Copyright April 27, 2002, by Matthew Haldeman-Time

Rating: G

Subject: Nick Carter

Disclaimer: The young men who comprise the Backstreet Boys are their own people.  The author has not met anyone here described, nor does the author mean to suggest that these people act this way in real life.  This writing is a work of fiction.  I make no money from this venture.

Wherein Nick thinks about himself, the other Backstreet Boys, and himself some more.

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banner by Adam

        Lou had made sure he'd known it.  Reminded him again and again until it was this thing, this knowledge, this fact, shining and polished under a spotlight in his brain.

        And even when he had been cute, a pretty young thing, even then it hadn't been okay.  Even then, it had bothered him.  But now?  Now, now that he was so big that his long limbs made his dancing look awkward, now that he had acne and extra pounds?

        He'd wanted to grow up and look like the other guys.  And he had, selectively.  He was tall like Kevin.  He had facial hair, body hair.  But that was about it.  He didn't have their sleek, mature musculature.  Okay, so Brian didn't have AJ's pecs, either, but Brian was still slender and fit.  He was just big, big all over.  He had his father's gut and he hated it.  Howie told him that he was solid, but he wasn't, he was fat, he had a fat stomach and a fat ass and fat thighs and he'd gotten this job for his looks.

        He didn't deserve this job anymore.

        It didn't seem to bother the other guys.  No matter what he ate, whether he worked out or not, they didn't say anything.  They didn't even look at him funny.  Which was weird.  And he loved them for it.  Because they weren't judgmental about something that the rest of the world dissected.  And Kevin could ride his ass all day about acting his age and being an adult, but Kevin never mentioned the way he looked except to comment on how tall he'd gotten.  He was taller than Kevin now.  And damn, the rest of the fellas hadn't looked that short when he'd been younger.  Should've named them the Mackstreet Munchkins.

        The other groups weren't making it any easier.  Justin Jeffre was the least attractive guy in 98 Degrees, but that wasn't saying a hell of a lot.  Justin only looked less attractive because of the company he kept, but look at who the company was.

        There was Joey Fatone.  But Joey was "solid," "thick," "healthy."  Besides, Joey could dance his ass off when he wanted to, without looking awkward.

        Nick got the feeling that even if he sold his soul, he'd never see the day when Ashley Parker Angel got old and ugly.  Some people were born perfect, and stayed that way.

        He hadn't stayed that way.

        He'd seen it in their eyes, sometimes.  When he took a girl to bed, one out of every ten times she'd get over the whole Nick Carter from the Backstreet Boys thing and look at him as just another guy, and then she'd do a double-take.  Like she was surprised to see what he looked like close up, in person.

        He wasn't allowed to be just another guy.

        The last time a girl had done the double-take, he'd thrown her clothes at her and told her that if she wanted perfection, she could go fuck Justin Timberlake.

        Back in the day, he could've run fucking circles around Justin.  And he had.  There had been no contest.  He was Nick Carter.  He was a Backstreet Boy.  He was the original, he was the only one.  He was sexual, too, damn it.

        He couldn't tell what people thought of him anymore.

        He didn't know what he thought of himself.