"I'm nervous." Darren admitted.

Daniel looked up from his guitar, which was resting on his thigh. He sat crosslegged, tuning his instrument minutely. They were both already in full concert attire. Darren working a tear in his fishnet shirt, the rhinestones of his shirt casting little points of light onto his face. Lines of white on Daniel's pants stretched across his folded knees, and Darren watched the guitarist's arms ripple discreetly as he set aside the Fender.

"What do you mean, you're nervous?" Daniel said worriedly. "You're never nervous." Darren was blanched, more so than usual. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and sighed.

"It's the Olympics. It's our home. I've never performed before this many people," was Darren's clipped retort. Daniel was busy chipping his black nail polish. "Neither have I," he answered casually. "But I'm nervous too."

"I think I'm going to vomit."

Daniel glared at his friend. "You know, I think youre just being dramatic."

"Maybe," Darren answered thoughtfully. "Maybe not." He looked Daniel in the eyes. "What if we mess up? What if I forget the words, or my voice cracks, or I fall off the stage...again?" He looked panicked now, and added quietly: "What if they boo us?" The whisper disturbed Daniel.

"Why would they boo us?" he asked, confused.

"It's not exactly like what we're doing is common place," answered the singer.

"Ricky Martin did it."

"Did not," grinned Darren. "You just wish he did." They enjoyed a shared smile that was broken by a pounding on the door. A stage hand called five minutes.

Darren sighed again and Daniel stood. "C'mon, we'll do fine. We always do fine," the guitarist reasoned, picking up the instrument again. Darren relented and got up, slinging on his leather jacket.

"Do you think those scary girls with the blue bondage cuffs will be there?"

"Front row, no doubt."

Silence as they walked through the backstage labyrinth. Then, as the stage and crowd came into view: "I'm still nervous," a whisper from Darren.

"SHITE!" rang from behind them. They turned to stare. Ben shoved past them and stared Daniel down. "Did the almighty 'I'm never nervous' Darren Hayes just go back on his word? Splendid. If he's nervous, that's the toilet for the rest of us." He shook his head and turned curtly, making his way to the partially curtain-draped stage. Daniel's laughter followed him.

"I'm glad you find this so amusing," Darren said wryly, fiddling absentmindedly with the chains on his jacket. Daniel grabbed his hand suddenly. "You're really worried about this performance? You think just because they know now they won't like us?"

"No one has ever done this and survived," Darren said.

"Elton John," Daniel offered. The smaller man grimaced. "Don't even say that," he chided.

Daniel gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "They'll love you. Even if they don't, you've still got me."

Darren looked up, and Daniel unexpectedly found fear in his eyes. "Do I?" he asked softly. Dan pulled him into a hug, bare arms squeaking on leather. "Forever," Daniel promised, and then released him. Darren was left alone backstage, Dan joining Ben and the other waiting to be unveiled in front of countless thousands of people, and more cameras than could be counted. Daniel spared a backwards glance, and made the sign of the heart over his chest with his hands.