes left by the wayside and now empty before retiring and returning to the kitchen. Only one dish was still intact, as well as seem to be the intended victim of the rods which, in turn, pierced the food and were making roll now a piece of sushi now a piece of sashimi.

He should had been happy. Nick. The promotion was going great, and judging from the last time he had checked the internet page, also his plan for the movie was directed towards success. He had every reason to raise that glass of sake and toast to the good fortune he had earned. Still, there was a note that was out of tune in that picture, and that was the reason why he couldn’t fully enjoy the moment. That note was the absence of the fifth member of the group, hidden voluntarily inside the hotel after the disaster of the performance of that morning. In a way, they had expected it since the roller coaster of commitments that the previous week had been, but maybe they should had also expected his reaction, so atypical in Brian. The first few times, now years ago, those little moments had been treated with a laugh, a shrug and the smile of someone who knew it was only a temporary issue. But now, they were greeted by an expression of shame, disappointment and embarrassment that obscured any attempt to comfort, as if Brian didn’t believe their intentions but only thought that, behind their words, there could be only pity and commiseration.

That wasn’t the truth. How many times had Nick repeated it to him? He did it with words, he had tried with synonyms and turns of phrase when the first seemed repetitive and meaningless; he had done it silently, with gestures that he knew would have more chance of working, a more effective way to break down the wall behind which Brian was hiding.

They were disappointed but that was only natural. They were angry and furious and even those feelings couldn0t be considered strange or abnormal in those circumstances. But they never had been against Brian, not when they knew exactly what prevented him from performing with the perfection that had always distinguished him. Maybe it was because they were all grown up and matured - yes, even him - maybe it was because none of them wanted to make the same mistake twice, but needless to say, without the need to make announcements or proclaim strategies, they had made a tight wall around Brian.

And that was what made that situation even more frustrating, because that was the only thing they could do to help him. And if there was one thing that Nick hated most was feeling worthless and useless.

He was still torturing a piece of salmon when a white card appeared in front of his eyes. Following the line of the hand that held it, he met the gaze of Howie. "Here."

"What shall I do with it?"

"You know it very well."

After a few seconds, Nick realized what card was. "How did you get it?" He found herself asking, his brow furrowed in an attempt to put the pieces together.

"Brian gave it to me. In case of emergency. He's like his cousin, despite their age they still haven’t learned to ask for help when they need it. "

That convoluted mental trip that had led to that gesture was so typical of Brian that Nick found himself still smiling before the desire to kick the guy took the center of the attention. They were just at the beginning of what could be considered a relationship, even though they were still hiding themselves behind years of turning around each other and walk away, because too afraid of finally being about to get close. It had never been just sex and it wouldn’t never been, even in the unlikely event that they would decided that being a couple wasn’t working for them. That's why that gesture, the hand over a copy of his key to Howie instead of directly to him, made him smile and furious at the same time. Because being together, being in a relationship, it meant and would have to mean that they trusted each other, even and especially when one wasn’t able to stand up, suffocated by the weight of the problems and anxieties. However he couldn’t find himself the strength to hate Brian for that, perhaps because they had always been very similar: becoming weak and showing vulnerability were things that they hated with any energy that was still throbbing within them. The only difference was that Brian had always been better than him to find a hole to break down his defenses and take care of him, almost as if it were a talent always remained hidden and secret inside him.

Apparently, Nick hadn’t been granted with that talent.

"I don’t know how or what to do."

"Oh yes, you know. - Howie assured him. - You know him better than any other. And you know that Brian doesn’t really need words or else. "

Nick was about to thank his friend for advice when he realized the implication of those words. "You know about us?" He found himself wondering with wide eyes.

"You aren’t very discreet. And I sleep lighter than you think. "

Nick lowered his face as he felt his cheeks begin to catch fire with embarrassment. "Er ... I'm sorry? "

Howie laughed, though strangely no one paid attention to them. "The only way you can apologize is to take care of Brian. It seems strange to say but I prefer him when he is his normal crazy."

Nick nodded his head, before thanking Howie and going out of the restaurant. There wasn’t much distance between the local and the their hotel and, after all, he loved to wander in the chaotic streets of Tokyo that walking didn’t seem a difficult choice to make. With a pair of glasses and Brian’s gray hat, Nick knew that he would go unnoticed to most of the people, strangers who walked with frenzied feet so they wouldn’t be late for their commitments.

Howie's words continued to twist and turn inside his mind, not only in regard to the fact that he had found out about his relationship with Brian. A few years ago, in the early stage of that phase called "little dog who followed his master everywhere," Brian had been his barometer for any kind of mood: if he was happy and ecstatic, then so was he; if he was sad, then Nick would thought about the worst things just to look like that melancholy and full of tears; if he was angry, oh, that was much easier because everyone that made Brian angry would be definitely on his black list. Now it was definitely changed, Brian was no longer the center around which turned his whole being. Or rather, it was still considering he was the most important person in his life but he wasn’t longer dependent on him for all his moods or emotions, as if his soul had only been a whiteboard that it needed someone with a pen in hand to write them on it. Nevertheless, a trace of truth still remained from those days, mainly because Brian was still the person who wouldn’t let himself brought down and he was still the person who usually pulled up the group’s morale.

It took him a little to get there and even less to find a free lift to take him to the floor where their rooms were. He stopped only for a few seconds, standing still in front of Brian’s, perhaps to prepare himself mentally and psychologically to what would greet him on the other side.
That would have been the first time that he would have broken the thin and implied wall that Brian had put between them when they began their relationship. It didn’t take to be a genius to guess how scared and terrified Nick was to cross that door: what if he did wrong? What if he would made a mistake or if he would turn out to be bad in comforting someone? No, not just someone. Brian. He couldn’t do wrong with Brian, even though there wasn’t a manual that could explain him how to erase at least a hint of sadness from Brian’s face.

He could do that. Howie’s words enveloped him like the cape of a superhero and Nick couldn’t help but admit their veracity: Brian had never needed great speeches, metaphors or comparisons like those that could be read in books or in those so romantic movies Brian loved to watch again and again, even though he hardly admitted to love them. Especially in that situation, words had lost all meaning because they couldn’t deny what was going on, nor could put a rock to lock all the negativity inside and outside themselves. There was only one way to do this and, at least in that case, he knew to be an expert.

He put the card in the lock, a metallic clicks and a green light gave him the authorization to enter: as soon as he was inside, the first thing that his him was the cold air coming from the air conditioning. With a sigh, Nick reached for the control panel and turned off the cold jet that seemed to have hibernated the room. Instinctively, without even giving it too much thought, he opened the closet that was in the small cave entrance and retrieved a blanket, sure that Brian hadn’t even noticed the temperature. He could already see it from there, curled up on the bed as if he were trying to protect themselves from all those thoughts which, of course, were the stabbing sharp as swords.

Any hesitation, doubt, and fear was thrown out while confident steps walked toward the bed. Brian gave no sign of being aware that another person was present in the room and only when he took his place next to him, Nick realized why: he was deeply asleep perhaps exhausted and left with no energy because of those tears that still were leaving traces and mark of their passage. The blanket leaned around that slender body, a protection from the cold and who knew what other dangers; Nick's arms wrapped themselves as a second coat, creating a contact of cold and heat that made both of them shiver. He held his breath for a few seconds, cursing himself if he had woke Brian up because more than anything it was just sleep what Brian desperately needed. On the bedside table, a few feet from him, lied the reason for that deep, and apparently undisturbed sleep. Nick reached out and took the bottle between his fingers, carefully counting the number of pills: though he knew that Brian would never come to that desperate point, Nick couldn’t shake off that paranoia. It could happen, it had already happened in his life and he wouldn’t allow that it would happened to Brian too. He wouldn’t allow Brian to leave and surrender just like his sister had done.

Luckily, only one was missing, the right dose prescribed, so Nick put the bottle in its place with his chest lifted from the burden of fear and anxiety. More relaxed, he then stretched his legs and crossed them over Brian’s, forming a sort of alcove in which he could hide and protect the boy. He would sleep for a long time, that was one of the side effects of the new medicine and one of the ones that had been welcomed with open arms from them. Not only him, but also the other three had started to memorize the various side effects, especially after that one time that a bad mix of medication and alcohol had made Brian believe that he could learn to fly. A shudder ran up and down Nick’s spine at the memory of those images, finding himself tanking once again any stars that had decided to force him to get on that roof at the right moment.

Fortunately, at least, the new pill would make him sleep, something that was so rarely happening now because the anxiety and worry didn’t diminished as the sun would go down while stars and moon arrived brightly. On the contrary, they always seemed to grow with every new born star, it seemed to feed the darkness and become even stronger and more invincible. Although officially they still didn’t share the same room, it happened that from time to time one would stay for the night and how many times, too many, had Nick woken up to find Brian tossing and turning inside the bed, as if he was trying to run away from his thoughts turned into nightmares? And how many times did Nick found Brian in the bathroom, the light on while he was trying to get out notes until there would remain only a horse sob? Too many and still they seemed to be infinite.

"I'm sorry." This simple apology was whispered so low that, at least at the beginning, Nick struggled to pick up those two simple words. And when they came to his ears, and then were transmitted to the brain and transformed into meaning, Nick hid his face in Brian’s hair, rubbing his nose on the skin of the neck: as always, the first thing Brian thought and was feeling ashamed of was that he had disappointed them once again, he had again made them weak and uncertain on that one element that had always been their biggest and strongest strength. The voices, their talent of being able sing at any time and to perfection. Not anymore, not when their most precious element was losing his voice too quickly.

"Don’t worry. - He muttered under his breath. - Tomorrow will be better. "

A bitter laugh rose from Brian’s part, though so weak and yet tamed from sleep. "How can you still believe it?"
The words, that question, the tone came together in a single punch that turned against Nick's stomach. Because he knew that punch, it foretold a defeat. No, not a defeat because the enemy was stronger but a willingly surrender. Word that he would had never wanted to tie in glove with his partner. It was worse than the announcement of an apocalypse, perhaps because it seemed to herald something final and equally frightening and terrifying. He couldn’t, Nick, imagine the band without Brian because he was literally their rock, the person that everyone, sooner or later, had gotten support from and asked for advice and strength. It was him who led them to keep going when Kevin had jumped off the ship and had always been Brian the one forcing them to fight with claws and nails against their label. He understood his reasoning: because he had always put the team before anything else, including his health, he now felt compelled to get out of the spotlight and stay quietly in the shadows. But that wasn’t how it worked, Brian couldn’t or didn’t want to understand that without him, no longer in five, there couldn’t be anymore that wonderful armony.

"Don’t give up. - He found himself praying, his voice strangled by the lump of tears and terror. - Whatever happens, don’t give up. We can do it. You can do it. Just don’t ... don’t do it. Please. Don’t give up everything."
The first response was silence. It was impossible to hear any other noise except that of their breaths, a slow one who tasted of tears and another faster, anxious and worried about what that silence meant. Nick didn’t know what to expect but he just wanted a confirmation, a simple affirmation that Brian would have continued to fight along with them. Together with him. And it came, even if only with a nod of the head and fingers tightened around those who were stroking his stomach.

Without using that voice that was hindering him so much, Brian had just answered Nick’s prayer.

No, he wouldn’t give up.