The first time Zac saw the ocean with eyes old enough to commit the image to memory, he was ten years old and they were taking a break from recording the album they all hoped would be their big break. Isaac loudly proclaimed that the beaches in Trinidad were better, but Zac had been too young to remember those. Taylor remembered, he thought, but he humored Zac anyway, standing beside him in the sand and holding his hand so that the tide wouldn’t pull him under.
He liked to look down and watch the water crash over his feet, creating the illusion that his legs were cut off at the calves. Looking out at the bright, vast blue was fun, too. It made him feel so small and insignificant, but in a way that was somehow reassuring in that it reminded him of his place in the world. But maybe he wouldn’t be insignificant for long.
Taylor constantly talked about how the world would know them all soon. Zac wasn’t sure if he wanted that. He just wanted to play his music. Everything that his brothers were sure would follow that was too much for Zac to really comprehend or picture.
But standing there on the beach, he didn’t have to think about all of that. He could be happy. Content. At peace.
Sometimes, Taylor just needed to run away. He hadn’t really had a plan when he got into his rented Mustang and started driving, but he had ended up at the beach. It never really gave him as much comfort as it did Zac, yet he had found himself there anyway. He sat on the hood of the car and tried to figure out where things had gone so wrong.
Pregnant.
The word kept echoing in his mind. He didn’t know how he was going to tell his family and he couldn’t see how this lapse in judgment would affect their already strained relationship with the label. Taylor didn’t know how it would fit into his life at all.
There was a part of him that wanted to just walk out into the ocean and not stop until the water washed over his head and pulled him under.
Taylor had nearly talked himself into it when he became aware of someone standing next to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that it was Zac, his hands stuffed awkwardly into his pockets like he wasn’t sure what to do now that he had found his wayward brother. Taylor wasn’t sure what to do with himself either, so he didn’t blame Zac for hesitating.
“You know we came out here last time,” Zac finally said. “I mean, when the label change happened. We sat out here and smoked those cigarettes you stole from Ike, remember?”
Taylor nodded, even though he wouldn’t have remembered if Zac hadn’t jogged his memory. Maybe some part of him deep inside had chosen this particular stretch of beach because of that. He wanted to be angry that Zac had been able to follow him, but he wasn’t. He was out of all strong emotions. Hollow.
Zac sat down next to him on the hood of the car, but didn’t speak. For a long time, the two of them just sat there in silence. It was suffocating.
“Tell me it’s going to be okay,” Taylor said weakly.
“I can’t,” Zac replied. “I wish I could. I don’t know how any of this is going to be okay, Tay. The band, the… you… I mean, everything’s all fucked up. This isn’t what you want to hear, is it?”
Taylor shook his head, a hoarse laugh falling from his lips. Zac was blunt to a fault; he didn’t know why he had expected comfort from him, the brother who shot daggers at him when he was forced to stand up at dinner and announce that he had gotten his ex-girlfriend pregnant.
“But you know what?” Zac asked, and Taylor shook his head again. “No, it’s not going to be okay. At least maybe not right away. But… I don’t know, I think we’ll get through it. ‘Cause fuck the label. They can’t take the music from us; they can take our money and our careers, but not the music. And if we’ve got that… and each other… how can we not be okay, somehow, eventually? I don’t know. I just have to believe that, or I think I’d slit my wrists.”
“You and me both,” Tay admitted.
“And, well, if we’ve got our music… and each other,” Zac said softly, slipping Taylor’s hand into his own, their fingers twining together like they belonged. “What else do we need?”
“I don’t know,” Taylor replied, but he really wanted to say nothing.
Instead, he just rested his head against Zac’s shoulder, wondering when his little brother had gotten big enough for him to do that. He thought he felt Zac’s lips touch the top of his head, but he didn’t dare react. Maybe he had imagined it. But he hoped he hadn’t.
The heat in Cancun wasn’t as oppressive as Zac had imagined it might be, tempered as it was by a breeze stiff enough to remind one that it was in fact winter. The water was the brightest blue he’d ever seen, unlike any other piece of ocean he’d be lucky enough to visit. Other bodies of water were like Taylor’s eyes—without a doubt blue, but faded… weathered. And the sand. The sand was as white as the snow Zac was more accustomed to seeing in January.
Zac felt ungrateful. And then he felt guilty for feeling that way. He was the privileged one in this scenario, he knew. He was getting paid to be here in this paradise. Unlike others, he wasn’t scrimping, sacrificing and even overcoming fears of flying.
Yet he did feel ungrateful. More than that, he felt like he was being pulled in a dozen different directions, like the current couldn’t decide which way to toss him. The fans all wanted a piece of him, as they always did, and as the days and years went by, he felt like there were less and less pieces to give. Someday there wouldn’t be any of him left, and what would the fans do then? They would just leave, he supposed. And his wife… it seemed only natural that she treat this as an opportunity for a vacation, something the two of them rarely got to take. But having her there, with a still nursing baby in tow as well, only heightened the feeling that he was being pulled apart at the seams. He couldn’t give her all the attention she wanted and ensure there was a smile on every fan’s face. He couldn’t do it all, and sometimes he wondered why he even bothered to do the precious little he could do.
Being at the beach, his favorite escape, should have made Zac happier than this.
He watched his brothers and found himself growing more and more jealous. Isaac was alone, a state that he seemed to wear just as well as being by his wife’s side, and he used that freedom to drink and socialize. Taylor… well, Taylor might as well have been alone, since he had only brought his wife along and not their gaggle of children. For years, Zac had wondered if Taylor and Natalie even had anything in common besides the kids, and if that weren’t perhaps the reason why they kept having more. If there had ever been an empty space in their marriage, though, they had filled it. She neither clung to him and kept him away from the fans nor followed after him whenever he made his way to the other resort. And when they were together, they seemed comfortable—not just resigned to their fate, but truly comfortable.
Maybe in a few years Zac and his wife would reach that point, too. Maybe they should have already, considering the fact that their marriage had been a choice. They hadn’t been all but shoved down the aisle to try to right their wrongs. They had wanted this… at least, Zac remembered it that way, even if he seemed to be losing sight of why. While his brothers were comfortable, content and free to mingle with the fans, he found himself constantly checking his phone and rushing back to his wife’s side, ignoring the fans’ looks of disappointment when he had to shake them off and go back to being the doting husband and father.
Walking into the ocean and letting the tide just pull him under seemed more and more appealing by the second.
The rolling water rocking the ferry back and forth threatened to put Taylor to sleep. He wanted to stay awake and watch the ocean, maybe snap a few pictures as they made their way to Isla Mujeres to make sure everything was in order for the concert that evening. Instead, he found himself lost in the depths of Zac’s eyes. Focusing on them, and the heavy bags underneath them that betrayed a sadness that Taylor wished he could understand and relieve his brother of, kept him awake.
Taylor wasn’t sure when his life had become the easy one and Zac’s had become so difficult, but he was acutely aware that it had happened somewhere along the way. His marriage had become a convenient arrangement that didn’t bring either of them true happiness, but enough. He was happy with enough. But Zac needed more than that, he knew, and Zac would run himself ragged and throw himself into anything that offered some sort of bliss, however temporary. It was why his brother had gotten married so young, he was sure. If Zac regretted that now, he never said, but Taylor could see it in those eyes that no longer sparkled the way they used to.
Once they had checked out the stage setup and made sure everything was up to their standards, Taylor caught Zac’s sad eyes and nodded off toward the beach. He wandered off before waiting to see if Zac got the hint, but he didn’t doubt for a moment that his brother would follow him.
Zac practically had to jog to keep up with Taylor. His long legs carried him quickly down the beach, away from the few tourists mingling around. The island wasn’t as crowded as Cancun, and it wasn’t long before Taylor managed to locate an empty, secluded spot. Zac was practically panting by the time he caught up with him. Before he could catch his breath and actually ask the question on the tip of his tongue, Taylor was answering it.
“You just looked like you needed to get away.”
Zac nodded his agreement. He had been ashamed to put it into words, the guilt gnawing at him and reminding him that he was lucky to have so many people wanting a piece of him.
“Come on,” Taylor said, taking Zac’s hand and pulling him toward the water. He toed his shoes off as he went, and Zac followed suit.
The sand wasn’t as soft here as back on the mainland; pieces of broken seashells littered it and he had to dodge clumps of seaweed as Taylor pulled him into the water. He didn’t mind, though, nor did he mind that his pants were soaked nearly up to the knees. So what if the seashells dug into his feet and hurt a little? It was like everything else—the good was always tempered with a little bad.
“I thought it would get easier,” Zac said, the words he hadn’t really even meant to say almost lost in a crashing wave.
“It doesn’t,” Taylor replied. “But you learn. You figure out ways to cope. You make your own happiness; you don’t wait for it to find you.”
“What if I don’t remember how to do that anymore?” Zac asked.
Taylor pulled him closer and ran his hands up and down Zac’s bare arms. “Then you wait for your awesome brother to drag you away and force you to be happy again.”
Zac choked out a strangled laugh. Force him to be happy. As upside down and wrong as his life seemed, he supposed he would have to be forced. And if anyone could do it, it was Taylor. Taylor, who was already wandering away, deeper into the water. Zac gave a real laugh as a huge wave shoved Taylor off his feet, only to emerge a moment later, arms up in a sign of victory.
“Woo!” Taylor cried out, and Zac just shook his head.
He wrung out his t-shirt as he walked back to Zac’s side. His head tilted to the side and a mischievous grin graced his lips. “Come on. Over there, by that rock. Not that anyone else is around, but…”
But better safe than sorry. That was always their unspoken motto, and so Zac knew right away what Taylor wanted from him. It was something Zac was more than willing to give; the only part of him he didn’t feel like he had lost forever once he’d given it.
Zac had to laugh as Taylor started shedding his waterlogged clothing before Zac had even agreed or followed him to his chosen spot.
Their moments alone like this had been few and far between over the last few years; Taylor didn’t want to seem self-centered, but he had to wonder if that played a role in how sad and lost his brother seemed. He shook those thoughts off, though. What they did… they never talked about what it meant, and Taylor decided that it wasn’t time to change that.
As he waited for Zac to join him, he spread his damp clothing across the sand and then spread his body across the makeshift blankets. He was sure he looked ridiculous (Taylor wasn’t stupid enough to think he was worthy of centerfolds anymore), but the grin that nearly reached Zac’s ears said otherwise. Taylor’s own grin as he watched Zac begin to remove his clothing was so side it hurt. Their bodies were so different—Zac carried extra weight so much easier than Taylor did and the muscles in his arms and shoulders seemed natural too—and Taylor loved to catalog those differences every time they were together like this.
Those occasions were rare and often rushed, but not this one. Taylor was determined to take his time. Zac deserved that, he thought.
He crooked a finger and motioned Zac closer. Zac hesitated for a moment, unsure what Taylor was asking of him, but soon he figured it out. The two of them might have been different, but in certain ways, they were always on the same wavelength. Zac spread his body out across Taylor’s, pressing his lips to his brother’s while Taylor’s hands roamed all over his body.
Eventually, Taylor’s hands became more insistent, nudging Zac upward until he was sitting on his knees, hovering over Taylor’s face. Taylor dug his fingernails into the soft flesh of Zac’s ass and pulled him closer. Zac was already hard, his full length straining toward his stomach, and Taylor took his time swallowing each inch.
“Tay,” Zac whined, the second half of his name lost in a whimper. “So good, but… but not like this. Not just this.”
His words were weak and insufficient, but Taylor understood. He pulled back long enough to pop a finger into his mouth and slick it with saliva. He hadn’t had the forethought to bring a bottle of lube to Mexico with him, so that would have to do. Zac certainly didn’t seem to mind, if the moan he let out when Taylor’s finger pressed against him was anything to judge by. Zac’s hips rocking back against said finger was an even better indication of just how much Zac wanted—no, needed—this.
“More,” Zac whined. “Tay… now.”
Taylor didn’t need more than that to know what Zac needed. He removed his fingers and placed his hands on Zac’s hips, not really holding him or guiding him. Zac knew what he was doing; these encounters might be few and far between, but they’d gone on for nearly half their lives. This was second nature to both of them. When Zac sank down onto Taylor, easily taking his entire length, it felt like coming home even though they were thousands of miles away.
Their bodies moved in tandem, finding the perfect rhythm. It was quick and lacked finesse, perhaps, but Taylor didn’t care and he knew Zac didn’t, either. It had been too long. Going slow and savoring the moment might have been better, but it was beyond either of them. Their need was too great to allow that. If Taylor hurt Zac a little in his fervor, he hoped maybe that small amount of physical pain would take his mind off what seemed to be a deep emotional pain.
Taylor wrapped his hand around Zac’s dick, attempting to match their breakneck pace. It seemed something of a miracle that they both fell over the edge at the same time, their cries muffled only slightly by the breaking waves a few yards away.
It was only after Zac collapsed onto Taylor’s chest that he realized they’d nearly rolled off his clothes entirely, the dampness of sweat and salt water making even more sand stick to their bodies than would have otherwise. Taylor didn’t know about Zac, but he didn’t mind at all. The discomfort was nothing to him, just another part of the catharsis of the whole thing.
Zac lay still for a moment, his face buried in Taylor’s chest. Finally, he began to shake a little, and Taylor wondered if he were crying. He brushed back Zac’s hair and was relieved to see that his little brother was smiling and laughing silently.
“We are disgusting,” Zac said, proving his point by running a sand-covered hand through Taylor’s chest hair.
Taylor grinned. “I can think of one way to fix that.”
Salt water wasn’t the most effective way to wash sand and sweat away, but Zac wasn’t going to complain. The waves crashing against his bare skin—thank god they’d found a secluded corner of the beach—felt incredible.
He wished he had the words to express his gratitude to Taylor. Did his brother really know how much he needed this? Not just the sex, but the closeness. The water couldn’t wash away all his sins, but for the moment, it was enough. What hurt it couldn’t ease, Taylor could. Taylor always could.