Treading (Jordan Knight/NKOTB Fanfic)

Prologue

-JORDAN-

'Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Broken is the king that falls down. Strong is the one that treads and doesn't drown.'

The rhyme echoed in my head over and over with decreasing clarity as I felt the slow burn of liquor trickle down my throat and seep into my bloodstream.

It was one of my mother's favorite sayings. She firmly believed that all of my siblings and I had high callings—some God-given talent that would place us in positions of power and leadership and require us to 'wear the crown'. She'd told us all over and over that we would inevitably fall and face hard things, but in the end what mattered was that we kicked and worked hard to keep our heads above water and out of the fray. As long as we did that, we'd survive and come out stronger than ever. It was her long-winded version of what doesn't kill you makes you stronger and for years it was the value by which I patterned my life.

For a while, it seemed to work. I got to follow my wildest dreams and transform from a kid growing up on the wrong side of Boston to the heartthrob hanging on every girl's wall. I got to travel the world with my best friends and hear the screams and the cheers of those who adored me every single night. Sure, it was hard work and I faced my share of critics who hated me just for the hell of it. Heavy was the crown, but it was indeed a crown and I loved every single second of wearing it on my head. I loved being famous. I never wanted it to end.

Yet, in the vein of another cliche, like all good things, it had come to an end. Just as quickly as it'd all started, it was over and I had come crashing down from my throne at a speed that had absolutely shattered me. Still, keeping my faith in the rhyme, I'd pushed and persevered to keep going.

In a whirlwind of emotion, I'd moved back to my hometown and focused all of my attention on the one person who still made me feel like a king—my beloved girlfriend, Marilyn. She was beautiful and charming and funny and the absolute epitome of my better half. I'd planned it all out in my head—we'd get married, have babies, and grow old together. It wasn't anything extravagant or fancy. In fact, it was quite the opposite. It was an overwhelmingly practical goal that was a far cry from my outrageous dream of being famous. So much so that I hadn't even stopped for a second to consider that it might not come true.

That is, until exactly one year ago on the night before our wedding when I'd decided to surprise my bride-to-be with a midnight visit. I could vividly remember sneakily climbing through her bedroom window like Prince Charming coming to save Rapunzel, but instead of my damsel in distress awaiting me with baited breath, she was moaning and writhing underneath my best man, Donnie Wahlberg.

He'd been the one to introduce us years before and on numerous occasions I'd wondered if something was going on between them. Yet, all my concerns had been pushed aside by both of them. They were just friends. He wasn't her type. And she wasn't his. She was too passive. He was too bossy. He was too messy. She was too uptight. He was in love with his personal assistant; she was in love with me.

Even that night, they'd had a long list of excuses. They were drunk, they said. It was a mistake, they said. They were sorry, they said. It had just happened, they said.

But I knew that wasn't true. It wasn't a mistake. It wasn't just lust.

They were in denial.

Just like I was in denial that the waves were came crashing in around me and I was tired of treading.

But unlike them, I didn't need anymore convincing of the inevitable after that night.

I wasn't strong. I couldn't tread. I was meant to drown and I was okay with that.

I accepted it.