Love You Hate You Get Lost

By Rosey Kirkbasserlake

Published on Nov 19, 2000

Gay

Authors Note: Hoohee! Lookit here, I got some disclaimerness below, but this is just here to be all purtyfied and to hold the mystery of which I hold.

Anyway, Disclaimer: This is, MY story. No one else's. You wanna use it? Then you put "By Rosey Kirkbasserlake" down at the bottom, or at the top. Got it? Good.

If you love my story, by all means, email me LyteFunkayRosey@yahoo.com. If you don't like it, then just click the little X. Anyway, here goes the rest.

If it is illegal, gonna get you grounded, or just gonna getcha comp IP recorded, wherever in the world You may be, then by all means, do click the little X. Okay?

I'm not saying that any members of 'N Sync, Backstreet Boys, Or any one else, (besides that really mean guy who lives down the street, he's really mean) is gay, I don't know them, though, if you Wanna sell me a 1972 Chris Kirkpatrick. Then by all means, do so!!!

If you are offended in any way by homosexual acts, then.. Pause wait, why the F*ck are you at nifty? Stupid you, your at a HUGE gay website, so getcho homo-phobic butt outta here!

Again, email me, Rosey, with all comments/suggestions/I-Love-This- Story's.

Peace, Love and Cheeze,

--Rosey Kirkbasserlake, Lytefunkayrosey@Yahoo.com (And Now drumroll Ch.2 of I love you, I hate You, Get lost.)

I open my eyes and wince; the bright sunlight is over- powering. I try to sit up, almost succeed, then fall back with a groan, the dull throbbing in my legs turning into a chorus of singing pains. From my new, lower height I realized I wasn't where I should be, in a hospital. The comfy looking furnishings suggested to me that this was a bedroom.

The pain in my legs had moved up to my back, and I stifle back a cry. It hurts' I think, nearly sobbing. God it hurts, it hurts, it hurts'

Again, I struggle to sit upwards, catching a glimpse of my legs. Or what might have been them, in a different world. Under the blankets, there were little the little twists and turns of my legs. Pulling the blanket over, I see that they had been splinted with old, wooden crutches. I gasp, feeling blackness try to settle over me, I resist, struggling to keep awake.

The door is suddenly opened, and Nick comes in, wearing a cheery smile.

"Good morning!" He chirps, and if I were been able to walk, I would murder him. He sees my pale face, and frowns, reaching into his pocket to get something. "I take it you're in a lot of pain?" Without waiting for an answer, he pulls out a bottle, which looks like a prescription, and smiles at me. "That's okay! I got your medicine right here Joey!" He says, un-capping the bottle. He then shakes out two capsules, and I recognize them immediately.

Two, blue gel capsules, about, a quarter of an inch or so long lay in the palm of his hand, like strange Lucky Charms. His eerily bright face looks out at me, from under a Florida Marlin's cap, and he poses the question carefully, as if I might not be coherent at the time.

"Two, or three?"

Immidently, without thinking, I hastily reply "Three, Nick, please three I hurt, My legs what happened Nick my legs" I babble on and on for a few minutes, trying to understand exactly why I might be here, not in a hospital, where was Lance, could I use a phone, and the likes.

With a raised eyebrow, Nick chuckles, and gives me the capsules, then sits beside me. Suddenly, my sense of smell kicks in, and I smell breakfast. My stomach growls at Nick and me too for that matter, I wonder how long I'd been there, and how long it'd been since I last eaten. My stomach tells me to quit with the thinkin, and start with the feedin. Never being one to disappoint my stomach, I look around for the food.

"I take it, your hungry?" I nod hastily, and chastise myself for doing that. Nick brightens even more, a huge grin stretching across his features. "Well gee golly gosh!" He says, bringing in a tray from outside, "How silly of me, eh? I completely forgot I had your breakfast sitting out in the hallway the whole time! You must be starving!" He sets the tray on the bedside table near me, and I examine the food with the eye of someone who feels as if his stomach and such are lecturing him.

Soup, dry toast, and an egg sat on the tray, seeming to cower in the shadow of a huge glass of orange juice. Simple, yet to me, beautiful. I attempt to reach for it, to find its too far away, I sigh sadly, watching the food as if it might just get up and run off. You never know' I think sarcastically, It happened in a poem, and it just might happen again'

Nick had disappeared, and I feel a fleeting moment of panic. Suppose he had, decided to torture me? Suppose he had decided that he would break my legs, or whatever had happened, and then starve me to death? Just what kind of pill had he given me anyway?

Then he re-appeared, carrying a breakfast-in-bed tray. I believe you should know the type. They make it possible to rest whatever your eating on a tray, while you're practically lying down. I quietly praise this God given invention, watching Nick unfold and set it up. Then, he sat beside me, placing my breakfast on the table type thing. I pull myself up, and start slurping the soup.

"Well" he says, talking off his cap and running his hands over the brim, "I guess I should tell you what's been happening in the past few weeks"

My mind barely registers this as I realize I have burnt my mouth. The soup was so much hotter then I had thought it would be. I down a huge gulp of juice, then set back to eating.

"Not so fast" he says almost absently, then continues, "You were driving, I guess, and had crashed, roads are slippery you know. I had seen the back end of your truck go off the edge, and I said to myself, `Nick, you should stop! There's someone down there, they may be hurt!' So, although my car might not have started again, I pulled over and got out. I climbed down the edge, and saw your truck, then I heard someone moaning" Here, he stopped and wiped a bit of soup from my chin lovingly, "That was you. So, going down to your driver's side door, I peeked in and saw you weren't okay, So I pulled you out, and brought you here, because the road to town was blocked off. That was about.. three weeks ago" He smiles absently down at his hat, now bending the rim experimentally, then continuing on-ward,

"So then, Since you were unconscious for at least, three and a half weeks, I laid you up in my room, and fed you through IV." He points to a tube sticking out of my wrist.

"Your legs were mighty messed up, But I fixed them, I'm not a very good leg setter, but I'm very sure that your legs will heal up just fine in a while!" He says brightly, and proudly, I give him a big grin, and continue onward with my food.

"You're mighty lucky I still had Rondac, that's the medicine you take, it's for pain and such. Very high in morphine, codeine, and mostly anti-histamines, to keep you from getting a cold and to make you a bit drowsy. I've got the non-drowsy version of it, but I think you need the first type right about now.

"I also have the liquid form, which I, more often then not, put into your IV bag, mostly when you started crying out in your sleep. Mostly you cried out for people named Lance, Tirana, and Carrie, but once or twice, you called me, I assume you were calling me anyway, but," Here he pauses, chuckling, "You thought I was God the Father Almighty" he stopped, crossed himself, and went on, "You were delirious most of the time, but once in a while, I think you recognized me"

I start attacking my egg, still listening.

"I suppose, in a week or so, I'll start helping you regain your physical stature, and you'll be walking before Christmas!" He said softly stroking his hat, as if it were a dog, "Then.. I guess you could leave" He seems depressed by this thought, then moves on, a soft smile playing the corners of his lips, "At first, I didn't believe it was you, The Joey Fatone, I was taking care of, but then I checked your wallet, oh I hope you don't mind, I didn't take anything from it, and your ID said you were Joey Fatone, so then I was going to call Lance, or Justin, I think it was Justin, because I heard you and Justin were still good friends, and Lance and you are.. or were, lovers, and well I had Justin's number, and not Lance's, so I was going to call Justin, when I saw that the phone had gone out, so I couldn't call, and it's still down, but as soon as it gets up, you can call either of them

"I do hope you don't mind me taking you up here, but if I had tried either of the roads to the hospital, I do believe that we would have gone over a cliff, the roads were so slick," He's now twisting his hat in his hands nervously, looking at me for any sign of anger, seeing none, he continues on, "And well, I am kind of a loner I guess, I have been ever since the Boys broke up." A far-away distant look has come into his eyes, and I bet a dollar to donuts that he was recalling his older friends, and their once successful musical group. The Backstreet Boys. They used to be my old group, `N Sync's biggest rivals. Slowly I recall how they had broken up.

It was just after their third album, Black and Blue, had come out. They had sold billions of copies, smashing our record to bits. I remember this clearly, because we had all been moping around for weeks after that.

But that was before it happened.

I wasn't there when it happened, but from what I heard from AJ, it was just horrifying. The five of them were on the tour bus, celebrating heavily. "No drugs though man, we're clean about that" AJ had protested, lying in bed with me. We had been lovers at the time. They were all piss-up-a-rope drunk, (One of AJ's favorite expressions) and telling huge secrets.

"I'm sleeping with Joey of `N Sync!" AJ had exclaimed, flailing his arms about drunkenly. The boys had burst into wild laughter.

"Fa-aag" Brian had drawled, still cracking up, "Tell, tell AJ, does he `n suck?"

Kevin had found this deliciously funny, and fallen over, AJ had snorted with wild laughter, and stood on a table, gyrating his hips wildly, "He n sucks, and he n swallows too!" At hearing this, Kevin had nearly passed out from lack of oxygen he was laughing so hard.

" Oh yeah?" Howie had snorted, standing up and looking around wildly, "I'm fucking Nick" He laughed, chugged half a bottle of vodka at one go, Nick, AJ had said, looked as if someone had punched him, but Howie had more to say.

"And" He laughed, pointing his bottle at Nick; "He can't get the little fucker up, so I've been fucking my old high school buddy Chris!"

Nick now looked as if someone had cut off his balls, ripped them open, sewn in two hot coals, and then replaced them in their usual spot.

Everyone had been wildly laughing at this, especially Howie, except for Nick.

"'Ole Limpdick Carter, eh??" Kevin had cackled wildly.

"Jesus Christ!" Brian had sniggered, "He's cheating on you with that old, ugly dog face from `N Sync!"

Nick had looked at Howie pleadingly, "Howie, its not true, is it?"

"Oh, its true limpdick" Howie had sneered, then holding up the bottle, "Nick's ass is SOOOO loose, I bet we could fit the bottle, AND my dick up there!"

"Lets see it!!" AJ had shouted, laughing meanly. Nick had a look of horror, and black anger on his face. "Drop your shorts" Brian had said, feigning sincereness, and then bursting into insane laughter immidantly.

Howie had jumped at Nick, and torn off his shorts and underwear, Nick jumped up also, and grabbing his beer, and wielding it like a club.

"I've HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR SHIT" Nick screamed crazily, "I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOU RAPING ME AND DEGRADING ME IN FRONT OF MY FRIENDS" He shrieked, a crazy gleam in his eyes, brandishing the bottle at Howie, "I AIN'T TAKING NO MORE YOU FUCKER, I'M NOT THE ONE TO BLAME!" Nick's shrieks echoed through the bus, and the streets, "NO MORE! IT'S YOUR TURN TO GET HURT!"

AJ told me later, that Nick had scared him, Nick had looked insane. Nick had looked homicidal.

"NEVER NEVER NEVER IM NOT YOUR OR YOUR FILTHY FUCKING FRIENDS' FUCKSLAVE I WON'T DO IT NO NO NO" Nick was swinging the bottle at Howie, who was ducking each time, or he would have gotten his face cut to shreds.

"NEVER NEVER NEVER YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK" Nick screamed repeatedly while the others cowered against a wall, watching with wide eyes. Howie backed away a safe distance, and held up his hands, "Nick, come on, you loved it, you always got hard"

At this point, Nick had uttered a high wavering laugh, and seemed to recite in an eerie voice like Howie's. The resemblance was shocking.

"Nick, be a good little doggie, cwean up your mess, its not my fault you pissed yourself, Nick be a good boy and lick my cock clean like the cum sucking slut you are, come on you little fag-mutt, you gotta fuck Chris too, isn't he tight Chris? Wanna try and both get in him at once? Let see if THAT will make the little fucker scream"

"Nick.. I didn't mean it" Howie held his position, "I'm sorry" He was truly scared for his life. Nick ran at him, shrieking and sobbing. He stopped short of Howie, and swung the beer bottle. It shattered on Howie's skull, knocking him unconscious.

Nick had looked at Brian, Kevin, and AJ wildly, then started laughing maniacally. Holding the neck of a shattered and bloody beer bottle, he advanced on them, holding it out.

"Come on" He whispered, eyes searching them, "Where is he?"

"Nick.." Brian stepped forward, scared , but braver then the rest, "Put that down bro.."

Nick's blue eyes flashed crazily, and he swiped the bottle at Brian. Brian leaned back, just in time to stop the bottle from slicing his forehead, and a large wet spot suddenly spread itself across the crotch of his jeans. He didn't seem to notice this, as he whispered to Nick "We're not going to hurt you, we're your friends"

Nick suddenly jumped, Brian jumped back, and stumbled over a table and fell. Nick ran in the other direction, slamming the bus door open and throwing his head back at the moon. He howled loudly, a spot of blood on his cheek reflecting sickly in the moonlight.

I blink, remembering this horrible story. I stare at Nick, my eyes wide. His faint scar, running down his forehead, on his upper and lower eyelid, and his cheek on his right side, seemed to call out to me, as I tremble suddenly.

I was with the Boyband Butcher.

--So? So? Is this cool or is this cool?? Huh?? Huh??? Email me! Now!!!

Lytefunkayrosey@yahoo.com

I have to know ! tell me!!!!!! hyper -Love, Peace, Backstreet Boxers, ~Rosey~

Next: Chapter 3


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