Caveat: I was a fan of New Kids on the Block when I was a freshman in high school.  That was a 
long time ago for me, but they will always remain the first concert I chose to go to on my own.  
Though I have not always remained a fan (the period of seven years where I did not listen to 
music, *period*, is a dark chapter in my history) I am one once again, and have found a void of 
NKOTB slash on the Internet.  Thus I'm writing a piece of my own to begin filling that hole.  
This story is not intended as a character assassination of any type, and all errors and 
blunders are mine.  While Joseph McIntyre has acknowledged in an interview that one of the 
ex-'Kids is indeed gay (or at least bisexual) he has not said who, save that it's not Jordan.  
My picking Jon for the purposes of this story has nothing to do with any actual suspicions.  I 
don't know if he's gay.  I don't *care* if he's gay.  If he is, good for him.  If not, I 
apologize.  This story, as all my stories are, is an exercise in working through things that 
bother me, and as it's an RPS work, in working out and settling things which I have learned and 
presume to have elements of truth in them.  And working them out with maybes and what ifs.  As 
far as I know Mark Wahlberg is 100% okay with homosexuality.  So please, no one take this too 
seriously as other than my mind working in fantastical ways.  If threatened with legal 
reprecussions, I will, of course, pull the story from the Web, and sic my fans (it's not ego to 
know I have them) on the instigating party.  This is not truth, this is fiction, and it's mine, 
and therefore personal.


Laying to Rest
by K. Huntsman
released 4/1/02


	It was easy to blame Jon.
	He had, after all, been the first to leave, mid-tour, even, leaving the rest of them to 
scramble their asses, lying to cover his absence.
	The lying hadn't been new.
	But that moment, the one where he'd looked at them, all the weariness of the world in 
his eyes because he was too sick from living the life that he'd chosen to try to keep anything 
from them anymore, at that moment, Joe knew, they'd all known it had ended.  It wasn't the 
failing album sales, or even pop going out and grunge coming in, it was the fact that they were 
broken.  New Kids on the Block, or NKOTB as they'd later shortened it, was a five-man group.  
And Jon, despite his anxieties, was part of it.
	The rest of them had finished the tour, of course.  That was what was being a 
professional was about.  And then... they'd just drifted off.  Drifted apart, slowly.
	Donnie'd gone out to Hollywood and started acting.  And he was good, too, Joe thought.  
The first time he'd seen _The Sixth Sense_ he hadn't even recognized his former bandmate.  Of 
course he was eclipsed by his brother.  Marky Mark "the underwear model" Wahlberg.  Who hated 
them.  And the feeling was mutual.  Sometimes Joe felt sorry for Donnie, being caught in the 
middle like that.  Most of the time he didn't think about it, because it was too ugly.
	Ugly little secrets.  The entire business was made up of them, and sometimes, just 
sometimes, he thought about writing a tell-all book and spilling every dirty little secret out 
of its closet and into the public view.  All the shit that was expected of rock stars, the 
drugs, the whores, the drinking and partying--check, been there, done that, can take and give 
names with the best of them.
	Except Jon.
	Jon who kept himself clean, kept himself away from all of that, stayed in his room at 
nights, reading or writing, or talking to Tiffany, who Joe thought Jon really might love in 
spite of everything.  Jon who covered for them when he could and put up with their shit.
	Maybe it was what made them cover for him.
	But Joe was a nice Catholic boy... well, maybe not that strictly Catholic given that his 
parents had divorced and all, but still... somehow, no matter where he'd been able to hide it, 
to shove it into the deep corners of his mind, seldom-dusted once he'd earned his G.E.D., he 
knew that the feelings were there.  That Jon wasn't right.
	That somewhere he hated Jon, feared him.
	Which was why blaming Jon was easy.
	He made himself face up to the facts, dredge them to the fore every once in a while, 
when he was feeling particularly bad or low or drunk.  Jon was gay.  And that was wrong.  And he 
didn't like it, didn't accept it, not in the least.  He was afraid that Jon might look at him, 
might touch him.  It made him sick.  And so he, alone, of the band had a problem.  He had no 
source of support, and it cut him off, so he hid it, buried it deep.  But somehow he always felt 
that Jon knew, could see it in him.  And that shamed him even more.  So he hated Jon.  Hated one 
of the only four brothers he had, would ever have.
	Jon, he supposed, was sensitive.  He saw things like that.  He was also the smartest one 
of the group.  He read things voluntarily.  Without prompting.  He liked books, and reading, and 
writing.  But he was shy, and sensitive, and sometimes Joe thought he really didn't belong in 
the group and only came in because he'd tagged along with Jordan, following his little brother 
like a puppy.
	Okay, so Joe thought that a lot of the time, actually.
	Like every time he saw Jon having a panic attack backstage, gone white, gasping for air, 
trying to calm down because they were too big now, the show must go on.  And sometimes he felt 
really irritated or annoyed, but most of the time...
	... he just felt sad.
	Because Jon was this really nice guy who didn't have enough guts to follow his own path 
and so followed his brother's and ended up in the biggest group on Earth in front of thousands 
of screaming teenage girls every night when he really couldn't handle it.
	Every time Jon opened his hotel door and told them he wouldn't be going out tonight, Joe 
felt sad.
	Because Jon was his brother, and he loved the guy.
	So he hated Jon and he hurt for Jon, and he hated for Jon.
	Gentle, shy Jonathon who'd had the... guts to finally fall in love, and got shot down by 
a bigger homophobe than even Joe was.
	Sometimes he felt really sorry for Donnie getting caught in the middle like that.
	So Mark hated them and they hated Mark because the 'Kids all sided together.  He was 
only Donnie's brother to them, following in the wake of Donnie's talent and fame, and he'd hurt 
one of their own in the worst way possible.  Not a physical beating, but a verbal one.
	And Jon loved words, was sensitive to their use and implications.
	And Jon was strong, he'd recovered, put up a front, pretended to be all right for the 
rest of them, for the fans, and they'd gone on.  The show had to go on.
	They'd believed it more because they wanted to believe it than because they thought it 
was true, and with Jon's slight withdrawal from them, with his older influence removed, they'd 
begun to slip, to fall.
	They'd gone wild, wearing down and burning out.
	So in the end maybe it was Mark's fault.  And Joe could live with that, hated Mark, 
loved Jon.
	And following Jon's leaving the group, he'd locked himself away, only wanting to be 
left alone.  It was almost a decade now, and somehow Jon had managed to do what none of the 
rest of them had or wanted to.  He'd gotten the fans to leave him alone.
	He lived a private life, as a private citizen.
	That amazed Joe.  He couldn't imagine what that was like.
	Building houses.  Good, solid work for Jon.  Joe could see it, could see him going over 
blueprints and drafts and making deals, a firm handshake and a bright smile.
	More than anything, they'd always said, they hated prejudice.  For Joe it had always 
been an abstract thing.  He'd grown up an Irish-Catholic kid in middle-class Boston.  What more 
pedestrian walk of life was there?  But the others hadn't had the same priviledge, they'd known 
prejudice up front and in their faces, their lives.  And they'd known Jon was gay before Joe 
had ever met any of them.  It was out there, accepted.  His few boyfriends and lovers were 
greeted with the same fondness they'd given to girlfriends and eventually wives.  Joe had 
learned quickly to fake that.  Nearly getting the whupping of his life after making an off-hand 
remark had taught him that the other three were serious about this prejudice thing.  So he'd 
thought about it, and accepted it in principle and shoved his private qualms down where the sun 
didn't shine.
	And out of it he'd gotten fame, fortune, all the tastes of the high life at a time when 
he was probably too young for it.
	And then a crash.  Or a whimper.  He wasn't sure which to call it.  It felt one way to 
him, but to the rest of the world...?
	And Jon disappeared and they only got occasional reports from Jordan, who like Joe, kept 
trying in the music business.  Danny, of course, went underground, down to Florida, and 
produced.  But Joe and Jordan... well, people never told you that the limelight was addictive.
	Then one day out of the blue everything crashed back together, just for a little bit.  
Not the stuff with MTV, the E! specials.  Practically back-to-back, a Celebrity Profile for 
Joe, and a True Hollywood Stories special for the group.
	Danny and Donnie didn't sign.  But Joe did.  And Jordan.  And Jon.
	And the Knights went on Oprah to talk about, finally in public, Jon's panic attacks.  
And the reason the group broke up was finally out there, for those of the old fans who still 
cared.  Or at least most of it.
	He didn't see Jon during the taping.  Their segments were all done separately.  But he 
watched it when it came out.  He taped it.  And the Oprah episode.
	Jon was older, still thin.  Joe hadn't seen him in nearly ten years.
	All of a sudden, he missed Jon.
	Missed him like a son of a bitch.
	Missed him like something he'd put down in one room and not been able to find when he 
came back from the next.
	Missed Jon like a part of himself, an older brother he'd envied and hated and loved.
	And Joe cried sometimes, thinking of the good old days, but mostly he kept himself busy 
trying to rebuild a career from the wreckage of the 'Kids, because all he knew and all he 
really loved was entertaining.  He watched the acts that came in their wake, the Backstreet 
Boys and *N Sync, and idly speculated on if Justin Timberlake would be doing the same things he 
was, ten years down the line.  It gave him a sense of faith, in the cycles of things.  
Timberlake even had the same hair, and the same popularity, and the same screaming girls.
	Joe wondered if he had the same problems with the drugs and parties.
	But beyond such things, it really was amazing that all of a sudden he missed Jon so 
much.  He saw Danny fairly often, and Donnie every time he was out in L.A., and he and Jordan 
were bound to run into one another at industry parties, but Jon...?
	He missed his brother.  His older, calm, smart, gay brother.

	He sat at a cafe in Boston, sipping on a coffee, notebook out in front of him in case he 
got inspired by any brilliant song lyrics or riffs while he was sitting.  And he felt safe in 
his anonymity.  If he wanted to be recognized, of course, he could be, but for now he was just 
Joey McIntyre, regular nobody, former and hopefully future star, sitting here in a cafe in his 
hometown like he was anybody.
	And he was.
	His eyes caught on a bicycle coming down the street.
	They flashed wide and he stood up before the bike passed.
	"Jon!" he yelled.
	The brakes squealed as the bike tore past him, Jon turning hard in a maneuver more 
suited to a fourteen-year-old stunt biker than a businessman in his thirties, but Jon pulled it 
off.  Damn but he pulled it off.
	"Joey?" Jon asked disbelievingly, brown eyes wide.
	Joe grinned.  "Long time no see."
	"Yeah.  What're you doing here?"
	"Having some coffee."  Joe hesitated, then asked.  "You have some time free?  Want to 
join me?"
	Almost reflexively Jon checked his watch.  "I have to be somewhere in a while, but...."
	"Blow them off," Joe asked.
	Jon hesitated, then reached into a pocket and pulled out a cel phone.  "You talked me 
into it," he said, starting to dial.  "You look good, Joey."
	"JOE," he corrected.  Jon grinned and paid him no mind, lifting the phone to his ear.  
"Jon?"
	A questioning eyebrow was raised.
	"So do you."