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A fatal mistake	By : fundamellie Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Pet Shop Boys Views: 943 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the celebrity I am writing about. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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How the hell could something that had started out so right turn so horribly wrong? When, on which particular point in time had the whole thing become so twisted, so fucked up, so hopeless?
When had his relation with Stefan begun to go so wrong? When had he felt for the first time that Stefan’s love wasn’t enough? That his trust and understanding were boring compared to the thrill of making love with some unknown guy? When? And most importantly: Why?

These questions were running riot in Neil's mind as he stood alone in the sitting room in his house in the North-East of England, staring with unseeing eyes out of the window into the surrounding darkness. Sometimes, when his eyes focused on his reflection in the glass, he felt more than ever like pounding his head against the wall. Somehow it seemed fitting to punish himself like that for having been so inexcusably stupid and horrible. Somehow the idea of making the skin of his forehead split and bleed, of knocking himself unconscious was strangely comforting.
He sighed; he could not remember having ever felt so utterly alone and forlorn before. Again and again he let the last months play themselves out in his mind, trying to figure out when exactly his downward spiral had begun, what had turned him into that egoistic, self-centred celebrity git he had never wanted to be. Somehow it must have started during the Nightlife tour; somehow he must have lost his mind during all of their parties, the VIP treatment and the opportunity to do everything he wanted. Not to mention the drugs. And the boys.
It was not that him and Chris had not partied hard before or that he had never been out on his own, but sometime on their way through the USA, Japan and most of Europe, something must have switched in his head and that had been the beginning of the end. Yes, he had always drunk too much on such occasions and yes, he had taken drugs before, sometimes rather frequently even, but it had never been like that. Up until then his flirts with cocaine and ecstasy had only been something that he could take or leave. Just like he could always choose if he wanted the wine, or champagne or whatever. It really had been like that: When he went out he sometimes took drugs. But during that tour things had changed. The parties had become a mere excuses to cover up the fact that he could not longer truly choose. But because he felt it was okay to take drugs when he was out, he was suddenly going out almost every night. A side effect of it all had been that his number of one-night-stands had increased; something which had not escaped his boyfriend’s notice and had put a huge strain on his relationship with Stefan. He had developed quite a reputation for being fond of the company of young men. To put it nicely.
He had continued like that for a while when they had returned to London, finding an eager partner in crime in Janet, who had accompanied him to the Shadow Lounge or Nag Nag Nag. And then the situation had imploded into a complete disaster, leaving him horrified.

Once again he had been to the Shadow Lounge with Janet, had sat in the VIP area in a private corner, had sipped champagne and exchanged gossip with Janet and some other members of the Gay Mafia. After a while their booth had been surrounded by a handful of boys. Boys that were either looking for a good party and a bit of adventure in possible making out with a celebrity or somebody to settle their income. He remembered dimly that he had been quite drunk to begin with and he hadn’t exactly counted the lines either that night. There was this picture in his head of a boy of about 18 sitting on his lap, kissing him deeply. They seemed to have had a go at each other in the men’s room, at least he thought he remembered leaning back against the white door of a cubicle as the boy unzipped his fly. He must have been pretty far gone by then, because his memory was at best fragmented but he knew that he had been quite horny and quite hard when the boy’s mouth had closed around his cock. He also remembered having stopped the boy from sucking him off, pulling him up by his hair, motioning at him to turn around. With a cheeky grin the boy obeyed him and dropped his pants. Neil didn’t bother protecting or preparing the boy, he just stepped forward and forced his entry into the boy’s tight opening. Soon Neil was fucking the nameless boy hard and careless, not giving a damn about the noise they made. He came in a haze of drug-induced bliss, feeling like he was on top of the world, invincible, powerful and completely in control. The orgasm made him shudder and moan and feeling the boy rock back and forth on him for more only added to the thrill. He reached around, blindly feeling for the boy’s hard dick and brought him to an almost immediate climax with a few hard, deliberate strokes. The feeling of the hot sperm shooting out over his hand, leaving a warm sticky trace felt strangely sensual, almost unreal. It was as if this tiny detail suddenly stood out in stark outline, imprinting itself on his memory with a new surge of desire. When he pulled out he was sweaty and breathless, feeling slightly weak in his knees from the strain. He straightened out his clothes as best as possible and watched the boy do the same. He grinned, that youngster was really quite gorgeous and he had the feeling the evening would be far from over. Before they stepped out of the cubicle they played out a little ritual that Neil had become accustomed to during his nights spend with guests that charged for company: the boy stepped closer, playfully running a finger down Neil’s chest and Neil reached into his pocket, handing the boy the night’s payment. Always prepared for in advance, always the same amount generously fixed and agreed upon on their first such meeting so that they never had to discuss this part of the transaction again.

When had he become this cunning, this calculating, he wondered still staring out into the darkness. When had he become an expert in dealing with rent boys and east end drug dealers? It was so ridiculous.

That night the boy had whispered a suggestion in his ear, asking him if he would like to meet his younger brother. Neil had agreed without a second thought.
“Okay, send him over to my place in two hours, he shall ring the bell three-times, then I’ll know.”
It was these simple words that had sealed his fate, that made him put all his egg in one basket and bringing him too close to the edge for anyone’s comfort.
Then everything was blurred again, a flash of Janet’s knowing smile, of himself cutting out another line, of drunken laughter and a taxi ride home. Then nothing until he found himself in bed, already undressed, already hard with another, younger boy stretched out over him. A vague memory of his little-boy voice saying:
“My name’s Franklin, but call me Lynn like everybody else.”
Lynn placed sloppy, wet kisses all over Neil’s chest, sucking his nipples and licking the spot at the side of his throat which send him almost straight to the edge.
Neil squirmed underneath the sheets, dimly thinking that he should find some fault with what he was doing, that something was wrong but he could not place it and he could not think straight, he was too high and too horny and back then he did not care for anything much apart from that burning need that made him want to come so badly. Those tiny, smooth hands were everywhere and Neil stayed passive, losing control rapidly. Then a hot mouth closed around the tip of his erect penis, a tongue lapped at it playfully, teasing him, driving him quite mad with desire. After what seemed like an eternity the boy started to suck him in earnest, taking him in all the way surprisingly expertly His mouth so hot and wet. When he managed to open his eyes and lift up his head, Neil saw the mess of the boy’s blond hair bobbing up and down. This image would stay with him long afterwards, haunting his sleepless nights but back then he didn’t want it to stop. His hips pushed upwards, thrusting his dick deeper and deeper down Lynn’s throat, basically fucking the boy’s mouth. He did not complain, just sucked even harder, placing his hands on Neil’s hips to hold him down.
Neil was shaking all over by then, sweat running down his temples and into his eyes but he was seeing only stars anyway. Lynn shifted his position, forcing Neil’s legs further apart, massaging his balls and pressing the tip of his thumb playfully against his opening. The boy’s erection pressed itself against his thigh and he shivered.
It is small, just like Stefan’s and he would love to be with Stefan now, to have Stefan’s mouth around his pulsing shaft, to lose himself in Stefan’s warm, smooth, slender body but Stefan was not there and it did not matter. Neil was so incredible high, so incredible turned on and he was gong to come, he wanted it so badly it almost hurt. His mind was reeling, taking him on a roller-coaster ride of pleasure.
His breath came in desperate gasps that sounded almost like sobs. The beating of his heart was so loud in his own ears it drowned out every other sound and he thought vaguely that he would surely die if this was going on any longer, that he could not stand it anymore.
“Stop, please stop it, please…”
And then he came, his muscles tensing, shooting his sperm deep down the boy’s throat. But that didn’t end it, Lynn just wouldn’t let go of him; he kept licking and sucking until Neil was utterly spend and limp. The last thing he remembered was the boy looking down at him with a crocked grin, wiping the cum from his chin.
He must have blackened out then, because he could not recall having fallen asleep.

When he awoke he felt quite horrible, having the worst hangover in absolute ages. He kept his eyes shut and refused to move; his head was throbbing, his whole body ached and he felt slightly queasy. He hoped that it would pass soon; he did not want to be sick. He slowly realised that his arms were wrapped around someone. Someone small and skinny, to be precisely. He suppressed a moan; he really hoped he was not going to see what he feared he would. Slowly he opened his eyes and blinked into the bright light of a warm, sunny day. The boy (“Lynn? Was his name really Lynn?”) stirred in his embrace, then turned and looked right at him.
Grinning sleepily.
“Morning,” he muttered.
“Morning,” Neil replied in a hoarse whisper. His mouth had gone dry, he felt cold; frozen to the core and had to swallow hard and repeatedly to keep the sick feeling in his stomach. That wasn’t just another boy in bed with him; this was a kid.
Good heavens! A kid! The shock of this realisation left him speechless and numb.
He stared into the boyish face for endless moments, desperately hoping that this was just part of some horrid dream. He blinked repeatedly but the image in front of him remained stubbornly the same. The boy next to him was much too young to be in bed with someone closing in on 50, much too young to be in bed with anyone really and surely much too young to be paid for it. Neil felt a cold shiver run through him and his stomach turned into a very tight know. His throat was dry and the lump in it threatened to choke him but he just had to ask one question. One question that might as well seal his fate.
“How old are you?” he questioned the boy. His voice sounded scared and shaky in his own ears.
“Almost 15,” Lynn replied with unmistakable pride. His broad smile wavered only slightly when he saw Neil’s horrified face expression.
“Why do you ask? Is that too old?”
“Too old?” Neil repeated, wondering why the boy seemed to god-damn self-confident and perfectly at ease. Shouldn’t he be horrified, too? Hate him for what he had done?
“No, you’re not too old. Far from it,” Neil managed to reassure the boy but when Lynn leaned over and placed another provocative kiss on his mouth, he practically jumped out of bed. He regretted the quick move instantly. His head ached violently and the world around him suddenly moved in a very fast blur. He swayed a little as his knees refused to support his weight any longer. Blindly he reached out and grabbed the edge of the bedside table to prevent him from falling. When the worst of the dizziness had passed he quickly made his way to the bathroom. Later he had no recollection of going there; he just found himself on his knees in front of the toilet, throwing up. He was coughing and retching until there was nothing left in his stomach and his throat burned from the acid. When the turmoil in his belly had settled a bit he turned, leaning his back against the cold tiles; resting his head against his drawn up knees. He was cold, still undressed but he was too numb to even notice. He cried uncontrollably, feeling totally shattered and wrecked. He had no idea how he was supposed to live with what he done, how he was supposed to look any of his friends in the eyes or how he should face Stefan again. He let the tears run down his face freely, no caring how male or grown up it was to cry like an abandoned child. He cried until he had totally exhausted himself and felt as if he had shed all the tears he was ever supposed to cry. He dried his eyes and got up on shaky legs. He avoided looking at his reflection in the mirror. He was afraid of what he might find in his features, in the depths of his owns eyes. He blinked again, trying to force everything back into focus and only then realised that he was still wearing his contact lenses. He sighed; he had been wearing them non-stop for over 18 hours and his eyes were irritated and sore. He needed several attempts to remove them; his hands were shaking so badly that he dropped them into the sink and almost damaged them. Then they were finally stored safely in their cleaning fluid he turned on the tab and splashed cold water into his face. It did not help much to ease his driving headache. He looked up accidentally and stared at himself in the mirror.
He looked tiered, worn out and old. As if he had aged at least ten years over night. His eyes were blood-shot and swollen, his skin pale and sweaty. He looked truly unhealthy but still this was nothing that a good night’s sleep, some food, a bath and a jog could not fix. Nothing that betrayed his secret. He still looked like his usual self and he thought again that if that was truly him he did not suit his face at all.
He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself, more for comfort than for warmth. He was relived when he spotted his dressing gown still placed over the rim of the bathtub and put it on quickly. He really did not want face Lynn in the nude.
He went back to the bedroom and found the kid sprawled out on the bed in a supposedly seductive pose. He closed his eyes thinking if he had to endure this any longer he would surly be sick again.
“Get dressed,” he ordered the boy, who looked somewhat disappointed. Maybe he had hoped for a chance to earn some extra money this morning. Nevertheless Lynn obeyed and climbed out of bed and began to collect his clothes which were scattered all over the floor. Neil sat down on the bed and wondered what on earth he had found attractive about this boy. Not that Lynn was ugly. He had a cute face with freckles on the bridge of his nose, bright brown eyes and a grin which revealed a gash. His hair was a dirty blond, short cut and hard to tame. He was fairly tall for his age but extremely skinny. Spindly arms and legs, a flat belly and a chest which had nothing male about it. Lynn was a kid, a cute kid but very much a kid. And despite of what had happened last night Neil was not usually attracted to kids. Not definitely attracted to kids, he corrected himself.
“You still get paid, do you?” Neil asked reluctantly.
“Yep,” the boy replied in a sulky voice.
“Come downstairs with me then,” Neil said wearily. He just wanted to get this over and done with, as quickly as possible.
When he got up the dizziness hit him again. He ground his teeth and hoped he would just survive this somehow.
Downstairs he went straight through to the sitting room; ignoring the boy who trailed behind, looking absolutely awe-struck with his surroundings. Under different circumstance Neil might have found this amusing; to have this kid gaze at his furniture and collected paintings as if they were up for exhibition at some museum. But after what had happened between them, Neil had the feeling he would not find anything even remotely connected to Lynn amusing. Ever.
He found his wallet on the desk where he usually worked at and fished out some bills, his back carefully turned towards the boy. He had no illusions; he knew that no matter how charming, well-behaved and civilised these boys appeared to be; they were all reckless and had no scruple to steal money from a client. Suddenly the whole procedure disgusted him; the fact that he stood here clad only in his dressing gown paying a 14-years-old boy for sex. It was shocking how quickly he had abandoned all of his moral principles for the sake of some cheap thrill which came with the boys and the drugs. He found it absolutely revolting that it had come to this. He had never imagined that he could sink that low.
A shrill voice screamed at him from the back of his mind constantly.
“He’s only 14! How could you? Child molester! Pedophile! Bastard!”
He felt sick again, so very sick.
“Do you wanna stand there the whole day or do I get my money now?” Lynn’s voice cut through his guilty musings and brought him back to reality.
“Don’t worry,” Neil replied tonelessly. “I’m in no mood to gamble over your money.”
He turned slowly, holding out the bills for Lynn to take. The boy stepped up to him without hesitation and snatched the money from his hand. He whistled approvingly. Apparently he had gotten his extra money after all.
“Thanks,” Lynn began. “And, uhm, you can call me again anytime if you wanna do it again. The guy at the club will put you in touch.”
“Right,” Neil muttered, avoiding Lynn’s gaze. The silence stretched uncomfortably between them and the boy finally shrugged his shoulders.
“Okay, don’t bother. I’ll find my way out. See you.”
With that he turned and walked away. Neil listened to the sound of his footsteps leading to the exit and the soft click of the door falling shut. Then just silence.
The grandfather clock upstairs ticked away the seconds, the occasional car passing by, a dog barking in the neighbourhood. He stood there with his head bowed, utterly defeated and heartbroken. He stared into the space before him, not seeing the blurred outline. His unfocused vision swam even more because of the bitter tears which burned in his eyes again but which he felt he had no right to cry. He was not the victim; he did not deserve any compassion or sympathy. What right did he have to pity himself when he had used this kid in such an unforgivable manner?
What hope for retribution was there when he had no excuse to justify his action even before his own conscience? What did it matter that he was sorry when he could not turn back time and make things undone?
He knew all the answers; he had no right, there was no hope and his regrets did not matter. He was doomed; one way or the other.
What finally shook him out of his dazed state was the fact that his hands were trembling badly. He held them out in front of him, palms facing the floor and stared at them with strange fascination. Only after a while did he realise that he was trembling all over as well. Even though he was cold, he knew it was down to nerves as well. And his hangover. He pulled his gown tighter around him and hoped it would stop; that he would wake up and find that all had been nothing but a nightmare. Mechanically he went over to the living room and poured himself a drink. He felt he needed one now. He stared at the clear liquid for a moment. When had he ever drunken vodka before breakfast? He was really behaving like an addict. Didn’t they say that vodka was the drinker’s drink because you couldn’t smell it on someone’s breath? He smiled bitterly, emptied his glass at once and poured another. When the phone rang, he almost jumped out of his skin, the noise was echoing loudly through the silent flat. His heart slammed against his ribcage once more and his head ached even worse. He took a few deep breaths and another sip of his drink and answered the phone.
“Hello? Oh, hi Chris. The meeting? What meeting? Oh shit, I forgot. I… I’m not feeling very well and just woke up. No, nothing serious, just an upset stomach, I guess. Can we make that one and a half hours? I’m not dressed yet. Yeah, see you then.”
He put the receiver down with a frustrated groan. How could he have forgotten about the meeting with EMI? They were going to discuss if they would put out their second Greatest Hits collection or not. Highly official and now he was in such a state!
It seemed everything was falling to pieces.
Neil made his way upstairs again and nearly fell at the top of the stairs. He had stumbled as all of a sudden everything went black around him. His stomach lurched and his eyes felt as if they were going to burn a hole into the back of his skull. He barely caught himself, trembling worse than before. If he had fallen, he could have injured himself seriously, maybe even broken his neck. His breath came too fast, he was on the verge of total panic but he knew somehow that being hysterical wouldn’t get him anywhere.
“Get yourself together,” he thought. “Walk. One step after the other. To the bathroom, just walk!”
He stepped into the darkness surrounding him, touching the wall for guidance. There; the door to the first guest room. Not far now. Only a few steps more, only a few steps. Finally he felt the smooth coolness of the tiles underneath his bare feet and relieve flashed trough him. He had made it. Some steps more and he was over at the toilet. Just in time for him to throw up once more. Apparently the drinks had not been such a good idea after all. His stomach ached, trying to get rid of food that was not there. Yet it did not stop, spasms were making him wince with pain. He had the revolting taste of bile in his mouth but at least his vision was slowly coming back to him. He found it strangely comforting to be able to see anything at all even though he had the impression of starring at a very bad test pattern. After what seemed like an eternity the spasms died away and he could breath deeply again. Exhausted he wiped his mouth with some toilet paper, flushed down the whole mess and just sat there, breathing hard, still shaking all over. Cold sweat covered his forehead and face and his head still throbbed. He got up, which took quite an effort and switched on the shower. A glance at the miniature clock of his water-proof radio told him it was already 12.45 p.m. Another half hour had passed since he had spoken to Chris. He was running late again. He moaned and stepped underneath the hot spray. With closed eyes he prayed to the God he did not really believe in that he would make it through the day somehow. The warmth was more than welcome, he was shivering and freezing. After a while the trembling subsided a bit.
When he was cleaned, dried and had brushed his teeth he felt a little better, still pretty awful but at least half way human again. He dressed casually in a pair of comfortable jeans and a loose fitting black turtleneck, in case there were any love bites had had not yet discovered. He put on some dark sunglasses and called a cab. This wasn’t going to be fun; he still had that horrible hollow feeling in his stomach, weak knees and the worst headache one could imagine. He did not dare taking an Aspirin for fear it would make him throw up again. While he waited for his cab to arrive he poured himself a glass of lukewarm water and sipped that slowly. Then he suddenly had an idea. Hadn’t Kevin told him that he used to take a line of coke when he had felt sick after a bad trip? Neil could not imagine feeling any worse that he already did so it was possibly worth a try. He found some remains in the pocket of the jacket he had been wearing last night and held up the tiny package with a hopeful smile. He cut out two small lines on the table in the living room. His hands were still shaking slightly. When the cocaine kicked in, he felt like on a roller-coaster or like being dropped from somewhere very far up into the depths. He felt that nauseating felling in his stomach again. To his surprise this passed rather quickly and then he did not feel quite so sick anymore. When the taxi driver rang his bell he was convinced that everything was going to be alright.
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A fatal mistake