Fade to Black

He wasn’t the biggest morning person, Chris. Most of the time he’d sleep till noon, sometimes until three, if he had been drinking the night before, which meant his days were usually half over before he had begun. Years of rising up at the ass crack of dawn to go to interviews and concerts and soundchecks had finally caught up with him. He used to think, back in *NSYNC’s heyday, that he’d give up all his money and fame just to have a year to sleep, and he was usually the most energetic. But he got what he wished for, and *NSYNC was over, and he quickly tired of monotony. What he’d do, he surmised, for a two hour concert, a backbreaking dance rehearsal.

But for all his hatred of monotony, Chris relished a nice hard sleep, preferably brought on by loads of alcohol. In fact, it wasn’t until he woke up the next morning after the paintball tournament that he recalled never having slept that well, even while drunk. And his reason…

Shit, his reason wasn’t in bed with him.

Chris’s grogginess dissipated in a second, and he sat up in bed, blinking furiously at the empty spot next to him.

She ran again. She’s not coming back.

That thought simultaneously infuriated and scared the shit out of him. He jumped out of bed, not caring that he was naked as the day he was born, and yanked on his black shorts, which were still damp from the shower last night. The coldness of them on his skin made him screech.

What a great way to wake up-naked, alone, and now wet.

Chris hurried down the steps, cursing himself and Nyx and his dick and all the factors that made him into the world’s biggest fool. Damn her and her goddamn lies. Damn him and his stupidity. And damn his dick for making him into a pushover. Damn it, damn it, damn it.

When he reached the foot of the stairs, Chris heard something hissing from the kitchen. He immediately stopped, his thoughts on a crazy fan, or a boa constrictor, or an alien, possibly. Nyx never even occurred to him, as he had already written her off as gone.

Then he heard what sounded like tinny music, accompanied by more hissing. Chris looked around frantically, finally seizing a pair of nunchucks that were inexplicably sitting underneath the coffee table. He had no idea how to use the damn things, but Chris figured throwing it would have at least some sort of an effect. He wished he had a shirt. Meeting a fan would be so much easier with a shirt on.

Chris drew closer to the door of the kitchen, nunchucks held in one hand, fully prepared to scream at this unseen specter, flail if necessary. He peered around the doorway, and what he saw made his jaw drop.
************************************************
I adjusted the goggles around my face and poked suspiciously at the frying eggs and bacon. The tile of the kitchen felt cool under my feet and the smell of the food actually made me hungry, something that surprised me. I HAD gotten a good workout last night, I admitted to myself, blushing bright red.

I had woken up instantly, and the three things I realized off the top of my head is that one, I was starving. Two, I was happy, like nauseatingly happy, like a Disney-bluebirds-landing-on-my-hands kind of happy, and third, I was really naked. I had kissed Chris, passed out, then hopped out of bed to investigate the depths of Chris Kirkpatrick’s fridge. I was shocked to discover that he actually had food in there, he wasn’t exactly what you’d call a shopper. Most of the time he had beer in his fridge, and meat to cook with on the grill. Guy stuff. So imagine my shock when I unearthed eggs and a pack of dead pig.

I had been rummaging around for a frying pan when I had happened across a junk drawer, and in it, for no apparent reason at all, except for it being Chris’ house, were a pair of yellow and black goggles. Not sunglasses, goggles. I lifted them out of the drawer, studied them, then looked back at the package of bacon. The decision was easy.

And this is how I ended up wearing nothing but a tshirt and shorts and a pair of Chris Kirkpatrick’s goggles, making eggs and bacon, on his stove, in his kitchen, dancing.

Unfortunately, this is also how he found me.
**************************************
Well they say the sky's the
limit
And to me that's really true
But my friend you have seen nothin'
Just wait 'til I get through

Chris stared as Nyx danced in her place in front of the stove, a spatula in her hand, with a pair of his goggles he hadn’t seen in ages, giving her the look of a slightly psychotic bug. She wore nothing but her boy shorts and a t-shirt. Her eyes were closed, so she didn’t see the little smile that crept across Chris’s face as he watched her move, her hips moving back and forth. She bent over the frying pan and flipped a piece of bacon, which evidently made Nyx happy, because she quickly spun in place and struck a pose.

“I’m bad, I’m bad…”

Just as she was apparently congratulating herself, grease flew out of the bacon pan and got her right in the arm, and she screeched.

“Fuckin’ bastard!”

Chris couldn’t help but erupt with laughter from his spot in the doorway. Nyx swiveled to face him, her eyes huge behind the orange lenses, spatula brandished like a sword. When she saw him sinking to the floor, unable to breathe, she flushed a color previously not seen in nature.

“How long were you watching me?!” She demanded, yanking the goggles off of her eyes. Chris could barely speak, he just shook his head, still engrossed in mad, screaming laughter.

He was laughing at her, yes, but mostly he was laughing in relief that she hadn’t left him. The whole dancing while making breakfast thing had been too cute for words, but it was nothing compared to how he felt seeing her there, in his kitchen.

Nyx put her hands on her hips. “Christopher Alan, you better stop laughing at me, or I’ll beat the living God out of you with your own spatula.” She raised it threateningly, and Chris waved her away, rising to his feet, still chuckling.

“That was probably the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Nyx dropped her stern pose and smiled mischievously, crossing her ankles and bowing grandly. “I try.” She turned to the stove and poked at the contents of the spitting frying pan, turning down the stove. “Fucking bacon. I swear, it’s like the pigs having their revenge.”

Chris hopped up on the counter next to her. “It smells good. I didn’t know I had bacon.”

Nyx snorted. “Yeah, it was buried underneath about sixteen packages of steaks. Don’t you ever eat anything besides meat, boy?”

“Hey, a man needs steak to live, babe.” Chris reached over and gently tugged the goggles off of Nyx’s head. “God, do you know how many photo shoots I went on with these? I thought I had lost them. Where’d you find em?”

Nyx sniggered. “In a drawer beneath a jumbo pack of Pixie Stix. And a Playboy.”

Chris immediately flushed, but Nyx just chuckled. “It’s cool. Olivia Munn was on the cover. Was a nice surprise.  Why do you hide your Playboys in the kitchen?”

Chris shrugged and slid the goggles over his face. “Not like I have chicks coming in here and rooting through my shit all the time.” He winked at her to let her know he was kidding.

She nudged his knee. “I would hope not.”

“You need help?” Chris asked, jerking his chin towards the frying pan. Nyx shook her head. “Nope. Be ready in a few minutes. By the way, I found a bottle of Tabasco in your fridge, major kudos to you.”

“I can’t remember the last time someone’s cooked for me.” Chris admitted.

“Cooked for you in general or cooked you ‘morning after’ food?” Nyx stipulated, and he laughed. “Neither. Thanks, by the way.”

Nyx cast a sideways look at him. “For the food or the morning after?”

Chris leaned over and kissed her forehead. “For both. Now, show me that little spin you did.”

She chuckled. “Only if you do it with me.”

And fifteen minutes later, when the maid walked past the kitchen, she caught sight of Nyx and Chris collapsing against each other, laughing hysterically. She wasn’t fazed, she had caught them that way many times before.
************************************************
Chris returned from the bathroom to find Nyx perched on the stone island, eating what was left of the eggs and bacon, after he had demolished most of it. When he saw her there, he felt something in his heart give, like a rusty spring, and he could only stop in his tracks to watch her sit there, one leg propped up on the counter, his goggles around her neck, looking for all the world like she actually belonged there. Chris couldn’t remember the last time he had actually had this much fun, except back with the guys. Watching her made the words rattle around inside his throat, they sat at the edge of his tongue.

Nyx caught him looking and she immediately wiped her mouth. “What, do I have egg on my face or something?”

Chris shook his head. “I just can’t believe you’re still here.”

He expected her mouth to fall open, but Nyx could always surprise him when others could not, and she grinned mischievously at him. “Of course I’m here. Where else am I going to find excellent grease repellent goggles?”

Chris snickered. “Probably at a Backstreet Boy’s house.”

Nyx made a face. “You know, I was rather enjoying my Tabasco eggs and my dead pig, and then you had to come in here with that.”

“Couldn’t help myself.” Chris didn’t want to press his good luck by expounding on why he was glad she was still around, so all he could do was move between her bare legs. He took her plate from her hands, set it behind her, then pulled her close against him. Nyx obligingly slid her arms around his neck, and when she slid her legs around his waist, Chris groaned and buried his face into her neck.

“Damn you, woman. Here I am, trying to be studly lover man, and you have to make me feel all idiotic.”

Nyx giggled. “Hey, you’re the one who took away my food.”

“You’re the one sitting on my kitchen counter, lookin all…you know, hot and stuff.” Chris countered, biting her gently on the collarbone.

“How profound.” Nyx said dryly, but she jumped all the same, and Chris chuckled.

“You say that, but you can’t resist the Kirkpatrick charm.”

He thought she’d tease him, but instead Nyx slid her fingers through his hair and gently pulled him away from her neck, her eyes so dark he felt like he could fall into them and never find his way out.

“Unfortunately for us both, you’re right. I can’t.”

And before Chris could ask just what the hell she meant by that, her mouth was on his and all rational thought just fled him on the spot.
***************************************
I had intended to kiss him softly, I swear. A peck, if that. But the feeling of his hands on my bare knees and the just-woken-up smell of him, well, it was like kerosene. Chris tasted of eggs and bacon, a little bit of myself, and orange juice, and the combination was unusual, but it was somehow inviting as all hell and I could not help myself.

He had not been the only one surprised to still find me there in the morning. My feelings for Chris were so scarily real now that my legs started twitching the second I put them on the ground. I had wanted to get back in bed and bury myself into him, this man who infuriated me and teased me and made me feel like I fit in his crazy world. I felt with him the same easy acceptance I had once upon a time, with my own family.

So I had stayed, though it went against my core nature. I had cooked the man I loved a breakfast and I had let him put his hands on my bare legs, I had let him see me at my most unguarded. I guess this means love, I don’t know, I’m out of practice when it comes to all that. I knew I hadn’t changed, but somehow, I wasn’t the same.

“The maid.” I gasped against Chris’ lips; he was starting to take control of the kiss and his hands were now tangled up in the back of my shirt. Chris shook his head, our lips still touching, pulling me closer to the edge of the counter. “I sent her home. Didn’t want to make her jealous.”

“How kind.” I gasped, and Chris sniggered. “I know. Now shut up.”

He nudged my legs closer around him and kissed me hard, his hands slipping underneath my t-shirt, and I would tell you more, but really, it’s just not polite for a Southern girl to say.
**************************************
It was the first time in my twenty four years that I stayed in bed all day, having insane amounts of sex like a reasonably healthy person Really fucking good sex, too. And when I say ‘bed’, I use that term loosely. Chris was as adventurous in bed as he was in everything else. The couch, the bed in the computer room, the shower, the damn kitchen counter again. I was completely and totally at his mercy, and I could tell he was loving it. I tried to regain the upper hand many times, but Chris wasn’t having it and it always resulted in me putting claw marks in whatever surface we happened to be on, and sometimes Chris himself.

I could not believe the man’s stamina. Every time I thought he was done, I’d get attacked again. He had three times more energy then I imagined guys my age would have.

It was only till we were on the kitchen island again that Chris finally sagged against me. “Dammit, woman, you’ve worn me out.” He groaned, his damp head on my shoulder. He was slick with sweat.

“Good God, Chris, it only took you about three or four hours.” I said sarcastically, but in reality I was so dumb with elated joy that words felt clumsy in my mouth. He shook with breathless laughter.

“Can’t help it, babe. Couldn’t get enough. You taste perfect. Bacon and…mmmhmm, Nyx.” He teased, and I was promptly horrified, covering my mouth. “Christ, you’re kidding me.”

Chris shook his head and pulled my hand away from my mouth, kissing it. “Sorry darlin, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

“I know, but what man wants to taste dead animal?” I made a move to hop off of the island, but Chris stopped me. With his mouth. And continued to stop me for several mind numbing minutes.

By the time he was done, I was almost drooling. Though I’m glad I didn’t. It would have put quite a damper on the moment.

“This guy loves dead animal.” He murmured, and I smiled, my eyes closed. “Good, but you’re still not getting the rest of my bacon.”

“My bacon!” Chris reached behind me and before I could stop him, he had stuffed a piece of cold bacon in his mouth and swallowed it, sticking his tongue out at me.
I pouted. “Not fair.”

Chris rubbed his nose against mine. “That’s life, babe.”

Tell me something I don’t know, I thought.
************************************
Since they had to get out of the house before they wrecked the furniture, Chris suggested they go to the mall. He wasn’t a big shopper, but he needed to buy some jeans and shirts, for he had lost a tremendous amount of weight, and everything was much too big for him. Nyx agreed, but all he could think of while he was watching her dress was undoing her progress.

On their way out, Chris handed her one of his hats. “I’m not sure you’ll need it,” He said wryly, “but just in case.” Nyx didn’t argue, and when she pulled the beanie on Chris thought he had never seen anything more adorable in his life.

They took his PT Cruiser because it was starting to rain, and by the time they got to the mall, Chris was seriously considering turning the car back around, going home, and never getting out of bed with her again. Just looking at her singing along to Buckcherry was enough to make his hands itch. This was insane, he thought, parking. He had never wanted someone this much.

Unfortunately, the rain brought in more people then it kept away, and though Chris wasn’t usually worried about being mobbed, he felt extremely exposed in the middle of all those people. Nyx kept close to his side, not touching him, but with a reassuring wink, Chris grabbed her hand, signifying that it was all right to project the image of being together. The days of being caged by his fame were over.

Or so he thought. Because when they stopped in Affliction, a twenty something blonde girl looked over at Chris and her eyes immediately bugged out. Chris internally sighed as she began to edge closer to him, waiting for the inevitable.

“Excuse me, but you’re Chris Kirkpatrick, aren’t you?” The blonde girl asked excitedly, and Chris pasted his smile on. “That would be me.”

“I’m sorry to bug you, but can I please get your autograph? You guys were the best.” The girl was blinking breathlessly up at him, evidently flirting, but Chris was all too aware of Nyx next to him, tensing. This was the first time she had been exposed to any of his fans. But Chris could not turn the girl down. He squeezed Nyx’s hand and let go.

“What was your name again, sweetie?” He asked, and the girl blushed. “Christine.” Of course it was.

She handed him an Affliction receipt and a pen, and he tried to think of something funny and Chris-like on it, but he was aware of Nyx moving further away discreetly. They had never discussed the protocol for dealing with fans, so she was evidently giving him space.

He grinned at the girl as he handed back the receipt. “There you go, Christine. Thanks for still liking us.”

He expected the girl to blush again and hurry away, like they always did, but instead her eyes cut to Nyx, who was acting very interested in a pair of men’s swim trunks. He knew what the girl was thinking instantly, and Chris, with one last tolerant smile, waved at her and made for Nyx.

“I’m sorry, babe.” He murmured to Nyx, and she looked up at him, wide eyed. “For what?”

“Was that weird for you?” Chris asked gently, and she sighed. “A little, but I figured hanging to your side might make her uncomfortable.” Chris discreetly looked around the store, then slid his arm around her waist. “I don’t care if she’s uncomfortable, but it was thoughtful of you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Nothing about being thoughtful. Believe me, if she would have kept batting her eyes at you like that, well, me and Christine would have had problems.” Chris laughed, pleased. “There’s that jealousy again. I gotta say, I’m loving it.”

Nyx blushed, but tried to hide it as she flipped through a few shirts. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She mumbled.

Chris just chuckled and started flipping through the shirts, hoping to finish this soon so he could drag her back to the house and do things to her that, if I told you, would make your hair curl. But Nyx found a few shirts that he actually liked, and he didn’t argue when she pushed him into the dressing room. Chris was, of course, naturally a performer, and he hammed it up every time he burst out of the dressing room. He prissed and preened and shook his butt in the mirror, delighting every time he’d make Nyx erupt in uncontrollable laughter. By the time he stopped striking Brüno-esque poses, Nyx was on the floor, holding her stomach.

They were still snickering to themselves a few minutes later as they approached the counter. While Chris was waiting in line, Nyx wandered away and started to try on hats. Chris wasn’t paying attention to her, he was searching for his credit card. It wasn’t until she tapped him on the shoulder and he had turned, sighing, expecting a fan,that he saw her, really saw her, and his heart stuttered in his chest.
**********************************
I turned to the side and tilted the black fedora across my eye rakishly.

“What do you think, Baio, is it me?” I struck an overly dramatic Madonna –like pose .

Chris seemed unable to speak for a few seconds, but then he smiled, slowly and affectionately. The sight made me literally tingle, I shit you not. “It is very you.”

He plucked the hat off of my head and dropped it on the top of the counter, along with his clothes. I immediately started to argue (it was a $60 fedora!) but he held up his hand. “Nyx, I don’t want to hear it. I’m getting it.”

“But you..” I started to say, and Chris shot me one of those Looks. I huffed, defeated. “Fine, you pain in the ass.”

Chris rolled his eyes and handed his credit card to the pierced clerk, who, I have to say, looked more then amused at our little exchange.

“Say thank you, Chris.” Chris teased, poking me in the side. I poked him back, but grudgingly parroted him. “Thank you Chris. Butthead.” I stomped away, not afraid of Chris being offended by my less than grateful reaction. He acted the same way when I’d steal the check from him at dinner. We were both too independent for our own good. Besides, I loved the fedora. I had been willing to fork over $60 of my own money for it, but the man was too quick for me.

I was flipping through a rack of Sinful shirts when I felt the fedora drop onto my head, and I turned to smile at Chris. “You didn’t have to get me that, Baio.” He rolled his eyes. “I know that, but I wanted to, so hush your mouth.”

I saluted him sardonically, and Chris snickered. “Plus, you look hot in that thing. Keep it on.”

“Oh, I plan to never leave the house without it.” I tilted it to one side, and Chris took his beanie from me and yanked it over his own head. “Come on. I’m hungry. Shopping is hard work.”

I snorted. “That’s cause you were acting like a total spaz."

Chris just rolled his eyes again and took my hand, pulling me along.

We hadn’t even reached the food court (yes, Chris likes food courts) and I started to feel an uncomfortable amount of eyes on us. And before I could even turn to Chris and tell him this, about a group of five or six girls besieged us. Well, besieged him, really.

Chris sighed and let go of my hand, giving me an apologetic look. I just shrugged, took his bag from him, and took a few steps away from the little group. I tried not to watch him out of the corner of my eye, but I couldn't help it and was surprised at how good he was with them. The girls weren’t young, they had to be around my age, but they were acting like a bunch of crazy ass teenagers. They teased him and shyly cast their eyes down, flirting, asking questions so quickly that I couldn’t keep up. Chris just laughed and took it all in stride, he teased them back (he did not flirt) and signed his name on whatever they shoved at him. He even took pictures with them and gave them hugs. It was sort of surreal to watch. I was used to having him all to myself and usually forgot he was famous, but it quickly dawned on me that I was not the only one who thought Chris extremely endearing. He made stupid faces in the pictures with them and thanked them all for their compliments. It was kind of fucking touching, to tell you the absolute truth.

Just when I thought he’d come back to me and I would go unnoticed, one of the girls, a very big chested brunette, looked over at me, and then back at Chris. She nudged her friend and tilted her head towards me. I pretended not to notice, turning my head, pretending to be extremely interested in Mignon Faget’s jewelry cases.

“Is that your girlfriend, Chris?” The brunette asked, sounding very disappointed. I tensed. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to, bitch.” I thought, trying not to scowl at her. I knew anything negative I did would reflect on him, and I didn’t want that, but I wanted to kick her. Chris looked back at me, his eyes were amused, and he turned to the girls with a very nonchalant look on his face. “Yep, that’s her. Now, ladies, I’ve got to get going. Thanks for coming over and saying hi to me, though.” Chris winked at them, gave a wave, and turned away. He grabbed my hand and we tried not to look like we were hurrying away. I heard one of the girls say something like, “What the hell is he doing with HER?” The need to run after the cunt and break her shin was almost crippling.

Chris’s jaw was set and he was quiet until we walked into Macy's. “Some of our fans, they can be like that.” He explained, wincing a little. “I don’t know why.”

I forced a smile. “You’re great, that’s why. I really don’t blame her for wondering, but I’d still love to kick her ass.”

Chris just squeezed my hand and gazed down at me. “Don’t worry about them.”

I snickered. “Them? I’ve got better things to do. Besides,” I bumped his shoulder. “I’ve got to get used to it sometime, right?”

Chris just stared straight ahead. “That doesn’t make it right.”
*******************************************
Mud, so much mud. A fetid smell, it was almost unbelievable. The mud itself was incredible-knee high, and it was like someone had glued cement blocks to my feet. I could hear my breathing, loud and uneven, through the mask. My knee knocked against something hard, and I winced and cursed. I stuck my gloved hand into the mud and tried to fight back the nausea. My fingers trailed across a dial and buttons. The washing machine. My hand came out of the mud and I made a face, wiping it across the hazmat-like suit I was wearing. Just then a wave of something absolutely foul hit me full in the face, and I stopped in mid wipe. It made the rest of the house smell like a Glade Plug In, that’s how rank it was.

I could hear cicadas in my ears, the faint calls of voices outside, yelling at each other. My mouth felt slick and tasted of cold chili. Denial. Guilt. Fear. Revulsion, but I had to see. I fought my way through the mud this time, almost falling on my face in some places, praying to God I was wrong. I turned down what used to be a hallway. Small fish lay on top of the mud, wriggling frantically or dead. I paid them no mind.

The door was wedged shut by the mud and something in the next room. I threw my weight against it, but it was like moving a building. I grit my teeth and tried again, bracing my feet in the slippery mud and groaning. The door moved a few inches, and I turned to get better leverage against it, but my gaze fell through the crack of the door.

And that’s when I saw the hand, dirty, pale, covered in leaves, sticking out of the black, souplike mud.

Cicadas.
*******************************
I woke up screaming my head off.

Sweat matted my hair to my cheek and I seemed to be in the middle of an island of dampness. I didn’t recognize where I was for a few seconds; I could not stop screaming. It was like someone had flipped a switch inside me.
Footsteps thundered down the steps and my door was flung open. Alan rushed in, wearing a pair of boxers and nothing else. When he saw my face, he understood, and immediately I found myself tucked into his bare shoulder, his hands on my back, stroking, cajoling, whispering words I could not hear through my terror. . He did not smell or feel like Chris and a part of me wished he was, but there were arms around me and at the moment it really didn't matter who they belonged to.



My body was shaking from withdrawal and immense fear and I was surprised I hadn’t pissed myself. I did not have the strength to put my arms around Alan. I did not have the strength to stop my tears. I just leaned against him and sobbed, cicadas buzzing angrily in my ears, the whole world mud and pain and horrible smells and fish flopping on the surface.

We didn’t move for hours.
******************************************
I’ve been around this world, yet I see no end.
All shall fade to black again and again.
This storm that’s broken me,my only friend.
Yeah

In this river all shall fade to black
In this river ain’t no coming back
In this river all shall fade to black
Ain’t no coming back

Withdrawn a step away, just to find myself
The door is closed again, the only one left
This storm that’s broken me my only friend

In this river, all shall fade to black.