- Repeating History
October 2015
He felt his eyes slit closed for the umpteenth time and jerked his head back up. He couldn’t go to sleep, he’d have to stay awake and wait for news. He shifted tiredly and felt a dull pain flare through his shoulder and back. It was a nasty reminder of their fall and he grimaced slightly. Baylee was sitting right next to him and he couldn’t help feeling sorry for the little boy. This must have been a very exhausting day for the kid, even without him having to see Nick and his father at the bottom of the stairs. Nick sighed, he’d screwed everything up once again. Carefully, as not to wake the child up, he moved Baylee’s head from his sore shoulder to his leg. He wasn’t careful enough though, when Baylee’s eyes opened slightly and the kid let out a deep breath.
“Daddy?” he asked sleepily.
“No buddy, it’s me,” Nick answered softly.
“Oh,” Baylee seemed disappointed. “Daddy back yet?” he questioned hopefully.
“Nope, not yet, try and get back to sleep, kay?” he instructed quietly.
“Hmmm kay,” Baylee muttered and his eyes closed again. Nick sighed again, the waiting room was boring and he needed every form of distraction not to fall asleep himself.
September 2009
They’d blamed it on the swine flu initially.
He’d heard that the flu could do fatal damage to one’s voice. He’d always been scared of it, but he’d gotten lucky. His voice hadn’t taken a turn for the worse. Brian’s had. They’d waited patiently for it to get better, but it never did. His friend’s voice had been coached, he’d been ordered to drink all kinds of stuff that would stimulate his vocal cords, he’d even been given a month off, which rarely ever happened in Backstreet World. They’d made him sing Quit Playing Games over and over again, ‘til he’d get it right, but he never did and therefore Brian hated the song with his whole being. Eventually they would know exactly when his voice would crack and where, so they’d tried to cover it up. It had worked for a while, but Nick could tell that his friend hated every minute of it. It had even come to a point that Brian despised being on stage, having to sing as quietly and carefully as he could, with the other boys backing him up. It had made him feel like a burden and he’d wished, prayed for his voice to come back, but it never did, and it was all because of the freaking swine flu. Nick remembered being scared he’d have it too. He remembered staying away from Brian as much as possible, even when his bandmate wasn’t contagious anymore. He’d never once thought about the consequences of swine flu, or for how long it lingered. He’d always assumed Brian would get over it eventually. But he didn’t, and when his voice only deteriorated further, they knew they couldn’t blame it on the swine flu anymore.
October 2015
“So, the doctor thought we were the most clumsiest ones he’d seen all day,” Nick looked up when he saw Brian walking towards them, a little unsteady, but otherwise he seemed fine. He heaved a relieved sigh and smiled. He remembered the sheer panic he’d felt once they’d reached the bottom of the stairs.
Once they’d fallen all the way down, he’d looked around feverishly. He’d flinched when he’d put his weight on his left arm, remembering his shoulder crashing into the concrete wall during their fall. He’d seen Brian lying a few feet away from him, he’d heard Baylee yell something at the top of the stairs and finally he’d tried to get up to inspect any further damage. Brian hadn’t moved in the time it took for Nick to crawl over to his friend, and his concern had grown worse. No no no no no. However, when he reached the former Backstreet Boy he heard him groan exasperatedly.
“Ugh, if you throw me down the stairs one more time, I swear I’m gonna kill you,” he growled and Nick had laughed relieved, realizing the déjà vu in their situation and remembering the other time where Brian hadn’t been so lucky.
“You okay?” he asked, just to be sure.
“Define okay,” Brian mumbled tiredly.
“You hit your head?” Was the first thing Nick really needed to know.
“Ummm, I don’t know, maybe a little,” his friend admitted while Nick pulled him up carefully.
“Then off to the hospital it is!” Nick declared and before Brian could even begin to protest, he dragged him out of the house and into his car. He’d gone back, yelling for Baylee to get down and come with them and he’d driven them to the nearest hospital with a throbbing shoulder, a sulking little boy in the back, and a for some reason stupidly grinning Brian Littrell next to him.
“What the heck is so funny?” Nick had barked at him.
“Your arm hurt?” Brian asked eagerly.
“Maybe,” Nick answered and he saw the smile grow even bigger.
“Good,” Brian stated firmly.
Nick looked at him suspiciously. “Weirdo,” he muttered and drove on.
