He
watched him all the time. He realized it early on, that he watched him.
When he was very young, he watched him to learn the dance steps during
rehearsals, so he wouldn’t mess up when they taped the show. It was easy to
learn from watching him, because he was so good and always took the time to
teach the younger kids, unlike some of the others on the show.
So he watched him, and he learned.
When they formed the group, he watched when he learned new routines, intensity
personified. He watched his hands, learning new songs on the piano, watched how
he itched to produce and write and contribute to the group. He watched as he
grew as a person, as a songwriter, as a talent beyond all their expectations. He
watched him, but wasn’t sure if he should. He didn’t understand the feelings
coursing through him. He watched, feeling hot and cold, scared and safe, shaky
and calm all at the same time. He watched him, and knew he felt something
special for him, something beyond friendship, beyond brotherhood.
So he watched him, and he yearned.
When they were with others, he watched him interact and was amazed by both his
gentleness and his reclusiveness. With fans, he watched how courteous and kind
he was with them, especially the young ones. He’d see a young fan and made
sure she had a special time, a memory to last forever. But then he watched how
shy and distant he was with people he wasn’t sure of, people that he didn’t
know. How he withdrew into himself when the press asked questions that were too
personal, when strangers wanted too much of him. He watched when he lost his
naiveté after the law suit, and couldn’t trust anyone but him and the others
in the group for the longest time.
So he watched him, and kept the others away.
When he noticed he was being watched in return, he turned away, embarrassed by
being caught watching, by feeling what he was feeling. But finally he watched
again and noticed his face, his expression, and thought that maybe, just maybe,
they shared the same feelings. He watched his face when he told him he loved him,
saw his bright blue eyes shining with an emotion that matched his own. He
watched as he said he loved him, too, had always loved him, and was hoping
he’d feel the same way some day.
So he watched, and he fell in love.
When he came inside of him, he watched, filled with emotions and feelings he
didn’t understand, but didn’t want to question. He marveled at his feel, his
taste, how he seemed to need the contact, the one man who never seemed to need
anything, who was always in his own world, his own place. He watched as his eyes
closed, his head arched back, his hips meeting every thrust, his skin shiny with
sweat, his hands grasping and pulling him closer. He watched as he gave him
pleasure, knowing he wasn’t good enough for him, but knowing he was loved, no
matter what. He watched as his breathing returned to normal, as his shaky smile
met his in a soft kiss.
So he watched, and knew he’d never leave him.