Iím gonna find my way to the sun.

If I destroy myself, I can shine on.



Aaron covers mirrors. Hides magazine covers. Turns off televisions that flash his wide white grin and tired eyes in glorious Technicolor. About the only thing he can do is listen to his voice, because at least he sounds different than Nick.


Because it is, as always, about Nick.


Aaron can remember simpler times, when he was just a kid and Nick was the star, so big and happy and blond and the best big brother in the world, with the strongest hugs, who could lift Aaron over his head and kiss him on the forehead like it was all alright. When Nick was mostly a holiday brother but it was okay, because he made the whole world shine when he was around.


Back then, he couldnít ever remember the look he sees sometimes in Nickís eyes, bitterness and stunted anger and just so much fucking sadness, although heís sure it was there. Back then, it was all just love and love and love, and none of the screwed up dynamics of their current situation.


He is Nick. He knows this. An earlier and prettier and better version of Nick, so much more pliable without four big brothers to protect him. So much easier to control, to work to the point of exhaustion and what thirteen-year-old boy should be up at three in the morning in the bathroom of his plush hotel room, forty of his momís Valiums and some vodka from the minibar in his quivering hand?


And then Nick. Nick, knocking on the door, not afraid to cry and to slap him and to kiss him and say no, no, no, because nothing should end that way and he canít leave Nick alone, canít leave him with Mom and Dad and Angel and Leslie, whoís so, so pretty and more innocent than the rest of them put together but already dieting just like the rest of them, already being pulled back for bleach and shorter skirts and that look in her eyes. That fuck me look. The one Nick has and the one Aaron has but they donít fuck, they just. Kiss.


And Aaron knows that when Nick tries to save him, heís just trying to save himself, but he canít bring himself to care. Big brotherís eyes and hands and mouth, and every once in awhile, everything shines again.



Lyrics from ďDistant VoicesĒ by Bush.