Nick was surprised when Howie showed up on the set. He tried to hide it, but he didn't think he was very successful. Howie wasn't the last person Nick had expected, but he was close.

"I'm in town for a meeting," Howie said, smiling. Howie was always smiling. "I can't stay long."

Nick waited for the cameras to move on, and they did only when his band started throwing french fries. He hugged Howie again, harder, longer. He said, "Thanks for coming," and he meant it.

Howie watched Nick eat and only nibbled at his own food. Nick wondered if Brian had called him. Brian didn't really believe in a safe healthy diet. He saw weight loss and a break up and he was worried.

Nick finished his lunch and Howie pushed his aside, half-eaten. Nick invited him to the shoot party.

"It's not going to be big. Just us and some of the crew," Nick offered. He tried not to sound too hopeful, but none of them were very good actors.

Howie shrugged him off. "The meeting," he said, apologetically.

Nick still half-hoped that he would show.

"What happened to Howie?" Alicia asked when Nick carried over another round of drinks. They'd wrapped up the shoot and hit a local sports bar. It was a dive, small, and they filled the joint. "He didn't stick around."

"Meeting," Nick shrugged. He made sure to eat the chicken wings the others ordered. He would have eaten them anyway. The only difference was that he thought about it.

They closed down the bar and didn't get back to the hotel until well past two.

Alicia kissed him in the hallway, a small kiss, friendly, and Nick thought that he should tell her. But then she might already know. She touched his back as she walked away, down the hall to her room. It might have been an invitation, and maybe she didn't know after all, but Nick wasn't in the mood.

His hotel room was dark when he slipped inside. Dark except for the bathroom light which cast a pale strip across the beige carpet. Nick didn't remember leaving the light on.

He moved for the switch to the bedroom. He didn't have to move to far - they weren't in suites this time around - but he stopped when he saw the small black bag set neatly beside his own open green one on the bathroom sink.

"Howie?" he asked, but there was no answer, and Nick wished he'd had more to drink. He didn't remember telling Howie where they were staying, but Howie had connections for that sort of thing. Howie could always find him.

"Howie?" he asked again, whispered. He didn't want to turn on the light. Didn't want to see his empty bed. He walked further into the room, kicked the bathroom door softly as he passed, and watched as the strip of light grew wider, as the furniture regained a touch of color.

Nick moved to toss his jacket on the chair, the one close to the window, and he didn't quite look at the bed when he passed. He didn't quite look at the floor either, and his ankle turned when he stepped wrong on one of his own shoes.

"Shit," Nick cursed before he could stop himself. He stumbled against the edge of the bed.

"Nicky?"

"Shit," Nick said again, a loud whisper, because Howie was actually there. "Hey," he said, throwing his jacket the rest of the distance to the chair. He bent to untie his shoes. "Um, sorry. I tripped."

"No," Howie said. "I was waiting for you. I fell asleep. What time is it, anyway?" He spoke slowly, softly. Sleep slow.

"Quarter to four. How was the meeting, bro?" Stick to the easy stuff.

"It was okay."

"So, what's -" Nick started, but Howie yawned and Nick thought maybe it could wait. "Go back to sleep. I'm just gonna pee."

"Nicky," Howie said, but Nick made it into the bathroom before he could finish.

He thought about calling someone. AJ, maybe. He could call and demand answers. AJ might be awake. He probably wouldn't know anything. His phone was in his jacket, anyway, so he used the toilet instead.

The room was quiet when he came back out in his boxers, his clothes a crumpled heap discarded below the sink.

Nick left the door open a crack, made sure he knew where all of his shoes were and climbed into bed. He touched Howie's arm, and then his hair, pressed it between his fingertips. He pulled a little and Howie turned in toward him.

"Howie," he said, and he'd said it out loud more than he had in months, but less than he'd thought it before breakfast. Howie's hands slid across Nick's stomach, Howie's lips brushed along his chin, and Nick waited. He waited for more, or for answers, or for whatever Howie was willing to give.

Howie pressed his face against Nick's shoulder and snored softly.

Nick guessed he could wait.

He awoke to the ringing of a phone that was not his. Nick reached for it anyway, shut off the power. It was too early for phonecalls, no matter whose they were. He rolled over, drawn by the warmth against his back, and he slipped his arm around Howie's waist.

Howie wasn't supposed to be there. He wasn't supposed to be in Nick's bed, not even in hotel rooms. They'd agreed. They weren't doing that. Not anymore.

Nick wondered why then, why yesterday, and why was he still there, but then he remembered - a meeting.

Howie always had meetings. Conferences and phone calls. Howie would probably have e-mail meetings or whatever they were called, correspondence, except that Howie couldn't type, wasn't great at spelling, and didn't own a computer.

Nick made fun of him for it, and Howie laughed, scrunched up his face at Nick and shrugged. Howie was a good sport. Howie was perfect for Nick, even when they didn't get along, even when they thought they couldn't be more ill fit.

"Maybe we should try again," Nick suggested when Howie awoke. It wasn't the most thought out suggestion Nick had ever made, but it wasn't the least either. It felt right when he said it, and the pit that he'd been ignoring in his stomach for the past few months - the hole that he'd been overcompensating for - seemed smaller. And Howie only smiled when Nick poked him repeatedly in the face until he was awake.

"I think maybe we should," Howie agreed, and that pit that had been so annoying was suddenly almost nonexistent. But Nick kind of needed answers.

"Why are you here?"

"The meeting," Howie said, his fingers scratching over Nick's thigh, pulling at the hairs a little.

Nick didn't say anything, just nodded. He'd learned that from Kevin.

"And Brian called." Nick frowned. Not the best answer. Nick was going to kick Brian's ass if he'd sent Howie. "I mean - I was going to come anyway. The meeting. But Brian called to see how I was doing. He tried to pretend he was updating me on pregnancy news, you know, but it was all stuff he'd told me two weeks ago, the last time he called. Then he mentioned something about you not eating and me looking like 'regurgitated worms'."

"Nice," Nick said.

"And he said that we were shithead quitters."

"Geez," Nick smiled a little, then yawned to hide it. "He pulled a Kev on ya. And I've been eating. Just healthier."

"I know," Howie said. "I didn't have a meeting. Or I did, but we canceled it last week. I had been planning to see you so I came anyway. You're my meeting."

"Oh."

"And Brian's right. We're Backstreet Boys. We never give up, and we did. We quit before we'd hardly tried.

"Goonies never say die," Nick said, and Howie pinched him. "But no, I know. I don't remember why we split."

"Me either. And you were so miserable those few weeks, and I think it was just tour stuff, you know? And then the arrest, and I was a mess too but pretending I wasn't." Nick nodded. They always wanted to kill each other at the end of a long tour. And the Black & Blue tour had been longer than most. The last few weeks were hell, and then the last few days were sad and sweet. Nick had wanted to cling and not let go that last night in Japan, but he did. He always did.

They didn't speak much after the tour. They took a month off before they called. It was Kevin's idea. Something about healthy distance. And at the end of the month - to the day - the calls came.

Nick hadn't called Howie. He'd been a mess, and he knew it. Howie hadn't called either.

"And then you came into the studio and announced the solo thing - AJ's not mad anymore, by the way - and you've been so happy. I thought you were over it. I thought I should stay away."

Nick shook his head. That was stupid. Howie should never think he had to stay away.

"But anyway, I'm here. And Brian's right, and I'm sorry, and I love you."

"Me too," Nick said, and Howie laughed. "I mean, you know, I love you too."

"I have to catch a flight at one," Howie said. "I didn't think I should stay."

Nick nodded. They should ease back into it. He didn't want Howie to be another Mandy - he didn't want them to think they could break up every time they fought, every time something wasn't perfect. He didn't want to lose Howie.

"I have three hours," Howie said, and he tried to be nonchalant, tried to be serious, but his eyes were shining.

"Oh, good. Make up sex." Nick grinned and slid a hand down Howie's stomach.