|Written for this challenge:|
Got a picture of your house
And youíre standing by the door
It's black and white and faded
And it's looking pretty worn
Itís a trip, being back in the studio again after almost three years apart. Weíve all been on our own, doing our own things. Real estate, fatherhood, Broadway, solo stuff and porn stars. Wild, huh? I watch the guys laying down their tracks and I canít help but remember what it used to be like. We were a bunch of scrawny kids with a dream, and damn if we didnít make it come true. Those kids have all become men and I love them more than I ever did. That weíre together still, in spite of what everyone else said is testament to a love that goes deeper than most family ties.
I always knew we could do this, even after the miles between us stretched farther and farther apart. What I didnít know was how seeing them again would feel. Seeing him. I watch him playing around with Brian and itís Frick and Frack all over again. Itís better, though. Brianís a dad and Nick Ö Nick is still the golden child. The golden child who has grown up beyond even what I could have imagined. Out of habit, I pull out my wallet and the clear plastic window opens automatically. How many hundreds of times have I looked at this picture of Nick over the years? Too many to keep count. He was a beautiful child. He had such a sweet face and a voice to match. Heís singing again, and I look up from the faded picture to the man behind the glass.
How I love the way you move
And the sparkle in your eyes
There's a color deep inside them
Like a blue suburban sky
He smiles at me as he sings, and itís as if he knows what heís caught me doing. He laughs when I wink at him, and it has completely screwed up the take. Brian shoves him off of the high stool, and for a moment I think I might need to intervene, but he takes my breath away as he simply grabs Brian and holds him close. The moment is over and recording resumes. And I am left with my memories.
We were closer than band mates, closer than brothers, we were lovers. What started out as a way to ease the loneliness on the road, became a relationship that I donít think Iíll ever get over. Or want to. I thought the space would take care of it, that weíd move on with our lives and it would fade into the past.
How could I have been so wrong? We met up again for the first time last December. The Oprah show. Nick took the red-eye from London to support AJ, and when he walked into the green room backstage, it was one of those clichť moments. Bells, birds, sunshine, all that hokey stuff. I reached out to shake his hand, and he pulled me into a hug. Thatís when I knew I could never escape.
Now the lights are going out
Along the boulevard
The memories come rushing back
And it makes it pretty hard
The show was over, and we met up that night for a drink. Nick didnít go back to London for almost a week. What had been pretty amazing three years ago, was beyond description. Recreational sex had become lovemaking. We connected on a physical level, but more important, we connected on a spiritual level as well. My golden kid was a man with thoughts and ideas of his own who could suddenly hold his ground in a conversation. Blew me away, I can tell you that.
He left me, he had to in order to fulfill some obligations, and it wasnít until we came back into the studio that I saw him again. Itís been superficial. Heís never mentioned our reunion or what the future might hold in store, but I watch him and I ache. I need him so badly I can taste it. Heís got a steady girl, a celebrity in her own right, and Iím afraid that leaves me out of the picture completely. And that hurts. More than I can say, that hurts.
I've got nowhere left to go
And no one really cares
I don't know what to do
But I'm never giving up on you
We have a dinner date this evening, Nick and I. Itís taken me weeks to plan what to say, and if anyone else knew theyíd laugh. Iím the one in control at all times, not the insecure tangled mess of nerves thatís writing this. I donít know what to do. All I know is that I love him. I need him. I want him. Critics and girlfriends be damned. Time to go. Wish me luck.
Heaven isn't too far away
Closer to it every day
No matter what you friends might say
We'll find a way
ďHeavenĒ recorded by Warrant
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