Chapter Six

Sunlight. And lots of it. Groaning, Zac rolled over, wondering why his head was thumping so hard, why he felt sick and why he was still fully dressed. Moaning softly, he clutched his aching stomach, burying his face into the pillow. Why did he feel so crap?

As he lay there, the memory gradually started to seep back into his consciousness. He and Ollie at the club… Taylor angry, very angry… Taylor punching him… Taylor crying… Isaac shouting… Then…nothing. Just blackness. Had he passed out? If that was the case, then how did he come to be lying in his bed? Neither Isaac nor Taylor had the strength to carry him up a huge flight of stairs like that.

It was all too confusing. He tried to sit up, but his stomach turned over, threatening to rebel against him. Laying back down, he pressed at his abdomen, wincing as a searing pain shot through him. He lifted his shirt, cringing when he saw the large, deep purple bruise on his stomach, red in places where the blood vessels had burst under the skin. Smoothing his fingers over his bruise, he sniffed, remembering the awful fight. He couldn't remember the details. Only that he'd upset everyone a lot. And now he felt like shit.

Suddenly the door clicked open softly, and Rachelle crept into the room.

"Hey, you're awake," she whispered gently, stroking his greasy hair. "How do you feel?"

"Like shit," Zac croaked miserably.

"Oh, sweetie," she murmured softly, dropping a kiss on the top of his forehead. She perched on the bed next to him, taking his large hand in her smaller one, feeling the cold clamminess of his absorb into her own. "Do you remember what happened?"

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak, trying to swallow the huge lump forming in his throat. "Kinda," he choked out eventually, his voice cracking.

"Hey, hey, come on." Rachelle squeezed his hands. "It's okay. How's your stomach?" She moved one hand along his soft stomach, lifting the shirt and visibly flinching at the sight of the bruise. "Hey," she smiled, "for a skinny dude, Tay's got some right hook."

Zac smiled weakly, looking away, the tears welling up in his eyes. "Shell?" he asked finally, his voice barely audible. "What did I do to him? Is he okay?"

Rachelle pressed her lips together. "He's upset," she replied eventually.

Zac stared at her, his sad brown eyes two melancholy pools of melted chocolate. "How upset?"

"I dunno," she admitted. "He's in his room. I think he's mad."

"And Ike?"

"Furious."

Zac closed his eyes slowly. "Oh, man…" He turned away, blinking back the tears and wondering what had happened to turn him into such a rotten example of a human being. "What did…" He cleared his throat, still looking away, not wanting Rachelle to see that he was upset. "What did I do?" he squeaked out. He didn't really want to know the answer.

Rachelle scraped her black hair back into a makeshift ponytail, twisting it out of her face. "Well, you were somewhere with Ollie, and you were like really drunk. I mean totally paralytic. You could barely stand. Tay freaked out at you, and you guys started fighting. I guess that's where the bruise came from. You threw up, Taylor started bawling, Ike started yelling at you, you passed out. Then they dragged you upstairs." She sighed. "It wasn't pretty."

Zac closed his eyes, trapping the salty tears. He wished Rachelle would go away. He wished everyone would go away. He wished that he were the only person in the world. Then, at least, there would be no one else for him to hurt, for him to screw up their lives.

"Zac?" Rachelle brushed her cool hand across his fevered cheek, and, on instinct, his eyes opened, the tears spilling down his cheeks uncontrollably. Rachelle shook her head, carefully pulling him up to a sitting position and wrapping her arms around him, holding him close and whispering into his ear. "What is it, Zac?" she murmured. "What’s wrong?"

Zac just shook his head, unable to speak, collapsing into her embrace and burying his head in her shoulder.

She stroked his hair, trying her best to comfort the distraught boy, soothingly rubbing his back. "When you're ready," she whispered gently. "It's okay. I'm here."

Suddenly, Zac pulled back, wiping at his eyes. "Shell?"

"Yeah?" she urged, looking earnestly into his red, swollen caramel eyes.

"Do you think I'm a horrible person?"

She spread her hands out in front of her, examining her smooth skin and her black painted fingernails. "I think you're a confused person," she said finally, not able to look him in the eye. "I think that somewhere, deep inside, you're hurting, aching. And you're lonely, Zac. You night not realize it, but you're lonely. Sometimes, you act horrible, and you can be mean, and you've really hurt your brothers…" She trailed off, snapping her head up and connecting her dark eyes with Zac's lighter ones. "But, no, I don't think that you're a horrible person, Zac."

Zac closed his eyes, letting his mixed-up thoughts buzz around in his head. He really didn't know what was going on here. Between he and his brothers, or between he and Rachelle. He just wanted to curl up in his bed and sleep forever. Why was Rachelle being so nice to them? What were they? Enemies? Friends? More than friends? He didn't know. Their relationship was confusing, changeable. Until yesterday, it had seemed that they couldn't stand each other. Then, the morning before, and the kiss in the cottage. The kiss that had come totally out of the blue, and yet had made Zac want to hold Rachelle tightly and never let her go again. And now she was the only person who seemed to care, coming to see him. "What do you want from me?" he asked finally, miserably, wishing that he could just vanish.

Rachelle smiled, a smile that told Zac that she was just as confused as he was. "I don't know," she admitted. "I'm attracted to you. I always was."

"You were?" Zac's eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"You mean you couldn't tell?" Rachelle blushed. "I mean, sure, you were an ass, but that made you a challenge. I figured that if I could get you to open your heart to me, then I must be doing something right."

"That's what I am to you? A challenge?"

"Noooo…" Rachelle breathed out slowly, spreading her hands in front of her. "Well, at first. And then… When I look at you, Zac, do you know what I see?"

Zac thought of the way he must look right then. Stringy, matted hair, sallow complexion, deep circles under his red and swollen eyes, the stained T-shirt he was wearing. "I don’t want to know," he told her, smiling weakly.

She laughed softly, then reached out and took his hand, feeling the tension as Zac tried to resist, then the relaxing as he gave in and let her hold it. "I see a lonely little boy."

Zac frowned. "Gee, thanks," he muttered.

"No, listen. I can see you calling out for something - for someone - Zac, and I want to be that someone. I want to be important to you, and I want to help you. I want to make you trust people again, to open you up." She looked at him, her brown eyes connecting with his. "I want to be your friend, Zac," she whispered, her voice catching in her throat. "Will you let me?"

Zac looked down at the duvet, surprised by Rachelle's confessions of her feelings for him. All this time, he'd thought she hated him, just wanted to make his life a misery, and all she'd wanted to do was be his friend. He glanced up at her, seeing the hopeful expression on her face. Was a friendship with Rachelle a good idea? He still thought she was a little preaching, kind of self-righteous but now he knew why. It was because she cared. And Zac could use someone to talk to. All he had at the moment was Ollie, and although he was turning out to be a pretty good friend, Zac wasn't comfortable with really talking to him. Sighing, he looked up. "You know what, Shell?" he murmured softly. "I'd like that a whole lot."

Rachelle smiled in relief. "You would? That's great, Zac. You don't know how much that means."

For the first time, it occurred to Zac that maybe Rachelle was lonely, too. Although she got on well with all of her bandmates and Gabbie, she never seemed to really hang out with them much. Jennie and Niamh spent a lot of time together, Gabbie seemed to be spending more and more time with Taylor and Jamie just floated between everyone, bossing them around. Maybe Rachelle needed his friendship as much as she thought he needed hers. "Yeah," he smiled. "I think that maybe I do."

She sighed, squeezing his hand. "What are you gonna do about Ike and Tay?" she asked quietly, returning the conversation to the original problem.

"I guess I'll just have to apologize," he started quietly. "And hope that they forgive me."

"They'll forgive you," Rachelle nodded confidently.

Zac wasn't as sure. "How do you know?"

"I know how much you mean to them." She smiled. "They care about you, Zac."

Zac mumbled something inaudible, shrugging his shoulders.

Just then, the door burst open and Taylor strode into the room, taking large, angry strides. He stomped across to the window, yanking open the curtains and turning to face Zac, face dark.

Zac squinted in the sudden light, closing his eyes and pulling the duvet over his head.

"Get up!" ordered Taylor. "I think you've done enough to jeopardize this album already without stealing away our drummer to indulge your pathetic little hangover!"

Zac coughed. "Tay, I'm-"

"I don't want to hear it!" he yelled. "Just get up and get dressed and do something instead of lazing about on your lazy, fat ass all day!" He stamped his way across to the door, pulled it open, then shut it again, whirling back round to face Zac, the venom evident in his eyes and his voice. "You know, Zac, you're a waste of space!" he spat. "You're lazy, you're rude, you're selfish, you're disobedient, you're self-absorbed, you're self-righteous, you don't give a shit about anyone else, you think it's okay to go running around London in the middle of the night without tell anyone and you just don't care about anyone any more! Nobody means anything to you any more! You've got all these people who love you and would do anything for you, and you give them nothing in return! You're just such an asshole, Zac!"

Zac stared at him coldly, all thoughts of an apology disappearing into thin air. "Well, Taylor, people have always said that I try to be like you," he stated calmly, holding his brother's gaze.

Taylor's face reddened in anger, and Rachelle found herself wondering if the vein she could see throbbing in his neck would burst. Without another word, he turned on his heel and ran from the room, slamming the door loudly behind him.

***

Taylor stared blankly up at the ceiling, not blinking, not thinking, just vegetating, and unconsciously wallowing in his own self-pity, as he had been doing since twelve-forty, when he'd had that fight with Zac. Wondering exactly how long he'd been lying there, he somehow summoned up the strength to uncross one of his arms from around his stomach and glance at his watch. Seven-fifteen. He'd missed dinner, and the afternoon session in the studio, but he didn't care. He was too angry to work. Angry with Zac, angry with himself for not handling it better. He'd have ended up biting the head off Jamie, and that wasn't exactly easy to do.

Bringing his hands up to behind his head, Taylor sighed deeply, wondering what exactly was going on in his little brother's mind. He chewed on his lower lip, feelings of guilt invading him and knotting in his stomach as he recalled the harsh words that he'd screamed at his brother that morning. That had been anger talking, not him. He hadn't meant it; he would never ever have deliberately been so nasty to anyone, especially not one of the people he loved more than anyone in the world. But what he had said must have hurt Zac. He knew that it had hurt him when Zac had turned back around and shot it back at him.

On the other hand, maybe Zac had needed to hear those things. Sneaking out like that wasn't something that he could do. When Taylor had realized that Zac was missing, he'd been terrified. If he was scared of what might happen in New York City, he was absolutely petrified of the thought of what might happen in London. Zac didn't know the area, he wasn't sure of the currency, and they had different expressions for things over here. What if he'd thought someone was offering him a drink, and it was really drugged or something? And Taylor didn't trust Ollie, not for one minute. Ever since he'd become part of the team, Zac seemed to be straying further and further from the rails, and Taylor didn't know what to do about it. It upset him when he thought about how Zac couldn't talk to him anymore and the huge, huge gap that had appeared between them, that Taylor just couldn't find the words or the gestures to bridge.

"Knock-knock," came the soft voice from outside as the door swung open.

Frowning, Taylor craned his neck to peer over the back of the sofa. "Hey, Gab," he murmured as Gabbie slipped around the door, walking slowly over to the couch.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked, gazing around the small living room of the cottage where Taylor had been hiding all day. "Ike's real worried."

"He'll know I'm okay," he muttered, closing his eyes shut.

Gabbie knelt down on the floor beside him, resting her hand on his arm, still stretched up to behind his head. She shook her head. "He's worried," she repeated. "He thought you'd run off somewhere. And Zac refused to come downstairs all day. He's gone off with Rachelle now, though." She peered at him, frowning as she noted the tired expression on his face, the closed eyes, the flushed cheeks. Generally, he looked really down, and really depressed. "Tay? Are you okay?" she queried gently, a look of concern washing over her face.

He sighed, forcing himself to open his eyes, focusing his dull eyes on Gabbie, who sat on the floor, looking worriedly up at him. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he assured her, but without conviction.

"Oh, Tay, it won't always be like this," she told him, her voice soft, her hand stroking his arm. "One day, Zac'll wake up to himself."

"No, it's not that," protested Taylor. "It's what I did."

"You didn't do anything." Gabbie frowned, her face puzzled.

Taylor heaved another sigh, shaking his head and looking away. "I did," he whispered. When Gabbie urged him to go on, he bit on his lower lip, then began to speak. "This morning," he faltered, looking away. "I went into his room and screamed at him. Basically, I told him he was worthless and I was just real mean to him."

"I guess he deserved it," murmured Gabbie, sitting up on the couch beside him.

"Nobody deserves that, Gab," he replied, his voice barely audible. "Least of all Zac. That's not gonna help him. I've just made things worse."

She reached out, smoothing down his hair. "Tay, you were mad. And you had every right to be mad at him. What he did last night, it was terrible. That guy, much as I used to be fond of him, abuses everyone. He just doesn't care if he's hurting people, and he doesn't deserve you."

Taylor shook his head. "You're right," he choked, tears beginning to form in the corners of his eyes. "He doesn't deserve me being so nasty to him." He looked to the ceiling, trying to blink away the tears, feeling like a baby. "Why can't it be like it used to, Gabbie? Why can't I get close to him any more? Why won't he let me love him, and why won't he love me back…" he trailed off, his voice cracking as he began to cry properly, feeling helpless.

Gabbie reached out, pulling him close to her, stroking his hair. "Everything changes, Tay. C'mon, you know that. Teenies all over the world used to quote you on it on a daily basis. Zac's just going through a phase."

"An isolation phase? An asshole phase? What sort of phase is this?"

"I don't know," she admitted, feeling the trembling begin to subside as Taylor calmed himself. "But you'll get through it. I know you will. You guys are close. You know you are."

"Not any more," protested Taylor weakly. "I can't remember the last time we talked without fighting. I just want to help him. I see him, and I know he's lonely, I know he's hurting, and I just want to reach out and hold him so bad. So bad, Gabbie, so bad, I can feel it aching inside of me. But he has this defense block up, and I can't break through it. He won't let me near him, not mentally, and definitely not physically. And when I know that he's hurt, and there's not a damned thing that I can do about it, I just feel so worthless and so helpless…"

"Oh, sweetie," Gabbie mumbled, holding him even tighter, just somehow knowing that Taylor needed this hug more than anything right now. "It won't always be like this. One day, he'll realize just how lucky he is to have such a wonderful brother. Someone who's sweet and loving and caring, someone who'll never turn him away, who'll always be there for him, and who's just such a special person."

Taylor pulled back slightly, his arms still around Gabbie's waist. He stared into her eyes, noticing the tears pricking at the surface of them. "Why… Why are you crying?" he whispered, reaching out and wiping away a tear that was sliding slowly down her cheek.

Gabbie smiled sheepishly. "No reason," she replied, a little too brightly. "I guess I was just thinking about how sad it is that Zac has to miss out on a relationship with such a great guy. But honestly, Taylor, he'll realize. I know it hurts just now, but give it time. And if you need anything - a chat, a hug, a shoulder to cry on - please, please come and find me."

"Thank you," breathed Taylor, leaning forward into the hug again, inhaling the smell of Gabbie's hair, the musky aroma invading his lungs.

"You really are special, you know," Gabbie murmured, cupping her hands around Taylor's face. "You're such a wonderful person, and the great thing is, you don't even know it." She leaned closer, so close that Taylor could feel the warmth of her breath on his cheek, tickling his skin tantalizingly. "You're like some sort of angel, Tay."

He raised his eyebrows. "Have you been drinking?" he asked lightly, trying to ease the building tension between them.

But Gabbie just shook her head, leaning forward and pressing her lips against his, and suddenly, his worries about the tension melted away, along with worries of Zac, worries of Ike and everything else around him.

***

"It's such a beautiful night," Rachelle marveled, staring up at the sky. "It's so clear and gorgeous, and, wow, just look at the stars. It's like there are thousands of them up there." She pointed up into the inky blue sky, pinpricked with white stars, twinkling brightly against the dark background.

"On this night of a thousand stars…" sang Zac softly, gazing up at the star-speckled sky.

Rachelle giggled. "I didn't exactly have you down as an 'Evita' kinda guy," she remarked, pulling her black jacket more tightly around her body. It may have been a beautiful night, but it was still only February, and it was absolutely freezing, considering that there were no clouds to insulate the Earth.

Zac grinned mysteriously. "Ah, well, there's a lot you don't know about me." He raised his eyebrows teasingly, the smile still tugging at his lips.

"Like what?" asked Rachelle skeptically. "I think I've got you pretty much sussed, Mr Hanson."

"Oh, you do, do you?" A challenging tone crept into Zac's voice as he squared up to her, stopping in the middle of the park. "And what's my profile like in your mind, then?"

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know," chuckled Rachelle softly, beginning to walk again.

Zac grabbed her arm, pulling her backwards. "Aww, c'mon, Shell, tell me! I like to know what other people think of me!"

"You didn't this morning," Rachelle pointed out.

Zac lowered his gaze, staring at the grass. "I don't want to talk about that. I don't want to talk about my brothers, or the dumb fights we've been having. I want to forget all about them, and I just want to have fun tonight, okay? I think I need this, don't you?"

Rachelle nodded. "Sure. I'm sorry."

"Bygones," grinned Zac, the calm, relaxed expression already returning to his face as he closed the door in his mind to the room that contained Isaac and Taylor, and all the domestic problems they'd been having of late. "So, tell me, Ms Owen… Am I a wild stallion in your mind?"

Rachelle snorted. "Hardly!" she scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Okay, in my mental Psych. notebook, under the heading Hanson, Zachary Walker, I have written, umm…" She looked up to the sky, obviously thinking. "A very private person," she began. "Hard to get through to. Very, very tough outer shell, and is a complete ass until he's good and ready to let you in."

"Oh, thanks!" Zac sounded offended.

"But I updated tonight," added Rachelle, running her finger up and down Zac's chest.

"You did?" breathed Zac, enjoying the feeling of her index finger tickling his skin, even through his thick fleece shirt that he was wearing to keep out the cold. "And what did you add?"

She smiled, flipping her long black hair over her shoulder. "That once you crack through the shell, there's this great big squishy guy inside, who's sweet and kind and great fun to be with."

"I'm a great big squishy guy?" repeated Zac, raising his eyebrows. "Is that good?"

"Oh, that's very, very good." Rachelle nodded decisively. "So, what's in your notebook under the heading Owen, Rachelle Leah?" she asked, taking a step closer to him and slipping her arms around his waist.

"Your middle name's Leah?" Zac folded his own arms loosely around Rachelle, keeping about a six-inch gap between them. "I didn't know that. It's pretty."

She smiled. "I know. So, c'mon, you great big squishy guy, tell me what you have."

"We-el," Zac started, looking down at her, his eyes sparkling. "I got that you're nosy, judgmental, self-righteous, bossy, dominating…" He broke off, laughing. "And I also have that you're smart, funny, a great listener and a lot of fun to spend time with, once you climb down off your pedestal."

Rachelle's own eyebrows raised this time, as she listened to his description of her. "Well, I guess I deserved that."

"Yeah, you did," Zac agreed flatly. Then he smiled. "But you deserved what came after it more."

"Glad to hear it," murmured Rachelle, taking a step closer. "But there's something you don't know about me." She looked away, focusing on the ground, looking embarrassed. "I don't know if I can bring myself to tell you."

Zac frowned, feeling his heart begin to race, hearing the tears in Rachelle's voice. "Shell, what is it? You can tell me anything, you know that!"

She shook her head sadly, sighing heavily. "I don't know, Zac. It might change the way you look at me. It's just… I feel like I've been living a lie."

"What is it? C'mon, you're worrying me here." Zac closed his eyes wondering what Rachelle's terrible secret might be. Maybe she had some terminal illness, maybe she was really seeing a guy back home, maybe she was a felon, escaped from the prison. He just didn't know.

"It's…it's…"

"Yes?" Zac prompted.

Rachelle began to cry quietly, tears slipping down her cheeks.

Zac pulled her in close, holding her and rocking her back and forward. "Tell me," he begged. "I can help."

"Oh, no, I don't think you can," sobbed Rachelle, burying her face in his chest. "There's nothing anyone can do… Not for months and months, until it grows."

"Until what grows? Shell, come on, just tell me."

"Okay." She pulled back slightly, looking him in the eyes and taking a deep breath. "It's my hair."

"Your hair?" Zac asked, his eyebrows shooting sky-high. Maybe she did have cancer or something, and all her hair would fall out. "What about it?"

She gazed into his eyes, beginning to tremble again. "It's…" she looked away once more, before turning back to Zac and whispering dramatically, "It's dyed!"

Zac stared blankly at her for a few moments, thinking that wasn't all hair dead. Then he realized what she had said. "It's dyed?" he repeated flatly, totally confused as to why she was so upset.

"Yes," she wailed, putting her hand over her heart and turning exaggeratedly to stare at the sky. "I had to tell you, Zachary. I just couldn't live the lie any longer! I had to tell you that my natural color is a dark brown!"

He took her hands and spoke to her seriously. "Shell, it's okay. I don't care what color your hair is," he assured her.

She looked at him, the anguished expression remaining on her face briefly, before she burst out laughing.

Zac, still confused and wondering whether or not she was right in the head, kept staring.

Gasping in between peals of laughter, she managed to choke out, "There's something else you should know about me too!"

"And what's that?" demanded Zac, his eyes narrowing as he began to realize that he'd been stitched up.

"I'm a great actress, and I can give you a run for your money any day!" she declared, tapping him lightly on the nose.

"You bitch!" he laughed, thumping her lightly on the shoulder. "I thought something was seriously wrong!"

"I'm good, huh?" asked Rachelle playfully, trying hard not to laugh.

"Nah, I'm better."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, that's so." Zac stepped closer to her. "I'll get you back, you know."

"You think?" challenged Rachelle, suddenly breaking out of Zac's hold on her and beginning to run from him.

Laughing, Zac ran after her, running around the trees, across the grass and into the children's play area. Rachelle quickly jogged up the steps to the slide, launching herself down it like she'd just been cannonballed from a huge gun. Following her, Zac climbed up the slide, taking the steps two at a time, just as Rachelle, because she'd gone so fast, flew right off the end, landing in a giggling heap in the bark at the bottom. Grinning, Zac slid slowly down the chute, landing inches from his friend, who was still convulsing in fits of laughter on the ground.

He crawled over to her, climbing on top of her and holding her to the ground. "Pinned ya, Nula!" he chuckled.

Rachelle could barely speak through her giggles. "Simba!" she gasped out. "I didn't have you down as a Disney dude either!"

Not moving, Zac shrugged. "Hey, I have four little brothers and sisters. You think I've never seen 'The Lion King'?"

Rachelle just smiled. "I guess I still have a lot to find out," she murmured.

"I guess you do." Zac lowered his face to hers, kissing her on the nose.

"But it's gonna be fun finding out," she whispered, grabbing Zac's shirt and pulling him down so that he was lying on top of her. She lifted her head up, pushing her lips against his and dragging him down with her as the kiss deepened.

Feeling her nails dig into his scalp as she ran her fingers through his hair, Zac ran his hands absently up and down her jaw, feeling the softness of her skin. Suddenly, he pulled back. "Am I not hurting you?" he asked, instantly aware of the fact that he was lying on top of her.

But she shook her head. "I like feeling squished," she mumbled. "Kiss me again."

Smiling, Zac obeyed, pushing his lips against hers again, then kissing her all over her face, finally returning to her lips again.

After a while, Rachelle stopped him, pushing him off her.

"What’s wrong?" frowned Zac.

"Nothing," she smiled. "It was starting to hurt, that's all. You're pretty heavy."

"I did ask if I was hurting you," Zac reminded her, clambering to his feet and dusting the bark off his jeans.

"I know." Rachelle held out her hand, and Zac helped her up. "I was enjoying it then. But after like half an hour, it was starting to ache."

Zac didn't answer, only wrapped his arms around Rachelle's waist from behind, resting his chin on her head as they began to walk out of the park, heading for home.

"The stars are still so pretty," Rachelle murmured, linking her fingers through Zac's as his hands folded across her stomach. "It's like someone's taken a thumbtack and pushed it through the sky, then shone a torch behind it."

Zac nodded, rubbing his chin in her hair. "My mom always used to tell me that the stars were the angels watching over me. After my grandma died, she told us that we had to look for the brightest star, and that would be Grandma Jane, guarding us and making sure we were always happy."

Rachelle craned her neck backwards, looking up at him. "That's so sweet," she smiled, kissing him upside down.

"I tell you, she's doing a good job of making me happy tonight," mused Zac quietly. "I haven't been this happy for a while."

"Me either." Rachelle sighed, squeezing his hands. "Oh, look, there's Orion!" Taking one of her hands out of his, she pointed up to the sky. "See that line of three stars, really close together?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"That's his belt. He's the hunter in the sky."

"What's he hunting?" murmured Zac sleepily.

"I dunno."

"Maybe he's hunting all the horrible angels."

Rachelle chuckled. "Maybe," she agreed. "And look, there's the Big Dipper! And Ursa Major."

"How do you know all this stuff?"

"I've always been interested in astronomy," she explained. "I just think that stars are the most beautiful things in the world. Don't you?"

Zac stopped walking and pulled Rachelle around so that she was facing him. "No," he whispered, moving his face closer to hers. "I can think of something that's a lot more beautiful… Even if its natural hair color is really dark brown…"

***

Taylor hugged his knees to his chest, resting his chin on them. He was still shivering from his encounter in the cottage with Gabbie, blushing every time he thought of it. They'd lain on the couch in the cottage, kissing and kissing until their lips hurt, all the sexual tension that had been building and bubbling between them dispersing, flowing out through their kisses. He closed his eyes, recalling the heat that had built up between them, hands roaming all over each other's bodies, clothes lying rumpled on the floor, puddling it with the various different materials and colors.

He remembered kissing her all over her body, how she'd groaned, how he'd groaned. Then, all of a sudden, she'd pushed him off, onto the floor, starting to cry. "It's wrong!" she'd screamed, pulling her top back on. He could hear his voice in his head, pathetically pleading with her to stay, to not leave him lonely, but she'd just sobbed even harder, apologizing profusely, then had fled from the cottage, leaving him all alone.

He leaned his head against the window, feeling the cool glass lower the temperature of the blood that had gathered in his face. Could his life get any more complicated? He hoped not. Grabbing a cushion from the window-seat, he hugged it closely to his body, burying his face into the velvet cover. He hadn't really come up here, to the room on the third floor, while they'd been staying in England this time, except from that time he'd come to get Zac. It was nice up here, he realized, remembering how he and Ike and Zac had spent a lot of time up in the small room, with the large window-seat. It had to be one of his favorite places in the whole world. It was a great place to think.

Just then, the door swung open, and Isaac slipped around the doorway. "Hey," he greeted his brother softly, walking over to the window-seat and lifting Taylor's legs so he could sit down.

"Hi," Taylor murmured, leaning his head against the window again and resting his legs over Isaac's thighs once his brother was seated.

"I haven't seen you all day."

Taylor shrugged. "Sorry, Ike, I guess I was just…"

"It's okay," Isaac assured him. "I understand. You needed some alone time, right?"

Taylor nodded. "Yeah."

Isaac nudged his legs a little to catch his attention. "You okay, buddy?" he asked gently, looking at his little brother, eyes filled with concern.

"Just peachy."

Shaking his head, Isaac pushed Taylor's feet out of his lap and shifted closer to him. "What's wrong, Tay?"

"What makes you think that something would be wrong?" Taylor mumbled, lowering his eyelids so as not to look directly at his brother.

Isaac smiled. "Well, you've never been a great actor. You're real quiet; your head can't stay straight; your face is bright red; your eyes are unusually bright and you just look really, really, really sad. Besides, you're my brother. I know when you're not okay. And believe me, you're not okay."

Sighing, Taylor shrugged his shoulders, biting on his lower lip, concentrating hard on not crying. He was almost nineteen years old. To cry when you were this old, it was just pathetic.

Without saying another word, Isaac reached out and pulled Taylor close to him, wrapping his arms warmly around his sad, listless brother. Feeling Taylor's arms clamp around his own waist, he whispered, "It's okay. It's all okay, Tay."

Taylor sat there, clutching onto Isaac, feeling like he needed this embrace desperately. Just feeling Isaac's strong arms holding him made him feel safe and secure, much as Gabbie had earlier that night. Before she'd made him feel even worse. At least he knew that Isaac wasn't going to start kissing him passionately, and almost have sex with him, then stop just before the deed itself was committed and run off. It was highly unlikely, anyway. He buried his face into his brother's sweater, breathing in Isaac's familiar, comforting scent - a mixture of the detergent used to wash their clothes, his deodorant, his cologne and the baby lotion he used to combat the dry skin on his face. The smells of some things made Taylor feel comforted, and his big brother was one of those things, along with his mom and dad and his house. Eventually, he realized that it was time to let go, and he pulled back out of Isaac's hug, smiling sheepishly. "Thanks," he murmured. "I really needed that."

"Any time." Isaac squeezed his brother's forearms, trying to reassure him. "What's wrong, Tay? Please talk to me. I can't get through to Zac any more. Don't you shut me out, too."

"I'm sorry," sighed Taylor. "I didn't mean to."

"I know. But talk to me."

"You heard what happened between me and Zac, right?"

"This morning?"

Taylor nodded.

Isaac laughed uncomfortably. "Rachelle told me. You got kinda mad, huh, buddy?"

"Yeah. I feel bad."

"I thought you might. It's why I've been worried about you all day."

Taylor smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, Ike, I didn't think."

"Is that all that's been bugging you? Zac?" Isaac shook his head again. "It probably wasn't the right thing to do to yell at him like that, Tay, but don't beat yourself up over it. It happened, and the only thing that you can do now is apologize."

"He won't listen, though. And I don't blame him." He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose wearily. "I didn't know that I could be so mean, Ike. I guess I've always prided myself on being the calm one. You know, the peacekeeper, and now I'm not. I'm mean."

Isaac laughed, shaking his head. "You're not mean, Taylor, you're human."

"Well, that's always good to know," muttered Taylor, shooting him a quizzical look.

"What I mean," explained Isaac, "Is that we don't always control our emotions. We can't. Zac made you angry and you reacted. Probably not in the way that you should have, I guess, but it's how you felt and there was nothing that you could do."

"I could have not said it," pointed out Taylor. "That would have stopped it."

"Yeah, and then you have all this resentment bubbling inside of you, until eventually, you snap and then we would have a much worse situation." He frowned, trying to find the words to express himself more clearly. "I mean, you don't hate Zac right now, do you?"

"I never hate him."

"Well, you have no ill feelings towards him." Isaac restated his sentence.

"No, I just feel guilty."

"Uh-huh. But if you hadn't said those things to him this morning, you wouldn't be feeling guilty, would you?"

Taylor raised his eyebrows. "I'd have nothing to feel guilty about."

"Okay. But you'd still be mad at him."

"Probably," agreed Taylor, beginning to get his brother's point now.

"And you'd keep being mad until one day you just totally freak out and start thumping the living daylights out of him." He stretched out his arms, cracking his fingers. "So it's better that you got it over with."

"I guess," murmured Taylor quietly.

"That's not all that's bugging you, is it?" Isaac looked into his brother's eyes, urging him to tell him what was wrong, desperate for a chance to help him.

Slowly, Taylor sighed, shaking his head. "It's Gabbie," he confessed finally. "It's too hard, Ike, trying to work with her."

"What happened?" pressed Isaac gently, a frown forming on his face.

Taylor reddened, turning away and gazing down onto the wet street out of the window.

"Tay?" prompted Isaac, the frown deepening.

"She kissed me." Taylor leaned forward, resting his head on his knees so as to avoid eye contact with his brother. "I kissed her back. We nearly had sex right then and there on the couch," he finished flatly, still refusing to look up.

"Oh." Isaac was at a loss for anything else to say. "Tay, you can't get involved with her. She's engaged to be married."

"You think I don't know that? Why do you think it's so hard?" whined Taylor, rubbing his hands over his face.

"You have to nip it in the bud, Tay. You're only gonna get hurt."

"Don't preach at me, Ike."

Isaac sighed. "I'm not. I'm trying to tell you what's best for you. Think about it. Gabbie's got Mike. If you guys keep at this secret thing, she'll still have Mike, and she knows it. But you… I know what you're like, Taylor. You'll fall head over heels for her again, and when she decides that it's over, and she wants to stay with Mike, you're the one that's gonna be shattered. Not her, Tay. You. It'll be just like last time."

"What, and you don't want to pick up the pieces again?" demanded Taylor sharply, his tone becoming accusing.

Isaac sucked in his breath. "Don't be stupid, Taylor. You know I'm always here if you need me."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm sorry."

"I'm just telling it like it is, Tay. Stop it while you can."

Taylor nodded absently, staring down out of the window. "Why are things so complicated, Ike?"

Isaac laughed, putting his hand on his brother's shoulder. "It's called life, buddy."

"Life sucks," proclaimed Taylor, frowning as something on the street caught his eye. "Is that Zac?"

Isaac narrowed his eyes, peering out into the darkness. "Yeah, Zac and Shell."

The two brothers sat on the window-seat, watching as the two drummers outside ran, hand in hand, down the rain-soaked sidewalk, obviously laughing. Zac stopped, tugging Rachelle backwards and wrapping his arms around her, lowering his lips to hers.

Taylor and Isaac exchanged looks.

"I guess he's getting his love from somewhere else," murmured Taylor, feeling his stomach twisting inside of him. "He doesn't need us."

Isaac just shook his head, reaching out and ruffling Taylor's hair. "He does. He just doesn't realize it yet."

***

"Okay, that's a wrap, I think." Isaac slid down the lever, shutting off the instrumental track they'd recorded earlier. "Tay? That was okay, right?"

"What?" Taylor looked up, startled, as if having been shaken out of a dream.

Isaac frowned. "Jamie's vocals. It's a wrap, right?"

Taylor pursed his lips, listening through his headphones as Jamie's powerful voice replayed. "Yeah, it's good. Go, Jamie!"

Inside the booth, Jamie grinned, a blush of happiness rising in her cheeks. She pulled off the headphones, jumping excitedly up and down on the spot. "Thanks!" she giggled. "It's done! The single's done!"

Isaac chuckled, shaking his head. "Not quite. That's just your solo vocals and the instrumentals done. We still gotta get the backing vocals, then all of you guys singing together, then we have to mix it, then we have to-"

Jamie held up her hands. "Stop already! While I still have some hope!"

Isaac grinned. "Sorry, Jaimes. That's the way it is."

The door opened and Jamie trudged out of the booth, raking her hands through her short dark hair, joining the two brothers in the control room. "Yeah, I know," she sighed. "But, still, we're closer to finishing it!"

"That's true," agreed Taylor. "What now? Are we getting the other girls in?"

Isaac looked at his watch. "I could do with a break, actually. So could you, buddy. We've been at this for hours."

Taylor shrugged. "Sure. Want a coffee?"

"Love one," replied Jamie gratefully.

"Ike?"

"Nah, I'm gonna go find Rhia."

"Suit yourself."

"I'll see you guys later." Isaac eased himself out of his chair, left the recording studio and jogged easily upstairs, rapping on Rhia's bedroom door. "Ree?" he called, leaning his head against the wooden door.

"Just a sec." Rhia's voice floated through the door, sounding strangely strained to Isaac.

Worried, he ignored Rhia's request and burst into her room, just in time to see her push something under her bed.

"Ike!" she gasped. "I asked you to give me a second!"

"Yeah, and I chose not to hear it."

Rhia stared at him, eyebrows raised. "Why?"

Ignoring the question, Isaac turned to her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Rhia replied quickly.

A little too quickly for Isaac's liking. He sighed, closing the door behind him and sitting next to her on the floor at the foot of her bed. "Don't lie. You look guilty as sin, and your eyes are red. Have you been crying?"

"No," Rhia lied, blinking hard, desperate to convince Isaac that she was okay.

"You have so. Rhia, what's up? And what's in that box?"

"What box?"

"Ree, don't screw with me. The box you pushed under the bed." Shaking his head, he reached under and grabbed the shoebox. "This one." He started to slide off the rubber band holding the lid on.

"Ike, don't!" yelped Rhia, suddenly springing up from the floor and diving on top of him, knocking him backwards. "Please don't," she begged, looking pleadingly into his eyes from her position on top of his stomach.

He held the box in the air. "Why not, Rhia? What's in here that's making you so upset? Why can't I see it? We don't have secrets…"

She sighed. "It's nothing," she told him quietly, avoiding his gaze.

"Can I look?" Isaac asked, gently rolling Rhia off his chest and sitting her on the floor.

Still looking at the floor, she shrugged.

Frowning, Isaac pulled off the rubber band, and removed the lid from the box. He reached inside, pulling out a photograph. "This is you and Neil," he murmured, examining the seven-year-old twins in the picture. Both were grinning, revealing matching gaps in their teeth. Their arms were wrapped tightly around one another, each twin holding an identical stuffed dog. Rhia's blond hair was tied up in bunches, Neil's dark cap of hair sticking up wildly in all directions.

Putting down the photograph, he rummaged through the box, finding more and more snapshots of the twins at various ages, along with the article in the newspaper from their first day at kindergarten, the headline DOUBLE TROUBLE emblazoned across the picture of them.

A puzzled expression on his face, he turned to Rhia, finding her curled over her knees, crying quietly. Shaking his head, he crawled the few feet to her, wrapping his arms tightly around her, holding his trembling girlfriend. "Ree, it's okay."

She looked up at him, wiping her eyes, smearing black mascara across her left cheek. "It's not okay, Ike. He's gone. I miss him."

"I miss him, too," Isaac told her softly.

"Ike, this is my twin brother!" she sobbed. "He's a part of me. And I don't even have a clue where the hell he is!"

Isaac pulled her closer, rubbing his cheek against her hair. He'd known Rhia missed Neil a lot, and her father too, but he hadn't known that it was this bad. Why hadn't she talked it over with him? Why did she feel she had to bottle it all up inside? "Why didn't you tell me you felt so bad, sweetie?" he murmured, rubbing her back gently.

Rhia shook her head. "You have other stuff to worry about… You don't need me being all crybaby on you."

"It's not crybaby," he assured her. "I guess I should have realized how bad you must be feeling. I'm sorry. But you should talk to me, Rhia. You're more important to me than anything."

Rhia merely nodded, inhaling a shaky breath.

"Don't you have any idea where he is?" Isaac spoke up softly, stroking her hair.

"We sent them a Christmas card to Oregon," she explained, wiping away her tears. "And Neil always sent me one. Until last year. The cards were returned. No forwarding address."

"You know," began Isaac carefully, "there are people who can help with things like this. Investigators and stuff."

Rhia sighed. "I know. But I don't know if I want to do something like that. I mean… Oh, I don't know…" She wiped her nose with a Kleenex, sniffing agitatedly. "I guess if I had to contact them, then I'd kinda feel like they didn't want me. Why can't they look for me, Ike?"

Isaac smoothed down her hair, hoping that the feel of his hand slowly running down her head would calm his girlfriend down. "Maybe they are, Ree. I mean, you never know. Maybe Neil's sitting in his bedroom, wherever he is, crying to his girlfriend about missing his twin sister."

Rhia cracked a weak smile. "Neil wouldn't cry over me."

"Sure he would," argued Isaac, but without conviction. Rhia hardly needed herself and Isaac to enter into a huge debate here. "I remember…"

Rhia's face darkened instantly. "Ike, please don't go there. You know I hate talking about it."

Instantly, Isaac bit his tongue. Literally. Feeling the coppery taste of his warm blood spread through his mouth, he cursed himself for being so insensitive. Why did his foot love to live in his mouth? Bringing up Jake Ryan's attempted rape - where Neil had most certainly been crying over Rhia, and understandably - hadn't exactly been a good idea. Trying to make amends, he tightened his grip around her, pulling her gently towards him, leaning her back against his chest. "I'm sorry," he whispered into her ear. "I guess I wasn't thinking."

Rhia shook her head slightly, signaling to him that all was already forgiven and forgotten. "Do you think he misses me, Ike?" she blurted out, tipping her head backwards until an upside down Isaac slid into her view.

"Of course he does. Like you said, you guys are twins."

Rhia, bringing her head back to the normal position, stared down at the floor. Isaac watched her chewing on her lip; he could practically hear the wheels turning inside her head as she wrestled with the situation in her mind. Suddenly, she scooted away from him, turning to face him, taking both his hands in hers. "I want to do it, Ike. I want to try to find my brother. I don't really give a shit about my dad. He's a loser. He walked out. He drank his way out. And he took my twin with him, and I want Neil back!" she shouted, her voice trembling and her eyes beginning to glitter with tears again.

Isaac squeezed her hands, gently lifting the right one up to his lips and placing a soft kiss on it. "Then we'll find him, Ree. We'll find him," he repeated, watching as Rhia's face relaxed, the comforting words swimming over her and calming her. He pursed his lips, thinking hard. "Do you have any idea at all where he might be?"

Sighing, Rhia shook her head. "I ain't got a Scooby, guv'nor."

Isaac stared at her blankly. "In English?" he joked, feeling a huge wave of relief wash over him as he realized that Rhia was beginning to lighten up a little, back to her normal cheerful self.

Rhia gave a short laugh. "Hey, come on, we've been in London for weeks and weeks, and you still can't pick up on the slang? Scooby Doo, clue…" she trailed off, watching as Isaac clarified things in his mind, then shook his head.

"So, basically, you have no idea."

Rhia's smile dropped off her face. "Haven't got the foggiest," she confirmed.

Isaac nodded slowly. "I hate to say this, but the chances that Neil will be in England are pretty slim. I think we should wait until we get back to the States to start looking."

She looked down at the floor, the disappointment she was feeling evident in her stance. "I know it makes sense," she began, "but I just…"

Isaac nodded sympathetically. "I know."

She shook her head sadly. "No, you don't know, Ike. Your dad loves you. He's never taken Taylor, or Zac, or Jessica, or any of your family away from you. You can't possibly know."

Isaac bit on his lip, belittled and humbled by Rhia's statement. She was right. He didn't know. His family was big on togetherness, they all loved each other, and it was made painfully obvious. "Yeah, but I can imagine," he assured her. "And I know it must be hard. Rhia, you can make me know what it's like, though. Tell me what you're feeling."

Rhia smiled. "Right now?"

"Sure."

"I'm feeling lucky."

"Lucky?" repeated Isaac, confused.

"To have such a wonderful, understanding boyfriend," she finished, smiling up at him.

Isaac's face broke into a huge smile. "And you're sure you're okay with waiting until you get home to start looking?"

Sighing, Rhia nodded, smiling wistfully. "There's not much point looking in the UK, is there?"

"No," admitted Isaac. "But as soon as we get home, we'll be better detectives than Sherlock Holmes ever was."

Rhia giggled, a grin spreading across her round face. "Elementary, my dear Watson!"

***

Frowning, Taylor gave up, slamming the cupboard door. Nothing to eat in there. He padded over to the refrigerator, pulling the door open and sitting cross-legged on the floor, perusing the contents inside.

Cheese with a coating of green fur. Not very appetizing. Lumpy, sour milk. That, either. A block of rancid butter. Delicious. A cherry yogurt, three weeks past its use-by date. Mmm. A half-eaten tin of Heinz baked beans, so old that a film had formed on top of the tomato sauce. His favorite.

Suddenly, a shadow blocked the pale, watery light that the refrigerator was bathing him in.

"What on earth are you doing?" It was Isaac, a tone of amusement in his warm voice.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" muttered Taylor, resting his head in his hands.

"Tanning by refrigerator?" suggested Isaac, reaching in past his brother and lifting out the carton of milk. He sniffed it, made a face, and quickly disposed of it in the trash can. "So, what are you doing?" he asked, perching on the wooden kitchen table.

"Willing something decent to appear in the refrigerator," explained Taylor, sighing heavily.

"Any luck?" laughed Isaac.

"Noooo," whined Taylor. "There's never anything to eat in here!"

"There's a quick-fix solution to that."

"What?"

"Go grocery shopping!"

Taylor clicked his tongue. "Yeah, right, like I'd be any use at grocery shopping."

Isaac smiled, adopting an infomercial style voice. "You'll never know unless you go!" he quipped, chuckling to himself.

Taylor rolled his eyes. "You're saying you'd trust me, little old me, all by myself, to go buy enough food for nine people to live on?"

Isaac shrugged. "Why not? Besides, no one said you had to go alone. Take one of the girls with you."

Taylor grumbled something inaudible to himself, finally shutting the refrigerator door and hopping up onto the marbled gray work surface.

"Take one of us where?" asked Gabbie, ambling into the kitchen, securing her wild, bushy ponytail with a bright red scrunchie.

"Tay's just ever-so-kindly offered to do the grocery shopping!" marveled Isaac. "Wanna go with him?"

Gabbie blinked. "Tay volunteered to go grocery shopping?" she repeated, stupefied.

"Actually, no, he didn't," interjected Taylor.

"Uh, I think you'll find that I volunteered you," countered Isaac.

"That sounds about right," sighed Taylor, defeated. "But, Gabbie, you don't have to come with me. Really. I can go it alone." A shopping trip with Gabbie didn't exactly sound like fun to him. All the tension was still there from the other night, in the cottage. Well, Gabbie seemed to be remarkably unaffected, but for Taylor, the atmosphere between them was so thick, you could almost cut it with a knife.

Gabbie shook her head. "No way, buddy. I, for one, don't fancy living on beans on toast for the next week or so."

"What's wrong with beans on toast?" demanded Taylor. "It's the only thing I can cook!"

Isaac coughed. "Actually, you burnt it last time, Tay."

"Oh, bite me," mumbled Taylor, grumpily.

"I'll go with you," Gabbie offered, filling a glass with water from the faucet - the only drink in the house that wasn't lumpy or sour.

"No, really, it's okay," insisted Taylor, feeling the panic welling inside his chest. How could he survive an entire shopping trip with Gabbie?

"No arguments," stated Gabbie, firmly. "I'm coming."

***

"Look, I said no!"

"Why not? I thought you liked me!"

"I did.. I mean, I do… I mean, oh, I need a shower!" Grabbing a white, fluffy towel, Zac stomped as loud as was humanly possible with bare feet into the bathroom, leaving Rachelle standing in the hallway, her dark eyes flashing and her eyebrows drawn together in a scowl.

Sighing, Zac applied the pressure to the bathroom door, leaning all his weight against it, pushing it shut. What was up with her? He didn't want to go shopping in London. He'd already made plans with Ollie for the scheduled day off that Isaac had decided to give them some time last week. Besides, much as he thought Rachelle was cool, he really, truly, utterly did not want to spend his day off trailing from Miss Selfridge to Top Shop to Morgan, hanging around outside changing rooms while she pulled on outfit after outfit, and having to answer the inevitable "Does my butt look big in this?" question over and over again.

He reached into the shower cubicle and turned on the water, flinching as the ice-cold spray made contact with his arm. Leaving the water to heat, he stripped down to his boxers and lathered his face up with some shaving foam. As he stroked the razor down his face, concentrating hard to avoid any nicks, he wondered why everything in his life seemed to be falling apart. He'd thought he was on a good, good thing with Rachelle. He'd thought she could be the friend that - much as he hated to admit it - he desperately needed right now, what with communications between himself and his brothers being practically nada. But after that night in the park… That wonderful, wonderful night… He smiled, the ructions in his skin causing the sharp blade to nick his cheek. The stinging pain he felt jolted him back to reality, and as he dabbed the wadded up toilet tissue against his bleeding face, he realized that, after that great night, there had been nothing between them.

Whenever they kissed, for Zac, it seemed to be mechanical. He wasn't feeling anything. And dammit, did he want to feel something. Rachelle was such a great girl, and he really did care for her. But there was no chemistry, at least not on his part. And now they were arguing. Not exactly a great sign.

He rinsed his face and stepped into the shower, peeling off his boxers, feeling the now warm water pounding off his back, easing some of the tension in his shoulders. If there was nothing there, surely he should end it with her. But, he reasoned, pouring some shampoo into his hand and lathering it up in his hair, just because there wasn't something there right that minute, it didn't mean that there would never be. And, Lord knows, he wanted something to be there. More than anything, to quote Colonel Isaac.

Maybe it was just with all the stress he was feeling right now. Maybe, somehow, it had dammed up his emotions and his feelings. Maybe, just completely out of the blue, these floodgates would open and the chemistry that he wanted so badly to feel would miraculously appear. Breaking up with Rachelle now wouldn't do any good, he decided. And besides, it wasn't like they didn't get along - save the petty little argument from that morning. They just didn't quite get along as well as he would have liked. But, Zac theorized, relationships, like everything, had to be worked at. They hadn't even been together for a week yet. It was overreacting to be worrying, he concluded. Everything would work itself out. Sooner or later - hopefully sooner - he would discover all these wonderful feelings that he didn't know he could feel, and they'd all be channeled to Rachelle and everything would be perfect.

His shampoo rinsed out, Zac turned a one-eighty, lifting his face to catch the spray, feeling the sharp needles of water prick at his face, especially stinging the cut from his incident with the razor blade. Reaching out, he grabbed some body wash - it was most likely Taylor's - and squirted a generous blob of it into his palm, lathering it up and massaging it onto his broad chest.

His thoughts drifted to his plans for that afternoon. He and Ollie had arranged to spend the day hanging out in the big house, figuring that everyone else would find something constructive to do on their day off, which meant total control over the TV, the VCR and the Playstation. Which, to Zac and Ollie, equated as a day full of movies, video games and food. Heaven.

He rubbed the white, pearly gel into his legs and arms, smiling at the prospect of the day ahead. Then he cocked his head, listening as a click sounded faintly through the rushing water. Squinting through the steamy glass door to the cubicle, Zac saw somebody moving around in the bathroom. He rolled his eyes, figuring that it was Ike or Tay. No big deal. Then he remembered that there were a whole lot of other people it could also be.

"Hey!" he yelled indignantly, over the pounding of the water.

The person, whoever it was, froze, then quickly exited the bathroom.

Zac shrugged, reaching out and turning off the water. The bathroom stalker couldn't have seen much anyway. Steam was as good a veil as any. He climbed out and wrapped the towel around his waist, peering into all the corners of the room. Laughing at his stupidity, he began to towel off. But even as he laughed, he found himself hoping that he wouldn't find himself watching "Psycho" that afternoon, after having had his very own "shower scene".

***

"Was that really so bad?" Gabbie slung the last polythene grocery bag into the backseat of the small Ford Fiesta and slammed the door.

"I guess not," admitted Taylor, grudgingly, pushing the wire cart into the small opening marked TROLLEY PARK. "But it's not exactly on my Top Five Fun Things To Do In Berkshire On A Tuesday Morning list."

Gabbie grinned, zapping the car with the keychain to immobilize the alarm. "You have a Top Five Fun Things To Do In Berkshire On A Tuesday Morning list?" she teased, pulling open the door to the driver's side and slipping behind the wheel.

"Oh, sure," replied Taylor breezily, pulling the passenger door closed behind him. "And 'shopping with Gabbie' comes right above 'fighting with Jamie for the bathroom'."

"God, it wasn't that bad!" Gabbie strained to look over her shoulder, slowly easing the little red car out of its space.

"Hey, at least it comes way above biting Zac's toenails."

Gabbie looked at him strangely. "Oh, well, that's okay then," she told him magnanimously. "Anyway, when do you bite Zac's toenails on a Tuesday morning?"

Taylor laughed. "Never. I was just trying to show you that there are lots of worse things than this."

Gabbie rolled her eyes. "Well, I would hope doing something as disgusting as THAT would be worse than doing this."

"Oh, it is, believe me," Taylor murmured to himself, turning his head and gazing out of the window as they left the parking lot - sorry, the car park - and headed back to the house.

A silence settled over them, not exactly an uncomfortable one, but one where neither of them particularly felt the need to talk, both just enjoying the presence of the other.

Eventually, Taylor noticed Gabbie's eyes flitting between the road and him. "You okay?" he asked, wondering why on earth she kept staring at him.

She sighed. "Yeah… I was just thinking how cute you look when you're daydreaming."

Taylor reddened, feeling a slight panic catching in his throat. Was she coming on to him again? And why did he feel the desperate need to flirt back, even though he was perfectly aware that it was totally wrong? "Oh, really?"

Gabbie shot him another furtive glance. "Yeah, really. You put the 'ooh' in good looking, baby!" she declared, giggling at her own joke.

Taylor smiled. "I think you're becoming just a little obsessed with the Austin Powers thing, there, Gab."

"Not as obsessed as Ike," she countered easily, raising her eyebrows at him. "But seriously, Tay, you look great today."

Taylor looked down at his blue jeans and his green shirt, clueless as to why it was so becoming on him. He glanced at Gabbie, watching the weak winter sun glinting in the red highlights in her hair, her blue eyes sparkling. She was dressed in faded jeans and a tight, white sweater, her curly hair scraped back into a wild, unruly ponytail. Not exactly Versace, but to him, she looked wonderful. "You don't look so bad yourself."

Suddenly, she pulled the car over at the side of the road and, to Taylor's amazement, pushed her lips against his. Gasping as the fireworks erupted in his nerve endings, Taylor kissed her back, their lips and hands moving in synchronization over one another.

Abruptly, he pulled away. "Gabbie, this is wrong."

Gabbie looked at the floor, then back up at him, a pained expression on her face. "I know. But how can something that's so wrong feel so right?" She gazed into his eyes uncertainly, searching for something that would betray his emotions and tell her if he felt the same way. "It does feel right, doesn't it?"

Taylor shivered, the mental images of what they could be doing running through his mind, exciting him and whetting his appetite. But Gabbie was engaged. And, furthermore, the man she was engaged to was coming to England at the end of the week. Doing this right now would definitely not be a good idea, the angel on one side of his head told him. As soon as he had mentally agreed with the angel, a devil popped up on the other side, urging him on, telling him that once wouldn't hurt. And besides, wasn't he desperate? Didn't he want to? Every cell in Taylor's body was screaming YES, but there was a tiny, whisper of a voice in his brain telling him otherwise. You'll only get hurt, it chanted, over and over again. Gritting his teeth, Taylor blocked it out, giving in to the physical need and desire. "Damn right it feels right," he whispered huskily, placing one hand nervously on Gabbie's knee, his conscience groaning in his mind, knowing that he was setting himself up for a fall. But, for the first time in years, Taylor was allowing himself to be controlled by his heart rather than his head.

So what if Gabbie was engaged? The man she was engaged to was, at this particular moment in time, fast asleep in a whole other country, a whole other time zone, a whole other continent. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him, and God, Taylor wanted this so much.

So did Gabbie, judging by the look on her face as she squeezed his fingers tightly, sliding in closer as she wound her arms tightly around him, kissing him forcefully.

Taylor allowed himself to be lost in the kiss, tasting and feeling everything that was Gabbie. The faint mint of her toothpaste from that morning still lingered on her breath, overridden by the chocolate muffin that the two of them had split in the Sainsbury's coffee shop before they'd begun their shopping. He pulled himself away from her lips and began dropping kisses on her neck, remembering that she loved that, his lips gently pressing on her collarbone, their appreciation shown by Gabbie's gasps and groans.

Suddenly, she pulled back, grabbing Taylor's wrist. "Come on!" she hissed. "Back seat!" She dove between the two front seats, pulling Taylor after her.

"Oof!" mumphed Taylor, as he landed heavily on top of her, a sickening crack emitting from the plastic bag underneath Gabbie. "What was that?"

Gabbie edged over, revealing a sticky, watery, yellow mess on the back of her sweater and in her hair.

"The eggs!" groaned Taylor, slapping his hand to his forehead. "Ike'll kill me."

"Fuck the eggs," murmured Gabbie. "In fact, fuck Ike."

Taylor grinned saucily, leaning back down on top of her. He tangled his fingers in her hair, feeling the egg squishing up between them, a satisfying, thick, gooey feeling. "I'd rather fuck you," he whispered sexily, cringing internally as he realized exactly how disgustingly horny he sounded.

Gabbie giggled, pushing back her eggy hair. "Be my guest."

***

"Now, see, the problem with these things," mused Zac aloud, squeezing the brown plastic bottle as hard as he could, "is that for ages, nothing comes out, then it all explodes at once."

As if on cue, a huge blob of chocolate syrup shot out of the bottle at full pelt, hitting Ollie square in the stomach.

"See?" Zac shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

Ollie stared in bewilderment down at his once-white Fila sweater. "Aww, Zac!" he moaned, examining the gigantic stain from every angle.

"Sorry, dude."

Frowning, Ollie took his index finger and dipped it in the brown puddle, licking it. "Mmm… nice." Smiling, he took the bottle from Zac and aimed it at him, a thin stream of the thick, sweet sauce trailing from his right cheek, down his neck and onto his wide chest.

"Hey!" Zac jumped away from him, grabbing a cloth to dab at his shirt with.

"Get what you give," grinned Ollie, his lips cracking into a huge smile, revealing his even, white teeth.

Zac laughed, figuring that it was only syrup; it'd come out in the laundry, and what was a shirt anyway? "Good philosophy." He tucked the bottle of ice-cream topping back into the cupboard, after drizzling it over each of the two ice-cream mountains in front of him. "Come on."

Ollie followed Zac back through to the family room, flopping down beside him on the couch. He looked over at Zac, who was toying with his ice-cream, his floppy fringe falling into his eyes, which had adopted a dreamy, faraway look. "Spill," he commanded.

"Huh?" Suitably dazed, Zac looked up.

"What's wrong, mate?" asked Ollie, cocking an eyebrow at Zac. "It can't be that much fun to watch ice-cream melt, sure it can't."

Zac snorted in amusement, sliding a spoonful of rocky road between his lips. "I'm fine."

"Sure you are."

"No, really," Zac assured him.

"It's the big stick, isn't it?"

"The what?" Zac raised his eyebrows, watching as Ollie's brown eyes danced with laughter under his thick, dark eyebrows.

"Taylor, you ned!" Ollie chuckled. "He's bugging you, ain't he? Don't blame you. He does my head."

"He what?" Zac still wasn't used to Ollie's English phrases. "Big, dumb American here, remember."

Ollie shook his head. "Taylor pisses me off. He's pissing you off too, isn't he?"

"Not exactly pissing me off…" began Zac. "More…I dunno. Just…" Zac bit on his lip, looking up at Ollie, praying that his friend wouldn't bust a gut laughing at him for spilling his feelings.

"Just what?" Ollie prompted, gently.

Zac sighed, picking at the rough calluses on his fingers, a result of too much drumming. "Just like…you can't connect with anyone or anything… Like nobody can ever know what you're feeling… Just like.." He looked up at him, a pained expression in his chocolate brown eyes. "Like you're different," he finished quietly.

Ollie reached out and squeezed Zac's arm. "All the time," he said slowly, lowering his gaze. "I can't really ever feel close to anyone…"

"Me neither," concurred Zac. "I mean, Ike, Tay and me, we used to be so close. I always thought that nothing could ever split us up. I had visions of us all living in the same street when we were older, still doing music the way we used to, or the way we do now." He exhaled slowly. "But now… I dunno… I mean, I love them…a lot…but…we just don't connect the way we used to. And it's my fault."

Ollie frowned, listening to Zac pour his heart out. This had obviously been eating at him for some time. "It's not your fault," he spoke up softly.

"It is," he protested sadly. "I don't know why, but I keep pushing them away… I like it when I hurt them… Especially Taylor, he's just so easy. It's like part of me wants to grab them and hug them and never let them go, but a bigger part - a much bigger part - wants to get them as far away from me as possible. I mean, it must be me. Ike and Tay are still as close as always, so it's got to be something that's wrong with me." He shook his head, taking another deep breath. "And Rachelle… God, she's great, but I still don’t feel the connection and it bothers me. I shouldn't let it, cause I can't lose her. She's the best thing that's happened to me lately, but it's just not right. I'm a complete failure." He buried his face in his hands, still shaking his head.

Ollie scooted along the couch, instinctively wrapping his arms around his miserable friend and holding him tightly. "You're not a failure, Zac."

Zac shook his head against Ollie's white sweatshirt in protest, resting his forehead on the older boy's shoulder. "Whatever."

"You're not!" insisted Ollie. "This is gonna make me sound totally pathetic, but you're turning out to be the best mate I ever had. You're a decent bloke, Zac, you convinced your mean old brothers to take me in, give me somewhere to stay, get me a job. That's not a failure. You're just… I know why you feel different…"

"How can you?"

Ollie bit his lip. "Because I'm different, too," he murmured softly, stroking Zac's hair.

Zac froze, alarm bells ringing in his mind, but he didn't recoil from Ollie's embrace, just let the older boy comfort him, whimpering almost silently.

Screwing up his eyes, Ollie held Zac tighter, feeling Zac comply, holding him harder himself. Misreading the signal, Ollie slowly pulled back, looking directly into Zac's soulful, liquid brown eyes.

Gradually, he leaned in, pushing his trembling lips against Zac's full, moist ones, kissing gently. For a moment, as he slid his hand onto Zac's leg, he thought he felt him kissing back, but, a second later, as if he'd been electrified, Zac shot backwards.

"What the…" Face pale, eyes tearing over, he stared at Ollie in complete shock. Then, shaking, he got to his feet, looking like a deer caught in headlights. Then he began to back slowly away from Ollie, hands outstretched as if to ward him off.

"Zac, wait!" Ollie jumped up, catching him by the arm.

But Zac shook him off, running as fast as he could out of the warm, cozy room.

Chapter Seven
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