It was the first 3 am of her period and Lina was in pain.Alternately curling up into a little ball, then stretching herself as long as possible, her tormented back pressed up against the cool cement blocks of her residence room, she moaned quietly and fought back tears. She had taken painkillers an hour ago, which had yet to kick in, if they were ever going to. The only partly-saving grace of the whole situation was that Wednesdays were her free days. If the pain ever did end, she could sleep as late as she wanted. Her downstairs neighbour turned on his stereo and Lina groaned once more, burying her head under her pillow and wishing people didn't love bass boost quite so much.
"Hey," Nick's soft voice reached her ears and her mind. She rolled over to see him standing in the middle of the small room, looking worried. "Can I help?"
"Please," she almost wept with gratitude. Nick had skilled hands, and his back massages kept her sane on the months when nothing else worked. That is, if he could get away to administer one.
"Shove over," he whispered, sitting on the edge of her bed. She looked at him in disbelief.
"I know it's been a few months since we've done this, but you do remember this isn't even a twin bed? Why don't you just sit on me the way you always do?"
In the half-light from the window, she saw him wince. "I don't want to hurt you."
"Sweetheart, you're not what's hurting me just now."
"I've... gained some weight," he admitted so quietly she could hardly hear him.
"Oh Nick," she sighed. "Don't tell me you're self-conscious about that. You are nowhere near fat." Her back spasmed again, rendering her unable to give him any more of a pep talk, but convincing him to push her gently into position, so he could straddle her legs and work on the small of her back.
Once Lina was feeling human again, she dragged him back to the subject of his weight. "Have they been teasing you?"
"Yeah... they don't mean it, really. They tease me about everything." But there was a tremor of doubt in his voice.
"And management?"
Silence. Silence and waves of guilt from lectures, a spark of anger and more guilt over being angry. "I'm not a very good sex symbol, Lina."
"Whether or not you're a sex symbol really doesn't have anything to do with how you look, Nickelodeon." She sat up, pulling her legs from under him, and turning to look him in the eye. "It has a lot more to do with the day of the week, and what mood swing the teenyboppers are going through now. Brad Pitt is one of the ugliest men on the face of this earth and that doesn't stop him from being a pin-up."
He could feel her intensity, her earnest desire to convince him he was wrong. "This isn't about you being a sex symbol. This is about you being happy with who you are - not delusional that you're ugly because management is holding up a standard you don't fit. You're doing quite well as a sex symbol - the girls still scream, and the groupies still line up to get into your room."
"They'd line up anyway. They don't want *me*, they just want a Backstreet Boy." The mocking laugh of a groupie as she whispered to her friends when he passed, just loud enough to hear.
Her sympathy and warmth snaked around him before he felt her arms holding him close. "You don't deserve that. You don't deserve anyone who makes you feel like that." From the back of her mind, a small thought escaped, I wish.. but she caught it and tucked it away again.
Nick understood though, and pushed her away. "I don't deserve you."
"Dammit!" Her anger flared, not at him but at the people who made him feel this way. She stood up, pulling him with her, making him face the mirror. Light flooded the room, and he looked away, ashamed.
No. You need to look. You need to see yourself. Standing behind him, she slipped deeper into his mind, changing them from two constantly connected people, to almost one. He relaxed into the sense of completion, the almost total soothing of his nagging loneliness. Now look, she commanded, slipping on her glasses and looking past his shoulder to the mirror. Look with *my* eyes. For a moment he resisted the compulsion, sure he would see only pity and half-truths.
She pulled him in anyway. Tell me what you see.
"I..." he was startled, not quite willing to believe it.
We can't lie like this.
His blonde hair was disheveled, they had gone right from the hotel to the bus - there was a SEP field around his bunk at the moment, where he was supposed to be sleeping - but she thought it was adorable. She couldn't resist thinking he'd be equally as adorable if he'd stop dying his hair, but she didn't push the idea.
She was aware of his zits, but barely noticed them. Every seventeen year old had zits, she still had a few herself, and his weren't anything out of the ordinary. They weren't nearly as large, ugly or noticeable as he thought they were.
His eyes... she moved him quickly away from contemplation of his eyes, the only word he really caught being dangerous.
She noticed his drummer's arms - that he did have muscles. He hadn't thought anyone noticed, that they were his own half- imagined vanity. The hands he thought were too large, she admired, twining her fingers with his, remembering their effect on her lower back.
He dragged their eyes to his gut, trying to get her to see how disgusting it was, how huge and fat. He pulled out her memories of the Quit Playing Games video, looking at Howie and Kevin's muscles. She rejected the images as overdone, annoying vanity. A.J. could stand to gain a few pounds. Brian's body was nice enough but... to his surprise, her hands reached up and pulled his shirt off. She stroked his tummy, playing with the hair that traced a line from his belly button. She *liked* touching it, he realised with shock.
Of course I do. She ran her hands up to his ribs.I can still feel em. If I could see them I'd be worried. Now tell me, she insisted, hugging his waist. You need to say it, admit it's true.
"I see a healthy seventeen year old, in the middle of growing out of cute into handsome," he blushed a little at what he was saying, but it was what she saw. "He's not perfect, but he's far from ugly. Maybe he could stand to lose a few pounds, if he wants, but likely nature will lose it for him."
Do you believe it? she asked, now using his eyes instead of her own. His opinion of himself still wasn't as high as hers, but now he couldn't shake what he had seen.
"Yeah," he told her with some relief.
Good. Still joined, they looked at each other in the mirror, their eyes locking. She was still hugging him, her chin resting on his shoulder, a little higher than she could comfortably reach. Her lips were so close to that spot...
She broke the contact abruptly, turning away from him. Nick sighed, accepting it wasn't because she didn't find him attractive. The desire had come from both of them. What she couldn't face was the idea of being a mistress, hidden away from friends and family. A secret confidante was one thing, a secret lover something completely else. He couldn't change that reality for her, and would never push her. He could only keep hoping.
A quiet sigh brought Nick back down to earth. He'd forgotten his captive audience, forgotten he was speaking at all. It was A.J., of course. He'd gotten caught up in Nick's emotions directly, so the story had more impact. But it was Howie who spoke first.
He cleared his throat and looked at A.J."Hey Cupid?" he asked quietly. A.J. looked over at him. "I think Nick's gonna need another of your brilliant plans."
"I dunno, I think the last one was a flop, bro."
"You got her here, didn't you?" With his family behind him, Nick began to feel more hopeful. "That's better than I did."
"Luck."
"Sure," Kevin spoke up slowly. "But if you knew more about her, maybe not. And Nick knows all about her."
A.J. shrugged. "She's running away, I'd say chase her."
"Now?" Nick blanched.
"Nick, it's like, two in the morning. Of course not now. Show up at her door. Or at work... does she work? How old is she?"
"Twenty-four." He ran a hand through his hair, "I can't show up at her door. Her family doesn't know. And at work... she works right across from that hotel we always stay at in Toronto - it's a huge building with lots of marketing people for God's sake. Someone's gonna recognize me." He began to get agitated again. "We've gone over this dozens of times, you really think we never tried to meet up? It always came down to someone would recognize me and wonder, or you guys would ask questions. The "someone would recognize me" part is still there. It means explaining stuff we can't explain."
"Well, what were you going to do once we got to Toronto?"
"I don't know! Call her up and keep calling until she stopped hanging up? Hang around the lobby of her building at lunch time and kidnap her?"
"Nah that's not gonna work," A.J. shook his head. "No hit-and-miss. There's nowhere she hangs out regularly, no time she *used* to set aside to talk to you? If she's moping as much as you are, she'll still be free then."
"Well..." Nick chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully, but shook his head. "Not anymore."
"Spit it out, Carter."
"It's stalker. And she's probably got a sheild up."
"It's what?" Howie teased. "Love the grammar, Nicky."
"Nick, it's you. I think she'll understand."
He sighed and explained, "Seven am. Lina's so not a morning person, she sets her alarm half an hour early and keeps hitting snooze until she really has to get up. It's always been a good time for long talks."
"While she's in bed?" A.J.'s eyebrows did an expressive dance.
"Cut it out. If I said one word about something like *that* she'd send me to the moon."
"Could she?"
"With a little effort," he nodded.
"So even if she doesn't have a sheild up, she can get you out of there if she needs to? She never has to feel threatened?" A.J. pressed.
"Guess not." Nick conceded.
"Then how is it stalker?"