Chapter Five

Isaac lay in the lumpy, unfamiliar bed, staring up at the dull white ceiling. He watched as a spider in the corner of the room deftly spun its web, the delicate, intricate patterns weaving together to form a spectacular gossamer. Isaac wished, at that moment, for all the world, that he was a spider. The tiny insect didn't have to deal with bossy lead guitarists, insecure girlfriends or little brothers with attitude problems. Then again, maybe it did. Isaac didn't know anything about spiders' personal lives. For all he knew, this spider came from a totally dysfunctional family of spiders, with an alcoholic spider mom and a psychotic spider sister. He smiled in the darkness, shaking his head. He must be tired. His thoughts weren't making any sense.

Just then, the door slowly swung open and Rhia padded barefoot into the room, wearing rumpled plaid flannel pajamas. "Hey, honey," she smiled, walking over to him and perching on the end of his bed.

"Hey."

At the lack of enthusiasm in his response, Rhia stood up again, lifted up the edge of Isaac's sheets and slipped into bed beside him, wrapping her arms tightly around him and resting her cheek against his chest. She leaned up and kissed him just under his chin.

Isaac stroked her hair, pulling her closer to him. "What did I do to deserve this?" he mumbled gratefully into her hair, practically able to taste the sweet, aromatic shampoo she used.

Rhia ran her index finger up and down his T-shirted chest, gazing up at him. "Tay told me what happened. I figured you might need a little TLC."

"I never did like 'No Scrubs'," Isaac teased, dropping a kiss onto Rhia's head.

His girlfriend made a face. "Funny. So, are you okay?"

"I am now that you're here," he told her, kissing her again. "All I've wanted to do all day is snuggle up with you."

"Oh, Ike, you're a big softie," jibed Rhia affectionately, chucking him under the chin. "But I'm not complaining," she added hastily. "Hey, did you speak to Zac?"

"Not yet. I figured I'd best let him cool down. I feel so guilty. I promised him that I'd speak with this Ollie…"

"It wasn't your fault. You were busy. You forgot. You had other things on your mind."

"But I should have remembered. You know what Zac's been like lately. This was my big chance to reach him, and I blew it."

Rhia rolled over on to her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows, gazing down at Isaac. "Ike, are you human?"

He looked at her quizzically. "Contrary to popular belief, yes, I am."

"Well, then. Humans make mistakes. Unless you're some kind of superhero, you can't blame yourself."

"I still feel bad."

She sighed, kissing her index finger, then pressing it against his lips. "Well, you shouldn’t. Zac needs a kick up the ass right now, anyway."

"Yeah, I can see that helping." Isaac rolled his eyes sarcastically. "He'd sure thank us for that one."

"You know what I mean. He needs to realize that he can't treat everyone like shit. Whatever big angst thing he's got going on, he needs to get over it."

"Try telling him that," muttered Isaac dejectedly.

"Oh, Ike." Rhia pulled herself up on top of him. "I love you."

Isaac smiled, kissing her gently. "I love you, too, Ree."

Rhia's face melted into a smile, then her eyes widened. "What was that?"

"What? I didn't hear anything," Isaac murmured, hugging Rhia against his body.

"No!" Rhia pushed him away. "Listen!"

Isaac cocked his head. "I can't hear-"

Thump!

Rhia gripped his arms tightly, fear washing across her face. "Ike!" she hissed.

Isaac, face paling, raised his eyebrows. "Rhia, if I'm gonna go check this out, I'll need the circulation in my arms."

Rhia let his arms go, with a whispered apology, then climbed out of the bed after him and followed him out into the hallway. They seemed to be the only ones still awake, the only ones to have heard the noises. "It's downstairs," she whispered, pointing towards the staircase. "Do you think it's a robber?" she asked, fear creeping into her voice.

"Shh! Come on!" hissed Isaac. He led the way down the staircase, Rhia hiding behind him, creeping silently in their bare feet. "The light!" mouthed Isaac, pointing towards the kitchen, where there was a pale wash of light bathing the edges of the door.

"I guess the burglar would have to see," mused Rhia, still creeping along behind Isaac.

Taking a deep breath, Isaac pushed the kitchen door open.

There was a loud clatter as Zac jumped and dropped the jar of peanut butter. "Ike!" he gasped. "Way to give a guy a heart attack!"

"Talk about yourself, Zac!" Isaac whispered angrily. "I thought you were a robber!"

"Can't a guy get hungry in the middle of the night?" Zac hissed, gesturing to the huge stack of toast on the worktop.

"Not for about fifty slices of toast," yawned Rhia, scratching her mussed-up blond hair. "Zac, I know you've got a big appetite, but you can't seriously tell me that you were going to eat all that." She looked at him, cocking one eyebrow. "You weren't, were you?"

Zac looked from the stack of toast, to the open door of the cellar, to Isaac and Rhia, standing with their arms folded, and then back to the toast.

"Well?" prompted Isaac. "What were you going to do with all that toast? I don't get it, Zac."

"Umm…" Zac trailed off, wondering how exactly you told your brother that you were hiding a homeless squatter in the cellar and were stealing food for a little nighttime feast with him.

"Zac?" pressed Rhia, looking thoroughly confused.

"You see-"

"Hey, Zac mate, is it ready yet?" Ollie's voice floated up from the cellar, followed by the thud of footsteps on the stone steps.

Isaac and Rhia's eyebrows raised so far that they disappeared under their hair.

"Who's that?" asked Isaac, pointing towards the cellar door.

Ollie wandered into the kitchen, scratching his nose. "Come on, mate, I'm starving…" He trailed off, noticing the two older, pajama-clad people in the kitchen. He brought both hands behind his back, as if standing at ease in the military, looking uncertainly from Zac to Isaac and Rhia, a blush creeping up in his sallow cheeks.

Zac coughed. "Um, Ollie? This is my brother, Isaac and his girlfriend, Rhia. Ike, Ree, this is Oliver Jones."

Isaac's eyebrows raised even further. "Oliver? As in…"

"Yes. This is Ollie," Zac confessed. "The one you couldn't be bother to meet earlier on," he added resentfully.

"And why was he in our cellar at one-thirty in the morning?" asked Isaac, arms folding across his chest once more.

"I'm not allowed to have friends round?" Zac turned back to the toast and began smearing a slice with peanut butter.

Isaac sighed. "Well, Zac, your hospitality really sucks if you lock your friends in the cellar."

"What's going on, Zac?" Rhia spoke up quietly, slipping into a seat at the table. "You've been rumbled, little buddy. You have to tell us."

"She's right," concurred Isaac. "Sit. Now. Both of you." He plopped down into a chair next to his girlfriend, rubbing his forehead and wondering how come it was always him who had to deal with his brothers in the middle of the night. Whether it be Tay climbing through windows, Mackenzie throwing up or Zac hiding vagrants in the basement, he was always the one having to see to it. His thoughts drifted enviously to Taylor who, no doubt, was sleeping soundly up in his bed, dreaming of whatever it was he dreamed about, chest rising and falling gently, not a care in the world… Why couldn't he be like that? Instead, he felt like some agent from the CIA who'd just busted someone for hiding criminals or stowaways or something. Damn Taylor. How he'd managed to sleep through it… Isaac shook his head, realizing that building up an anger towards Taylor - and an unjustified one at that - didn't have the slightest thing to do with the situation that had presented itself to him here. "Sit!" he commanded again, his voice raising slightly.

Zac rolled his eyes, but all the same slumped into a seat at the opposite side of the table. Ollie followed suit, still eyeing Isaac nervously.

"Zac, what's going on?" asked Isaac wearily, still massaging his brow. "And I want a straight answer, please. It's the middle of the night, and I really don't want to have to deal with this now. So just answer me. Why was Ollie in our cellar?"

"He lives there," muttered Zac.

"What?!" Isaac and Rhia choked the word out incredulously, in unison, each sounding as shocked as the other.

"Oh, great, I get it in stereo," groaned Zac.

"Why does he live in our cellar?"

"Well, it was his cellar first," Zac told them in a reasonable tone. When Isaac still looked confused, Zac sighed. "Oh, Ollie, why don't you tell them?"

"Uh, Zac, I…" Ollie's cheeks flushed, his voice faltering and unsure.

"Go on," prompted Isaac. "We're listening."

Ollie sighed, raking his hands through his greasy brown hair. He took a deep breath, then proceeded to tell Isaac and Rhia exactly what he had told Zac the night before - about his band, his ambitions and how they all fell through. "So," he finished, his eyes still darting uncertainly between the two older members of the discussion, "I've been living in the cellar ever since. I'm sorry… I mean, I didn't know you lot would be coming here or anything."

Isaac stretched his arms out, cracking his fingers. He didn't know what to do or what to say. This Ollie character seemed decent enough, and he did sound very apologetic about the fact that he'd been living in their cellar for the past few weeks. But still, he didn't know how to address the homeless person who'd been presented in front of him, and he wasn't sure what Zac expected him to do, either. He certainly wasn't in any position to be asking favors of his big brother.

Zac cleared his throat. "Umm, Ike? You know, we do need someone to help around here. And Ollie knows what he's doing, and he needs someplace to live and, you know, you've met him now, and he's familiar with the house and-"

"Zac, stop!" Isaac held up his hand, massaging at the headache again. "It's all too much. Usually, job interviews aren't conducted in the dead of the night."

"I'm really sorry," Ollie added in weakly, resting his head on the wooden butcher block table.

Isaac shook his head. "But I see what you're saying. And I think," he told them, watching Zac's expression lighten slightly, a pleasant change from the usual dark, angry one, "that maybe you're right, Zac."

"I am?"

Isaac nodded. "I mean, this is only on a trial basis, okay, and your rates will be negotiable, but I think that maybe we could use you here, Ollie."

"Really?" asked Ollie, his eyes lighting up.

"Yes. Don't get too excited; it's pretty menial work, and the money certainly won't be great, and we'll just take it a week at a time, but if you want the job, I guess it's yours."

"Oh, thank you!" Ollie grinned at Isaac, his sallow complexion seemingly brightening at the prospect of employment, no matter how mundane his job.

"Ike, could he live here?" Zac looked hopefully at his older brother, wondering just how far he could push this.

Isaac looked at Rhia, then back to the two younger boys, nodding his head slowly. "It's not like we need forty bedrooms, is it?" He laughed. "Of course, we could put you in the servant's quarters, where there's no central heating…"

"Anywhere!" blurted out Ollie, sparking laughter from everyone. "Thank you, Isaac, thank you so much."

Isaac shrugged nonchalantly, spreading his hands and looking quite the regular savior of the homeless.

Zac coughed again, rubbing at his eyes. "Ike?" he mumbled, a little sleepily. "What about Tay?"

"Oh, yeah," agreed Rhia, speaking for the first time in while. "He'll freak, Isaac."

"Tay's not a problem," Isaac assured them. "He's a reasonable guy, and I'm sure if I talk to him, and he meets Ollie, that everything will be okay."

"Yeah, well, good luck," snorted Zac, rolling his eyes.

"Zac…"

"Okay, okay, sorry," muttered Zac. "Anyway, can we go? Get Ollie sorted in his room?"

Isaac nodded. "Sure." He watched as Zac and Ollie pushed back their chairs and padded across the cold linoleum. "Ollie?" he called. "Welcome aboard."

***

"I don't believe this! Come on!" Taylor grabbed Gabbie's arm and pulled her along after him as he dodged his way through the crowded streets of London, trying to shield his head from the rain with a copy of "The Big Issue", but to no avail. The cold droplets still dripped down the back of his neck, sliding under his shirt collar and trickling excruciatingly slowly down his spine, pooling together just above the waistband of his cords.

He ducked, narrowly avoiding having his eye speared by someone's umbrella. Sighing, he tugged Gabbie harder, running a little faster, weaving his way through the Londoners, hurrying on their way to work, or to the shops, or back to their nice warm houses for a cup of soup. Soup would go down quite nicely right now, Taylor realized, shivering slightly as yet another ice-cold raindrop snaked its way down his back. The people making their way down the streets didn't seem at all bothered by the rain; they seemed to be accustomed to it. But Taylor wasn't. He'd forgotten just how miserable the English weather actually was, only to be reminded when the heavens had opened earlier that morning, just seconds after he and Gabbie had stepped off the big, red double decker bus. Now it was falling so hard from the leaden sky that it was literally bouncing off the sidewalks, pouring down in huge sheets, making seeing where he was going virtually impossible.

Suddenly, a huge gust of wind snatched "The Big Issue" from Taylor's hands. He stopped, watching as the magazine hurtled down the street, dancing in the strong wind, eventually disappearing from sight. "Oh, for God's sake!" he muttered. "This is ridiculous. Come on, in here." He dove into a tiny alcove between the shops, hauling Gabbie in with him. "This is crazy!" he grumbled. "Absolutely crazy!"

Gabbie looked up at him, squeezing the water out of her mop of curly hair. "It's only rain, Taylor," she reminded him, wiping the water from her face and trying not to smudge her makeup.

"I know that. But what we're doing is stupid. We're hunting for some tiny business in a gigantic city, with no proper address. We must be insane." He pulled at his own hair, trying to remove some of the rainwater from it.

"Can't we make any of it out?" asked Gabbie, teasing her hair back into shape with her fingers.

Taylor stared at her, wondering how it was possible for her hair to look good after being drenched only seconds before. Why couldn't his do that? Sighing, he dug around in his pocket, retrieving the scrap of paper that had had the business's address on it. Before he'd dropped it in the puddle and turned it into some illegible blue mess. He thrust it out to her. "You try if you like, but I can't see anything."

Gabbie squinted closely at the piece of paper, trying to identify the shapes of the darker areas. "I think that's a four," she mused, pointing to the first dark smudge.

Taylor peered at it. "That's not a four! If anything, it's a seven."

Gabbie raised her eyebrows, looking at him quizzically. "If that's a seven, I'm the Queen of England."

"Your Royal Highness." Taylor bowed slightly.

Laughing, Gabbie slugged him on the shoulder. "Jerk." She sighed, straining her eyes to read the address.

Taylor groaned, leaning his head against the brick wall, feeling the hammers in his head soothing slightly against the drop in temperature. "This is hopeless."

"Why don't we call Ike and get him to tell us the address?" suggested Gabbie.

"Call Ike…" Taylor repeated. "Why are we so dumb? Why didn't we think of that before?" He hit his head off the wall again, muttering to himself.

Gabbie put her hand on his shoulder. "Yeah, we're idiots. But headbanging against brick walls won't help. Just call him."

Taylor fished around in his rucksack, pulling out his cellphone and punching in Isaac's number. "Come on," he muttered, drumming his fingers impatiently against the wall as he waited for his brother to answer. He listened to the phone ring and ring, each time his heart sinking a little lower. Finally, he disconnected the call. "He's not answering."

"We could go back and get it…"

Taylor shook his head. "By the time we got back there, then out here again, the business would be shut. It's not exactly a ten-minute journey."

"Try Zac?"

"Pointless," replied Taylor. "He's gone with that stupid Ollie to do… I dunno, actually. Something. See, I told you, that Ollie dude is just making things worse!"

Gabbie sighed wearily, running her hand through her damp curls. "Fancy a coffee?" she asked. "My treat?"

Taylor smiled at her. "That would be great. Thanks." He shielded his eyes and looked out into the street. "It's still pouring though."

"I saw a coffee shop just down the road. If we run, we shouldn't get too wet." Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed his hand and together they ran, darting past business executives and mothers with baby strollers, until they reached the coffee shop.

Within five minutes, they were seated at a small, cozy table in the back corner of the eatery, Gabbie sipping a cappuccino and Taylor with a mug of hot chocolate and two chocolate frosted doughnuts in front of him.

"How do you stay so skinny?" Gabbie wondered aloud, gesturing to the cakes.

"High metabolism, I guess," shrugged Taylor, taking a huge bite out of one of his doughnuts and grinning at Gabbie. "Want a bite?" he mumbled around the cake, holding it out to her.

Gabbie waved it away, wrinkling her nose up. "No way. It'd go straight to my tummy and it's not exactly needed there, if you know what I mean," she smiled, patting her stomach.

"There's nothing wrong with your tummy," Taylor told her, taking another bite. "You're beginning to sound like Rhia, and that's not good."

"I thought you liked Rhia?"

"I do." Taylor picked up the white napkin and began to shred it, not really noticing what he was doing. "She just bugs me with all this insecurity stuff. It's boring. Why doesn't she change the record?"

"Maybe that's the way she really feels." Gabbie took another sip of her cappuccino. "A lot of women are conscious of their weight."

"Not just that… She thinks that Ike's gonna leave her for Jamie or something."

"For Jamie?!" Gabbie choked out, her eyes bugging.

"Exactly." Taylor rolled his eyes. "I mean, Jamie's beautiful, but she's a bit of a bitch, really. She's cool, but… Man, Ike would never leave Rhia. She's the best he's ever gonna get. If anything, he should be worried that she leaves him."

"Relationships are funny things," Gabbie philosophized, smiling.

An uncomfortable silence descended amongst them; it was painfully obvious which particular relationship they were both thinking about.

Gabbie cleared her throat, deciding to try and diffuse the awkward situation. "So… Ollie's moved in…"

"Yeah. Man… Since when do Ike and Zac make executive decisions in middle of the night?! Since when do they hire someone without consulting me?!" He tutted, ripping the remainder of the napkin in half.

"I guess you're not pleased?"

Taylor shook his head. "I dunno. I just… I wish they'd asked me. I mean, it's really, really great that Zac's actually taken an interest in the business, but I think that I should have been consulted." He sighed, rolling a ripped-off piece of napkin between his thumb and his forefinger. "Ike just thinks that he can just suck up to me and I'll be okay with anything he wants."

"Oh, Tay, he doesn't."

"No, he does!" Taylor insisted. "I mean, I probably would have agreed eventually, once I'd met Ollie, but they just assumed that if they were nice to me, I'd agree to anything. Do I really come across as that stupid, Gabbie? That materialistic?"

Gabbie put her hand on top of his. "Of course you don't. Do you want to know what I think?"

Taylor nodded, shifting his hand and lacing his fingers through Gabbie's. "Sure I do."

"I think that Ike's torn between you and Zac. Zac wants one thing; you want another. And my guess is that he figured that since you're such a nice, understanding guy, you'd be easier to work with than Zac."

"I guess you're right. Zac's pretty stubborn."

"He is," Gabbie agreed. "And you're not. You're easy-going and sweet, and you just want people to be happy."

Taylor squeezed her hand more tightly. "Do you really think so?"

"Yes." Suddenly, Gabbie snatched her hand away, reddening, and stood up. "We should go. Come back tomorrow or something."

Taylor blushing, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. "Uh, yeah, you're right."

"Uh, I gotta use the bathroom before we go." Gabbie quickly excused herself, walking quickly to the bathroom, heels clicking on the tiled floor.

Taylor watched her go, resting his chin in his hands and pondering if it was possible that his life could get any more complicated right now.

***

Zac sat alone in the recording booth, hugging his knees to himself. It was pitch black, and all he could make out were the eerie shadows of the band's instruments and the recording equipment. As far as he knew, everyone else was curled up in the living room, watching a movie, but Zac didn't want to join them. He wanted to be alone.

Suddenly, the door to the recording room was pushed open, a bright rectangle of light flooding into the otherwise darkened room. Zac crept back against the wall, then remembered that even though there was light in the control room, it was still dark where he was. He was safely hidden, unless whoever this was decided to enter the actual booth, which was unlikely.

The person in the control room flicked the lights on, bathing the room in a buttery yellow light, enabling Zac to see that it was Taylor who'd intruded on his private time. He watched as his older brother slumped into a chair in the booth, resting his head in his folded arms. Zac wondered what was up with him this time. Taylor liked to have a problem, something to complain about. It seemed to give him a purpose in life, Zac thought cruelly, as Taylor sat up, raking his hand through his messy hair.

Then he got to his feet, and Zac heard the handle of the recording booth being jerked around. Taylor was coming in. Panicking, Zac grabbed the tarpaulin sheet that was covering the drumkit and pulled it over him, hoping that Taylor wouldn't notice the lumpy shape stuck against the wall.

He noticed the green sheet becoming brighter as Taylor hit the light switch, then he heard his brother coughing as he walked around, muttering to himself, something about Gabbie. No doubt she was his problem. And not for the first time either. Zac rolled his eyes in the greenish darkness, thinking about how dramatic and hopeless his brother was. Sure, Gabbie had been a total bitch to him, but that had been years ago. Before, Zac had sympathized with him, and he could still vividly remember that night in New York, after Taylor had been cruelly informed of Gabbie's engagement to Mike. He had lain in his bed, listening to Taylor's muffled sobbing, the pain his brother was feeling ripping through his own heart until he eventually joined his distraught brother on his bed, taking him into his arms and holding him until his crying had eventually subsided. Taylor's upset then, Zac felt, had been justified. But it was two years later, and his brother and Gabbie had seemed to be getting on so well, and having a problem with it now was just dull and attention seeking.

Zac tugged at his T-shirt; it was glued to his skin, his sweat plastering it to his back and stomach. It was hot under the sheet, it made him feel sleepy and languid. Suddenly, a searing pain shot up his leg, and he gripped it tightly, massaging his cramped muscles. Carefully, he stretched his leg out, wincing and freezing as his knee cracked loudly, but it seemed to have gone unnoticed by his brother.

He cocked his head, listening as a familiar tune began to play on the piano, then as Taylor's soulful voice broke into the still silence as he sang his way through 'Weird'. Zac smiled to himself, hearing Taylor's voice tremble on the high notes. It was hard for him to reach them nowadays, even though they'd transposed it into a lower key for the Albertane Tour. The soft chords swam pleasantly around the room, as his brother sang softly to himself. Zac almost crawled out from under the tarpaulin to sing with him; his fingers itched to reach for the drumsticks and add the soft, rhythmic accompaniment and he longed to harmonize with his brother, adding the top notes and the undertones alternately.

His ears pricked up, straining to hear, as he heard the door open again. Someone was joining his brother in the recording booth. Someone female, judging by the light footsteps, far too light for it to be Isaac. And he could vaguely smell some feminine perfume, drifting under his tarpaulin tent, mingling with the stale, musty air.

He listened as Taylor's emotional singing and playing stopped abruptly, and the piano stool shot backwards, scraping painfully across the plastic floor covering.

"No. Keep playing. It's beautiful."

Zac sighed. Rachelle. God, couldn't he even eavesdrop on his brother's singing without her popping up? Evidently not.

"I was…just…" Taylor spoke falteringly; he stammered the sentence out.

More light footsteps as Rachelle presumably crossed the room. "I forgot how much I loved that song."

"You liked 'Weird'?"

"I liked all your songs." A sigh. "Why that one, though? You sound sad. Anything you want to talk about?"

A small silence, then, "It's just…"

"Your asshole of a brother?"

Zac gasped in indignation, then remembered that he was supposed to be silent. Slowly, he pulled back the green plastic sheet until he could just see his brother, perched on the piano stool, resting his chin in his hands. Rachelle sat close to him, very close, looking intently at him.

Taylor smiled, laughing shortly. "Everyone notices it?"

Rachelle nodded. "Zac's a total ass," she shrugged. "We can all see it. I think that Blind Bartimaeus could probably see it."

"He's not that bad."

"Oh, don't get all brotherly loyalty on me, Tay, of course he is!" Rachelle got to her feet. "He's selfish, greedy, nasty, horrible, lazy, aloof… Do I have to go on?"

Taylor frowned. "Shell, he's not that bad."

Under his sheet, Zac felt the anger welling up inside of him. How dare she? What was she trying to do? Isolate him from the whole entire universe? Well, on second thoughts, he was doing a pretty good job of that himself, but it was none of her business.

"Whatever."

Taylor sighed. "Anyway, it's not him. It's Gabbie."

"What's up?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter."

Zac watched as she sat back down, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Of course it matters," she told him gently. "You're obviously upset."

Taylor sighed again, making Zac wonder if there was any air left in him to sigh out. "No, really, I'd rather not talk about it."

Rachelle smiled, beginning to rub his shoulder gently. "Well, you know, if you ever do need to talk or anything, I'm always willing to listen."

Taylor's eyebrows raised and drew sharply together in confusion. He and Rachelle had never particularly gelled before; in fact, they'd barely spoken to one another. She seemed nice enough - actually, she seemed lovely - but she'd never paid him all that much attention until now. Still, it was a nice gesture. "Thanks. I'll bear that in mind."

She smiled. "Hey, you wanna see the rest of the movie?"

"Sure," Taylor agreed. Then he frowned. "Didn't you come in here for something?"

Rachelle turned and scanned the room. "I was actually looking for Zac. You haven't seen him, have you?"

In his little tarpaulin hideaway, Zac thanked his lucky stars that she hadn't found him. A lecture from the schizo-bitch wasn't exactly top on his list of 'must-haves' at that particular moment in time. He rolled his eyes again, wondering what her deal was. Why was she so mean and horrible to him, and yet, with Taylor, she was the sweetest thing since sugared almonds? It didn't make sense. And, if he was such an asshole, why was she looking for him? Zac knew that girls were confusing, but this one really took the biscuit. She was so changeable, so volatile, he decided, unaware that Rachelle had reached the exact same character analysis of him. One minute, she was yelling at him, the next, she was crying, the next, she was back to her same old judgmental self. He couldn't figure her out, that was for sure.

He watched through his little peephole as Rachelle pulled his brother to his feet and linked arms with him, walking out of the studio, the two of them whispering to one another as the light flicked off.

Angrily, Zac kicked the plastic sheet away from him, punching the wall in fury. Why did it bother him so much that Rachelle was so nice to Taylor and so mean to him? He didn't like her; he could barely stand to be in a room with her; he hated her with a vengeance. So why did he feel the jealousy niggling away in the pit of his stomach?

Annoyed with himself, and with Rachelle, he stomped over to her drumkit, clutching the sticks in his hot fists. Pumping the bass drum pedal hard, he fell into a fast, agitated cross-stick rhythm, the tips of the sticks pounding simultaneously against the snare drum and the high hat.

He battered the drums hard, taking all his pent-up anger out on them, beating the hell out of them, completely oblivious to the fact that he was being watched, dark, dark eyes penetrating dim room as the watcher flipped her long black hair over her shoulder.

***

Isaac spooned some more soggy cornflakes into his mouth, his brow furrowing as he watched his younger brother across the breakfast table. "Zac?" he finally spoke up. "What are you doing?"

"Reading," Zac muttered, without lifting his eyes from The Guardian newspaper.

"Is it interesting?" Isaac asked, a small smile spreading across his lips.

"Yes."

"Funny… I never knew you were Australian." Isaac raised his eyebrows.

Zac looked up, confusion evident on his face. "Australian?" he repeated, staring quizzically at his older brother.

"Well, you're reading it upside down." Isaac nodded to the newspaper.

Zac glanced down at it, then flushed. "Uh, I guess I was miles away."

"Try on auto-pilot past Jupiter," Isaac teased, sipping his coffee. "What's on your mind?"

Shaking his head, Zac turned the newspaper the right way up. "Nothing," he told him quietly, as Rachelle and Jamie entered the kitchen.

"Guten morgen!" sang Jamie, plopping down into a wooden chair and snatching an orange from the fruit bowl.

"Geez, aren't we intercontinental this morning? America, Australasia and now Europe.." muttered Isaac, shaking his head in amusement. "Morning, Jamie," he added.

"Hi," she replied, peeling the orange, the skin coiling on the breakfast table as it detached from the fruit.

"Morning," mumbled Rachelle sleepily, slumping down in a seat next to Isaac, a cup of black coffee in her hand.

"Bad night?" smirked Isaac.

Rachelle yawned loudly, nodding. "I couldn't sleep." She picked up the box of Cheerios and poured herself a bowl. She then proceeded to soak them in orange juice, unaware of the strange looks everyone was giving her.

"Uh, Shell?" giggled Jamie. "That ain't milk, honey."

"Huh?" Rachelle looked baffled, then glanced down at her cereal bowl. "Oh my God!" she moaned, bashing her head off the table.

Isaac shook his head. "Did you two have some kind of private party last night or something?" he chuckled, nodding towards his brother and Rachelle. "This one," he informed Jamie, "was trying to read The Guardian upside down."

Jamie raised her eyebrows. "I hear that it's a sign of intelligence," she told them, her voice deadly serious. "It's also very useful for those days when you morph into a fruit bat."

"Oh, very funny," muttered Zac. "I'm just tired."

"I know the feeling," Rachelle sympathized, cracking another huge yawn.

Zac ignored her, concentrating on eating his roll instead.

"As I say," continued Isaac. "That must have been one hell of a night you guys had."

"We didn't have any night," snapped Zac. "I'm sleepy because my ass of a brother woke me up by singing some dumb Elvis song at six-thirty in the Goddamn morning!"

Isaac raised his eyebrows. "Whoa, chill, buddy. I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was singing so loudly."

"Well, you were," Zac stated flatly, turning his attention back to the newspaper.

"What song?" asked Jamie, biting into another orange segment.

"What does that have to do with the price of fish?" demanded Zac and Rachelle in perfect unison.

Zac's breath caught in his throat the minute the words left his lips. His exclamation couldn't have been more in synchronization with Rachelle's if they'd both been digitally programmed. Slowly, he looked up, his caramel eyes locking with her dark ones. He held her gaze, staring straight at her, not flinching, not moving at all. It was almost as if he couldn't move. As if her gaze had him frozen to the spot; as if she was casting some sort of spell on him. And it was scaring him. Suddenly, he threw down the paper, scraping the chair backwards, the rubber tips of the legs squeaking loudly on the linoleum. He turned and stalked out of the room.

Rachelle shook her head, sighing. "And exeunt Zac," she muttered.

"What's with you two?" queried Jamie, picking up Zac's discarded Guardian and scanning the front page.

"Nothing," Rachelle frowned. "Nothing at all." She stood up, pushing back her chair. "I…uh…I gotta go…do…go do…something."

Jamie narrowed her eyes at her cousin, a smirk materializing on her red-painted lips. "What about your Cheerios?" she asked innocently. "You haven't touched them."

"They…umm…they don't taste too good with orange," replied Rachelle. "I'm gonna go do…"

"Zac?" supplied Jamie, smiling sweetly.

Rachelle reddened. "No! Go do…something… Yeah, that was it. Something."

"Ah, that all-important something," intoned Isaac, nodding his head wisely. "Everybody's looking for that something… We all have something to be doing…" He realized that both girls were staring at him like he was a lunatic. "Never mind," he muttered, shoveling some more soggy cornflakes into his mouth. "Go, Rachelle."

"Yeah. See ya." Rachelle shot one last questioning look at Isaac, then slipped out through the door, sighing gratefully as she escaped the tedious company of Isaac and her elder cousin. Jamie could be so annoying sometimes, and, as for Isaac, well, he was just weird.

She opened her eyes, noticing that the front door was lying wide open. Zac must have gone out there. She hurried out the door, skirting round the edges of the house, shivering in the chilly January air and reached the backyard just in time to see Zac disappear into the cottage way, way down at the back of the garden. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, wondering if it was wise to go after him. Zac just didn't seem to like her at all. Then again, he could be pretty trying himself sometimes. He really was an ass.

But, Rachelle thought as she broke into a jog and began to run lightly over the grass, he wasn't a natural ass. There was a good guy inside of him, calling out to her. And, for some reason, she felt that she was the one to recover him. She didn't know why, or how, only whom. Or rather who: she and Zac. She didn't particularly like him, in fact, she thought he was jumped up, self-centered and arrogant, and when she saw how much he was hurting Isaac and Taylor, she really felt like punching him. She knew, more than anyone, that, as far as family was concerned, you had to let them know how much they meant. You never knew when the people you cared about would be cruelly snatched away from you.

She stopped outside the cottage, wondering what sort of emotional state Zac would be in. Would he be crying? She doubted it. Zac hardly seemed the type, and besides, there hadn't just been a fight. Would he be happy? She doubted that just as much. Angry? Almost certainly. Zac was always angry. Sighing, she decided that she was thinking far too much, rapped on the door and pushed her way inside the cottage.

Zac was curled up on the sofa, a box of something on his lap. Something edible, judging by the fact that his arm was automatically moving between the box and his mouth.

Rachelle crept over, stopping behind him and peering over his shoulder. "Mmm, cockroaches. My favorite," she joked, awkwardly.

"They're dates," responded Zac, flatly.

"I know." She slowly walked around to the other side of the couch, and then sat down beside him. "Are you okay?" she asked.

Zac sighed, his invisible defenses shooting straight up. "Why are you here?" he questioned her wearily. "I don't like you, you don't like me. Can't we just leave it at that?"

"Can I ask you something?"

Zac exhaled slowly. "If I say no, will it make the blindest bit of difference?"

Rachelle smiled. "No." Then her face straightened. "Zac? Why do you push everyone away?"

"I don’t."

"No, you do, Zac. Why won't you let anyone in? Why won't you let anyone help you? Why do you think that you can go this alone? Why won't you admit that you need people?"

Zac turned to her, eyes blazing. "Because I don't need anyone."

"Like hell you don't!" She shook her head. "Zac, you gotta get over this. Learning to love is just part of life. Let yourself love people. Let those people love you back. You're not superman, Zac you can't do this by yourself!"

"I can do whatever I like!"

"This is what I mean!" Rachelle threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. "You think that you're too good for everyone… You're so superior that you've isolated yourself completely! And, to ease your mind, you just tell yourself that nobody cares. Well, they do!"

Zac shook his head. "I don't need this right now."

"Well, what do you need?" spat out Rachelle.

"I don't need anything!"

"Everybody needs something."

"Not me."

"What are you? An ameba?"

Zac stared at her. "At least I don't have the IQ of one."

Rachelle gasped, raising her hand.

Zac braced himself for another slap, cursing himself for getting so mad.

But the slap didn't come. Instead, Rachelle put her hand around his neck and pulled his face closer to hers, pressing her lips against his.

Zac froze. What was she doing? Then, almost unconsciously, he began kissing her back, his lips moving in sensual synchronization with hers, tasting her blackcurrant lip gloss, the sweet aroma spreading across his tongue as he teased her lips with his. It had been so long since he'd had this sort of contact with anyone. The last person had been Libby Reynolds, all those years ago. He ran his fingers through her soft, black hair, shivering as she moaned slightly.

Abruptly, he pulled back. "But you hate me," he whispered, his heart pounding.

"You hate me more," she countered, kissing him again.

Physically, Zac didn't protest. But mentally, his brain was screaming in about fifty different languages that this was wrong. He and Rachelle were like oil and water; they were immiscible, incompatible. But kissing her like this made him feel like he never had before. It was as if every cell in his body had suddenly been switched on and made aware of what was happening. And she seemed to be enjoying it as much as he was. Still, though, it was wrong.

But if it was so wrong, why did it feel so right?

***

"Then what happened?"

Zac sighed, leaning his cheek against the window of the taxi. "She said she had to go."

"That's it?" Ollie took another mouthful of lager from his can of Heineken. "She had to go?"

"Yeah." Zac shook his head. "What's up with this, Ollie?" he moaned, chewing on another pork scratching.

"I dunno, mate," shrugged Ollie. "I thought you pair hated each other?"

"We do. We did." Zac threw his hands up into the air. "Oh, man!"

Ollie chuckled, running his hand through his hair. "Well, we'll pull you a decent bird tonight, mate, and you can forget all about her."

"A decent bird, mate?" mimicked Zac, snickering. "God, Ollie, you're so English!"

"Did you expect me to be Swedish or something?" asked Ollie, rolling his eyes and offering Zac his can.

Zac shook his head, sipping from the lager. "Nah, it's just… I dunno… Never mind." He looked down at his watch. "D'you think we'll get into this club? I mean, we are underage."

Ollie just laughed, folding his arms behind his head. "Of course we'll get in, mate. Look at us. We, my little Zac friend, are two very eligible bachelors tonight."

Zac smiled. "I still can't believe I'm doing this."

"C'mon, pal, you have to live a little! You're telling me you've never snuck out before?"

"Nope." Zac shook his head, grinning broadly. "Tay used to."

"Tay, as in your brother?"

"Yep."

"As in, Saint Taylor? As in, Mr I'm-Holier-Than-Thou?" Ollie stared at him incredulously.

"Yeah," chortled Zac, amused by the look of disbelief on his new friend's face. "You know Gabbie?"

"The foxy one with the big-"

"Yeah," Zac interrupted him quickly. "Well, years ago, Tay used to date her."

Ollie's eyes almost fell out of his head. "You're joking! Tay and someone as nice as her?"

Zac nodded. "Oh yeah… They were into each other in a big way. And Tay used to sneak out to go see her. He used to climb down the tree outside our window, and he'd always come back like four in the morning or something and have to knock on the window and get Ike to lift him inside!"

Ollie giggled. "Man, I can picture that. So, how come you never tried it?"

Zac shrugged. "Well, in the first place, I never had any reason. And anyway, the tree got some tree-disease and the wood died, so it wouldn't have supported my weight, I guess. Plus, I didn't really want Ike lifting me in from outside!"

Ollie shuddered. "Ooh, me neither." Then he laughed, prodding Zac. "You'd probably have done his back in, anyway!"

Zac swatted his hand away good-naturedly. "Oh, piss off. And there was another reason. Tay got caught in this club in downtown Tulsa, and all the papers got their hands on it. My dad went bananas."

"Oh, wait, I think I read that. I read something else too, about you and Taylor."

Zac shook his head. "Let's just not talk about that one. It wasn't exactly a highlight in our career."

"Tough break, man," Ollie sympathized. "Y'know, I actually believed it."

"Ollie!"

"Sorry, mate." Ollie squinted in the darkness, peering through the rain-mottled windows. "Oh, hey, we're here!"

Zac wiped away the condensation on the inside of his window and peered out into the dark London streets. "It doesn't look very busy," he remarked, running his fingers through his hair.

Ollie chuckled. "You wait. Just you wait."

Zac raised his eyebrows, the anticipation swelling inside of him as he leaned over and paid the driver. Climbing out of the car, he scanned the rain-soaked road, looking for any signs of the 'happening nightlife' that Ollie had been enthusing about all through the cab ride. All he could see were a couple of late-night pigeons, fighting half-heartedly over a morsel of bread left on the street. Still, Ollie had promised him a good time tonight, and Zac was going to have one. He was going to make it worth all the hassle of sneaking downstairs and out of the big, creepy house at eleven-thirty at night, and worth the twenty-five pounds that the taxi trip had cost to take them back into the city.

"Come on!" Ollie grabbed his friend by the shirt, pulling him across the street.

"Where are we going?" asked Zac, his boots slapping on the saturated sidewalks as Ollie dragged him along at fifty miles an hour.

"Down here," was Ollie's only reply. He led Zac to a set of winding, concrete stairs, leading down into a dark, dark passage, as far as Zac could see.

"Down there?" Zac's eyebrows raised again as he squinted downstairs. "I can't see anything."

"Trust me." Ollie began to spring lightly down the steps.

Shrugging, Zac followed him, round and round and round, the continuing spiraling of the stairs making him feel more than a little giddy. "How much longer?" he panted, stopping and leaning his head against the central pillar.

"Oh, God, we've got ages to go yet!" laughed Ollie. "You can't even hear the music!"

Zac groaned, beginning to follow the helter-skelter round again. By the time his feet began to throb and his knees felt like jelly, he could hear a faint bass line cutting through the still, musty air of the stairwell. "Nearly there?"

"Stop moaning." Ollie waved a breezy hand in front of Zac's face. "We're almost down."

The music became increasingly louder and louder as Zac continued to follow his friend down and down, round and round the twisting, concrete, urine-odored staircase. Eventually, after what seemed like hours, there were no more stairs.

Zac stopped, wiping the sweat from his brow and gasping for breath. "Man..." he wheezed.

Ollie was still bouncing excitedly beside him on the balls of his feet. "Zac, this is Enigma!" he announced proudly, his voice trembling in excitement.

Zac looked up, drawing in a haggard breath and cursing himself for not staying in shape. "Great," he muttered, taking in the flashing lights, alternating between red, green, yellow and blue, the pungent dry-ice smoke filling the air and the heaving masses of people dancing, squashed together like sardines.

"You could at least try to sound enthusiastic," remarked Ollie, rolling his eyes as he handed the doorman some money and they entered the club.

"I am," Zac assured him. "Those stairs just killed me, that's all."

"Know how many stairs there are?" Ollie led him over to the small cloakroom.

"Nope. But I'm sure you'll tell me." Zac hung his black jacket over a peg, then checked his appearance in the mirror, smoothing down his shirt over his stomach and fixing his hair.

"Nine hundred and thirty eight!"

Zac's eyes bugged out. "No way!"

"Yup."

"You mean we have to climb nine hundred and thirty eight stairs to get back out of here?" The thought of even attempting that made Zac feel light headed.

Smiling, Ollie shook his head. "Nope, there's a lift. An elevator," he added, remembering the cultural barriers between himself and his American friend.

"And why couldn't we take it down?"

"Because it only goes up."

Zac stared at him. "How can it only go… Oh, never mind," he muttered, shaking his blond head.

"Come on, I'll get you a drink." Ollie led the way again, this time out into the heaving masses of people.

Zac concentrated his gaze on his friend, trying to follow the electric blue shirt Ollie was wearing as it darted its way through the crowd. Suddenly, he became aware of someone grabbing him. Annoyed, he turned around, coming face to face with a young man of about nineteen, dressed in a pair of leopard-skin trousers and a pink, ruffled shirt.

"Hey, baby," the guy drawled, running his finger along Zac's jaw.

Zac stared at him, horrified and frozen to the spot.

"You're a cutie, ain't you? I haven't seen you here before." He slipped one arm around Zac's neck, and the other one he placed on his rear, pinching it cheekily.

Zac jumped a mile, jerking himself out of the guy's grasp and pushing his way as fast as he could through the crowd and to the bar, where Ollie was sitting with a puzzled look on his face.

"What took you so long?" he inquired.

Zac just shook his head, hoisting himself up onto a barstool.

"Need a drink?" Ollie asked, an amused smile playing on his lips as he motioned to the bartender.

"A Guinness and a-" he turned to Zac "-what'll it be?"

Zac took a deep breath. "Vodka and orange," he replied. "Double."

Ollie gave him a puzzled look, watching as Zac gulped down as huge mouthful as soon as the drinks arrived. "What's with you?"

"Is this a gay club?" demanded Zac, slamming his glass down on the bar.

"Does it look like a gay club?" Ollie raised his eyebrows, pointing towards a man and a woman who were practically undressed, lying on top of one another, bodies gyrating together.

"Some guy just came on to me!" Zac wailed, shuddering in disgust.

Ollie stared at him for a few seconds, then burst out laughing, holding his sides.

"Thanks for the sympathy," Zac mumbled.

"Sorry," Ollie giggled. "But it's pretty funny."

"So, it's not a gay club?"

"No."

"And you're not gay?"

Ollie stared at him for a second, then shook his head slowly. "Noooo, I'm not gay." Then he leaned over, poking Zac in the ribs. "Hey, mate, don't look round, but two very tasty girls are giving us the eye."

Ignoring the instructions, Zac instantly turned round, seeing two girls whispering and giggling together, shooting a glance in their direction every so often. Ollie was right - they were gorgeous. One was tall and slim, dressed in a tight, hot-pink mini-dress, with long, long blonde hair, swinging to halfway down her back. The other was shorter, with jaw-length black hair and piercing blue eyes, dressed in a strappy black dress. Smiling, they waved at Zac, the blonde one giving him a seductive wink. Zac turned back to Ollie a grin spreading across his face. "Ollie, my man, I think we're about to have a very, very good night…"

***

Ring-ring… Ring-ring… Ring-ring… Ring-ring…

Taylor sat bolt upright in his bed, his ears ringing. As things swam into focus around him, he realized that it wasn't his ears ringing and it was, in fact, the telephone. He stared at the clock, wondering who on earth would call them at two-thirty on a Sunday morning. Then it occurred to him that he had better answer the phone before the entire house woke up.

Diving out of bed, he caught his foot in the duvet and tumbled to the floor, sprawled flat out on his stomach. Sighing, he pulled himself up and ran out into the hall, yelping as he stubbed his toe on the door in the process.

"Hello?" he mumbled grumpily, pulling the phone down onto the floor and sitting cross-legged, massaging his injured toe, which was turning a wonderful array of purple shades.

"Hi, honey!"

"Mom?" he asked wearily, thumping the heel of his hand to his forehead.

"What's wrong, sweetie?"

He sighed. "Nothing, apart from the fact that it's two-thirty in the morning, and through getting up to answer the phone I've winded myself and broken my toe!"

His mom giggled apologetically. "Sorry, honey, I forgot about the time differences."

Just then, Isaac stumbled, zombie-style, out of his room, peering at Taylor through narrowed eyes. "Who is it?" he asked, gesturing to his watch.

Taylor waved him away. "Did you want something, Mom?" he muttered, as more bedroom doors opened and Rachelle and Jamie wandered out into the hallway, closely followed by Niamh and Jennie, then Gabbie and finally Rhia. "Now that you've managed to wake up the entire house!"

"I'm sorry, Tay," apologized Mrs Hanson. "Maybe I should call back tomorrow…"

"No, no," he sighed, waving his hand, forgetting that she couldn't see him. "It's okay. What's up?"

"Well, nothing really," his mom admitted. "I just wanted to check in with you guys, see how everything's going."

"You picked a great time to do it!" snorted Taylor. Then he laughed, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "Sorry, Mom. Everything's going great, really," he told her, jerking Isaac's head off his shoulder as his brother plopped onto the floor beside him, deciding to use him as a prop-up.

"How's Zac?"

Taylor impatiently pushed Isaac away from him, turning his back on the gathered audience. "Zac's…well… He's found us a new employee…"

"How's his behavior?"

Squirming uncomfortably, Taylor glanced helplessly at Isaac, not wanting to turn his brother in, but not wanting to lie to his mother either. "It could be better," he admitted finally. "But we're dealing."

"Is he up?"

Taylor scanned the gaggle of his pajama-ed colleagues that had gathered in the hallway, rubbing their eyes and cracking jaw-splitting yawns. Almost everyone was there, except Ollie. And Zac. Frowning, Taylor spoke back into the receiver. "Uh, no, he's not."

"Well, put Ike on, honey, and go wake him up."

"You want me to wake him?" Taylor repeated incredulously.

"Yes. I want to talk to him. Put Ike on."

Taylor sighed, shrugging his shoulders. "Okay, Mom. I'll catch you later."

"Take care, sweetie. Love you."

"You too, Mom. Here's Ike." Taylor covered the mouthpiece with his hand. "Ike, talk to Mom. I gotta go get Zac up, okay?"

Isaac raised his eyebrows, but nonetheless took the receiver from his brother.

Handing it over, Taylor climbed to his feet and lumbered down the hallway, scratching his head and yawning loudly. Stopping outside Zac's bedroom, he rapped noisily on the door. When there was no answer, he sighed, resting his head against the wooden doorjamb. He would have to wake him up. And Zac was not exactly pleasant when you woke him up at ten in the morning, never mind two thirty. He pushed the door open, slipping around it. "Zac?" he hissed, creeping over to the bed.

Still no answer. Cringing at the thought of Zac's response, Taylor reached out and flicked the light on, illuminating the room in the artificial yellow glow. "Zac?" he repeated, turning around to the bed. His eyes widened, and he stumbled backwards. Zac's bed was empty. The sheets were slightly rumpled, but otherwise, they looked untouched. The rest of the room looked pretty normal for Zac - underwear and shirts spilling out of the drawers, magazines veneering the carpet, empty foot wrappers and drinks cans littered everywhere. But no Zac, or even any sign that he'd been there that night.

Shaking his head and taking a step backwards, Taylor ran clumsily back out into the hallway, hollering at the top of his voice. "Isaac! You are not gonna BELIEVE what he's down now!!!!"

***

"Shh! You'll wake your brothers!"

Zac clapped a hand over his mouth. "Sorry!" he whispered, tiptoeing exaggeratedly up the long, stoned driveway. "Man, that was a good night!" he giggled quietly, concentrating on walking in a straight line, carefully putting one foot in front of the other.

"Too right." Ollie grinned saucily. "Those girls were…mmm-hmm!"

"No kidding!" Zac chuckled again. "Who's Rachelle?"

"Not anything to do with you, anyway!" Ollie cackled. "Forget about her, mate!"

Zac frowned, stopping and leaning on the fence bordering the path leading to the house. Now that he was beginning to sober up, he was starting to wonder if it had been such a great idea to go with those girls… They hadn't done anything besides kissing, but still, he felt a little bad for what he had done to Rachelle. But at the same time, he wondered what exactly he had done to Rachelle. What were they? Enemies? Friends? A couple? All three? He had no idea. Why does life have to be so confusing? he asked himself, stumbling once more up the path, following Ollie across the stones. Why couldn't things be clear cut, in black and white? Corey had always seen things in black and white. But in Zac's world, things tended to be more of a murky gray color, all merging together, making it difficult to differentiate between them. He kicked the stone, closing his eyes and raking his hand through his short hair, commiserating with himself for having such a tough life.

"Zac! Watch out for that…"

Crash!

"…dustbin…" Ollie finished, cringing as the metal trashcan clattered down onto the driveway, the loud noise reverberating in the still night air, echoing over and over again.

"Shit!" cursed Zac, burying his face in his hands. He was in for it now.

Sure enough, the lights in the house flashed on, and the front door flew open, revealing an irate Taylor, his face like thunderclouds.

"Oh, noooo…" Zac moaned softly.

"Zachary Walker Hanson!" Taylor bellowed, sounding incredibly like his father. "Get in here NOW!"

Zac and Ollie exchanged worried glances, then slowly walked towards the house, feet dragging behind them, like a pair of fifth-graders being summonsed to the principal's office.

When Zac reached the door, Taylor grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him vigorously. "What the hell are you playing at?!" he screamed, jerking Zac backwards and forwards violently. "Of all the stupid, irresponsible, dumb, pathetic, selfish, inconsiderate, horrible, nasty, stupid, pathetic, selfish, selfish, selfish, selfish, selfish…" he trailed off, his words catching in his throat, still shaking Zac. He stared at his jarring brother, tears welling in his eyes. "Don't you know how WORRIED we were?!" he shouted, beginning to cry angrily. "I can't believe you'd be so stupid, so selfish, Zac! Oh, my GOD! How could you?!" he demanded, tears streaming down his face. "How could you?!"

"Tay, come on." Isaac appeared behind him, placing restraining hands on his shoulders. "Don't shake him like that…"

Taylor inhaled, anger fuming away inside of him. Then he lifted his fist and made contact with Zac's stomach, punching him hard. "You bastard," he hissed. "You selfish, inconsiderate jerk!" He shook him again, Zac turning grayer and grayer each time.

"Tay, come on," Isaac grabbed his brother's wrists and pulled them away, frightened of what Taylor might do to their little brother if given half the chance.

Taylor stopped hitting him and stood, staring at Zac, his eyes and face red, trembling in anger.

Zac began to wobble, swaying slightly from side to side, tears beginning to well in his own eyes. Suddenly, without warning, Zac bent forward, clutching his stomach and threw up loudly on the floor.

"So now you hurl on me?!" Taylor spat angrily, pulling off his splattered T-shirt. "Oh, my GOD!" He collapsed onto a chair at the table, burying his head in his folded arms.

Gabbie walked slowly over to him and put her arms around him, holding him and rocking him slowly back and forward.

Isaac turned to Zac. "Care to explain?"

Zac stared at him for a full minute, holding his steely gaze with one just as cold. "No," he replied finally. "We'll discuss this in the morning."

"NO!" Isaac roared, thumping his fist off the worktop, making Zac jump in shock. "We'll discuss this NOW, Zac!"

"Well, don't get all freaky like him," muttered Zac, jerking a thumb at Taylor, who was still sobbing angrily in Gabbie's arms.

"He's worried," Isaac hissed furiously. "As we all were! Where were you, Zac? What were you thinking?! Gallivanting off in a strange country in the middle of the night!"

"I was with Ollie," Zac mumbled, rubbing his hand across his red face. His stomach ached from Taylor's blow, his throat burned from throwing up, his head was fuzzy from the alcohol. "We just…"

"Just what?" demanded Isaac coldly. "This isn't on, Zac. No way."

"Ike, don't!" whined Zac. "I don't feel so good."

"Oh, I wonder why?!" spat Isaac sarcastically. "You're reeking of alcohol, Zac, and judging by the mess on the floor, you've obviously had quite a bit! Where the hell were you?! Why didn't you phone?! Just what were you playing at?! And…"

Zac closed his eyes, his brother's angry words mingling incomprehensibly with Taylor's sobbing and the sour smell of his vomit, floating around beside his head, but none of them penetrating it. Suddenly, he felt hot. Really hot. He struggled to breathe, Isaac's incessant yelling fading into the background, almost muting. He opened his eyes to find that his vision was blurry, shapes swimming in front of him. Isaac seemed to be moving forwards and backwards, as did everything else in the room. Gradually, his vision darkened, the images he could see filling up with black dots.

"Zac, are you LISTENING to me?!" demanded Isaac, looking at his brother as he stared blankly in front of him. He sighed, wondering where Zac got off, thinking that he was above the lecture. He'd done something wrong here, and Isaac was going to make sure he knew it. "Zac, this is ridiculous! Zac? Zac!!"

Zac didn't hear the words. As his vision totally filled up with the black dots, he collapsed, falling heavily to the floor with a sickening thud.

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