To End The Rapture

Backstage, the tension was thick. Johnny Christ, Bassist, was chewing on his bottom lip in anticipation, his bass guitar situated firmly within his grasp, the shoulder strap cutting into his shoulder as always. He rolled on the balls of his feet, humming to himself idly, strumming a few strings of the amp-less instrument, muted notes floating around him, barely rising above the screams in front of the curtain.

Jimmy Sullivan, more commonly known as The Rev, was drumming his sticks against the concrete wall of the room around them. His toes tapped nervously as he tried to keep an even rhythm. The thrill of the performance made his fingers tingle as they continued their beat against the wall. He took a steadying breath and ceased the tapping when another band member tossed a white towel in his face. He glared over, knowing whom it was.

Zacky Vengeance was listening to the incessant tapping and it was getting on his nerves. They were always shot before a show anyway, but with Rev’s drumming, it was really getting to him today. He had looked around for something to throw, and picked up a towel, chucking it hard at Rev’s head. The anticipation was making him irritable as Rev glared over at him.

“Prick,” Rev said, tossing the towel back. Zacky caught it with a slight grin, throwing it down.

“Yeah, what about it?” Zacky retaliated, toying with a few strings absentmindedly, matching the caliber of Johnny’s mindless strumming. The boys heard a sigh from behind Zacky.

M. Shadows had come back from getting water to see the two boys fighting like children. He shook his head, butterflies in his stomach, even after years of performing. Honestly, he wouldn’t have wanted the feeling to go away. He grabbed the towel from Zacky and dropped it on the guitarist’s upturned face, which promptly turned into a scowl.

“Fucker!” Zacky exclaimed. Shadows merely smirked and walked off. “Where the hell is Brian, anyway?” he asked, hoping the name would bring his fellow guitarist out of hiding.

It worked.

“Motherfucker,” Brian, or better known as Synyster Gates, growled from behind Shadows. “I told you not to call me that.”

“Sometimes it’s the only way to get your attention,” Zacky said airily, giving an award-winning grin. Syn rolled his eyes. He felt the anticipation in the room and it tingled through his well-built arms as well. He held his guitar close, thumb touching slightly on the lowest string, causing a low humming to be let from the instrument. He leaned against the wall, his hand deadening the noise of the instrument as he looked upward.

“How long do we have?” Syn asked Shadows, who merely shrugged. He sighed exasperatedly. “I hate waiting.” He tapped his foot impatiently, his fingernails drumming on the plastic of his pinstriped guitar.

“Oh, shut up,” Zacky countered. “You know you have a hard-on for the anticipation as much as the rest of us.” He was picking at his own left-handed guitar, which was red in color and more circular than Syn’s, which took on a horned appearance, and had his name emblazoned on the neck between the strings.

“Fuck off, fag,” Syn grumbled, running a hand over the brim of his fedora. Zacky was also wearing a fedora, which made the other’s lip twitch. Shadows clapped a hand on Syn’s shoulder, gripping it loosely with equally strong arms. Syn’s eyes went straight to Shadows, brows furrowing.

“Chill, dude,” Shadows muttered in Syn’s ear. Syn growled deep in his throat and took a deep breath, digressing for the moment. “And you, shut your fat mouth, Zack.”

Shadows had a very domineering personality, and he was a leader. He could get Hitler to listen to him, in Zacky’s opinion as he promptly shut up. He sighed and shook his head, going back to his vocal warm-ups, humming deeply in his throat and readying his voice for a rough-and-tumble time.

“I’m glad I’m not them,” Johnny muttered, continuing to pluck at his strings, which earned him a glare from the dark-eyed guitarist. “I don’t know how the hell anyone gets along with you, Syn.”

Syn barked a laugh, shaking his head. “The only fucker I can get along with is him,” he stated, pointing over to Shadows, who rolled his eyes. “And that’s because he’s not a whiny pussy like the rest of you. And you,” he said, pointing his index and pinky finger toward Zacky, “have a big enough mouth to fit anyone’s dick in.”

“Syn, that’s enough!” Shadows snapped, smacking the guitarist on the arm. Syn glared at him, but said nothing. “Now, we go on in ten, so we all just need to get our fucking shit together and get our heads in the game!”

Immediately, the tension that had floated around the room before Syn had entered was returning, trickling in and suffocating the band members. Syn began to sweep his pick along the pick guard. Johnny almost snapped one of his strings because he was plucking at it so hard. Rev stopped his tapping and held his sticks in his hand, holding them tightly. Shadows just shook his head at the group, especially to Zacky and Syn. He felt they would never get along. Zacky had begun to hum to himself, thinking over Syn’s words.

Finally the lights came on, and Shadows got his nod of approval, and he ran on stage first, shouting welcomes to the crowd, introducing the rest of the bad as they trickled on. Zacky went first, and then Rev, Johnny following and Syn finally taking up the back, his pick in his mouth. He thought of nothing but the on-stage rush.

Despite their arguments, Syn and Zacky were right in synch through the entire concert, playing perfectly beside each other. They harmonized with each other perfectly, and when one of them would screw up, the other picked up the slack. Syn was so into the rush, he didn’t quite notice the chemistry, until they began playing “Burn It Down,” and their first guitar duel was perfectly matched; it was probably the best they’d ever done. This unnerved Syn, as well as Zacky, but it was for their work, and for that they pushed away any thoughts.

When “Eternal Rest” popped up in the set list, Syn heaved a sigh. There was a lot of interaction between him and the douche bag people called Zacky Vengeance in that particular song. He hated to admit it to himself, but Zacky was pretty damn good on his guitar. He tossed the thought out and readied himself for the next song, pushing a few locks off his face. He stood; both were feet planted firmly on the ground, leaning back slightly, his hands steady on his guitar.

Zacky inwardly groaned at the song too, but it seemed Synyster Gates was nicer on stage, when he didn’t have his mind on being an asshole. He actually seemed to be enjoying something other than running his bad mouth about others. He secretly admired Syn’s skills, but like hell would he tell anyone that. He adjusted his hat and prepared. He stood there, more relaxed than Syn, with his hands itching to play the instrument in his hands.

Zacky and Syn had worked together before, hence the band being in existence in the first place, but each of them had their animosity toward each other. Everyone thought the two of them were best friends, merely because they were the dueling guitarists. In truth, as everyone knew who was around them on a daily basis, they were at each other’s throats, as you’ve seen. Though, there must have been some sort of feeling beneath that hatred, but they hadn’t found it yet.

The two of them both swept their picks across their strings, combining to make a mass harmony that started the song, Rev adding a fevered heartbeat to the harmony, Johnny chiming in deeply. Zacky and Syn glanced at each other, and Syn’s face was void of any emotion. Zacky’s wasn’t particularly jubilant either as they continued their play.

Shadows broke in with the lyrics, rough and raw voice breaking the hold the two’s eyes had on each other. Syn looked down to his guitar, concentrating on the hard rhythm that Rev had set. His fingers moved swiftly across the guitar, letting the instrument sing through the amplifiers, only to hear Zacky harmonizing with him.

Zacky’s fingers moved quickly on the instrument, his fingers moving at a fast pace against the nylon, belting out a deep set of notes, and Syn played them on the other side, an octave higher, his fingers expertly sliding across the guitar. Inwardly, he was thankful he could even keep up with the other guitarist.

When the guitar solo came up, the two of them joined in the middle of the stage, feet up on the podium as was normal, arms pressed together as they played. Zacky could feel the vibrations from Syn’s harsh guitar playing, and Syn felt it from Zacky. Neither looked at each other, but played in perfect synch, creating a complex, deep, raw, metallic melody wafting out to the screaming crowds.

After the concert was finished, both men were exhausted as they reached the VIP room. Syn leaned against the wall, wiping his brow with his hand. Zacky had collapsed into one of the chairs. Shadows followed, his hazel eyes glancing from one guitarist to the other. Rev walked in with a pleased grin on his face, and Johnny was raving about how the show went.

“That was amazing, guys!” Johnny gushed as he practically skipped down the hallway. “Who knew you two could play so well together.”

That was very much the wrong thing to say. Zacky and Syn glanced at each other contemptuously, then over at Johnny. Syn’s eyes smoldered angrily, and Zacky’s looked positively offended.

“Fuck off,” Syn decided to say to break the tensed silence. He distinctly saw Shadows roll his eyes out of the corner of his eye.

“Me, play well, with him?” Zacky asked incredulously. “You’re fucking crazy, Christ.” The bassist just shrugged, rubbing his hand against his head, looking to Shadows for help.

“Guys, admit it,” Shadows said, lifting his head up. “You did well.” Syn huffed and Zacky kept his incredulous look, directing it toward Shadows this time. “Don’t give me that look, Zack. Just because you two hate each other, doesn’t mean we should suffer for it. There’s a reason you two are in this band collectively. You play well together, when you’re not at each other’s throats. You didn’t become the dueling soloists by yourselves.”

Syn heaved a sigh and crossed his arms, unable to argue with Shadows. Zacky seemed to, for once, have nothing to say in return. This slightly amused Syn, watching the other open and close his mouth, akin to a fish. The rush from the show had dissipated from the room, like a guitar string that had snapped in the midst of a solo. Since neither of the guitarists would admit it, Shadows huffed and shook his head. “You guys are acting like children!” he cried with exasperation. Syn smirked at his friend and merely shrugged other than that. Zacky pouted a bit, full lips cut by pieces of metal protruding in a cute way.

“I’m sorry, Shadz,” Zacky said, willing to make amends. Syn, on the other hand, was not willing, keeping his arms crossed and his eyes directed toward the ground. Shadows walked straight up to him, his hazel eyes demanding that Syn look at him. The guitarist reluctantly looked up at the singer, who had his head cocked to the side.

“Sorry, Matt,” Syn said in a muttered voice, and Shadows gave a small smirk, satisfied, though he was damn sure the rest of the band hadn’t heard him. If he knew Syn at all, the man did that on purpose.

“Now that that’s settled,” Shadows said in a final tone, “we can go to the bus and get some goddamn sleep. We all need it.” He walked toward the door, motioning for the rest of the men to follow him. Johnny followed him readily, Rev going shortly after. That left Syn and Zacky in the room together for a moment.

Their eyes met, and the room electrified around them. The touch of their eyes into each other’s was so intense, so fierce, they both had to look away. It wasn’t an angry air, for once. Neither of the guitarists could explain what had happened. Syn didn’t have an insult right on the tip of his tongue like he normally did when people looked at him, and Zacky was rendered speechless by the sheer power of the moment.

“We better go,” Zacky said, brushing past Syn and walking out the door. Syn shook off the feeling that was creeping into his outstretched hand, following Zacky out the door, trying to push questions into the back of his mind, into the abyss. He tried to lock them away, make like he didn’t care. In that, he succeeded for now.

Little did Syn know, Zacky was thinking along the same lines, rubbing his biceps to get rid of the goose bumps he’d felt when looking into those smoldering, angry eyes. In truth, Zacky wanted to get to know the hellion, but he didn’t know how successful or smart that would have been.

Once the boys reached their tour bus, all climbed aboard, splitting up into their respective bunks. Syn climbed into his, turning toward the wall, staring at the cracks that stretched across the plastic.

Zacky crawled into his bunk, curling up against his pillows, pulling the blanket tightly around him. A million thoughts ran through his head, and he felt vulnerable; he was definitely glad that Syn was away from him. This was the kind of state where the other guitarist could hurt him easily.

That night Zacky dreamed of Syn’s talented hands roaming his body. He felt Syn’s fingers play him like an instrument until he sang with sensation. Zacky groaned, looking into those smoldering eyes, a different kind of fire licking at the pupil. A sly smirk played on his lips as his hands danced over Zacky’s pale flesh.

“What do you want?” Syn asked in a husky voice that made Zacky’s erection twitch in arousal.

“You,” Zacky moaned, arching his body against the other’s ministrations. Syn’s smirk widened, his eyes glittering dangerously.

“Me?” Syn asked, a smirk playing wider on his lips, fingers entangling in Zacky’s wiry pubic hairs, eliciting a gasp from him. “What do you need?” he asked, his poison lips placing a kiss just below Zacky’s belly button.

“I need you inside me,” Zacky responded in a voice dripping with arousal. “God, Syn, I need you to fuck me.” Syn’s eyebrows raised suggestively and his smirk turned into a devilish grin, his fingers sliding across Zacky’s member like he did to his guitar. The smaller man moaned, his hips bucking upward…and suddenly it was gone, replaced by a sloppily thrown pillow. He awoke with a start, almost hitting his head on the low ceiling.

“Shut up, dude,” he heard Rev’s sleepy voice grumble. Zacky’s face blushed bright red, realizing he had been vocalizing the feeling he’d been having in the dream. He curled into a ball, his throbbing member trapped between his legs and his chest painfully. He was almost ashamed of the dream.

Almost.

He tossed off the pillow and uncurled himself, staring up at the ceiling, trying to calm both his breath and his pulsing erection. He muttered to himself, passing his hand over his brow, which was drenched with sweat.

“Oh, God,” Zacky mumbled, running his hand through his short hair. He almost couldn’t believe it, and the fact that he was moaning! It was so embarrassing, and he hoped Syn hadn’t heard, or he was in for it tomorrow…

Syn had heard, indeed. He had never really fallen asleep and was listening to Zacky’s whimpers of pleasure with a flaming face. The sounds had made him exceedingly uncomfortable…in more ways than one. He looked down to his crotch, bewildered to see a bulging erection fighting to tear through the cloth. He grimaced.

“That’s sick,” Syn muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. The thing that was bothering him, though, was that he couldn’t get rid of it for anything. “Fuck!” he whispered violently, trying to think of different things to turn him off, but his body was determined to defy him.

After a while, both guitarists finally fell asleep. Shadows, who was very observant when he wasn’t passed out, heard both of their exchanges. He smirked, his hands falling over his stomach. Someone was getting to Syn, and it wasn’t his ex-girlfriend, Michelle; this agreed with the larger singer as he too finally drifted off.

X~X~X

Johnny, as per usual, was the first one awake as the sun bathed the five men with its blinding rays. He was dressed in a simple white t-shirt and somewhat form-fitting blue jeans, and he was ferreting around when the others started to stir.

Rev groaned as he pulled his thin body out of the bed, raking a hand through his wild hair. He glared at Johnny, who was humming and munching on a piece of toast.

“I hate mornings,” he muttered as he began to go through his clothing, deciding what to wear to the meet-and-greet before the concert. He pulled on an impossibly tight black t-shirt with Motley Crue splashed on the front, pairing that with tight-fitting, faded black jeans that seemed to be meant for a girl’s narrow hips as the drummer struggled to get them on.

Shadows was the next to emerge, his hazel eyes still a bit misted from sleep, but otherwise looking alive. He reached over, grabbing a white Harley-Davidson wife beater, pulling it over his colorful skin. Black boxers and simple blue jeans followed, paired with sneakers. He tied a black and white bandanna around his head and situated a hat on top of it, a tad off kilter. Satisfied, he waited for the other two to emerge.

It seemed neither of them wanted to come out, but Syn emerged first, clad only in boxers. He stood up and stretched, his inked skin stretching with him. Thankful that everyone else was preoccupied, he shucked off his boxers, opting for a pair of ripped black pants that hugged his body, but not as much as Rev’s did. He pulled on a purple t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, with the word ‘Syn’ emblazoned on the front. Adjusting the shirt, he followed Shadows’ lead, only placing a black leather fedora over the bandanna instead. He pulled on a pair of shoes, indistinguishable. He glanced over, seeing that Zacky had emerged. He smirked a bit.

In fact, the smaller guitarist was blushing fiercely, trying not to look in Syn’s direction. He’d come out, right as Syn had taken off the boxers, and had promptly hidden until the other was done changing. Blindly, he pulled on one of his million Misfits shirts and a pair of black slacks that hung loosely around his narrow hips, black and green boxers peeking over the waistband. He turned toward the mirror; he sighed seeing Syn already there, carefully applying lines of obsidian around his already impossibly dark eyes. He bit his lip, chewing on one of his two lip rings anxiously.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, walking over and standing beside Syn, glancing in the mirror, beginning to apply simple black eyeliner. He felt Syn’s glare and offered a green-eyed look in the mirror.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Syn asked, arching an eyebrow at Zacky, who merely shrugged, lining his right lower lid slowly.

“Standing,” Zacky replied with a small smirk. Syn rolled his eyes, throwing his eyeliner down in frustration. Zacky caught Shadows’ eye and they exchanged exasperated looks. Unfortunately, Syn caught the exchange. His glare was directed at Shadows, and for once he said nothing. He shook his head and silently walked out of the tour bus.

Shadows’ jaw dropped as he watched his friend walk out the door. He looked at Zacky, who nodded and followed Syn out the door. Shadows’ face fell and his head went into his hands. “That’s not what I meant,” he muttered.

Zacky was hot on Syn’s trail and he caught up with him, grabbing the heavily tattooed arm, which was promptly yanked away from him. Smoldering eyes were turned onto him, and the smaller guitarist lost some of his bravado.

“What the fuck do you want, fag?” Syn asked, giving in to turning around to face the other guitarist.

“Why’d you storm out?” Zacky finally got the nerve to ask, looking into those angry eyes. The powerful electricity enveloped him again. Syn’s fingers tingled with sensation, and Zacky was in awe, his body frozen to the spot.

“Cause, douche bag, it seems you guys were fed up with me anyway, might as well do you a favor,” Syn snapped out of the trance and his hard eyes bore into Zacky’s open jade ones.

“You’re acting like a child!” Zacky challenged, standing up straight and looking confidently into Syn’s eyes.

“How nice of you to steal Matt’s sentiments,” Syn snapped back. “Can’t you think of anything else to say, or are you like a fucking parrot?” He turned to walk away, but Zacky wasn’t finished.

“You know what, fuck you!” Zacky said, finally fed up with Syn’s antics. “You’ve probably got a reason you’re like this, but that doesn’t mean you should be.”

“What the fuck would you know?” Syn asked as he whipped around, his hair covering his face. “Don’t patronize me, Mr. I-Know-It-All Vengeance.” He roughly pushed the hair out of his face. His eyes were darker than Zacky had ever seen them. “If it’s one thing I don’t need, it’s fucking sympathy from pussy asses like you!”

“You know what, Syn?” Zacky shot back. “Grow the fuck up!” He huffed and turned around, walking back to the bus, leaving a rather bewildered guitarist behind.

After a while, Syn reluctantly came back into the tour bus, but he threw himself into his bunk with a slight huff. He pulled his acoustic guitar to him and began to play on it, each note heartbreaking in a way not even Shadows knew was possible out of the guitarist. After a while, all four were listening intently to what seemed to be Syn’s newest masterpiece. Shadows had begun to brainstorm lyrics for it even, and Zacky was thinking of a harmony. When Syn finally noticed he was being watched, he flushed fiercely and put the guitar down.

“Fuck off,” he muttered in a soft tone. Shadows was looking at him with concern in his hazel eyes, brows furrowed. He moved to sit beside the troubled guitarist.

“Hey, man, what’s up?” Shadows asked. Syn glared at him. “No, dude, I’m not going to leave you alone. So just fucking out with it!”

Syn shook his head, looking down to his acoustic in silence. Shadows sighed in exasperation and threw his arms up, growling a bit and walking back over to his bunk. Despite what had happened between them, Zacky wanted to know what was wrong with Syn, and the possibility that it may be his fault left a leaden feeling in his stomach.

The band ended up leaving Syn alone for the rest of the day. This was probably NOT the best idea in the history of Avenged Sevenfold.

They had gone out to eat or something, which left Syn alone. He glanced at the mini-fridge and sighed, pulling out a beer and downing it. And another. And another. He drank until he was reduced to fits of giggles.

The band was bewildered when they found him on the floor, giggling incessantly. Shadows rubbed his forehead and cursed softly. Johnny couldn’t help but giggle at the sight himself. Rev muttered a small “oi,” and walked to his bunk. Zacky looked concerned.

“Oh, hey guys!” Syn said in an almost friendly tone when he noticed them and his giggles subsided. Both Shadows and Zacky shot him a quizzical look.

“What, no “fag,” or douche bag” or anything like that?” Zacky asked, testing his grounds. Syn just merely erupted into another fit of drunken giggles. The smaller guitarist looked helplessly at Shadows, who’s only answer was a shrug.

Truth was, the entire band was kind of buzzed. Zacky had had some whiskey with dinner, Rev had a margarita, Shadows had (what else?) beer, and Johnny had wine, which he was mercilessly teased about. So, after a few more beers all around, Syn suggested that they play the drinking game “I Never.” It was a game where someone says “I never” when they have done something, and whoever has done what they said, drinks to it. Of course, indulging the guitarist, who was in cherished rare form, they all agreed, pulling out fresh beers.

“You first, Vengeance,” Syn said with a slight slur. Zacky sighed and looked down to his beer, thinking idly for a second.

“I’ve never gotten kicked out of school,” Zacky declared, watching both Shadows and Rev take drinks. Syn sat there, his leg fidgeting slightly. Zacky knew that Syn would have a raging hangover the next morning, but it seemed the thought didn’t bother him. “Which of you wants to go?”

“I’ll go,” Shadows said. “I’ve never drunk til I passed out.” Syn was the first to slam down a drink, grinning like an idiot afterwards. “Your turn, Gates.”

“Um…I never ran away from home,” Syn said, a pause after “I never,” where he seemed to be thinking very hard. The only one to drink was Johnny, and Syn pointed to him with a big grin.

“I’ve never been to Disneyland,” Johnny said with a nod. Rev was the only one to drink, and Johnny nodded to him, to which he got a sloppy grin.

“Goddamn lightweight,” Syn muttered, earning a glare from Rev. The guitarist just grinned at him.

“Dude, don’t do that!” Rev exclaimed. Syn scrunched up his nose and sighed. “Anyway, I never liked Motley Crue.”

All of them slammed back a drink, leaving Rev with the huffy decision as to who would go next. He pointed at Zacky with a wobbly hand. Zacky rolled his eyes and huffed.

“I’ve never fucked a guy,” Zacky said bluntly. That earned him some quizzical looks, and the four were looking around shiftily. Syn, being completely smashed, admitted it right away, taking a few gulps before dropping the bottle from his lips, grinning goofily. The other four looked shocked, but remembered the rules of the game: all drinks did not need explanation. Shadows took a drink too, somewhat relieved that Syn had taken the initiative. “That would be you, Syn.” He nodded, and the guitarist giggled and nodded.

“I’ve never thought dirty thoughts while on stage,” Syn stated proudly. To this, all four other men drank. This surprised no one. “All right, M, it’s on you.”

“A’ight,” Shadows said, thinking a moment. “I’ve never had wild, unrestrained, violent sex,” he said with a smirk. Both Zacky and Syn lifted their bottles to their lips, taking swigs in unison. “Zacky.”

“I’ve never…thought about a friend in a dirty way,” Zacky declared, which got him a few raised eyebrows, but both Johnny and Rev drank. It was Zacky’s turn to arch an eyebrow. “Rev.”

“I’ve never had sex with an inflatable doll,” Rev said…and no one drank. “Now that’s awkward. Johnny.”

“I’ve never been into a sex shop,” Johnny said, and all of them drank, except Syn, who left his bottle where it was. Zacky raised his eyebrows, expecting Syn to be king of sex shops. “Shadows…be my guest.”

“I’ve never received a blowjob,” Shadows said. All but Syn and Johnny drank. This surprised Zacky further. Syn was looking up, twirling the bottle in his hand. “Zack.” The singer nodded to the guitarist, who slightly smiled.

“I’ve never sang in the shower,” Zacky declared. Both Syn and Shadows drank to it. Zacky could tell Shadows was getting a bit tipsy from the way he was holding his drink. Syn…well, there was no hope for him. He nodded to the other guitarist. “Syn.”

“I’ve never been raped,” Syn threw out, the words a little slurred as they watched his eyelids flutter a little. The four of them looked bewildered as he toppled back, finally passed out from drinking. The band exchanged confused looks, glancing to the inebriated guitarist.

“What the hell is that all about?” Zacky said, his brows furrowing in concern. The other three men mouthed wordlessly, looking at the somewhat painful look on Syn’s face.

“That would explain some things,” Rev said quietly, pushing his hair off his face. Johnny nodded wordlessly.

“We’ll never know,” Shadows said, “unless we get him this drunk again.” He rubbed the back of his neck, seeming a little nervous. “And honestly, I’m not sure I want to know…”

Zacky wanted to know very badly, personally. He sighed and looked imploringly to Shadows. “Help me get him into his bunk, please?” he asked, and Shadows rolled his eyes but agreed anyway.

Once Syn was tucked into bed and snoring rather loudly, the rest of the band stayed up, discussing the game in great detail, especially the last bit. The questions that flew around were: would anyone ask him about it? Did any of them possess the balls to ask? And lastly, how would the fucker react? Would he deny it or get angry that they knew? There were so many questions, and the only person who could answer them was snoring loudly, fucked up beyond reason.

Syn awoke the next morning with a groan, his head heavy. It felt like it was locked in a vice. His stomach turned, but he didn’t feel the need to rush to the bathroom. He figured out long ago only hard liquor sent him to the porcelain god. He shut his eyes tightly to the bright morning sun.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, rubbing his temples with his thumb and index finger. He couldn’t remember the night before for the life of him, and that kind of blackout always scared him. He didn’t know what he said, what he’d done, or what he’d confessed to. It was very bad for his image. He tried in vain to remember what had happened. The last thing he remembered…made him feel kind of sick after all.

Syn remembered rolling on the ground, giggling like an idiot when the rest of the band came back from wherever. God only knew what they thought of that. That was about where the memory ended, and this frustrated him. He pushed the thoughts away, glancing out into the main area of the bunk, noting that not even Johnny was out and about. For once, he was the first up, so he decided to take advantage of that and jumped into the shower first.

He bolted for the bathroom, awakening Shadows, who merely mumbled and shook his head. The beast is awake, he thought to himself. He sat up, seeing the bathroom door shut with a snap behind the guitarist. He chuckled nonchalantly and shook his head, looking around. Johnny woke up, pouting.

“I wasn’t the first up today,” he said in a soft voice, and they could hear a soft chuckle from Zacky’s bunk.

“That’s what happens when you have a hangover from hell,” he muttered, pulling himself upright. “At least it wasn’t hard liquor, or he’d be in there all fucking day.” Shadows nodded silently, and Rev mumbled something that could be taken as an affirmation.

“Still, he got pretty smashed,” Shadows commented in a low voice, and the other three murmured their consent to his statement. “Otherwise he wouldn’t have been nearly as friendly, nor would he have mentioned…that, even if it’s not true.”

“That was a scary experience,” Johnny said softly. “I hope I never see him that drunk again.”

Syn stripped quickly and slid into the shower, turning the water on and adjusting it to his likened temperature. He sighed when he could drown out the others’ conversation. He leaned against the cold wall, shutting his eyes. He knew they were talking about him, because of the hushed caliber of the voices. He still wanted to know what got them in such a buzz.

He felt so dirty, so he spent a long time in the shower, just standing under the water at first, feeling the heat scald his skin. He then began to wash himself and his hair. He sighed once he was finished, taking a seat on the floor of the bathtub, bringing his knees close to his chest.

For some reason, Syn felt very vulnerable as he sat there, the water cascading down on him. Did he say something about his past to them, and that was why they were crazy right now? A sinking sensation happened in his stomach; he hoped not. What did I say? He asked, panicking a bit. He always tended to be a bit open-mouthed when he was inebriated, hence why he never got completely fucking smashed with the four of them. He ran his hands through his hair and sighed, letting his head fall onto his knees.

Get yourself together, man, he chided himself. It’s probably nothing. They’re probably talking about some girl. He sighed, feeling no better, and the fact of the matter was that he didn’t believe himself, but if he stayed in the shower any longer, they would be asking questions.

Syn finally picked himself up off the ground, rinsing off one more time and turning the water off, which was getting cold anyway. He sighed and pulled the shower curtain back, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist. He didn’t even bother to get dressed as he walked out of the bathroom.

Seeing Syn, Zacky tried very hard not to blush. He definitely loved the way Syn looked, especially when wet. His eyes followed the other guitarist discreetly as he talked to Rev nonchalantly. Zacky blushed hard when Syn dropped the towel; apparently, the other guitarist was too hung over to care who saw him. He covered his face and hid in his bunk, which made Shadows chuckle.

“Hey, man, are you feeling all right?” Shadows ventured to ask once Syn had pulled on his tight, ripped black pants and was halfway through pulling on a white and black screened shirt with the sleeves cut off.

“Fucking wonderful for having my head in a vice, thanks,” Syn muttered, pulling the shirt on roughly.

“You shouldn’t drink so much,” Shadows said, earning a glare from his friend. He shrugged. “It’s the truth.”

“You shouldn’t fucking patronize me,” Syn shot back, dark eyes sparking angrily. Shadows sighed and shook his head, leaning in a little.

“Man, I’m the only friend you have,” Shadows said in a low voice. “I’d suggest not pissing me off.” Syn’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t offer a rebuttal. The singer shook his head again, walking over to his bunk to get dressed. He pulled on a plain black t-shirt and blue jeans, sitting on his bunk and glancing at the group.

Johnny was up and dressed, much like Shadows and he was looking around, a slight pouty residue left on his lips as he glanced to Syn behind his back. Zacky was wearing a Boston Red Sox t-shirt and black pants that hugged his body, sitting on his bed with his legs crossed under him. His eyes were outlandishly rimmed with red eyeshadow, making his green eyes stand out painfully. Rev was dressed in a vest, revealing his “Fiction” tattoo down his chest, and a pair of tight black jeans.

Syn sighed and ran a brush through his hair, glancing emptily at the rest of the band before crawling back into his bunk.

“We’ve got an interview,” Shadows reminded him, being met with a loud groan of frustration. This was going to be a long day for everyone.

Syn finally crawled back out of the bunk to see the rest of the band waiting for him, Shadows’ eyes burning in impatience. He sighed and pulled on his shoes and a hat, following them when they moved toward the door. This was going to be hell on earth, he could tell, especially with the vicious headache that, an undisclosed amount of painkillers aside, he couldn’t get rid of. He knew it would be best for him to just keep his mouth shut and let the others do the interviewing.

Fat chance of that.

Syn knew he had a big mouth and couldn’t keep it shut, even though he tormented Zacky with it every single day; he was a goddamn hypocrite at that. He sighed as he followed the band in trepidation, his head pounding with each beat his heart made. It was actually making him rather dizzy; he was thankful that the band didn’t have any performances that day.

Zacky watched Syn out of the corner of his eye, seeing the tired, unmade-up eyes and the slouching position. He sighed; he wanted to take the other guitarist into his arms and tell him it was okay. That wouldn’t happen though, because Zacky feared the larger of the two of them, for good reason.

Johnny was watching both of them with a slight sigh. If only they’d get over themselves, he thought as he crossed his arms over his chest, walking alongside Shadows in silence. Rev was right behind Johnny and Shadows, strong and silent as always.

Avenged Sevenfold reached the place where they were going to be cross-examined, and both Zacky and Johnny were looking on at Syn. Johnny was wary of the guitarist, and frankly, Zacky was concerned. He was too nervous to approach the other guitarist, however, as the visions of previous insults flashed through his mind. Nevertheless, the questions plagued him as he watched the sullen man across the room.

Johnny, who seemed to be the first at everything, except heading the band, walked in first, a pleasant smile on his face as he greeted the interviewers, shaking their hands. Rev was next, greeting the people silently, a small smile gracing his features. Zacky was next, energetic as always, though a tad distracted. Syn was next, not saying much of anything but nodding to the interviewers in greeting, his arms folded across his chest. Shadows came in last, chattering animatedly with the two people waiting anxiously to talk with the band.

One was a girl, probably about twenty-two, with dyed black hair framing a pale face. She looked eager, and almost fan girlish. This made Syn wince a bit as she began to introduce herself. The boy was lanky and tall, probably about 6’3, dark hair in bright blue eyes. He seemed intimidated by the girl, which made the guys chuckle softly.

“So, guys,” the girl began, settling on the chair. “First question. How do you feel about the people out there who call your band ‘emo?’”

Shadows laughed richly and ran a hand through his hair. “Well, define emo, for me, would you?”

“Well, I guess it’s short for emotional,” she said, looking confused slightly, which made Zacky giggle softly.

“Then yes, we absolutely are, and so is every other band out there,” Syn said with a nod. “If that is the mere definition, every band in the world is ‘emo’ because every band’s lyrics has emotions backing them. It’s the inspiration for poetry, am I right?”

The girl was looking at Syn, flabbergasted. Shadows tossed him a dark glare, and Syn shrugged, leaning back in his chair. He knew he was testing boundaries, but he didn’t care.

“Well, it’s also defined as a fashion or subculture which is usually defined to have its roots in punk fashion and subculture, as well as some attributes of gothic fashion and subculture,” the young man piped up. Shadows looked at him.

“Our fashion has nothing to do with our music,” Shadows pointed out. “Music is music, fashion is a personal choice. Music is a collaborative effort, agreed upon by all party members.”

“Some of our fashion choices may have ‘emo,’” Zacky said, putting metaphorical quotation marks around the word, “tendencies, but that doesn’t mean our music is that way. Like Shadows said, it’s individual decision.”

“So, our music has emotional lyrics,” Johnny said. “So what? I thought that was what music was about anyway.” He looked slightly confused as his mouth twisted into a grimace.

“Let’s move onto the next question, shall we?” the girl suggested, and there was a murmur of consent among the five men. “Syn and Shadows. You’ve both been compared to the likes of Slash and Phil Anselmo, respectively. How does this make you feel as musicians?”

Syn spoke up first. “It’s an honor, really,” he said with a slight nod. “He’s an amazing guitarist, though not one of my idols. I respect any person who can play guitar, and I don’t want to be held to any pedestals, saying I’m better than rock legends. I aspire to be the best I can be, but that doesn’t mean I want to overcome the legends of our time, like Dimebag Darrell. Many people compare me to him, and I don’t like it. I respected him far too much as a person and musician to ever overcome him. My career would be over and done at that moment.”

Shadow shrugged. “Phil is an idol of mine as well,” he said. “He’s a wonderful vocalist, and an amazing person. He and I have become friends over the years, and he’s a great guy.”

“Zacky, how is it different for you being a left-handed guitarist, the fact that it being so rare in the world?” the boy asked with a small smile.

“I think it really makes me stand out,” Zacky said, “whether that’s a good or a bad thing, I don’t know. It puts me on a different pedestal than others. It’s almost like discrimination, but in the best way possible…if that makes any sense?” He cocked his head to the side slightly, trying to rework it in his brain. The boy smiled and nodded to him.

“Johnny, who is your idol?” the boy asked, turning the heat onto the small bassist, who grinned and began chewing on his tongue a moment, wheels turning thoughtfully in his head.

“Sid Vicious,” he said. “Nah, just playing. I’d have to say Rex Brown of Pantera. He’s not as well known as Dime, but he’s still kickass, and he’s the one that got me into playing. I heard Pantera and I was like, gasp! ‘I want to play like him!’” He chuckled and smiled warmly.

“Rev,” the girl said, turning her attention to the silent drummer, who raised his eyebrows slightly. “Influences?”

“Vinnie Paul of, what else, Pantera, Dave Lombardo and Paul Bostaph of Slayer, and Mike Portnoy of Dream Theater,” Jimmy answered simply, a small smile tugging on his lips. He had answered this question so many times. All of them had, sans the first one.

“Shadows?” She turned to him, and he arched an eyebrow at her; there were only so many times this question could be asked.

“Axle Rose, James Hetfield and Phil Anselmo.”

“Syn?” The guitarist let out an exasperated sigh and leaned forward, his eyes covered by the brim of his hat.

“Django Reinhardt, Adam Aparicio and Roddy, aside from Dime and of course, my father.”

“Zacky?” She then turned to the smaller guitarist, who was giving a slight, black expression.

Zacky rolled his eyes and answered, “Danny Elfman and Elvis Costello.”

It was apparent the band was irritated with her asking the influences question of everyone, and the boy could tell the band was getting irritated, so he smiled at them, cutting her off.

“So, guys, it really was a pleasure, but we have to be going,” he said, putting his hand on the girl’s back, telling her the interview was over. She huffed, but said nothing more on the subject. “It was an honor to have met you and talk to you.”

“It was a pleasure,” Shadows said, grasping his hand firmly, mouthing a silent ‘thank you’ to him, to which the boy just offered a smile.

“Likewise,” Syn said, grasping his hand afterwards, a small smile playing on his lips despite the fact that his head still hurt like hell.

“This was fun,” Zacky said, taking the hand after wards, glancing over at Shadows chatting with the girl. He chuckled; Shadows was always the charmer. Val worried sometimes, but the boys were always there to quell the worries and doubts of the future Mrs. Shadows.

“Nice meeting you,” Johnny said, taking the hand and smiling. The boy smiled in return, nodding. “Thanks for that,” he muttered as he leaned closer.

“Not a problem, really,” the boy responded in a low tone, grinning widely as he silently shook Rev’s hand, eyes sparkling with grateful happiness. The boy nodded again.

“Onward!” Zacky said after they finished their goodbyes and walked out of the small room. Syn took a deep breath and slouched slightly, his hat shading his eyes. Johnny nodded, keeping in step with the energetic guitarist. Syn just groaned inwardly as Shadows tapped his shoulder. He looked behind, tilting his head to see Shadows telling him to follow.

“We’ll see you back at the bus,” Shadows said with a grin as Syn followed the singer out of sight. For some reason, as Zacky looked back, he had a very uneasy feeling about that.

The rest of the band went back to the bus after Shadows and Syn walked in the opposite direction, boarding in a single file style. Johnny sat on the floor and picked up his bass guitar, beginning to fiddle with the strings, hand splaying over it expertly and creating a deep elegy of something or another. He hummed gently along with it, his voice low and soothing. His hat covered his expressive face from the world as he bent over the instrument, letting it sing out into the open.

“Where are Syn and Shadz?” asked a roadie, peeking his head inside the bus’ major compartment, and Zacky looked up and shrugged. The roadie gave a quizzical look, arching his eyebrows.

“They said they would be back soon,” he replied, crossing his legs under him on his bunk. The roadie shrugged too. He tongued his left lip ring nervously, bringing it into his mouth by way of his canines and he began to nibble on it.

“Hope they’re back soon, we gotta take off in about an hour,” he informed. “Bus driver’s getting antsy.”

“They’ll be back by then,” Zacky assured with a nod, teeth still caught on the ring. “I hope,” he muttered under his breath after the roadie walked off. He couldn’t shake the feeling as he pulled his sketchbook to him. He began with a silhouette of a prominent, curved nose, high forehead and shaped chin. He normally didn’t draw, but he didn’t feel like pulling out his guitar when Syn wasn’t around. It didn’t quite feel right without him.

Rev began to write, his thin face creased in concentration as he penned each word onto the page. Halfway through, he stuck his pink tongue out of his mouth, concentrating hard on the paper. When his pen ran out of ink, he screamed violently, throwing it across the room, almost hitting Zacky. Johnny was spooked and looked up quizzically, until he saw it was Rev. He then proceeded to roll his eyes and return to plucking at the strings indolently.

“Hey man, watch it!” Zacky said, barely dodging the assault. He tossed Rev another pen and went back to his idle sketching, shading dark eyes and the outline of a slew of tattoos and muscular outlines on the figure. He smiled a bit, but thought of the subject of his drawing; a frown painted on his face as he looked to the other two band members. “What do you think they’re doing?”

“They probably got swarmed by fans on the way back,” Johnny said, not looking up. “You know how Shadows loves his fans. He’ll indulge them no matter what. And Bri will probably just stand there.”

“Yeah, probably,” Zacky said with a frown. Why this rotten feeling then? If it was just fans swarming them, why did he feel like something was horribly, horribly wrong? “Do you really think its just fans?”

“Yes,” Rev said in a low voice, throwing the pen back at Zacky. “Now shut up.”

Zacky pouted and sighed, slumping back on the bed, looking up at the plastic of the ceiling. He laid the drawing beside him and pouted to no one in particular. He had this tense feeling in his stomach and his hands were balled into fists. Something wasn’t right….he just wished he knew what it was.

Shadows led Syn to a back alley, where he proceeded to lean against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked on at the guitarist, whom had his head tilted in confusion. Shadows’ eyes were endless, as he looked on, dead and detached. Syn bit his lip but let it go almost immediately, not wanting to give any indication of weakness; not around Matt.

“What the fuck is it, Matt?” Syn asked, sticking his hands in his pockets. He was feeling a bit uneasy at the cold, glassy stare the singer was giving him. It caused him to repress a shiver and lean against the wall.

“Brian.” The name was more of a commanding statement than anything else. The guitarist looked at him, brows furrowed under the shade of his cap. Matt was apparently angry, eyes sparking much in the way Brian’s did. He caught his lip between his teeth, his jaw visibly clenched. “Do you have any idea how much you talk when you’re drunk?” Matt asked. Brian’s brows furrowed slightly.

“No, I have no idea. Why? What did I say?” Brian asked, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, licking over his lips nervously. His hat was off-kilter, covering half of his face. Matt gave a dangerous smirk.

“You mentioned our little secret,” Matt said, and in a second he was on top of the guitarist, pinning him hard against the wall. “If you ever so much as breathe that word to anyone again, I swear to God, I’ll do it again.”

Brian made a grunting sound and looked up at him, narrowing his eyes at the singer atop him. He tried to move, but Matt pressed against him harder, so much that the wall began to dig into his back. He winced and looked up at Matt again, eyes defiant, darker than ever.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Brian grunted as he tried to push away, but Matt was stronger than he was. “I didn’t mean to say anything, god damnit so get the fuck off me!”

“You can talk to others like that, but you won’t talk to me that way,” Matt growled. “I’m your only friend, Brian. Your only fucking friend. Everyone else fucking hates you, because you’re such a goddamn asshole.”

“And whose fault is that?” Brian spat back, still struggling to get away. His chest was beginning to hurt and it was becoming difficult to breathe for him. He knew bruises would form, just like last time. Matt grabbed the guitarist’s wrists, slamming them against the wall, eliciting another grimace of pain from the longhaired man’s face.

“Yours,” Matt hissed, watching the other man squirm under him with an evil grin plastered to his face. Brian was whimpering lightly, trying to get away, and Matt just rolled his eyes, pulling one hand back and throwing his fist at Brian, sending him crumpling to the floor.

“Fuck,” Brian muttered as he fell to a pile on the floor. He looked up, a black eye already blossoming on his face. He cradled his cheek in his hands, looking up with sparking eyes. “Fuck you,” he said.

“No, fuck you Brian, ‘cause you’re so fucking good at it,” Matt snapped back, grabbing the man by the shirt and hauling him back up into a standing position, so their eyes were level. Brian spat in his face, trying to get away again. He could feel the blood rushing slower than normal through his system, thanks to the hangover, and Matt used that to his advantage as he pressed his full body weight against the other.

“You’ll stay where you are,” Matt whispered in a venomous voice, and Brian’s face twisted at the effort to try and get away. Matt thrust his hips against the other’s sending sparks of pain through every vein in the guitarist’s body.

Brian grunted again, eyes slamming shut from the aches exploding all over his body. His body went slack in Matt’s grasp and his head fell onto his chest. Matt smirked and loosened the grip.

That was the wrong thing to do.

Brian looked up, pushing his aching body off the wall and knocking Matt’s head with his own, crashing the crown of his head into Matt’s jaw. It couldn’t hurt much more than it already did. He picked his hands up and pushed Matt away with a new burst of strength, glaring at the singer with smoldering eyes. The singer was splayed across the alley, holding his jaw with a mildly surprised expression on his face.

“You won’t fucking get me again, Matt,” Brian spat, straightening himself out. “I’ll never give in to you again.”

“Don’t say what you don’t know,” Matt said in a dangerous voice, looking up through his eyelashes, an evil grin spreading on his lips, his teeth bared hungrily. “Never say never, Brian. You’re setting yourself up for failure.” He took a few steps and suddenly had Brian’s lips captured in a bruising kiss.

Brian tried to push him away, but Matt had locked his arms around his neck, and no matter how much he pressed at the singer’s chest, he could not get the arms to unbind him. Matt pressed him hard against the wall again, eliciting a groan from Brian. Matt smirked against the other’s lips and his tongue lashed out to lick at Brian’s lips.

The guitarist struggled, whimpering slightly as he pushed against the other. Tears had started rolling, unbidden, down his cheeks as he beat his body wildly against the other. Brian felt Matt’s canines dig into his lip and he cried out, beating against the singer violently, feeling the blood trickle down his chin as the other tugged on it.

“Get…the fuck…off me!” Brian muttered against Matt’s lips the instant the singer had released his hold, pushing him away finally, sending him sprawling across the alley, glaring at him with an intense hatred. “You think you’ve earned the right to do this, but you haven’t.”

“Try and stop me one more time,” Matt said, his lip twitching as he came at Brian again, slamming him against the wall with such force that all thoughts in the guitarist’s head were obliterated by the intense pain in his back. Matt had begun a poison trail of kisses down Brian’s body and he squirmed to get loose, but Matt had a tight grip on the other’s hips. Brian shut his eyes, brows furrowing. His hat had long since been thrown off, laying about ten feet from him. He clenched his hands into fists as Matt opened his fly, dipping a hand in.

“Matt, stop,” Brian whispered, his eyes shut tighter as Matt began to rub him through his boxers and getting nowhere. Matt gave him a disgusted glare and grasped his crotch fiercely, which made Brian cry out and collapse against the wall, his head down, brows creased in pain. More tears skittered their way down his cheeks and Matt smirked, satisfied.

“That’ll teach you,” Matt spat, standing up and shaking his head. “No, I can’t go back without you…what shall I say happened to you?” He looked thoughtful a moment, when Brian looked up, a hateful glare present on his face, cheeks tearstained and grey from the eyeliner streaming down with the tears. “You look like shit, kiddo.” Brian’s lip twitched as he glared up at him.

“Fuck you,” Brian snapped in a low voice. Matt chuckled a bit and knelt down, his fingers threading through the other’s hair, yanking fiercely as he forced their eyes to meet.

“Stop inviting me, or I will,” Matt reminded with a smirk, pushing himself off his knees and dusting off his pants. “I’ll say you got into a fight with someone who said we sucked. That seems to be your kind of thing, Brian.” His eyes glittered menacingly.

He smirked wider and held out a hand to help the guitarist up. Brian merely scowled at him and pushed himself off the ground slowly. He zipped up his fly and bent down to retrieve his hat, feeling a sharp sting on his ass as Matt smacked it. He hissed and stood straight up, having some difficulties as he tried to do so. His head spun and he bit back a groan. He wouldn’t let Matt win...

“Can we go?” Brian asked in a low voice, walking a bit awkwardly as he passed Matt in the alley. His back ached, his chest was heavy and his crotch felt on fire. His lips were pulsing, and his head felt it was fit to split open any moment. His eye was probably blue by now, throbbing from the connection with Matt’s fist.

His left wrist was bleeding and he winced, looking down at it. He saw the sanguine liquid flow down his fingers. He stuffed his hand in his pocket, feeling the liquid begin to run down his leg. He shivered disgustedly and began walking toward the bus. He could hear Matt’s heavy footsteps behind him and he fought the urge to wince every time they hit the pavement.

Syn got to the bus and heaved the door open, his hat covering his face as he walked into the area, straight to his bunk, throwing himself into it and shutting the curtain behind him with a pained grunt as his back hit the wall. Zacky gave a quizzical look and glanced to Shadows.

“Is he okay?” Zacky asked with a frown. Shadows nodded. The smaller guitarist noted a slight bruise forming on the singer’s jaw. “What happened?”

“We got into a fight,” Shadows explained. Zacky gave an even more confused look. “Oh, not the two of us fighting each other.” A grunt could be heard from Syn’s bunk, but everyone ignored it except Zacky. “This guy passed us on the street when we were talking and he said the band sucked, and Bri snapped, started wailing on the guy. I held him back, but I guess I got hit while trying to hold him back too. He got beat up pretty bad.” Zacky nodded and looked back to his drawing, which had been replaced by a blank sheet of paper, a few scratches of lead on the white expanse. “Where’s Val?”

“Talking to the bus driver, I presume,” Johnny said. “We’re leaving as soon as possible because he’s getting antsy. Wants to get out on the road.”

“Oh, okay,” Shadows said, nodding and walking out of the bus to find his beloved. Zacky glanced at the curtain, a thousand questions running through his mind.

Brian felt the bus start underneath him, but it was nothing compared to the tremors that were shaking through his body. He bit back sob after tortured sob, not allowing Matt to win over him as tears glided they way down his face, dropping noiselessly on his pillow. He’d pulled his knees to his chest as best he could and shuddered. He needed to take another shower, despite the fact that he’d taken one that morning. He felt so dirty all over again. He finally decided to go and take another shower.

Zacky looked up to see Syn emerge, his head down so his face was invisible. It couldn’t be that bad…could it? He thought, biting on the metal lip ring again and finishing his sketch of a guitar. His eyes watched the other guitarist enter the bathroom again and the water start up. His brows furrowed.

“Didn’t he just take a shower?” Johnny asked, glancing up from his book. Zacky nodded.

“My thoughts exactly,” he responded, running a hand through his hair. He chanced a glance at Shadows, who had his brows furrowed slightly, concerned. “You okay Shadz?”

“Oh yeah, I’m fine,” Shadows said with a nod. “Just worried about him is all.” He nodded toward the door. Zacky nodded.

“Me too,” he said.

Syn had turned on the water before taking off his clothes. He looked to his hand, which was covered in dried blood. He glanced to his pants and grimaced, seeing a horrid dark stain halfway down the leg. “Fuck,” he muttered, shucking them off easily, seeing the same stain down his leg. There were finger-sized bruises around the guitarist’s wrists, and he winced at the look of them. He took off his shirt, chancing a glance in the mirror.

Tears stung his eyes again as he looked on. In the hour or so that had elapsed since the fight, the bruises had formed an ugly yellowish purple. There was a big one right in the middle of his chest, where Matt had slammed his shoulder in numerous times. He could see bruises forming under the inked skin and he frowned; that was fucked. The little he could see of his back was littered with small bruises, a large one straight in the spine, between the shoulder blades. He winced, looking at his face. There was a cut under his eye, and his lip was bitten deeply, dried blood caked over to create a scab over the wound. All in all, he was pretty bad off, and he knew it. He touched his lip gingerly; that was really what hurt the most.

He shrugged as if he didn’t care and clambered under the stream of water, immediately sinking to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest. He laid the side of his head that wasn’t bruised on the surface of his knees, squeezing his eyes shut tightly to stop the tears from choking him again. It was unsuccessful, however, and he let out a broken sob.

“Fuck,” Syn muttered between sobs, letting the water hit his back repetitively, almost to the point where the bruises became numb from the pelting water droplets.

Zacky, whose bunk was closest to the bathroom, heard this faintly, and his brows furrowed in confusion. It seems Shadows heard it too, as he got a similar expression on his face. Zacky bit his lip.

“I’m going to see if he’s okay,” he said, picking himself up off the ground. Shadows’ eyes went dark, but he didn’t stop the guitarist from knocking on the door.

Syn started, hearing the knock. He shivered and tried to control his breathing long enough to utter a cold “what?” to the door.

“You okay, Syn?” Zacky asked, leaning his head against the door. Syn bit back another sob, shutting his eyes. Of course. Who else would it be?

“I’m fine, go the fuck away,” Syn managed to choke out. He leaned his head down on his knees, letting the tears fall freely and mix easily with the water rushing onto him. He held back another sob and he heard Zacky sigh.

“I’m coming in,” the other guitarist remarked.

“Fine,” Syn replied, taking a shaky breath before the door opened. The larger guitarist managed to pull himself from the floor before Zacky stepped in. “What the fuck do you want?” he asked in a shaky voice as he poured shampoo into his hand, hoping to distract himself. He began to lather his hair, shutting his eyes at the strain. His whole body still ached horribly.

“I…I’m concerned,” Zacky confessed, sitting on the toilet beside the shower, the faint scent of pomegranate hitting him. “I heard you…whatever you were doing, and I just wanted to check up on you.”

“I don’t need your fucking sympathy,” Syn stated in a loud voice, tilting his head back to wash out the suds that had overcome his black hair. “I’m just sore and the hot water feels good.” His voice was unnaturally soft.

“From the fight with the guy?” Zacky pressed, his teeth firmly set around the metal. Syn gave a low chuckle and nodded to no one in particular. There was an expanse of silence between them before he answered:

“Yeah.”

Syn began to scrub at the stains on his hand and chin fiercely. His skin had long since turned red thanks to the heat pelting him in the form of the water. His back was flushed, but he didn’t care. It felt good. The water instantly turned red and he let out a groan. Zacky perked up slightly at the sound.

“What’s up?” he asked, and Syn laughed, shaking his head.

“You never fucking give up, do you, douche bag?” he asked, running his hands through his wet hair. He held out his arm, which had begun to bleed again. The water and blood mixed together weakly.

“Ouch,” Zacky said with a frown. “How’d that happen?”

“Slammed me against a wall,” Syn replied shortly, pulling his hand back into the shower, rinsing it off then beginning to lather his body with faintly clean-smelling soap.

“Why?” Zacky asked.

“You ask way too many motherfucking questions, kid,” Syn said, rinsing himself off and shutting off the water slowly. “Could you leave?”

Zacky bit his lip and stood up. “The damage can’t be that bad, Syn,” he rationalized, and there was a snort of derisive amusement from behind the curtain.

“Okay, I’ll show you then,” Syn’s voice came as he opened the shower curtain. The bruises glowed in the flushed areas where the heat attacked it. He looked at Zacky through one half-lidded eye along with his normal one. It was swelling and puffy. His lip had begun to bleed again and the blood was dribbling down the precipice of his lip, splashing silently onto the porcelain of the bathtub. The bruise on his chest was making it obviously difficult for him to breathe, and there were hints of the bruises on his back on his sides. His wrists were badly bruised in shapes of four fingertips, and the blood had stopped flowing from the gash, leaving it an angry red. His testicles had even begun to bruise, showing garish discoloration on the skin.

Zacky’s jaw dropped as his eyes took in the scene before him. Syn smirked emptily and grabbed a towel, wrapping it firmly around his shapely waist. Zacky diverted his eyes, flushing deeply.

“And just some random guy did that?” he asked, grimacing at the thought. Syn shrugged and smirked slightly.

“Guess so,” Syn said, glancing in the mirror before leaning down and pulling his shirt on. Zacky was suddenly confused.

“You guess so?” he asked, looking back at him when he was dressed, cocking his head to the side. Syn chuckled and nodded.

“Yeah,” he responded vaguely, situating his hat on his wet hair and brushing past the confused guitarist.

Zacky knew something wasn’t right as he followed the other out of the room. Shadows cocked his head at Zacky while they both watched Syn clamber back into his bunk and shut the curtain behind him.

“You weren’t kidding when you said he was bad off,” Zacky said with a frown, sitting on his bed.

“You thought I was?” Shadows asked, arching an eyebrow as he touched his bruising jaw. “I got off easy though.” Another derisive snort met the air. Zacky, again, looked confused.

Syn had picked up a pen and a pad of paper he’d always kept hidden under his pillow, propping himself painfully up on his back with a wince. He put the tip of the pen to the white expanse and began to write, a sloppy yet elegant script writing out words that flowed into sentences. Finally, the sentences came together to form lyrics.

“Thank you for the poison

Thank you for the blade

You thought it was so cruel,

All the words you said.

(the razorblade lies)

You though you'd break me

With your facetious lies

I have to listen

As my mother cries.

(and taste her blood)

You made me cry,

You made me bleed,

You went and planted

That evil seed.

(into my heart)

You're nothing to me now

As the sun goes down,

My eyes are glittering,

Lips set in a frown.

(I'm disappointed in you

I thought you were more)

See these scars

Blazing white on my skin?

They're from you, oh mighty one,

From when I let you in.

(You made me this way)

I stand in the darkness,

Feeling it absorb me;

Only my eyes glitter brightly;

Only you do I see.

(and I feel so full)

I hate you, I spit

Won't leave until you die

With these words I hear

You heave a heavy sigh.

(is that relief?)

You'll never feel relief

You'll feel only pain

You'll rot in hell

Before I go insane.

(but I'm already there)”

Tears scattered the paper as he wrote, running some of the words together, but Syn didn’t care. The words were like a catharsis; something to get it off his mind and move on. He bit back sobs meticulously as he wrote, the tears forming and falling silently as he finished. He looked at the words, and let his head fall forward. A drop of blood fell onto the paper as well. Syn couldn’t help but laugh. How ironic and symbolic. He set the paper aside and pulled his knees to his chest again, trying to curb the waves of emotion crashing inside him.

Syn uncurled after about an hour on the road, his back beginning to spasm from the bruises and strain; the hot water hadn’t done much at all. He sighed and laid flat on his back, feeling the aches overcome him and he had to bite his lip to stop from groaning, which only made the pain double and he cried out softly. He sighed and shut his eyes, as best he could. This fucking sucked. He opened his eyes again, staring at the ceiling apathetically.

Zacky was still very much concerned for the other guitarist, and increasingly unsettled by the glances Matt kept shooting to the closed curtain.

“Hey, Matt, why’d you let him get beat up so bad?” Zacky asked with a slight frown, allowing the singer’s eyes to target him. The guitarist immediately felt small comparatively speaking.

“It was like, one second we were talking, and the next he was all over this guy,” Matt explained. “He had the other guy against the wall, but the other guy pushed him against an opposite wall and just started in on him. I had to pull both of them back.” Zacky frowned even deeper at this, trying to match the described fight with the bruises he’d seen on the man’s naked flesh. It seemed to match, but he couldn’t get rid of the lingering doubt.

Syn had picked up his pad of paper again, reading over the song, and new tears formed on his eyelashes, threatening to cascade and mingle with the ones already blotting the page. He swallowed hard and licked over his lips dryly, wincing as the saliva got into the open wound, stinging lightly. He ran a hand over his face and sat cross-legged on the bed, just staring at the words for a minute.

He couldn’t beat Matt if he was just hiding in here, could he? Hiding away like some struck child. The way he was acting began to disgust him. He reached over and jammed his baseball cap onto his head with a slight huff, shoving the curtain back. Zacky looked up, slightly surprised.

“Look who decided to join us,” Johnny said with a slight grin. Syn shot him a look with a raised eyebrow and a slight twist to the mouth.

“I’m not dead yet, fuckwit,” he retorted, hanging his feet over the edge. “That fucker couldn’t beat me.” He chanced a minimal glance to Matt, who was looking at him with slightly raised eyebrows and veiled eyes.

“You sure you’re all right?” Zacky asked in an anxious voice. Syn shot him a void glance and shrugged.

“I’ll live,” he replied simply. Unfortunately, he thought bitterly as he glanced around at the four of them.

Johnny was holding another book poised in his hand, fingers tapping the spine of it absently. He was looking over at Syn at the moment, though, his head cocked to the side slightly. Rev was busy writing and hadn’t even looked up when Syn emerged from his hiding. The guitarist smirked slightly; he always wondered what the hell Rev wrote in his little brown book. He never looked, though. He knew what it was like to have his privacy raided…more than once, as a matter of fact, thinking to the singer, who he could tell was watching him intently from his bunk.

Apparently, Matt had been sitting there, talking idly with the three of them, his arms folded across his chest and his feet under him. His eyes were fiery, but under a veil of compassion. Syn could never understand the other; there was always madness lurking, but sometimes it felt like he was looking into the face of the man he’d fell in love with in high school. Despite the madness, he could see that wide grin and the sparkling of his eyes when he laughed. Now, most of the time, unless he was on stage, his eyes were dull, scratched and slightly mad. No one else ever noticed this, though. Just Syn saw this as he locked gazes with the other.

Their eyes seemed to hold like glue for a single moment. Syn felt his heart speed up slightly in hopes of seeing the slightest glimmer of the old Matt, and for a second he thought he had. Then Matt smirked at him and all was gone. He was just looking into the eyes of a maniac who only took what he wanted of others and convinced them to keep him around. Unfortunately, he was very good at that.

He bit back a heavy sigh as he ripped his eyes away, glancing instead to Zacky.

The other guitarist was sitting on the floor. Syn didn’t get why Zacky always sat on the floor, but he did. He had his legs crossed underneath an acoustic guitar, which was humming lightly whenever Zacky’s fingers touched the strings. It was like a cat, purring at the attention, arching against the touch and letting its contentment be known. Syn envied that kind of thought process. When he had glanced down, his eyes collided with the other’s, and time seemed to stop.

Syn could feel his breath hitch in his chest when their eyes met, and Zacky felt fit to stop breathing altogether. The air bound itself into a thousand knots, straining against their very consciousness. The tension in the air was almost tangible, like if the two of them reached out and touched it, it would feel like a rubber band, about to snap and shatter the closest thing around.

Syn was the first to look away, afraid of what the thoughts of everyone, including Matt, would be if he kept staring. He looked down and leaned over, grabbing his guitar from under his bunk. He liked not using his amplifier when he was creating a new masterpiece.

“What are you doing?” Matt asked, a slight tilt o his head as he leaned forward. Syn shrugged.

“Putting melody to a bunch of lyrics I wrote earlier,” Syn replied simply, looking down to his guitar and plucking at a few strings mutely. The sound barely reached the closest bunk, which was Johnny’s. The bassist looked up with a slight smile. When Syn played, it always commanded attention, even if the notes were muted and restricted simply to the strings singing along the airwaves.

Zacky had perked up when he heard Syn’s words. He always loved listening to Syn pluck out new chords and melodies to lyrics, humming softly under his breath and muttering when he got frustrated. Though, it was strange, Zacky thought, that Syn had written his own lyrics. Normally Matt wrote all the lyrics then gave the words to Syn to create a melody to sing along with. Zacky always wrote the accompaniment; not that he really knew which note he did. He was self-taught after all, and had every respect in the world for Syn, who was classically trained.

Syn played each of the strings once, sliding his finger over it enough to make it hum lightly against his body. It, in that moment, seemed like the whole guitar was alive. Notes sang from its green and white plastic interior, the strings moving to create the sound that broke the silence around them. It was quite the band pastime to listen to Syn pluck the strings to try and find the perfect accompaniment to the lyrics laid in front of him. This time, though, none of the band members knew the lyrics, and were waiting anxiously to hear the whole thing.

Syn never noticed their rapture, though. Ever.

He began to tune it, fingers expertly turning the tuning pegs as he picked at each string. The guitar made a slight whining noise as each string was tuned, going up or down depending on way the guitarist turned them. He swept his fingers over the pick ups a few times before he was satisfied with the sound the guitar was making. He gave the guitar a secret smile, as if only the two of them existed in the world.

Sometimes he wished he could give a smile like that to someone tangible. But there was no way, because he wouldn’t let Matt hurt anyone else that way. He knew Matt was a possessive person; all anyone had to do was look at the way he was with Val. Syn’s heart broke for that girl; she loved him so much, and she didn’t know his other side. He wished he could tell her, but he’d probably get laughed and scoffed at, being told he was just being a heartless prick…not in those words, though. Val was never one for foul language unless angry.

The guitarist began to sweep his fingers over the strings, his other hand touching the strings over the pick guard, making them sing tamely into the air. He began, after playing a few arpeggios, to play an angry riff, his hands moving close together, sliding across the fret board with expert precision. His fingers moved gracefully across the instrument, making it cry out a fierce melody, filled with pain and torment, but a blossoming hope deep within the angry notes.

His brows furrowed under the cap and he tilted his head down so that the rest of the band couldn’t see his face. A single tear slipped out of his eye, falling mutely on the guitar. No one was close enough to notice this, and for that Syn was entirely grateful. After the riff, he pulled his hands away, beginning to make notes on a new piece of paper, hand moving gracefully along the paper as it did across the instrument. He sighed and began to play again, his every chord setting free a part of him locked away, only able to free himself through this wonderful expression.

After a while, Syn’s fingers had begun to hurt, but he ignored the pain. It was nothing like the pain in his heart, the feeling of being caged in his own emotions, in his own pain. He felt like this was cathartic; it was a way to let his emotions out without actually saying the wounds inside of his body were bleeding like ink from a tearstained piece of paper. There was no way he could vocalize that and survive Matt.

The whole time, the guitarist never looked up from his writing and playing. He had begun to hum to himself, biting back tears as he plucked at chords. He swallowed hard, trying to rid himself of the ocean of emotions inside of him, but the soulful notes just seemed to be making everything come back to him tenfold.

After a while, the pads of his fingers were raw and slightly bleeding. He then decided to put the guitar away, as well as the papers with his notes. He then sat up, finally looking around the living arrangement. There was no hint that the rest of them had been watching and listening intently.

Johnny had picked up his book again and was flipping a page every so often, glancing over at Rev once in a while, who was still writing, though the pace had slowed considerably. Instead he was looking thoughtful and writing the words down slowly. Zacky figured he was proofreading.

Zacky had been playing along with Syn the entire time, letting an accompaniment piece materialize out of nowhere. Syn was too deep in thought to notice this, however, and felt that he was the only person in the world who was playing guitar that emotionally. Zacky smiled slightly at the thought and brought one of his lip rings into his mouth, sucking on it for a second before letting it go.

Syn chanced a glance at Matt, and his heart jumped into his chest. Matt was staring at him with emotionless eyes, arms slightly crossed. Syn gave him a defiant and indignant look and crawled back into his bunk, staring at his bleeding fingertips, remembering they had a show tonight…fuck. He shrugged, however; he’d played through this kind of pain before, and it would be nothing compared to the murderous pain in his back and chest, for which he could barely breathe. He secretly thanked whoever created makeup. They were going to need a lot to cover up that black eye. He touched it and winced.

Zacky sighed as he watched Syn crawl back inside his bunk, and the curtain close behind him. He finally decided he couldn’t take this anymore and he moved upward onto the other guitarist’s bed, seeing him facing the wall, back toward the rest of the band.

Johnny looked over at Matt and cocked his head to the side. “Hey Shads, are you all right?” he asked, his hat lopsided on his head, shading his face halfway from the sun leaking in through the blinds. Matt looked slightly surprised at the question and nodded.

“Yeah, Johnny, I’m fine. Why?” Matt asked, his forehead creasing in slight concern.

“You’ve just seemed off since you and Syn came back, that’s all,” Johnny said, flipping the page in his book. Matt frowned slightly and ran a hand over his head…. Was he acting different? He didn’t know the answer, but judging by Johnny’s question? Yeah, probably.

“I don’t know, Johnny,” Matt replied with a bit deeper of a frown. It was like he didn’t even know what was happening to Syn. It was almost as if he believed his own lie.

After listening to the exchange between Johnny and Matt, Syn turned to see Zacky there, and his brows furrowed. He arched one of them up high so that it moved his baseball cap further up on his head.

“What do you want, Vengeance?” he asked, turning over slowly onto his other side. He winced slightly at the shooting pains but other than that he seemed all right.

“I’m just worried about you is all, Syn,” Zacky said with a slight frown, running his hand through his hair.

“Why the hell are you worried about me? I’ve been nothing but an absolute dickhead to you,” Syn said with a slight frown, tucking his hair behind his ear.

Zacky shrugged. “I just don’t like seeing people hurt is all,” he explained quietly and it only made Syn frown more.

“I’m fine, all right? I don’t fucking need you,” the other guitarist snapped, trying to turn away again, but letting out a gasp of pain. “Ah, fuck,” he muttered, holding his rib lightly, falling back onto the pillows. Zacky had put a hand on Syn’s shoulder, and it made them both pause as their eyes met again. Syn had a comment, but it faded on his tongue as he caught Zacky’s gaze.

Time definitely stopped this time.

Deep, velvet brown met sparkling emerald green in a crash. Their breaths were stolen, as if someone had kicked them. The moment seemed endless in the fact that neither of them could tear their eyes from the other. The room went up in an electric storm, crackling and firing around them. It was only the two guitarists in that moment; it felt like no one else mattered.

Zacky was the first to lean in, but no one knew which one of them initiated the bruising kiss the two of them shared. It was desperate, it was passionate, and it was bliss for a few seconds. It obliterated all thought, all pain and all caution. It was searing and perfect.

Zacky had slunk his arm around Syn’s neck and entangled his fingers in the other’s hair and Syn had wrapped one strong arm around Zacky’s waist as he struggled to sit up. Their eyes closed as their mouths opened for each other, breathing heavily or sometimes not at all. Their tongues met fiercely, fighting for dominance, their torsos pressed together lightly.

A slight moan escaped from lips, unbeknownst as to who elicited and who uttered the pleasured sound. Syn grabbed onto Zacky’s shirt desperately, his mind swirling with half-formed thoughts of ‘this is what it’s supposed to feel like.’ Zacky moved to deepen the kiss further, therefore pressing against Syn’s bitten lip hard, breaking the scab again for the thousandth time that day. All it took was a shock of pain to bring them back to their senses. Syn pulled away, his cheeks flaming, his hand over his chest then moving up to his bleeding lip with a wince. Zacky tasted blood and cocked his head to the side curiously, touching his lips and seeing the sanguine liquid emblazoned on his pale skin. He glanced up at Syn who had blood dribbling down his chin and onto his t-shirt. He was making no effort to stop the flow.

“You all right, Syn?” Zacky asked, brows furrowing in concern, his hand going automatically to the other guitarist’s shoulder. Syn shot him a glance and nodded, shrugging off the physical touch.

“Get out,” he said in a low voice. Zacky, of course, was completely taken aback by this, and his half-dazed brain came hard and rudely back to earth as he looked onto the other guitarist.

“What?” Zacky asked, a frown replacing the concern on his face. Syn looked up at him again.

“Get out, please,” Syn repeated, a note of desperation in his voice as he tried to sit up further. “I don’t want to hurt you, so get the fuck out!”

“What do you mean you don’t want to hurt me? You won’t hurt me, Syn!” Zacky exclaimed, throwing his arms up for emphasis.

“Just fucking go, idiot!” Syn snapped. “Just trust me and fucking go.”

“No, I won’t!” Zacky said obstinately. Syn frowned and growled a bit, his eyes going dark with desperation.

“Please,” he asked in a soft voice. Zacky noticed the desperation, and he became even more concerned, but he nodded.

“All right, Syn, if that’s what you want,” he said, slinking out of the bunk with a frown.

“Little do you know that’s the opposite to what I want…” Syn muttered, laying back on the bed and biting back even more tears that threatened to engulf him. He touched his swollen lips and the blood that was drying on his skin.

If only what just happened wasn’t so dangerous…

Syn took the hat off his head and threw it at the wall, running his hands through his hair, fighting back a scream of frustration. Goddamn it! Zacky was so close, and he had to balk. Fuck. Why did he have to care so much about the little fucker? He now probably thought the exact opposite. He sent the other guitarist away because he didn’t want to see anyone else hurt because of what happened between him and Matt. Zacky wouldn’t understand that, though. No one would. He put the hat back on with a huff, sitting up with some difficulty.

He decided he needed to get away from the rest of the band, while sitting in silence. He pulled his knees up to his chest with a sigh, playing with his hair while it was in front of his face. He wished he hadn’t kissed Zacky, but it felt so good. It felt better even than playing the guitar. It was almost like he could forget anything ever happened to him. It was like a drug…he sighed, wiping a renegade tear from his face, slightly irritated at it.

Once the bus stopped rolling and they arrived in their city, Syn was the first off the bus, wanting to get away from prying eyes. He walked to the nearest Starbucks and ordered a black coffee hurriedly. He thanked the Barista and walked to the condiment bar, pouring a few packets of raw sugar into the coffee, stirring it idly before testing it. He nodded in approval and went to sit at a seat. He was thankful he was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses instead of his fedora; people seemed to be able to pick the fedora out easily.

Little did he know, Zacky had followed him. Once he sat down, he glanced up to see Zacky’s sparkling green eyes looking intensely at him. He bit his lip, but released it quickly.

“What do you want now?” he asked coldly.

“To ask what the fuck is up,” Zacky said, sitting across from the other guitarist, palms flat on the table. “What’s wrong, Syn? Why are you like this?”

“None of your fucking business,” Syn replied, narrowing his eyes dangerously. Zacky sighed and twisted his mouth slightly, the corners twitching into a slight smirk.

“Why’d you kiss me and then pull away like that, then? Can you at least answer me that much?” the smaller guitarist demanded. Syn sighed and chuckled when he was exhaling. He ran a hand over the back of his neck, leaving the coffee stagnant on the table. He didn’t know how to answer that, without telling the other everything. He rubbed his hand under his nose and sighed again.

“I…I have to go,” Syn said, picking himself up off the chair and walking away, leaving the coffee on the table. Zacky gave a quizzical look to no one in particular. By the time Zacky looked over, Syn was walking out the door.

“Hell no,” Zacky muttered, picking himself up off the seat himself, following Syn. “Hey, get back here! I’m not done.”

Syn turned around, incredulously. He couldn’t believe Zacky was actually following him. “Leave me alone if you know what’s best for you,” he snarled. Zacky shook his head, and still stood in the same place stubbornly.

“I’m. Not. Going. Anywhere until you tell me what’s up,” Zacky stated bluntly. Syn frowned.

“You don’t want to know, okay?” Syn replied with a deeper frown. Zacky crossed his arms, a slight smirk on his face saying, “Try me.”

“If I didn’t want to know, I wouldn’t be fucking standing here trying to pry it out of you!” Zacky exclaimed, waving his arm around for emphasis. Syn tossed his hair off his face, irritated.

“I already told you, I don’t want you hurt!” he shouted, flinging both his hands out. “Can’t you just fucking accept that and get it over with?!”

“No, what hurt was when you pulled away from me,” Zacky replied frankly. This made Syn’s arms drop to the side. The truth hit him with a frown, his brows creasing slightly.

“That…that wasn’t what I was going for,” Syn said in an uncharacteristically soft voice. “You just don’t understand the situation, Zacky! You don’t get why I did it!”

“Then explain it to me, make me understand,” Zacky replied with a slight frown.

“I…I can’t!”

Syn had begun to walk away again, and Zacky scowled, running after him and grabbing his wrist. On instinct, he slammed the smaller man against the wall of a building. He had both his hands on Zacky’s biceps. He wasn’t holding him tightly.

“You just don’t get that you shouldn’t know this, do you?” he said in a low voice between his teeth.

“Just tell me, Syn,” Zacky pleaded still, though he felt trapped under the other’s gaze more than his physical confines. He looked into those sorrowful brown eyes and saw pain that was very carefully concealed, but not hidden enough in the most passionate of situations.

“I can’t, don’t you understand?” Syn said in a low voice, his brows furrowing. He looked at him a moment more, remembering the feeling of their lips together, and he instinctively did it again.

Zacky was slightly taken aback, but he leaned into the kiss, melting completely under it. He reached his hands up the larger man’s body to his neck, wrapping the heavily tattooed appendages around him. Syn in turn placed his hands on Zacky’s hips as their mouths opened for each other again.

Their tongues engaged in a fierce battle as they pressed against each other, slight moans of barely-contained pleasure issuing from both men. The larger man pressed the smaller one harder to the wall, their hips meeting. Syn’s breath hitched at the contact, and Zacky squirmed and moaned.

Their tongues slid against one another in a passionate, desperate plea for understanding and pleasure. A plea for obliterating all thought, only to swim in the bath of bliss, every muscle relaxed in the arms of another. A plea to take away the pain.

After a few moments, they pulled away from each other. Syn hadn’t noticed that tears had begun to slide down his cheeks. Zacky’s brows furrowed as he reached up, his thumb pushing the tears aside, smearing them against his skin. Syn’s brows furrowed as well, the familiar stinging sensation in his tear ducts making it painfully obvious that he was crying.

“Syn…what’s wrong?” Zacky asked, his arm still wrapped around the other’s neck. Syn couldn’t look at him for a few moments. He shook his head.

“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered, barely audible. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” he urged again, looking up.

“Why do you keep saying I’ll get hurt?” Zacky insisted. “I know what I’m doing. I know what I’m getting myself into.”

“No…No Zacky, you really don’t,” Syn replied. “Don’t get involved with broken people, Zack. It only turns out bad.”

“How are you broken, Syn?” Zacky asked, knocking the hat off his head as he ran his hand through the other’s hair, forehead creased deeply in concern, Steven looked down again and sighed.

“I. Can’t. Tell. You,” Syn stressed each word, his frown deepening with each syllable. “You’re just going to have to trust me and stay away.”

“I can’t,” Zacky said in the same voice. “I just can’t leave you alone when you’re like this. You have me concerned.”

“I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.”

Syn gave him a surprised look at that. It was all too obvious that he wasn’t fine, but that didn’t mean he expected Zacky to call him on it, He bit his lip and ran a hand through his hair, his hand touching Zacky’s. On instinct, the smaller man laced his fingers with the larger one, and their eyes met again.

“Okay, so you can’t tell me, but don’t insult my intelligence by saying it’s nothing, okay?” Zacky asked, tilting his head slightly. Syn shut his eyes a couple of times and chuckled, finally smirking slightly and nodded.

“All right,” he said, letting their hands fall to their sides, still clenched together. Syn swallowed hard and kept the gaze with Zacky, biting his lip before leaning in. Upon Syn’s release of his lip, Zacky was the one who captured their lips in the kiss this time, however. Syn let out a small, longing moan and his hand gripped at Zacky’s hip. All thought of tears or complicated emotions disappeared like mist in lieu of their searing embrace.

Their tongues met and began to memorize their dance once more, taking turns exploring each other’s mouths hotly, unheedingly. This kiss was pure, unbridled emotion passing from one man to the next, revealing secrets words could never capture. Zacky moaned quietly, his hand gripping at Syn’s hair slightly. Syn answered his moan, his knees buckling slightly as he pressed against Zacky again, their erections touching barely under their jeans, causing them both to moan against each other’s lips.

“Oh fuck,” Syn groaned against Zacky’s lips, and Zacky couldn’t help but smile as a shudder ran through his body, down his spine to his groin, where his arousal twitched against the larger man. Syn grinned slightly and ground his hips against Zacky’s, eliciting a small cry, his head falling backward onto the wall.

“God, Syn, please,” Zacky whimpered against the larger man’s lips. Syn grinned slightly and groaned.

“Please what?” he asked in a low growl, kissing his lips again. The effect was bruising, and a shock of pain from Syn’s lip, but at the moment, he was too far-gone into the feelings to care.

“Fuck me,” Zacky moaned as Syn rocked their hips together again. This sent the same shock of pleasure through Syn that it had through Zacky, making him shudder slightly against the smaller man’s body.

“Right here?” Syn asked in a breathless voice.

“Oh God, get a hotel,” Zacky gasped, his hips bucking against Syn’s, eliciting moans out of the both of them. His thoughts were broken as was his speech, but Syn understood perfectly. He moved off Zacky and, still holding his hand, walked further into town. Zacky had whimpered when Syn moved away, but was content with the fact that they were going somewhere private. They were beginning to earn a lot of stares.

They reached a hotel about five or so blocks from the Starbucks, and Syn checked them in quickly, not really caring how much it cost or when they were supposed to check out. He got the key and gave a rushed smile to the receptionist before dragging Zacky up the stairs. Zacky was giggling at this the whole time, but little did he know, Syn was doing this for a reason. He wanted to have Zacky before he thought too much and lost him to his own mind again.

They reached the room and Syn pushed Zacky into the room, shutting the door with his foot before slamming the smaller man against the wall, fingers roaming places he never thought he would be able to touch the other guitarist.

Zacky, needless to say, was eating up the attention with little moans and whimpers, bucking against the larger man. He reveled in the touch of Syn’s hands against him, of his lips whispering words that weren’t even really words at all, of his tongue exploring his mouth eagerly, as if it were the first time he was able to take control of a situation and do what he pleased with it. Zacky was more than content to be on the receiving end of the deal.

Syn loved the sounds Zacky was making, and kissed him over and over just to get the noises out of him again. He had never really been one for relationships, or sex at all for that matter. Since Matt, he’d always been afraid to open himself up…but Zacky was just too stubborn and irresistible to fight any longer. He had to have him. Now.

Zacky felt Syn’s talented hands on him, roaming feverishly under his shirt ash e arched against the wall with a quiet gasp. It felt like a dream as he looked into the larger man’s eyes, seeing the passionate fire he’d glimpsed onstage burning brightly in his eyes. Syn’s body positively ached for Zacky’s touch as he picked up the smaller man’s hand and slid it down his chest to his crotch, and the smaller man caught on, cupping him gently. He watched Syn’s eyes flutter shut as he issued a soft moan; it was the most erotic sight Zacky had ever seen. His mouth was slightly open, inviting the smaller guitarist to ravage his mouth. As they kissed, Syn pressed Zacky to the wall again, their moans meeting in the fractional space between them, creating their world-famous harmony in another way.

“What do you want?” Syn breathed against Zacky’s lips, voice deep with lust. The other guitarist moaned a bit, arching against the wall.

“You,” Zacky managed through heavy breaths. He felt Syn smirk against his lips and press him against the wall a little harder.

“Me? What do you need? ” Syn whispered, grinding his hips against Zacky’s, earning him another loud moan from the smaller man, making him smirk a little wider. He did it again. Zacky felt like he’d been in this situation before, but couldn’t possibly think of when…until he thought of the dream he’d had a few nights before.

“Fuck me,” Zacky moaned loudly. Syn’s smirk grew a little wider, loving the way he could be himself in this moment. He reached down, his hand surpassing Zacky’s jeans and palming his erection through the boxers, hearing the smaller man gasp. “Oh God, Syn; please…”

That earned Zacky a low moan. “Oh God, I love it when you beg,” Syn growled, cupping the smaller man in his hand again. By this time they were both breathing hard against each other. Simultaneously, they pulled away to rip off each other’s shirts, fingers roaming new flesh with murmured words and gasps of pleasure. Zacky ended up back Syn onto the hotel bed, pushing him down and moving to straddle him, shifting hips against the larger man’s erection with a low groan. He gave a grin of satisfaction and rocked his hips downward. Watching Syn’s head tilt back against the bed, exposing the flesh of his neck.

Zacky bent down and began to place kisses along his pulse point, making Syn gasp softly and arch his back; he wasn’t sure which felt better, the cold metal or Zacky’s lips. Zacky bit down on the flesh and the larger man writhed under him and moaned. He really wasn’t used to these feelings.

“I-I may not be very good,” Syn admitted breathlessly, and Zacky looked up at him, tilting his head slightly.

“What do you mean?” Zacky questioned, lying on top of him and placing soft kisses down his chest.

“I-I’ve never…” Syn stuttered, suddenly looking kind of lost. Realization dawned on Zacky and his eyebrows raised.

“You-you mean…?” he trailed off, dumbfounded. Syn glanced up at him with a slight nod. “I…I mean, I just assumed.”

“What, that I was experienced?” Syn asked with a slight grin. Zacky nodded. “It doesn’t…change anything, does it?”

Zacky shook his head fervently, looking up at him with eyes wide. He leaned in and kissed him again, feeling Syn wrap his arms around him and kiss him in return. Syn ran his hands over the smaller man’s back, clawing it gently. Zacky gasped and shifted atop the larger man, eliciting a moan from beneath him. Syn smiled slightly, watching Zacky respond to his ministrations; he was going completely on instinct, and it seemed to be working.

The smaller man rolled off him, which earned him a quizzical look, until he began to remove his pants with a small smile. The larger man chuckled and shed his own pants, feeling somewhat self-conscious despite everything. The bruises still hadn’t gone away and were fairly fresh as he leaned back on the bed.

Zacky noticed this and glanced down, beginning to lay half warm, half cold kisses against the bruised skin, eliciting small gasps from Syn. He smiled and kissed down his stomach, chin bumping the larger man’s erection.

“What have you done?” Zacky asked innocently. Syn looked up, cocking his head slightly. “Like, sexually, with other people?”

“Not very much,” he admitted. “Why?”

Then I’m assuming I’ll be the first to show you what this feels like,” Zacky said before moving down slightly, taking the head of his hardness into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive edges, watching Syn’s face contort, body writhe and a loud moan escape from his open lips.

“Oh fuck, Zacky,” Syn moaned, reaching down to entangle his fingers in the smaller man’s hair, pulling gently, causing Zacky to moan. This only made Syn moan louder, his back arching upward at the vibrations. “Oh God. Don’t stop.”

Zacky smiled slightly around him, having absolutely no intention of stopping as he took a bit more of him into his mouth, hollowing out his cheeks and sucking slightly, watching Syn writhe beneath him, face twisted in pleasure. He loved the sight, and loved even more the fact that he was the reason for that pleasure.

Syn’s head was spinning violently as Zacky worked on him, his hips beginning to buck slightly upward into the smaller man’s mouth. He’d never felt anything like this; that was for damn sure. He was amazed at the care Zacky was giving him, the loving way in which he was doing…. whatever the hell he was doing. He knew the word, but couldn’t think of it. At the present moment, he didn’t care. All he knew was the fact that it felt amazing.

Zacky had slipped his tongue out to lick at his shaft, causing Syn to shudder slightly and buck his hips upward. Zacky almost choked, but was able to move back far enough to allow the larger man to thrust into his mouth without killing him. The bit he couldn’t get safely into his mouth he wrapped his hand around, moving it in time with his mouth as he bobbed his head up and down, causing Syn to groan loudly, his head thrown back on the pillows. He could see the larger man breathing heavily and he grinned inwardly, continuing deftly.

Syn was all but squirming and moaning loudly, the pleasure all but unbearable. He felt his stomach muscles tighten slightly and he gasped. “Oh God, Zacky…” he warned breathlessly, though unsure of what he was warning about. Zacky glanced up at him and moaned against him again.

Syn grasped onto Zacky’s hair hard, pulling him upward instinctively, and bucked his hips up once more, moaning loudly as his orgasm exploded, a sweet calm enveloping him afterwards. Zacky moaned when his hair was pulled and moved off him before he came, watching Syn’s orgasm make a mess with a slight grin, glancing up. He’d always been slightly squeamish about swallowing, and he wondered if Syn somehow knew that.

“Did you like that?” he asked softly, kissing up his naked, tattooed body, searching for eye contact, which he got when Syn lifted his head to look down at him, breathing heavily as he nodded minimally.

“Yeah,” Syn panted, letting his head fall back on the bed again. Zacky crawled up to lay beside him, then moving to straddle him again. Syn looked up at him with a wide grin. “Hmm?”

Zacky shifted his hips, causing the larger man to get hard again right away with a soft gasp. He leaned over and whispered into the lead guitarist’ ear.

“Fuck me, please.”

Syn moaned at the words, his hips shifting slightly beneath him. “I’m new at this,” he warned breathlessly.

“Just do what feels right,” Zacky replied in a whisper. “Here, I’ll help.” Zacky dipped his fingers into the come from Syn’s orgasm with a slight grin, coating his finger with it, reaching behind him. He began to finger his entrance, his eyes fluttering shut as he did so, a soft moan escaping him. Syn watched him breathlessly. When Zacky had finished, he smiled slightly, grabbing Syn’s erection and guiding it to his entrance, pressing down on it with a low moan, and a contorted face of half-pain, half pleasure.. The larger man gasped and bucked against him, slowly sinking into his smaller lover.

“Oh fuck,” Syn moaned, his hips jerking upward, his eyes slamming shut. He heard Zacky moan above him and his hands found the smaller man’s hips as they moved downward onto him.

“God, you feel good,” Zacky moaned, arching his back and moving on top of Syn, leaning down to kiss the larger man sloppily. Syn kissed back the same, feeling a sheet of sweat break out on his back and forehead.

“So do you,” Syn groaned, establishing a rhythm, though it was apparent he was not exactly skilled in the art. That was where Zacky took over, and why he’d decided to be on top. He’d had way too many boyfriends who were clueless and tried to do it another way. Zacky reached down and cupped his weeping hardness, stroking it in time with the shaky rhythm Syn had built up.

On one of Syn’s awkward thrusts, Zacky cried out, and the man beneath him gave a quizzical look until he saw the look of absolute pleasure on Zacky’s face. He bit his lip, loving the look on the face of the man atop him. He groaned softly and tried to do it again, managing after about three tries to get the smaller man to moan like that once more.

Soon, despite Syn’s obvious novice experience, the feel of orgasm overcame them both. Zacky came first, over their bodies as he arched his back, letting loose a loud, unbridled moan. Syn felt Zacky tighten around him and opened his eyes to see his orgasm, and the larger man felt himself release inside of Zacky with a moan almost as loud as the other’s. The smaller man gasped slightly and bit his lip. Zacky had never had sex without a condom between him and his lover before. It felt, in a word, amazing to be filled.

The smaller man ended up collapsing atop the larger one, panting heavily against a quickly rising and falling chest. Their eyes met again, and the air was instantly on fire, just like always. It made Syn think instantly.

What have I done…?

As if to get his mind off where it had wandered off too, soon after they got their breath back, Zacky dragged Syn into the shower. Syn protested at first, but Zacky gave him those wide, pouting eyes. The larger man instantly gave in, crawling under the spray with him. Zacky smiled brightly and went about scrubbing Syn’s body in slow circles, getting most of their dirtiness off him before reaching up and kissing him heatedly.

Syn encircled his arms around the smaller man as they kissed, their bodies flush together as the water ran around them, dancing off their tattoos and mutual skin. His arms pressed against Zacky’s lower back, fingers of one hand tracing the base of his spine slowly but surely, the other holding him at his ribcage. Zacky had moved his hands up to entangle them in the larger man’s hair, tugging lightly, which earned him a low moan and a spot against the wall. He gasped at the temperature change, and even more so at the erection probing his thigh.

“Syn…” he moaned, squirming a bit under the pinning, but Syn only grinned and kissed him again, pressing against him, rocking his hips forward against the smaller man and entangling his fingers in his hair after his hand made its way up Zacky’s naked back.

One thing, of course, led to another and they were on the bed again, Zacky riding Syn, groans and moans escaping both of them. Syn was working at being a bit more proficient, so it was less clumsy this time, but still not perfect. If anything, Zacky was taking it into his own hands to come. Syn didn’t care; he just loved the look on his face when he did so, and the tingling sensation overcoming him when that sweet release came around.

Afterwards, Zacky crumbled on top of him, toying tiredly with Syn’s hair as he looked up; he was obviously worn out, or just content. Syn grinned back at him and pushed a piece of hair off his forehead, leaning in to kiss him again.

He watched Zacky drift off, and for a few minutes all he could think about was the bliss he experienced. The sensation that enveloped him when Zacky sent him over the edge was wonderful. He’d felt it once or twice before, but never like this. This was intense; it was passionate; it was, dare he say, loving? All at once, the world of bliss shattered around him. The trepidation hit him again. What had he done? He worked so hard to prevent this, to prevent letting Zacky in on his and Matt’s terrible dance, but it seemed he worked his way in there anyway.

Syn felt panic rise in his chest as he looked to the lightly sleeping man atop him. Why had he given in? What would Matt do to him? He was suddenly quite afraid for the smaller man in his arms. He knew what Matt did to him, and that was fighting back and him being bigger. He was all but laid-up…he could only imagine what Matt would do to Zacky. The thoughts made tears well in his eyes and a sickness begin to well in his stomach, making it lurch horribly; he couldn’t bear to see Zacky hurt because of him. He had to slip away. He had to get out of that bed and go back…but he couldn’t. He couldn’t bear to see the hurt look in the smaller guitarist’s eyes when he found the bed empty, coming back to the bus, dejected because Syn had left him in his most vulnerable state…

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something very bad was going to happen. Yes, it was wonderful, it was fantastic, but he couldn’t live in that sweet calm when he came; he wished he could. God, he wished he could just hole up there and forget about everything but the man atop him. But there was just too much to risk. He couldn’t do that, not to Zacky.

This was why he’d never really been in a relationship before, especially with a man. Michelle, she was different. She was the sister of Matt’s fiancée; she was able to keep an eye on Brian for her sister’s boy toy. She did well at it too, reporting whatever he did. He hated him for it; she was the sweetest girl in the world when they’d met in senior year, but she was easily poisoned by Matt’s controlling nature. Val never knew this, either, or else he didn’t know what was going to happen. God only knew what the singer did to her. If Val ever found any of this out, she would be crushed, heartbroken; that is, if she believed Syn over Matt. Doubtful.

He looked down to Zacky again, seeing his eyes move slightly as he began to wake up, his breathing labored against him. It was such a peaceful sight and he loved it. All panic disappeared for a single moment when Zacky opened his eyes and they met once again. The world seemed to stop around them again, as their eyes met, creating a masterpiece of time out of their eye colors, painting the walls around them with it, making the energy sizzle around them and the temperature rise.

Syn smiled softly down at the smaller man, and he gave a sleepy grin in return, pulling his eyes away, and Syn did the same, rubbing his face. Zacky shook his head and shut his eyes a few times, blearily, stretching against the larger man.

“How long was I asleep?” he asked through a yawn, stretching out his body against Syn’s, which made a pleasant shiver run through the both of them. He shrugged slightly, pushing his hair off his forehead.

“I haven’t been keeping track,” Syn admitted as he sat up, stretching as well, his back cracking a few times as he reached his arms over his head. Zacky smiled a bit and ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t think it was really that long, though.”

“Were you awake the whole time?” he asked, slightly concerned. Syn nodded slightly as he let his hands fall into his sheeted lap, slumping slightly as he did this, a slight sigh escaping his lips before speaking.

“Yeah, but it’s okay; I was watching you,” Syn said in a low voice, a small smile playing along his features as he exhaled slightly, tucking a few pieces of his hair behind his ear. Zacky poked his tongue out of his mouth in thought for a second, looking him over.

“Mmm. Must have been interesting,” Zacky remarked sarcastically, scrunching up his nose cutely as he moved to stretch again and slide off the bed. He nipped at his own lip ring as he searched for his pants. “We should probably be getting back.”

The wave of panic threatened to overcome Syn again, but he fought it down, clenching his jaw. He wasn’t going to let Matt win again, not after this especially. He had to learn not to be afraid of the larger man…the one who had been there ever since he could remember, in the back of his brain, taunting him with those deep hazel eyes that turned to steel so often now.

Swallowing hard, he nodded slightly, picking himself up off the bed and slipping back into his jeans wordlessly. Zacky looked over, watching him closely for a minute as he pulled his boxers and jeans over his hips before speaking again.

“What’s wrong?”

Syn glanced over his shoulder, a slight quizzical look on his face as he pulled on his shirt. “Nothing’s wrong, why would anything be wrong?” he asked, straightening the shirt a bit as he turned around to face the smaller man, tilting his head slightly. His voice was slightly strained as he said this.

“Your attitude…it just changed, totally,” Zacky pointed out, and Syn frowned slightly. Was it that obvious?

“Did it?” he asked, deciding to play off the innocent act with this one. Obviously, though, that wasn’t going to go over well with Zacky, who crossed his arms and huffed slightly.

“Don’t insult my intelligence,” he remarked, making Syn’s eyebrow shoot up in surprise. That actually kind of hurt him, and he wasn’t sure why. Goddamn this vulnerable state.

“I-I wasn’t!” Syn replied indignantly, standing up a bit straighter, tossing a few pieces of hair off his face. “Just feeling quiet is all.” Zacky raised his eyebrows and sighed.

“All right,” he said. Syn walked up to him, wrapping his arms around the smaller man, looking into his eyes.

“I’m fine, I promise,” he said against his lips before pressing his own against them. Zacky melted into the kiss, all irritation gone for the moment as he felt the warm pressure of the larger man’s arms around him, enveloping his senses. Their mouths opened for each other again, meeting in the middle and dancing with each other, stroking slowly and almost lovingly as their embrace lasted. Their breaths were coming in heated gasps and after a minute, Syn pulled away, looking into those eyes that enraptured him.

How the fuck was he supposed to resist doing this every day? How would Zacky react if he didn’t? He saw the confusion flickering in those wide, sparkling eyes, and it was then he knew he couldn’t keep it inside any longer. He had to tell Zacky why, at least. He deserved to know that much.

“Come on,” he said softly with a slight sigh, moving his arms from around Zacky’s waist, one clutching his hand as he led the smaller man to the bed again. Syn pulled him onto his lap, playing idly with a few strands of hair.

“What’s up?” Zacky asked, catching the melancholy tone in his voice, looking into the other man’s deep, velvet eyes, almost black from the emotions running through him.

“You deserve to know,” Syn replied simply, in a low voice, toying with the strands still, twirling a couple pieces around his finger as he did so.

“Know what?” Zacky persisted, tilting his head slightly and looked to Syn with a quizzical expression written entirely on his face. Syn sighed faintly and a smile tugged on the corner of his lips.

“What’s wrong,” he said. He inhaled deeply, trying to steady his nerves as he gathered the words in his head. “I don’t want to go back to the bus,” he admitted after a shaky breath or two. Zacky cocked his head to the side further.

“Why?” he pressed. Syn looked back up at him. His eye was still hooded by the bruise and the cuts were still somewhat fresh, though the pink area around the scabs told him they were beginning to scar. The thought of the scars marring Syn’s face was enough to make him frown deeply as he traced the larger man’s jaw with his talented fingers.

Syn was silent for a few minutes as he just looked up into Zacky’s entrancing eyes, hoping he wouldn’t regret this later. He bit his lip and sighed, letting it free before speaking again.

“Matt.”

Zacky blinked, confused. “What’s Matt got to do with this?” he asked, tilting his head to the side slightly, brows furrowing a bit. He’d had suspicions, wild ideas about what was really wrong with Syn, but none of them had to do with Matt.

“Everything,” Syn confessed, running a hand through his own hair, vaguely nervous. Zacky continued to trace his jaw soothingly.

“Just tell me, Syn,” Zacky said in a soft voice, forcing their eyes to keep contact. Concern flickered in those endless eyes and it finally sent Syn to the breaking point. The smaller man could see him tearing up, and he suddenly looked away.

“Okay,” Syn started, not looking at Zacky as he spoke. “Apparently, a few days ago, when I got drunk, I said something.”

“You said a lot of things,” the smaller man pointed out; he was unsure of where Syn was going with this. His brows were furrowed in confusion, face drawn and his body braced for anything.

“Well, supposedly I said I’d been…raped,” he continued, pausing before the word and managing to spit it out. Zacky’s brows creased further and he nodded, though Syn couldn’t see this.

“Uh huh,” Zacky persisted, seeing the flush creep up Syn’s neck as he continued to press. This just served to confuse him more. “I still don’t see what Matt has to do with all this.”

Syn swallowed hard, bit his lip, taking a very deep breath. He was trying to fight down the flush creeping into his cheeks, but it really wasn’t working. How did he think he was going to admit this? He had no idea. Maybe just the truth. Zacky deserved to know the truth.

“Well, put two and two together, then,” Syn replied, glancing back to Zacky, eyes burning slightly. Zacky was even more confused, until he saw the hurting undertone of those fiery eyes of his.

“Matt…he-he what?” Zacky asked as realization hit him. “He did this? No…” Syn looked away again.

“You don’t believe me,” Syn replied in a melancholy voice. “Ever notice how he goes through these changes, like one minute he’s great and wonderful, and laughing and the next his eyes are like steel and he gets this menacing look on his face?”

Zacky thought back and sure enough, he saw exactly what Syn was talking about. He looked down to the larger man and blinked a few times, a frown placed on his full lips, cut easily by the metal rings.

“But, why?”

“Because he could easily take advantage of me,” Syn replied in a soft undertone. “I was in love with him. This has been going on since high school. He was with Val, but he wanted me too. I wanted him, oh God how I wanted him. He was the most amazing person I’d ever met. I gave in to him so completely until he started going too far. He’d do anything to possess me. He…he, well,” he faltered, running his hands through his hair for a moment and taking a deep, shaking breath before continuing. “He could be the most loving person in the world one minute, and have you on your back and screaming the next. I-I think he’s schizophrenic and I’ve tried to get him help, but it just doesn’t seem to work; it just gets him angrier. I don’t know what he’ll do to you now that this happened. He’s so possessive. I don’t want you hurt, Zacky, and this is why!” By this time, the tears had brimmed over in his eyes as he looked up into the smaller man’s eyes. “You’re no match for Matt. You never will be. I love you, but this can’t happen if I don’t want you to be hurt.”

Zacky was silent for a minute, a deeper frown than ever placed on his face. Syn’s body was singing with anticipation, waiting for what the smaller man would say. Finally, his eyes focused on Syn again.

“I can take him,” he declared in a soft voice, leaning in to kiss Syn, speaking against his lips. “This is what I’ve wanted; I love you. I always have, and I’m not giving up that quickly. Even if it is Matt. I don’t give a shit. If you love me, this should happen, consequences be damned.”

Syn smiled sadly against the smaller man’s lips, letting the tears fall quietly for a moment. He was silent for a second before kissing Zacky lightly, hands threading around him to hold him tight, never wanting to let go. A balloon of hope had grown in his chest from Zacky and he didn’t want to pop it himself. “I do love you, and I do want this to happen more than you know,” he said softly, his breath carrying the notes gently across the smaller man’s lips. “Just know I warned you. I don’t want you hurt.”

“I know; you keep saying that,” Zacky replied just as softly, quieting their voices again with a simple, sweet kiss, promising that everything would be all right, despite the fact that both of them knew that wasn’t true. They could pretend in that moment. In that moment, they were endless. In that moment, they were happy. In that moment, they were complete with each other, pressing flush against each other as they spoke words with their lips and tongues no written or spoken tongue could paraphrase, let alone quote. In that moment, everything was going to be okay, if for that moment alone.

In that moment, the two men were in love, and that was okay for now. For a split second, Syn didn’t care how Matt reacted, or why. All he wanted was for this feeling to last forever. The light spinning of his head, the shooting sparks through his body, the feel of someone wanting him so badly they’d do anything to have him… then it hit him.

What was he doing?!

Wait…what? This was the feel of having someone wanting him so badly they’d do anything to have him. The thought clicked in his mind. This was exactly what Matt had done to him. He had made Brian love him, by doing things like this, and then he snapped, taking what he wanted in the process…

This was too familiar, and too hurtful, for Syn to bear.

He instantly pulled away from Zacky, brows furrowing as his eyes showed the innate vulnerability as he pulled his knees to his chest. Zacky looked more confused than ever as he tried to touch Syn, but the guitarist shied away. He didn’t want to be touched at the moment. Zacky tried to touch him again and he winced slightly, shying away even more, his back hitting the headboard as he did so. That shot a shock of pain through his system with a muffled cry. Suddenly all the aches on his body from the bashing Matt gave him came back, not sevenfold, but tenfold, making him crumple slightly. He doubled over with a faint groan.

“What is it?” Zacky asked softly, but he was only met with the open eyes of the other man, filled with pain. It was as if the pain was reminding the larger man how much it hurt to trust someone, and to give him or her his love. The pain shot through him instantly, and his mind went fuzzy.

Syn could feel his heartbeat in his brain, pulsing quickly as fear seeped through him. A shot of pain ran through his back, and his chest began to ache and he could barely breathe. It was as if all the pain had been held in until the ecstasy was gone, and now it was coming back, flooding into his veins like blood, poisoning him with the bitterness of the bruises scattered on his body.

He finally looked up into those confused green eyes, his own eyes stilled from the dancing depths that had been there since they’d begun to make love. They were empty, just like they’d always been.

“Don’t you dare hurt me, Zackary James Baker,” he threatened in a faint voice, his eyes sparking dangerously, so soft that Zacky wasn’t quite sure he heard it at all. His forehead creased deeply.

“I would never hurt you, Syn,” Zacky replied in a firm voice, moving to sit beside the other, wrapping his arms around him. “I would never do that. Ever. I’d never take advantage of you. You’re safe with me…” Syn softened as he heard these words and leaned into him, willing himself to believe the words dripping from the other man’s mouth.

Syn glanced up at Zacky to a confused but understanding look. How did that work? His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked on. He cocked his head to the side slightly, and Zacky did the same, though his head was tilted the opposite way of the other guitarist, showing their mismatched dominant hands.

“What?” he asked.

“Why did you pursue me like this?” Syn blurted out, and Zacky’s eyebrows rose. “I’ve been nothing but a dick to you. I’ve treated you like shit. And still, here you are, professing your love to me. What the fuck?”

The smaller man wasn’t surprised by this question, not by a long shot. In fact, he had expected it, and had an answer right away. “I didn’t like you all the time. Sometimes I was damn well fed up with you, but I guess I just like the little moments when you’re not being an asshole,” Zacky replied calmly. “Like, when you’re on stage. You’re someone completely different. You’re the man in front of me now instead of inside your shell. You have this look on your face of absolute joy, and I decided I wanted to be the reason your eyes sparkled like that. I’ve gotten that. Tonight you looked at me like you look at your guitar. You touched me like you do to it. Doesn’t that mean something? I can understand your trepidation about this, but I. Will. Not. Use. You. I swear it. I have no use for you other than to be the man I glimpsed so little but see in front of me now, to hold me and kiss me like you’ve been. Let him out; let him live. Goddamn the consequences. I will not hurt you. I will not be hurt. ”

Syn had made eye contact with Zacky as he said this, and the tough outer shell he’d begun to develop again was stripped away by the truthfulness of the smaller man’s words as he moved his lips, forming them.

Syn took the words into account, feeling the air zinging around them as their eyes met once again. He reached over and entwined his fingers with Zacky’s, looking into his eyes intensely before letting them drift downward.

“I love you,” Zacky said, as if to reinforce his point. Syn nodded, looking to the floor for a second before looking up at him again, a small smile playing at the edge of those full, plump lips begging to be kissed. He moved to press his forehead to the smaller man’s, looking deeply into his eyes for just a second before speaking.

“I love you too,” he muttered, nudging his nose with Zacky’s affectionately. That earned him a bright grin as he leaned in to press their lips together again, and the sparks shot through him. This felt right.

After a few minutes, the two pulled away, breathing heavily again, grinning against each other’s lips. Syn had a feeling he could handle Matt with Zacky by his side. He took a deep breath and blinked once, twice and pulled away completely, leaning back on the bed.

“We should get back,” Syn announced, and Zacky gave a small smile, nodding. In truth, he was proud of Syn for being the one to say that, now that he knew what had happened.

Now that he thought about it, he’d suspected it all along. He just didn’t want to think that way about one of his best friends. But the bruises were just too obvious, physical and otherwise. Matt was a bit too cool about them. He thought of some of Matt’s comments, and then it became painfully obvious. “I’m your only friend…” Matt’s voice echoed in his head as he remembered the singer muttering it to Syn a couple of days back. It made him frown slightly.

Sighing a bit and not wanting to give Syn back to the world, or back to Matt, he pulled himself off the larger man’s lap, walking over to pick up his shirt and slip it over his head. Syn watched him with a sad smile; he didn’t want this to end, by any means. God only knew when he would feel this way again. He got up off the bed and wrapped his arms around Zacky’s waist, kissing his neck softly.

“No matter what happens, I love you, okay?” he whispered hotly against the smaller man’s ear, pressing his lips to the flesh deftly a couple of times before pulling away to place his chin on the other’s shoulder. Zacky smiled and turned slightly to look at the larger man and he nodded.

“I love you too,” Zacky replied softly, reclaiming his lips one more time before pulling away to pull on his sneakers. Syn followed suit with a slight sigh. Soon, they were both dressed and no one would know the difference, except their ruffled hairstyles.

Syn returned the key to the hotel room at the front desk with a small smile, and the receptionist winked at them. Zacky flushed slightly as the larger man squeezed his hand tightly for a second before letting go and slipping his own hands into his pockets.

It took them about a half an hour of comfortable silence to get back to the tour bus. He had to put on his face again for the rest of the band; not everyone knew what Zacky did. They approached the back of the venue, seeing a bunch of their techs talking, leaning against the front of the bus.

One of them was very pregnant looking, blonde, but very pretty, with sparkling blue green eyes. Her name was Jess, she was Matt’s microphone tech, and Syn knew a secret about her no one else knew; she, in turn, knew his. Late-night phone calls were a great form of therapy. The other, pink-haired girl was Ruby; she was Syn’s guitar tech. He loved to taunt her about how her name was Ruby but she had pink hair. It drove her crazy, but she deserved it. She was quite the loud-mouthed one; she managed to keep up with the guitarist’s taunts on the worst of days. Alycia stood to one side, dark hair hanging in her brilliant blue eyes. She was Rev’s drum tech, despite the fact that her instrument of choice was bass guitar; she had a tendency to be sarcastic and overly brash, but was sweet. She was a former stripper so knew all about rhythm. Standing close to her was Noah, a tall but lanky twenty one year old with a dark mop of hair, who was Johnny’s bass tech. Syn didn’t know much about him. Standing close to Ruby was Trav; he was tall, skinny and had mousy brown hair falling around his face in a somewhat girlish cut. He was so flamboyant you wouldn’t think he’d like girls, but boy did he like Ruby. Trav had the tendency to amuse the guitarists a bit too much.

Syn tore his eyes away from the techs for a moment to glance over to the actual tour bus, where he could see Rev smoking outside, flicking the ashes onto the ground. He noticed them and arched an eyebrow.

“Where the fuck have you two been?” he asked, skeptically, looking the both of them over with a slight, knowing smirk. Syn ran his hand through his hair and chuckled.

“Talking,” he responded. Johnny popped his head out of the bus; his eyebrows rose at the fact that the two of them were standing next to each other and not killing each other. He seemed flabbergasted.

“’Kay, what’d I miss?” the bassist protested, and Syn let loose a laugh and shook his head. Zacky chuckled and leaned against the tour bus behind Rev, moving away from Syn for a minute, and then moving back. This made Johnny look even more confused, looking from one guitarist to the next.

“Nothin’, Midget,” he replied, shoving his hands back into his pockets. “Absolutely nothing.” Johnny glared at him and he heard Zacky giggle from his left side. He smirked a bit, then turned his eyes to Rev. “I’ll tell you later.”

Rev just nodded once and rolled his eyes, as if to say ‘yeah, right.’ He smirked a bit and arched an eyebrow before opening his mouth to speak. “Matt’s been looking for you,” he remarked casually, and Syn’s eyebrow rose higher. He noticed how Rev used the name Matt and not Shadows. There was a very subtle difference, but a scary one indeed. This made his stomach muscles clench; did he know? If so, how?

“…Why?” he asked, pausing for a second and letting the syllable be drawn out for a second before he stopped the word. Rev just shrugged, motioning to the tour bus with a slight chuckle.

“He’s been…a little nuts today,” Johnny remarked. “Not even Val can handle him.” A cold sensation rushed through Syn’s stomach and he swallowed hard, noting his breathing was speeding up a bit. He wondered what it was…maybe it was just that time for him to completely snap again…but on tour? That wasn’t like Matt Sanders.

Johnny stepped off the bus quickly to allow Matt to get off the bus, and his hazel eyes collided with Syn’s deep brown ones. Time seemed to stop, but not in a good way. Syn felt rooted to the spot as he felt the waves of intense emotion coming off the larger man. He swallowed hard and stared on. Matt took two steps toward him and in a second, had him against the tour bus, in front of the entire band. The techs had rushed over as well, concerned about the display.

Brian let out a sharp gasp as his back was slammed against the bus, his body arching slightly as the bruise was still rather new. His eyes had shut due to the pain, and when he opened them, Matt’s piercing eyes were staring right into his.

“Matt, what are you doing?” Brian asked, trying to keep his voice calm and even, but it really wasn’t working. It was thick with pain, which was better than the panic that was rushing through his system. Matt stayed silent, which in Brian’s opinion, was a very bad sign.

The larger man slammed Brian against the hard surface, eyes blazing fiercely. Dangerously. Brian tried to move out of the grasp, even though he knew it was futile; he’d try anyway. Just to make it seem like he wasn’t giving in to the larger man. He never would. Never again would he give him the satisfaction, no matter how much he wished to God Matt was the same man he’d known in school. One look in his eyes showed that he was the monster they feared, the hazel color glinting dully, deadly glimmer dancing across his pupils.

“You are fucking mine, Brian,” Matt growled. “This isn’t what I meant when I said I wanted you two to get along. What did I tell you about mentioning our little secret, hm? Do you want that? Are you begging for it this time? You want me to fucking take advantage of you? D’you want me to fuck you til you squirm?” He shook the other man and slammed Brian’s head against the tour bus, making him gaze back, a dazed look on his face. Zacky had been held back by Ruby and Trav and was trying to get out of their grip as he watched, unable to take the abuse inflicted on Syn, especially since he knew the bruises already on his body intimately.

Johnny looked absolutely bewildered, afraid to get in on the action, partly because Rev’s thin, strong fingers were preventing anything of the sort, wrapped tightly around his bicep. “What the hell is going on?” He resisted against the taller man, who merely smirked and shook his head, his grip tight but not tight enough to bruise.

“Don’t go in there,” he commanded gently, eyes sparkling with a slight worry. Johnny looked slightly surprised and stayed put, amazed by Rev’s new commanding yet soft concern.

Both Zacky and Noah were trying to get Matt off, but the larger man tossed them both off easily. Zacky landed into Johnny’s knees, wincing as he stood up, Johnny’s hand being used as an aide. Noah was thrown into Alycia, knocking them both backward. She cried out and landed hard on her back, Noah landing on top of her. She gave aloud cry and winced, her face turning into a grimace of pain. Jess looked concerned and helped her up. So much for setting up for a show.

“Matt, get the fuck off me, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Brian muttered, struggling against the larger singer, who was pressing him against the bus harder, shoulder digging into the exact same spot it had been the day before. “Matt, fucking stop it!” he cried out, pushing his strong hands against the stronger man’s chest, trying to get him away. His hand was fisting Brian’s shirt as he pressed, the other hand pressed against the cold metal of the bus, steadying the both of them.

“No!” Matt’s voice was harsh as he slammed the guitarist against the bus again, his shoulder driving into the already painful bruise, making Brian’s breath hitch and his body squirm frantically to get away.

“You don’t want to do this in public, Matt,” Brian warned weakly, finally managing to push the singer off him, breathing heavily as their eyes met, a challenge filling the space between them, and Syn threw a punch, knocking the larger man to the side. Matt growled insanely and once again pinned him before the guitarist could move. Aloud grunt was rewarded to that, his eyes squeezing shut as he tried to move away again. “Fuck, get off me!”

“Get off him!” Zacky exclaimed, getting up again and trying to pull at Matt’s strong arm. Those glassy eyes were turned to him, hand still clutching the shirt desperately. “He didn’t do anything. It was me!” He had a defiant look on his face. Brian’s face fell; he was hoping Zacky wouldn’t do that.

“Zacky, stop it!” Brian yelled, trying to pull away still from the insane arms that held him to the bus. He grimaced and his nose scrunched up as the arms shifted, grinding his bruised back further into the cold metal of the bus.

“No, I can take him!” The smaller man had a determined look on his face as he looked from Matt to his pinned lover, trying to set himself free from his confines. He’d be damned if he let Syn get hurt without even trying to help him. He wouldn’t stand by for that.

“No, you can’t! Zacky, I promise you, you can’t!” he protested, wincing as he tried to pull out of the larger man’s grasp, shots of pain sizzling through him as his face scrunched up into a rather painful-looking grimace.

“Watch me!”

Zacky steadied himself, and Matt arched an eyebrow, slightly amused as the smaller man threw a punch into his face, the left hook surprising him, which all of them thought was a bit of an idiot move. Everyone knew that Zacky was left-handed. People who didn’t even know more than his name knew he was. Matt staggered, allowing Brian to get out of his grasp. The middle-sized man fell to his knees for a second before falling into Jess. He looked up, dazed.

“Was it this bad when he did it to you?” he asked in a low voice. Her eyes were wide as she shook her head, trying to get him back on his feet.

“He still doesn’t know,” she replied, trying to help him steady himself as the rest of the roadies crowded around. Ruby was fussing over Alycia, and so was Noah.

“I’m fine, guys!” she snapped. “Stop fawning over me, goddamn it!” She picked herself off the ground and brushing off her jeans. She leaned against Jess, wincing slightly as her back twinged. “Fucking hell, I’m going to kill him.” She glared over at the scene, narrowing her eyes, though it seemed Zacky was doing a fine job himself.

He looked away from the techs and glanced over to see Zacky on top of Matt, pinning him to the ground with his knees, his left fist connecting repeatedly to the larger man’s face. Syn was, in a word, impressed. That was, until Matt threw him off, sending him sprawling onto the ground about twenty feet from the guitarist. He picked himself up and staggered over, kneeling beside him, before Matt tossed an uppercut to Syn’s face, knocking him back beside Zacky.

“Fuck,” Syn grunted before landing next to the smaller man. He narrowed his eyes and moved to tackle the larger man, knocking him to the ground and connecting his fists with the other’s face repeatedly. “You. Can’t. Do. This.” With every word he hit him again, unrestrained anger getting the best of him. He could see Matt’s face move under him and his strong hands hit Syn’s chest, pushing him off, sending him straight into Zacky again. He could hear a loud “oof” as he landed, wincing, on his back. He could feel that his lip was split again and he groaned loudly, looking back at Zacky. It seemed he only sported a pretty brutal black eye, but he knew Matt. He’d look later. He picked himself up and charged at the larger man again, just as Zacky did, and they both knocked him to the ground.

Syn’s body ached and sung from the pains that shot through his synapses, and Zacky wasn’t far behind, though breathing not as labored as the larger man. The chest bruise was beginning to affect him and that was when Matt threw them both off, when Syn clutched his chest. Zacky looked over, concerned, and the singer blindsided them both, knocking the larger man into the smaller one and off him. He stood up, eyes dancing dangerously, challenging the both of them to fight him.

Val had walked over and leaned on both the girls, a look of shock overcoming her face as she watched the three boys fight, “Someone care to explain?” she asked rather calmly, despite the shakiness in her tone.

“I’m not quite sure what happened, actually. Matt attacked Syn, and Zacky and Noah tried to get him off, and he threw them back, and Zacky wouldn’t stop, so the three of them went into an all-out brawl,” Jess explained with a slight frown. Alycia was still grimacing. “And Noah was thrown into Alycia.”

Val looked entirely confused as she looked on, her blonde hair falling in her eyes, biting her lip as she watched the two-on-one match between her three favorite people. How had it come to this?

“What the hell is going on?” asked the large body of Aiden, the head roadie, with his girlfriend, Maureen, behind him. She had wavy blonde hair and confused grey eyes as she watched the three men roll around on the ground. His arms were crossed dangerously; he was just a bit bigger than Matt. Johnny looked up at him, an entirely bewildered look on his face, seeing the sun glint off his bald, shiny head. Thank God. Those were Rev’s exact thoughts as he looked eye level with the roadie, blue meeting brown coldly for a moment, before the larger man traced his eyes back to the fight in front of them. Aiden was really the only person in the crew that could take on Matt and rip the three of them apart. Johnny personally wouldn’t want to take on Zacky, let alone Matt, LET ALONE Syn. He was more intimidated by the guitarist than the singer.

Matt was mostly fighting with Syn and Zacky was getting a few punches in, but in his small stature he was the one being thrown back on the pavement the most. Luckily, he knew how to land so his head didn’t get split open. Nope, just his bare elbows marked the cement with dark stains. Syn had a few new cuts on his face, bleeding freely as he continued to fight back against his assailant.

“Shadows has snapped!” he exclaimed, anxiously bouncing from one foot to the other, frowning and glaring to Rev, who kept him in place still, with that calming but commanding look in his eyes, telling the smaller bassist he wasn’t going anywhere. “They’ve all snapped! They’re fighting and I don’t know what the fuck is going on! They could end up in jail for this. No, worse, in the hospital!”

“We’re going to have to cancel the show tonight,” Rev remarked with a frown. “None of them are going onstage like this, if they ever get out of it alive.” His hand was still firmly on Johnny’s arm. “And you’re not going anywhere, Christ.” Johnny pouted and strained against him. That was when the drummer pulled the bassist flush to his body, looking down at him. “Nowhere, you hear me? I don’t want you ending up in the hospital too.”

Johnny’s breath caught in his throat despite the desperation of the situation. His eyes met Rev’s and saw the concern reflecting in the endless blue eyes, biting his lip and nodding. “Okay.” As long as Rev kept him in his arms, Johnny was content at the moment.

By now, the three guys were all standing, Syn and Zacky shoulder to shoulder, with Matt sizing them up from about ten feet away, eyes glittering menacingly. Suddenly, Matt was taken from behind and held into a headlock with one arm, the other circling his waist, the strength in the hold dangerous, yet not life threatening.

Aiden had begun to take steps to restrain Matt, but stopped in his tracks, eyebrows raised as he saw the petite blonde holding her boyfriend tightly to her, eyes glittering in the late afternoon sun. Alycia’s jaw dropped and she grabbed for Noah’s hand, suddenly worried about her. Ruby tried to go after the girl, but was stopped by Trav, who shook his head and wrapped his arms around her, pressing her body against his and encircled his lanky arms around her waist. Rev was doing something similar to Johnny, who was no longer struggling to get away. He leaned his head back on the thinner man’s chest with a slight sad sigh.

“How did it come to this?” he asked softly. He felt Rev shrug against him.

“M-Matt said something about taking advantage of Syn,” Noah spoke up shakily, pushing his mop out of his eyes, a split on his cheek from when Matt hit him. The rest of the group looked confused, over at the two guitarists staring at the struggling couple.

“Oh my God.” The person who uttered the soft exclamation was Johnny, his eyes widening as he looked from Syn to Matt, biting his lip at the exchange. He’d said it merely at the fight going on. Rev grimaced, mind grinding into action as he looked from one to the other as well.

“Oh God,” he muttered softly, saying it for a completely different reason. “That would definitely explain some things.” Rev had gone to school with both boys, and suddenly the pieces were put together in his mind. In high school, Brian was so desperately in love with Matt…and he took that too far, creating the monster that they’d had to endure for the past couple of years. I’m the only friend you have… Now that he thought of it, it was painfully obvious, with Matt’s domineering personality and the words that he said sometimes. Why hadn’t they seen this before?

Jess just sighed and leaned her head against the bus, wishing Val hadn’t done that, but was proud of her nonetheless. Syn and Zacky glanced from the couple to each other, shocked looks on their faces. The two stepped into the crowd, and the girls began to fawn over them; well, all but Alycia, who was too busy trying to fend Noah off.

“Oh fuck.” No one was quite sure who said it, but they were all thinking it as they watched the guitarists collapse in front of them.

Syn fell to his knees, unable to breathe, on top of Zacky, who was having trouble seeing. He heard the larger man wheezing and his eyes widened. “Someone call an ambulance!” he shouted to the roadies, and Maureen nodded, pulling out her cell phone and dialing the three-digit number. Syn was grasping hard to Zacky’s shirt and he struggled to breathe, coughing for a few seconds, gasping and wincing. He had at least shattered his sternum and broken a few ribs, at best. Zacky was holding his right arm awkwardly, though both were bleeding profusely, and his face was bruising, but other than that he seemed fine.

Matt was resisting against Val, completely unaware of the situation going on with Syn, grunting as she held him. Her eyes narrowed and she gripped him tighter, an angry flash in her hazel eyes, matching the caliber of her boyfriend’s.

“Stop it, now,” came Val’s dangerous voice from behind Matt, muttering in his ear. He paused his struggling, melting against her for a second, looking behind him as much as he could. He seemed to freeze in that moment as she let him free somewhat, hands moving to his biceps to steady him more than anything.

He turned to her, his brows furrowing slightly, blood trickling down his forehead, his cheeks bruising painfully. Of the three, Matt looked the worst, followed very closely by Syn. The guitarist probably suffered the worst injuries, however, considering this on top of the beating he’d gotten the day before.

“Val?” he asked, sounding entirely bewildered, wincing as the pain hit him. It seemed the spunky blonde had brought him back to earth. Unfortunately, it was a bit too late. He didn’t even know what had happened. “What happened?”

Val paused, eyebrow rising a bit. Her head declined, and both of her eyebrows rose as she did this. “You-you don’t know?” she asked softly. He slowly shook his head, feeling waves of dizziness overcome him and he staggered. She held out her hand to him, to steady him, as he looked fit to fall over.

“What happened, baby? Please, tell me,” he insisted, ignoring the blood for a second as he looked onto his beloved.

“You…you attacked Bri, Matt,” she replied, swallowing hard as she let her hand tangle through her hair. “You threw him against the side of the bus. Noah and Zacky tried to stop you, but you threw them off. Zacky wouldn’t stop so the three of you got into a brawl. Matt, what’s wrong, baby? Why?”

“What?” Matt asked, as if he didn’t know, his hands hanging limply at his sides, his knuckles throbbing painfully, his head spinning from when it hit the pavement somewhere within their fight. “I-I don’t know…” He seemed completely disoriented.

“You don’t know what, baby?” she pleaded, coming closer to him and her brows furrowed fiercely as she looked upon him, slender fingers touching his bruises. Her hair curtained her face as she moved, looking up into his bewildered forest-colored eyes.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” he responded, a frown painting on his face as he looked back at her, seeing concern reflected in her eyes like a mirror. “Why would I attack Brian?”

“I don’t know, either, baby, that’s why I’m asking you,” she said quietly, her palm lying coolly on his cheek. He leaned into the touch slightly. She rubbed her thumb against the apple of his cheek, watching him wince slightly from the bruises. It was for this reason alone that she pulled away after a second, blood staining her fingers as she did so.

He gave a quizzical look, his hand reaching up to his forehead, his fingers coming back covered in his blood. He gave a humorless laugh and suddenly felt very dizzy and very nauseous.

“Heh, blood,” Matt muttered, his eyes fluttering shut and he fainted, his head hitting the pavement hard as he crumpled.

“Guys!” Val shouted, glancing over to see Syn struggling and her eyes widened more. “Oh my God. Bri!” She darted over, kneeling beside the choking man, who looked up at her with his head tilted, then past her to the collapsed singer on the ground. He looked then to Zacky before his eyes rolled into the back of his head, head falling back onto Zacky’s arm. Jess had knelt beside him, biting her lip as she ran her hand through his hair. Zacky gave her a quizzical look before looking to Val, then to Maureen, who had just hung up with the hospital

“Fuck, we need to get both of them to a hospital,” Zacky said, his voice panicked. Val looked him over, raising her eyebrows.

“What about you, kiddo? You’re pretty bad off too,” she remarked, her fingers ghosting over his arm. He winced.

“I-I’ll live,” he replied, looking down to the passed-out guitarist, leaning down to make sure he was still breathing. He was, but barely; he was pale, too. The smaller guitarist looked fit to cry as he tangled the fingers of his uninjured hand in Syn’s hair, swallowing hard. “This never should have happened.”

“Why did it?” Val asked with a frown.

Zacky looked from Matt to Syn sadly. “History,” he replied. “It’d be better if either of them told you himself. Not me. I don’t even know the whole story.”

“They’re on their way,” Maureen announced, and there was a collective nod all around. “It’ll be about ten minutes.” She knelt beside Syn and frowned. “Hope he can hold on that long.”

Zacky looked up at her. “Of course he will! He’s not dying,” he remarked with deep frown, tears brimming in his light eyes. Val put her hand on his uninjured forearm and offered a slight smile to him. Zacky bit at his lip ring and let a few tears fall onto the fallen man in his lap.

“Of course he isn’t,” Maureen responded, standing up and glancing over to where Aiden was. She rolled her eyes slightly. Alycia shook her head and bit her lip, looking onto the scene, scared for them; her arm was securely wrapped around Noah’s. Ruby had her face hidden in Trav’s chest, sobbing quietly. Jess was muttering to Zacky, running her hands through his hair, trying to get him to calm down. He had begun to hyperventilate from the sobs that had begun to rack his body. Johnny was holding tightly to Rev, face half-buried in his chest, half-looking on.

Aiden had run off to announce that the show was going to be cancelled, leaving Maureen to deal with the medics. Noah and Trav had dragged Matt over to them, frowning slightly. Val had moved over to tend to Matt. He was breathing steadily at least. Better off than Syn. She checked his pulse. It was steady. She sighed heavily and looked him over. Bruises were becoming apparent on his cheeks and his eyes, and she touched them gently. His lip was split open; his lip ring had ripped out slightly, blood oozing from the hole.

Syn’s face didn’t look much better. Bruises littered his jaw and cheeks, the black eye doubling in size and shape, another blossoming on his other cheek. His lip was completely split open, bleeding freely as Zacky tried to stop the bleeding with his shirt. He had a couple nasty looking bruises forming on his jaw, where Matt uppercut him.

Zacky had at least a broken nose and a black eye, other bruises littering his cheeks and jaw, but nowhere near as bad as the other two. He still sported the road rash burns on his elbows, of which the bleeding was slowing. Being smaller did have its advantages.

The group waited on pins and needles, straining for the sound of sirens.

The ambulances arrived within a span of fifteen minutes, but it seemed like hours to the group as Johnny moved anxiously from one foot to the other until Rev took him in his arms again, muttering softly down to the smaller man. Johnny sighed and relaxed against the drummer, shutting his eyes and trying to stop fidgeting.

“If you have to, fidget with me, Fidget the Midget,” Rev remarked, and Johnny couldn’t help but smile up at him, even though his eyebrows were furrowing in concern as he watched them load the larger men onto the vehicle. His eyes turned back to Rev and he smiled sadly down at him. They both hoped this wouldn’t rip the band apart.

The EMT’s looked bewildered as they loaded the three men onto the stretchers. They checked Syn’s vital signs and frowned, loading him in first, hooking him up to many different machines, placing an oxygen mask over him, as his breathing had slowed dangerously. Matt went in next; he wasn’t nearly as bad off as Syn; he was just passed out. They had to get Zacky kicking and screaming into the ambulance, until he realized he was going to be going anyway, considering Syn was in there.

After the realization hit him, he let them take him, a sheepish grin lopsided on his bruised face. Val was the only other person allowed on the ambulance as she told the rest of them to meet the four at the hospital. The doors to the ambulance slammed shut and Zacky was anxiously looking at the unconscious Syn.

“So, what happened?” asked one of the medics, to both Zacky and Val as the vehicle began to move. Zacky bit his lip and Val shrugged.

“I came in the middle of it,” she remarked, looking over to the smaller man, who in turn looked to the medic.

“The two of them,” he started, waving his good hand at the two unconscious men in front of them, “were fighting, and I tried to get Matt off Syn, and somehow I got dragged into it too.”

“You think any of you are going to press charges?” asked another medic, looking over the two lifeless bodies. Both the conscious people shook their heads.

“No, we wouldn’t do that to our friends,” Zacky replied, which made both medics look at each other quizzically and shrugged.

They all reached the hospital, and that was when the mayhem began. Val was taken to the waiting room as the three men were whisked away inside the belly of the hospital. Zacky was taken in one direction, getting his arm put back into place, a cast put over it and his wounds bandaged. “Oh, that’s going to be fun playing guitar with,” he remarked with a frown.

“Buddy, I doubt any of you are going onstage for a while after this,” remarked the doctor, obviously knowing the band. Zacky pouted.

“I know; you didn’t have to remind me,” he said sadly, tracing the new encasement of his arm.

Syn was taken to ICU, where they began to test him, doing an x-ray on his chest, where the skin had turned almost black, and discovered that there was a serious fracture to his sternum. This was a very dangerous fracture, as it could easily lead to something more severe. They went through the procedure to make sure it didn’t, placing the bones back together as best they could without surgery and binding his chest, then moved the x-rays down to his ribs, where they found about four had been fractured.

“This must have been one hell of a fight,” muttered one of the nurses. The others working on the unconscious man murmured their assent as they continued to diligently work on making sure no more harm came to the tattooed man. They bandaged up his other wounds after checking for any other broken bones. The nurse checking his back muttered a curse as his hand slid over the large man’s lower spine.

“Oh my God. Um, guys…I think we’ve got a herniated disc here too,” he piped up, glancing to his coworkers. “He’s gonna need surgery either way. We’re going to be seeing a lot of this guy.”

“I think he’s comatose,” remarked the doctor as he began to examine Syn. His brows furrowed as he shone a flashlight at his eyes, receiving no response. He pricked him with a syringe as he pushed a painkiller into his system, hooking up an IV as well, still receiving no reaction from the unconscious guitarist. “He’s not responding to anything. This may be a good thing for the surgery. You said he had a fractured sternum and a herniated disc?” The nurse nodded, and the doctor grimaced. “Oh, God, this poor guy’s gonna be in hell whenever he wakes up.”

Matt was also admitted into ICU, but there was nothing extremely serious about his condition. He had a broken jaw that was easily wired back together. After finishing with his broken bones, they sent him to the psychiatric ward, where they decided to talk to the people closest to him, creating a list of strange activity. On Zacky’s suggestion, they began to do some mental testing on the unconscious patient as they gathered the data from people close to him.

The resident psychiatrist ended up speaking to Val, Zacky, Jess, and calling Michelle up upon Val’s suggestion, even though she disagreed with most of the questions.

“Why do you need to know?” she asked with a frown. The nurse clapped her on the shoulder and sighed as the psychiatrist stared on, pen to paper professionally. “He really hasn’t had that much passion for life since high school, I guess. Except on stage, he’s been pretty withdrawn and quiet. It’s like he only lights up around me, and even that’s rare. I miss him being the way he was. I still love him, though, whatever’s wrong with him. It’s kind of scaring me, actually. He always has this empty look in his eye. I don’t know why he attacked Brian. I wish I did.”

“Matt’s got this overextended sense of self,” Zacky explained. “Like, he could take over the world if he wanted to. Well, on some days. I guess he felt he had a right to do what he did to Syn…er, Brian. He didn’t even seem to be conscious of doing it afterwards. There were only subtle hints, like him saying ‘I’m the only friend you have,’ that would keep him close to Brian, and show through the violent and possessive nature. I don’t know. It’s really complicated. One minute he was happy and full of himself and life, I guess, and the next he went dead inside, it seemed. Like nothing else mattered.”

“He…he took it too far one day when I was staying behind to fix his favorite microphone,” Jess explained shakily, her hand on her stomach as she spoke. “I asked him to stop after a while, but he wouldn’t. He forced me…The-the baby’s his.”

“He had this control over me, like I couldn’t do anything right but be with him, even though he was my sister’s boyfriend,” explained the disembodied voice of Michelle on the phone. “He made me watch over Brian for him. That was the only reason I dated him in the first place. He didn’t want anyone else having him. He was actually rather scary about it. He always had a lackluster way of looking at life too. He was always really pessimistic, like no one would want to be with him unless he forced him or her to. Or something. Does that make sense?”

Compiling a list of some of the obvious signs of disorders off the top of her head, the psychiatrist began to diagnose Matt, making notes on his chart as she went.

Name: Matthew Charles Sanders

Date of Birth: July 31, 11981

Place of Birth: Huntington Beach, CA

Criminal History: assault and battery; January 21, 1994, convicted; spent 90 days in Huntington Beach City Jail. No psychological testing.

Psychological history: none

Signs of disorder: Mr. Sanders, according to people closest to him, is showing signs of schizophrenia and is beginning to show signs of antisocial personality disorder (ie sociopath). This is secondary data, not confirmed at this moment. Further testing may be required. The signs of schizophrenia are: violence toward people close to him, problems with working memory, withdrawn at times, lackluster enthusiasm on life, monotonous speaking, thought blocking and delusions. The signs of the antisocial personality disorder are: a grandiose sense of self, lack of remorse, manipulation, need for stimulation, impulsive nature, and promiscuous sexual behavior and tendency to commit forced sexual acts with unwilling parties (ie rape).

After what seemed like hours of preparation and evaluations, the medical professionals seemed ready to bare the bad news to the anxious crowd waiting. The nurses looked from one to the other, and then finally to the doctor, who had to tell the waiting crowd.

The doctor emerged from Syn’s room to appeal to the group huddling around Jess, muttering quietly. Val was demanding answers from Jess heatedly, but her voice was very soft. The doctor cleared his throat, and it got the attention of the group, Zacky especially. He stood up a little straighter, running his hand through his hair before emitting a slight sigh.

“I’m Dr. Jacobs, and I have some good news, and some bad news,” the doctor introduced. Zacky frowned.

“Give us the good news first,” he piped up, shifting in his seat as his hand ran up and down his cast. The doctor sighed again.

“Mr. Haner has slipped into a coma,” he explained, and he received many confused looks.

“H-how is that a good thing?” Jess asked in a soft voice, biting her lip. Zacky nodded slightly in agreement.

“It means he feels no pain,” Rev said in a soft voice, and the group looked back at him. The doctor gave a slight, thankful smile, glad that someone understood that it was good news.

Zacky had caught his lip ring in his mouth anxiously and was sucking on it fiercely, light eyes wide and fearful. The doctor noticed this. He felt bad for the smaller man. He smiled slightly. “Believe me, it is a good thing. The bad news is he has a fractured sternum and a herniated, or slipped, disc. Both of which require extensive surgery to remedy. He also has several abrasions that require stitches.”

“Is he going to live?” Jess asked, her voice small. The doctor looked down to the ground, then back up.

“Both surgeries are very high risk, especially the open-back surgery, so it all depends on him,” the doctor stated plainly. “Our surgeons are the best in the state, however. We have a very high success rate, but there are always complications.”

The silence that followed that statement seemed to last an eternity as all the eyes drew to him once again. Bright, emerald eyes burned brightest, filling with tears at the mortality of the situation. He must have been very close, the doctor assumed.

“No…” came his voice, brows furrowing as he processed the information. “He can’t die…not like this.”

Zacky’s face was instantly crestfallen, and he was suddenly near to tears. Val wrapped her arm around the smaller guitarist’s shoulder, and he leaned into her, ragged sobs racking him again. The doctor gave a slight nod of sympathy and withdrew back to the hospital room.

“I’m going to kill him,” he said through his tears. Val sighed softly and began to rub his back soothingly. There was another noise, and the two of them looked up again, into the strict eyes of the psychiatrist.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Phillips,” she said curtly, and Val tilted her head slightly. “Mr. Sanders’ injuries sustain no long-term effects, so once he regains consciousness we will be able to release him, but we suggest that you place him in custody of the mental rehabilitation center just down the street.”

There was a slight pause before Val creased her brows and asked a slow, “why?” Dr. Phillips sighed slightly.

“We have reason to believe that Mr. Sanders is psychologically ill,” she explained shortly. Val looked concerned, running her hand through her hair.

“What do you mean?” she asked, brows creasing further as the rest of the group looked to her. At the moment, it consisted of Zacky, Johnny, Rev, Val, Alycia, Jess and Aiden. Rev still had his arms locked securely around Johnny, though now more in comfort than restraint.

“He is showing signs of schizophrenia as well as antisocial personality disorder,” she explained, holding her clipboard to her chest. “There is an average of a 13% recovery rate with schizophrenia, and it is very rare. We must be sure. I’d advise sending him there immediately, especially if what all of you have said is true. We are going by your secondary data alone. We need to run more tests and it would be best if they could evaluate him there.”

Now Val looked like she was about to burst into tears, biting her lip as her eyes traveled to the ground. A strangled sob escaped her and she shut her eyes, two small tears falling onto her jeans, soaking the fabric easily. It was Zacky’s turn to wrap his arms around her, nuzzling her neck comfortingly. Just like Dr. Jacobs, Dr. Phillips decided to leave quietly, moving back to her wing of the hospital.

“I knew something wasn’t right,” Val muttered, sniffling once the sobs had subsided. “I knew he was sick. I just knew it. It’s…really been showing lately. I don’t even want to know what he’s done, but then again I do.”

“I won’t tell you if you don’t want to know,” Zacky whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he tried to hold back sobs for Val. He tried to be strong for her, because she was always so strong for them.

“Tell me,” she demanded weakly. “It can’t get any worse than this. I already know what happened to Jess. What else?” Her voice sounded somewhat hopeless as her head rested on her chest.

Zacky took a deep breath. “Syn,” he said simply, which got her to look up at him, quizzically.

“What about him?” Val asked with a slight frown, pushing her hair off her face, where the strands had begun to stick to the trails of tears.

“Matt…he’s been…um, using him since high school,” Zacky explained, running his uninjured hand through his hair. Val’s eyes widened.

“Since high school?! What kind of…using?” she questioned, her frown deepening, the tears drying on her cheeks for the moment.

“He…oh, God, Val, you don’t want to hear this,” Zacky said with a slight frown. Jess had found her hand on Val’s shoulder. Val looked up at her helplessly.

“Like…?” she asked, glancing back over to the smaller man, who nodded very slowly. He shuddered, glancing from Jess back to the crestfallen blonde. Her face fell, as did the tears that had been brimming since she began talking again. “Oh God. No…. No!! My Matt is not a rapist!” she cried, her head falling forward onto Zacky’s chest.

Zacky began to stroke her hair very slowly, muttering unintelligibly to her for a second before pulling away. “That’s why they were fighting,” he explained. “Syn and I…well, he loves me…and Matt wouldn’t have it. I don’t know how he found out, but that’s why he was doing what he was doing to Syn. He was being possessive.”

“But he has me!” Val cried, sobbing. “Why does he need anyone else when he has me? Am I not enough for him?” Zacky frowned, biting at his lip ring, tears sliding down his cheeks as well.

“I don’t know, Val, I really don’t know,” he whispered. “I was hoping you’d never find out about this.” She looked at him, brows furrowing deeply.

“And why not?” she demanded faintly, looking as if she were going to pass out at any second.

“Because it’s hurting you,” Zacky explained gently, rubbing her back with his free hand, slow, comforting circles tracing themselves onto her back from his touches. She shuddered and let her head fall onto his chest again.

“What am I supposed to do?” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, small sobs escaping her.

“Take him to the place they told us to,” piped up Johnny, leaning back against Rev. “If they’ve got the ability to at least help him a little bit, it’s a good thing. Our tour’s gonna be fucked for the next…God only knows how long anyway, so while Bri’s recovering, Matt could too. There’s a chance for recovery, the doc said so herself!”

“I guess that’s what we’ll have to do,” Val said, her speech broken by the sobs. Zacky hugged her tightly, wincing a bit as the pressure on his bruises sent shocks of pain through his system.

“He’ll be okay,” Zacky muttered; despite the fact that he wanted to kill Matt for what he did to Syn, he knew now it wasn’t completely his fault. Not completely.

Johnny sighed as they exited the hospital. They had grudgingly put Matt into the hands of the mental institution at the hospital’s suggestion. None of them were too happy about it, sans maybe Jess. Syn was soon to undergo surgery; it was that fact that made the group have to drag Zacky out of the hospital. The doctor promised to call them if anything changed. This didn’t satisfy the smaller man but despite the fact that he took Matt head-on, in his injured state he was no match for the rest of the group.

The bassist was clinging heavily to Rev, who really didn’t seem to mind much. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying having the smaller man cling to him. There was nothing like a tragedy to bring two people together. Zacky was clinging awkwardly to Alycia and sniffling. She patted him on the head awkwardly and kept walking. Val was holding Jess’ hand tightly and had her other arm wrapped tightly around herself. She was still crying a bit at the fact that Matt was going to be away.

“Val!” he had exclaimed so cheerfully through the wires keeping his jaw in place when he had awoken to find her by his bedside, sitting on his bed and running her fingers ever so affectionately through his hair. It was something she always knew he loved. She gave him a sad smile.

“Hey baby,” she had replied. He tilted his head to the side slightly, confused by the sadness in her smile.

“What’s going on?” he had asked, his voice muffled by the restraints, and Val bit her lip, running her hand through her hair nervously; Matt knew that habit all too well. His eyes narrowed a bit.

“You, uh, have to go away for a while,” she had said, biting her lip to stop the tears that were brimming in her expressive hazel eyes as she looked away. He looked confused, more than anything else.

“What?”

“You need help, Matt; you need some help to get better, and they can help you!” she had cried out when she looked back, tears streaming down her face. “Please, do it for me. Do it for us.” He looked mortified that he had made his precious Val cry and swallowed hard, nodding.

“Okay, babe,” he finally consented after about five minutes of long, painful silence. “Whatever you want.” She had sobbed and leaned into him, her head on his chest as she let the sobs come out.

“I love you,” she had managed to whimper through the crying spell, her fingers gripping tightly to his hospital gown. She could feel him swallow hard and tense a little. This could be the last time Matt ever heard her say it, and she knew it.

“I love you too, Val, more than anything,” he had replied in a soft and thoughtful tone, stroking her hair with the hand that held the IV. She leaned into his touch, trying to calm the sobs that seemed to be pouring recklessly out of her.

“We’ll be okay, right?” she had asked softly; looking up to him and wiping her eyes, light streams of grey marking the trails of her tears. His brows knit in slightly confusion, but he nodded slowly anyway.

“We always have been,” he’d replied, running his hand through her hair. He didn’t mind the aches in his body; he’d always liked the feel of pain. It made him feel alive. His only problem was that his jaw was wired shut and he was slightly disgruntled by his fact, but let it slide.

“Baby…are they okay?” he asked, concern knitting at his brows again, referring to the two best friends he’d ever had that he knew he beat the hell out of. Val’s face flashed into a grimace and the man’s face fell slightly. “What’s their condition?”

“Zacky’s all right; just a broken arm and some bruises,” she started. Matt arched an eyebrow when she didn’t respond about Brian.

“What about Bri?” he pressed, and Val bit her lip to stop the tears from coming all over again.

“He-he’s in a coma and going into surgery,” she had replied softly, and Matt’s brows furrowed even more and he fought the urge to tug at his lip ring.

“For what?” he had pressed, cocking his head to the side, watching Val wince slightly at the thought.

“Um…fractured sternum and…a-a slipped disc,” she had responded almost too softly for the man on the bed to hear her. He had, however, and his head dropped onto his chest.

“How did I let it come to this?” he had whispered into the hospital gown, and Val moved to run her hands through his hair, making her look at him.

“Baby, it’s not all you,” she had said soothingly, unsure if what he was going to say was going to make the situation better or worse. “You’re sick, Matt.”

His head had lifted, confusion painting a mural across his face as he looked at her. “What do you mean, sick?” he had asked slowly. She inhaled deeply and touched his temple lightly. For a second he didn’t get it, but then it hit him. “Oh, so you’re sending me to the loony bin?” he had asked harshly, and she flinched away from him, turning her head as she nodded.

“They can help you,” she had maintained. He shook his head, unable to think of anything to say at the moment. The silence had expanded beyond comfort around them and Val shifted slightly, unsure of what was going to happen next. She was too used to these outbursts by now.

The nurse had walked in and gave Val a pointed look and she nodded, biting her lip and pulling away from Matt’s bed, eyes wide and the tears still falling, though not as quickly this time.

“I have to go, baby,” she said in a soft voice. “I’ll come see you whenever I can, all right?”

He’d looked up at her, green-tinted eyes open and wide with fear. It seemed all his anger had burnt itself out. She smiled, even though the sight before her was absolutely heartrending.

“I’ll come see you, okay? Whenever I can,” she had assured again, running her hand through his hair again, leaning forward to give him a kiss, which he returned. He had nodded slightly against her, his eyes shut as he embraced her one more time, wrapping his strong arms around her.

“I love you,” he had insisted in a whisper and she choked back a slight sob, smiling for him one more time.

“I love you too, baby,” she had whispered back, placing another gentle kiss on his injured lips before shutting her eyes and excusing herself from the hospital room. She had heard Matt collapse onto the pillows as she exited and knew he had stared emptily at the nurse as she tended to him.

She was brought back to the present rather rudely as she ran straight into Zacky. They both issued muffled grunts of pain and it sent Alycia flying again, into Rev, who easily caught her from falling to the ground. He situated her upright again and shook his head, glancing from the three of them.

“We don’t need you guys in the hospital too,” he said in a somber voice, reaching their tour bus and opening the door. Johnny gave a tight-lipped smile and hopped into the bus after Rev. Zacky followed quickly, passing Syn’s bunk and grabbing his pillow, then climbing into his bunk and clutching said pillow to his chest, burying his face in it with a heavy sigh and restrained sobs.

Rev eyed Zacky with a slight sigh, shaking his head. He couldn’t imagine how the poor man must have been feeling, until he glanced over at Johnny. A small knot formed in the pit of his stomach and his brows furrowed slightly; he could imagine it was like having your heart ripped out then fisted into the ground. To feel like any breath he took could be his last. The thought scared him, and it caused him to lay a spidery hand on Zacky’s shoulder.

The smaller man looked up, tears streaming down his cheek, taking his black eyeliner with it. His brows knit slightly and in a second he was clinging to the thinner figure, a look of shock painted on the drummer’s face for a second, before easing into the embrace, wrapping his arms around Zacky. He felt the guitarist shudder under him and he splayed his fingers across his spine, cradling him slightly as he made small shushing noises.

“It’ll be okay; Syn’s strong, he’ll get through,” came his rather gentle voice, which was odd for the matter-of-fact drummer. He’d always been one for hard fact, not this emotional comfort. Zacky looked up at Rev, frowning slightly, but gave a minimal nod, sniffling a bit. “He’ll make it through for you.”

Zacky’s eyes widened, wondering if it were that obvious as his eyes traveled upward again. Rev just gave a slight grin, cocking his head to the side as if to say ‘this is me you’re talking to.’ Rev had known Syn for what seemed like forever. He’d helped the man pick out his stage name for Christ’s sake. Well, he was just driving the car and providing the booze, but he was still there at the inception of Synyster Gates, damn it.

“Yeah?” came a small, hopeful question out of the smaller, a bit chubbier man’s mouth, and Rev shut his eyes slightly as he nodded a bit.

“Yeah,” Rev answered with a slight grin pulling at his somewhat gaunt features. Zacky nodded in return, pulling away from the wiry drummer and clinging to Syn’s pillow again, swallowing hard to stop the tears.

The drummer moved away from Zacky’s bunk, instead opting for the baby grand piano that was near to his bunk that he’d asked the roadies to put in. He and Syn played it sometimes; sometimes they’d play together, others they’d play separately, but it was always available to them. Rev thought it might help Zacky, but he knew it could also make things worse so he was apprehensive as he splayed his spidery fingers across the ivory keys.

He chuckled softly as he touched a few of the keys, picking his hand up and finding his fingerprints etched with dust. Showed how much they used the thing. He picked up an abandoned shirt and wiped it across the ebony and ivory scale. He tossed it to the side and pressed down on a few keys in succession, letting the notes sing mutely for a second singularly before he began to play a few chords, his lithe fingers moving up the scale, a crisp, clear sound reverberating from the wood encasing the taut strings. Once he heard that the instrument was in tune, he nodded slightly to himself and began to play, fingers expertly pressing down each key to make the instrument break the silence that had formulated around the group.

He had begun to play “Warmness on the Soul,” and Zacky looked up again, a slight sob turning into a hiccup as he listened. Of course. Rev had to pick one of the most romantic songs to play. At least he didn’t start playing “I Won’t See You Tonight, Pt. 1” or else the small guitarist would have burst into tears again instantly.

Johnny had looked up too and a small smile painted on his face as he watched the drummer play the piano expertly, his head tilted slightly. The book he had picked up was entirely forgotten. It felt so empty with just the three of them in the tour bus, and Johnny bit his lip, realizing he was looking around for the other two. They weren’t there, and that made his stomach knot up painfully. The other, bigger guys hadn’t even been gone a day and there was already a void around the remaining three-fifths of Avenged Sevenfold.

Matt had entered the institution the day after he was admitted in the hospital, feeling betrayed more than anything. He looked around his white prison that his most beloved people banished him to. He didn’t even understand why he was there anymore. He had been there three days and already he was clawing at the walls to be set free. He didn’t understand how they had felt the need to send him here.

He…

He wasn’t crazy…was he?

No!

Of course not.

He wasn’t crazy.

He was perfectly normal, and perfectly healthy, despite the slowly healing broken jaw and the scattered bruises on his toned and inked body. He ran his hands over his biceps, which were littered with the bruises from Zacky and Syn trying to grab at him, perfect finger-shaped bruises staining the skin beneath the tattoos. That was fucked, he thought as he cocked his head to the side. He touched his chest lightly and winced, feeling a bruise similar to what he was sure that Brian felt, except…the broken bone part of it. He still felt horrible about that, and he wasn’t even sure what had snapped in him.

His entire body ached as he moved, but the pain felt good; it made him feel like he was alive, and that was what mattered at the moment, he supposed. He threw his legs over his bed and let his elbows rest on his knees.

Matt glanced over at his “roommate” and cringed slightly. It was a young guy who wouldn’t stop humming! The noise was driving him crazy if anything. He felt like if he heard that childish tune one more fucking time, he’d go over and snap the guy’s neck just to shut him up.

Just that one thought kind of scared him, seeing as the drugs they’d been feeding him had started to separate the two consciousnesses of his being, and he bit his lip, relaxing back on the bed with a sigh. Maybe he did belong here. He had visited Brian and the look was not good. The man was comatose for Christ’s sake! Matt felt so bad, and that fact ebbed away the bitter betrayed feelings he’d built up.

Maybe this would be a good thing. Maybe.

He swallowed hard and folded his arms across his chest, drawing his knees to them. He could already feel the drugs take over him, and he didn’t like the dazed feeling they gave him. He felt out of his body whenever they overtook his mind. He felt as if he was looking at himself from the ceiling or something. He shuddered slightly and drew his knees up to his chest tighter again and shut his eyes tightly, willing the white walls and insane boy away.

When he opened his eyes, the white walls still surrounded him, as did the annoying, tinny humming of the boy’s voice. He groaned and grabbed his pillow, stuffing it on his face and muttering to himself before crawling onto the bed and curling up into the natural fetal position all human bodies seem to form to, and shut his eyes, wishing it would all go away. After a while, Matt fell asleep.

His dreams were swirling in his head, taunting images of his life and everything he’d done wrong. He saw Brian’s broken and bruised face, tears gleaming on his face as he asked why this was done to him. He saw Zacky’s sobbing form, cursing him for what he’d done to Brian. He saw Val’s crestfallen face when she found out about what he’d done in his life. He saw Jess, holding the baby that somehow he knew was his, and that sent a shocking pang of guilt through him.

These dreams brought him back to earth. He decided, in lieu of sleep, that he had to get better. Just to apologize, if nothing else. He’d hurt his best friends in the entire world. It made him feel horrible as he curled tighter into himself, an involuntary sigh escaping his lips as he did so. He awoke easily, eyes fluttering open as he stretched slightly, getting up and allowing the nurses to take him to his therapy session for once in his life.

Syn felt like he was in a dream state, though he was in a semi-permanent form of unconsciousness. He felt like he was floating above his body, and that he WAS the pain that ricocheted through his own, seemingly lifeless body in this almost ethereal state. God, it hurt. The pain was coming from all sides, filling his stationary senses. He was glad he wouldn’t remember this when he awoke…if he ever did. The thought didn’t seem to faze him at the moment, until his overactive mind went to his smaller lover. Then it ground into action and if he could have cried, he would have. Maybe what injured him more was that he could feel the hurt Zacky was going through when the guitarist’s hand touched him before they departed the hospital. All the words that he’d said were garbled, and he couldn’t remember if he’d even said he loved him, but the desperate touches to Syn’s static arm were enough.

As he felt the scalpel pierce his skin, he inwardly writhed with pain, hoping that soon the dull aching would overtake the sharp pain that seared through his very skin with every inch the blade moved into his chest. This was all muted, and he knew he wouldn’t remember this when he woke up, but his mind was far too awake for even his body to comprehend; hence the separation.

It was a strange experience, to be sure, and he hoped it would disappear soon. It did. As soon as the doctor ceased the slicing open of his chest and began to examine the fractured bone beneath, his vision went black and his static body went numb beneath the doctor’s latex glove-covered hand.

Well, now Avenged Sevenfold was stuck. Since they were going to be in that city for a while, the band members found a place to park their tour bus, which happened to be an RV park. Their bus gathered a lot of attention, but thankfully it wasn’t tactlessly splashed with the name of the band, or any other sort of distinguishing marks. It just looked like any other rich family of three wild-looking guys with their entire tech crew, or group of friends, following them. Right. That would pass off well.

Zacky hadn’t come out much since they’d left the hospital and when he did, he wore dark sunglasses to cover his bloodshot eyes. He was unusually quiet and normally had his uncasted hand clenched around his cell phone, which was inside his pocket at all times. He hadn’t much care for what he wore, either, so sometimes his clothing was a bit mixed up and clashed, but he really didn’t care. The only thing he did care about was that the arm in a sling and cast was driving him fucking crazy.

Rev had been staying close to Johnny in the days that followed. Johnny was beginning to feel awkward with Syn and Matt gone and Zacky moping, so he was very happy that Rev was paying him attention.

About three days after the escapade, Johnny was sitting on the steps to the tourbus, humming sadly to himself. Everything seemed so subdued without the other two. They were supposed to be ON TOUR, going crazy, crashing bars and getting wasted every night just to have hangovers the next day when they had to go on stage. Now they didn’t even have a show to look forward to; just the long expanse of days before the other two members got out of their respective hospitals.

Rev came out of the bus and spotted him in his way of exiting the bus and a small smirk played at his thin face and he crouched down, sitting a step behind the smaller bassist, one leg on each side of Johnny as he leaned forward a bit.

“Hey, you okay, shortcakes?” he asked in a low, almost teasing voice. Johnny’s lips twisted into a slight grimace at the nickname and glanced behind him, arching his dark eyebrow slightly at the drummer.

“Fine,” he mumbled, turning back around and putting his hands on his knees and placing his chin on his top forearm. Rev sighed and leaned forward even more, wrapping his thin arms around the bassist.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled against the other’s neck, the breath dancing against Johnny’s colorful neck tattoo. It sent a shiver down the smaller man’s spine as he turned his head slightly into the other, arching an eyebrow. He still hadn’t gotten used to Rev’s sudden desire to touch him, despite how much he’d liked it.

“It’s okay,” he replied in just as soft of a tone, a small grin pulling at his lips. “Can I ask you a question?”

Rev cocked his head to the side slightly and looked at him even more, deep blue eyes staring on as he gave a silent assent, his black locks falling in his face as he did so. Johnny bit back a small smile and nodded.

“Why all the sudden affection, huh? Was it just because of what happened between Matt and Syn and Zacky?” he asked, biting his lip afterwards. “’Cause I think that’d be kind of fucked up.”

Rev sighed slightly. “Yes, it was because of what happened, but more than that it was because I realized just how short life can be, and my feelings couldn’t be locked away behind a wall of fact,” he replied, his matter-of-fact tone returning. Johnny’s breath hitched in his throat as the words hit him. He cocked his head to the side slightly.

“And…and what feelings are those?” he asked in a smaller voice than he was intending. He’d always been one to keep up his tough act, though his entire band could see through it. Johnny was always the one who was either silent or opened his mouth a little too far. He had no grey area, no perfect medium. Maybe that was one of the reasons Rev liked him so much. The drummer was always open, though he only spoke when he felt he needed to. He WAS Johnny’s grey area.

“Johnny, I…” Rev started, grimacing slightly as he thought about what he was about to confess. His pride was threatening to get in the way; what if Johnny didn’t feel the same, and then he’d just be laying himself open for the ridicule. Hell, the band didn’t even know he had homosexual tendencies…well, except maybe Syn. He didn’t want to get hurt, and that was why the wall was there.

Then he thought of Syn laying helpless in that bed and he couldn’t help but see Johnny at some point, unknowing of the feelings that the taller man had for him. The thought was heart wrenching, and that was what made him just go for it.

“You what?” Johnny pressed, feeling the butterflies start up nervously in his stomach, feeling fit to beat their way out with the violent flapping of their delicate wings. He licked over his dry lips, moistening them more out of nervous habit than anything.

“I love you,” the drummer said in a ghost of a voice, so soft Johnny couldn’t be sure he heard him right. His head inclined downward slightly as he glanced over to Rev, watching his eyes close slightly, the blue-grey disappearing from his view as he looked on, his mind racing.

“What?” he asked in a soft voice, unsure if he had wanted confirmation or if he wanted to hear those three words again, falling from the taller man’s lips. He figured it was a bit of both.

The silence around them was tense, similar to the moment around Syn and Zacky when their eyes would meet. It was like it was on fire, waiting for something too happen, then it would snap and burst into flame, shriveling into nothing before they even knew what had happened.

He felt the thinner man take a deep breath before saying in a stronger voice, “I love you, Johnny. I have, for a long time, but my pride wouldn’t let me tell you. I was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same and I didn’t want to feel vulnerable with that. It was when I saw how Zacky was with Bri that I realized…that could be me, and you in a coma, not knowing how I felt, and the chance that you could never wake up…Johnny, the thought alone killed me. It felt like it was your life on the line; I was empathizing so much with Zacky that it made me realize just how precious what they have is.” He paused for a moment, swallowing hard to rid himself of the knot that had formed in his throat as he spoke, then his voice was softer again as he spoke, his slight lisp more prominent than ever. “So now you know…and if you don’t feel the same, I can handle that. You…just had to know.”

Johnny sat in a stunned silence for a moment, shocked by the utter truth ringing through the drummer’s voice. His factorial way of speaking always made him in awe of the taller man, but when he spoke so sincerely, it ripped at him and he bit his lip harder this time before nodding, the silence expanding around them, creeping into every corner and sitting there, plaguing Rev’s mind. He was letting it run into disbelief, and he was beating himself over the head with negative thoughts as he absently chewed on the inside of his cheek, anxious for a response. Then, he heard the whispered response, sounding slightly choked as the words left the bassist’s mouth,

“I love you too.”

X~X~X

“Hey, Bri, you want to come by my house after school?” Matt’s un-pierced mouth asked in a low whisper in Geometry class, and Brian’s own lips curled into a grin, trying not to make it seem too eager. “I need some help on this assignment.”

Though the grin threatened to fade, he kept it there. Of course, Matt was only using him because he actually did his homework half the time…but why didn’t he ask Jimmy? Jimmy was the smart one, not Brian. He cut classes half the time and wasn’t really there for the rest; he was a tad bit of a horrible student. School just wasn’t for him he had decided in junior year, when he’d really, really started to get into music and guitar.

“Yeah, sure, man, but I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to help,” he responded, running his hand through his chopped, cocoa brown locks. Matt shrugged, a few dark spikes falling in front of his face as he looked down, the gel finally beginning to wear out of his hair.

“We’ll work it out together then, yeah?” he offered after taking a minute to consider the assignment, shooting the other boy a sidelong glance as the bell chimed for lunch. Brian shut his textbook with a snap and rose out of his chair, Matt doing the same a few seconds afterwards. “Thank God that’s over.”

Brian stretched toward the sky, humming an assent as he groaned slightly. His eyes slipped shut, the chocolate depths hidden from the world. Back in high school, Brian never would have even thought to wear eyeliner. He thought it was for pansies, in a sense; not that he had any room to talk. He was the one infatuated by Matt, despite the fact that it was a Catholic school. The thought kind of disturbed him once he’d thought about it. He gathered up his books and followed Matt out of the classroom. Fuck, he would have followed Matt to the end of the world if he could.

He followed the slightly larger boy to the cafeteria, where he watched Matt embrace his girlfriend passionately. He looked away from the display of affection, shoving his hand in the pocket of his worn jeans, his white t-shirt rippling slightly under the movements as he shifted to put his books on the table, biting the inside of his cheek hard.

Brian felt a thin arm wrap around his neck and looked up into the dark blue eyes of Jimmy with a slight grin, glad to have a distraction from his racing mind and infatuation.

“Hey, man,” he said, his own arm wrapping instinctively around the other’s ribcage, and that earned him a slight grin from the thin man.

“What’s up?” he asked casually as he guided the larger yet smaller man over to a chair and they both ended up flopping down in hard, plastic chairs with simultaneous sounds of discomfort.

“Not much, man; Matt wants me to go over to his place after school to work on this stupid Geometry bullshit,” Brian blurted, and Jimmy chuckled slightly, shaking his head.

“He’s always pulling shit like that to get better grades, man,” he remarked simply. Brian gave him an open look with his eyebrows raised.

“Dude, but why me? I don’t do shit in school, and I don’t do homework,” he replied, and Jimmy cocked his head to the side slightly, as if to say ‘true.’ He pursed his lips slightly.

“I don’t know, man, maybe he wants you or something,” Jimmy teased, a grin playing at his lips. A dark eyebrow arched at him as the words hit him and he laughed humorlessly.

“Don’t say that shit, man,” Brian replied, shaking his head. Deep down, he hoped it were true as he glanced over again, seeing the other’s tongue halfway down Val’s throat and he shuddered slightly. “I wish he wouldn’t do that in public.” Jimmy patted him on the arm sympathetically and chuckled dryly, shaking his head.

“Man, he’s just rubbing it in our faces that he’s got a super hot chick and we’ve got nothing,” Jimmy responded, and Brian nodded absently and sighed a bit, knowing that wasn’t the reason he was saying that he wished that the scene before them wasn’t happening.

Lunch happened uneventfully, with Brian and Jimmy chatting about one thing or another and Matt being overtaken by Val on his lap, talking and flirting, that wide grin on his face as he spoke animatedly. Brian felt himself get jealous, but beat it down. There would be later, he thought…

The thought of him and Matt in the same room, alone, made his stomach flip uneasily, and goose bumps rise on his ink-free and bare arms, the sleeves of the t-shirt resting on his biceps.

One more class. Great. English. At least he had the class with Jimmy, he thought as he gathered up his things and clutched them to his chest, though he really didn’t care what happened to them.

Jimmy threw his arm over Brian’s shoulder again with a grin as they walked down the hall. He knew, vaguely, about his attraction to Matt. Well, he knew he liked someone, but he couldn’t be sure whom. He thought it might have been Matt’s girlfriend’s sister, but he couldn’t quite read Brian, and that kind of perturbed him. It always did.

Once they reached English, it went by pretty fast. The two of them ended up getting detention for interrupting the class, but they were laughing about it afterwards as they walked out of the school, and Brian spotted Matt leaning against his small Honda, arms slightly crossed. Once he saw the two of them he grinned widely, that knockout grin that could get anyone to melt. He waved them over as he uncrossed his arms. Brian looked up at Jimmy, who shrugged, pushed up the bridge of his glasses closer to his nose and ended up following the other over.

“Hey,” Matt greeted, that insane grin still playing at his face, eyes glittering, and those dimples prominent in the mid-afternoon sun. Brian grinned back slightly as he felt Jimmy slide his arms off Brian’s shoulder and back into his pocket.

“Hey,” Brian replied, trying to keep his voice as casual as possible, shoving his hand into his pocket and letting his books hang there between his arm and his side. Jimmy just grinned slightly, leaning over to mutter in Brian’s ear,

“I’m gonna take off; I’ll see you later.”

Brian nodded and moved his hand from his pocket to around Jimmy’s neck, embracing in the friendly way they had been since the day after shop class freshman year.

“See ya, man,” he responded as they pulled away. Jimmy gave Matt a small nod and walked off in the direction of his house. Brian then turned his attention back to the other, a grin playing on his lips again.

“Ready to go?” he asked, and Brian cocked his head to the side slightly, arching an eyebrow, but nodded nonetheless, his very fingers tingling with nerves as Matt motioned to the passenger side of his car.

“Yeah, sure,” Brian said, moving to the door and opening it almost carefully as he watched Matt slip into the driver’s seat and turn the engine over. He grinned a bit and turned around in his seat after putting the little car in reverse. Brian watched him, trying to make it not as intent as he was making it, but he couldn’t help but stare. This was Matt Sanders, for Christ’s sake.

The ride was pretty much silent except for the music. Matt had flipped on some Pantera and Brian grinned slightly at it, fiddling with the half-beaten spine of his Geometry book and tried to keep his eyes from Matt. Matt was tapping lightly on the steering wheel the whole time, humming and singing along with Phil. God, he had an amazing voice, and sounded almost like the lead singer of Pantera, but he wouldn’t tell him that.

After the awkward silence passed, they reached Matt’s house. His parents weren’t home, Brian could tell by the absence of their green station wagon he’d always seen parked in front. The butterflies began to start up in his stomach again as Matt stopped the car, parking it in front of the house, forgoing the driveway, and exiting the car after the engine ceased to purr. Brian gathered his books, and his thoughts, and exited the car as well, following the other into the house.

“Mom? Dad?” Matt called as he cracked open the door, and Brian was suddenly slightly nervous, but there was no reply, so Matt grinned a bit and opened the door fully, walking in and holding it for the other. Brian inclined his head slightly as a faint show of gratitude and walked into the house, eyes tracing it. It looked like any other suburban family home; not that it surprised Brian, but he was expecting something a bit grander, and a little less…normal.

Matt grinned silently and wrapped his hand around Brian’s wrist, which surprised him, and dragged him down the hallway to the right, and into a room that the door had been adorned with posters of any and all metal bands you could think of. The room wasn’t much different. It was plastered with posters of every shape or form, the futon in the couch position and covered with records and CD’s, sprawled out as if he had been looking for something before school. On the floor there were clothes littered everywhere; so much in fact that Brian had to jump around slightly to avoid them.

“Dude, you can just step on them, whatever,” Matt said, furrowing his brows slightly at watching Brian dance around the clothing. Brian made a slightly sheepish scoff and stopped his careful maneuvering, and walked over to Matt’s desk, placing the books on the surface. He then turned to Matt, who had come very much closer to him, so close he could see the gold flecks in the other’s glittering eyes. His breath hitched slightly as he looked on.

“What are you doing, Matt?” Brian asked in a virtually strangled voice, swallowing hard to rid himself of the lump that had formed in his throat. Matt just grinned a little wider, coming a little closer before muttering,

“This,” and placing his lips to Brian’s. He gasped and kissed back out of instinct, his hand moving upward to entangle in Matt’s nondescript hair. He let forth a small noise and Matt took that as his cue to go deeper, his tongue tracing Brian’s mouth, which opened more out of shock than anything, the noise returning to the air at this as the taller boy’s tongue delved into his mouth. Brian touched it back tentatively and he made a small groaning sound, placing his hands on Matt’s chest, curling his fingers slightly against the fabric.

After a few moments of this, Brian felt Matt’s hands move from his hips, where he’d placed them to begin with, to the button of his jeans, fumbling to remove them. Brian made a small noise of protest, breaking the kiss with a belated breath, and Matt glanced at him with those intoxicating eyes, boring into his amber gaze.

“Don’t you think…it’s a little soon?” Brian breathed against his lips and he felt the smirk play on his lips as if it’d played on his own.

“Never too soon,” he heard Matt growl and he groaned slightly, feeling Matt slip his hands into his pants, feeling himself harden beneath the other’s touch to his still half-flaccid erection. He could feel Matt’s smirk widened. “See, told you you wanted it.”

Brian gasped slightly as the grip became impossibly tight around his member and his brows knit it confusion and slight pain, his head dropping back slightly hitting the desk faintly, but he didn’t even register the pain. He could feel Matt’s hand spread his thighs slightly, searchingly. Brian did oblige, out of instinct and the feelings that were rushing through his mind. Was this real?

Oh, it definitely was, he thought as he felt a searing pain rush through him as Matt pressed his finger into his entrance. He cried out softly, feeling his knees buckle beneath him. “Matt, what are you doing?” he breathed, feeling the finger try to force its way through the tight, sensitive tissue.

“Testing,” Matt replied simply, muttering against his chest as he did so. He’d crouched down in front of Brian, head hovering slightly in front of his arousal, that stupid grin plastered on his face, as if Matt knew something Brian didn’t. He felt the shock of pain rush through him again and he gasped, feeling his pants and boxers be ripped down at once.

“Matt, stop,” he protested, but he felt Matt shake his head against his stomach, and the finger press further in one more time, causing him to cry out slightly beneath the other boy’s touch. He pulled his finger away, which had gotten most of the way inside him, and stood up, undoing his pants and easily flipping Brian around, who was so shocked by the sudden movement he couldn’t think to protest. He let his head fall against the desk again.

“I’m the only one that’ll ever do this to you, Bri, so just relax and take it,” Matt muttered in his ear, and he felt his body betray him again, hardening against the wood of the desk which he was now pinned to. He felt Matt spread his cheeks, and he squirmed slightly beneath the touch, feeling entirely uncomfortable.

“Matt, please,” Brian pleaded weakly, the sweat already beginning to bead on his forehead from the exertion. Tears had also begun to form.

“Shut. Up. Brian,” Matt commanded and with that, Brian felt the teen at his back press the head of his dick to the entrance, shoving hard, fighting to get past the first ring of hot tissue, and the boy beneath cried out, tears welling up in his eyes and slipping silently down his cheek.

He thrust his hips forward a couple of times, finding it easier after a few, because the skin had ripped around him, making the surface slick, as sick as that is. He grinned slightly once he was inside Brian to the hilt.

“Now, you’re going to enjoy this,” he commanded to the boy beneath him; his breaths were ragged and tears had been ripping from him the entire time, the pain overtaking his senses, and he couldn’t find a single ounce of pleasure in the act being performed on him, against his will.

“Matt,” Brian protested one more time, and that earned a sharp jerk of Matt’s hips against him, making him wince and his fingers curl around a random piece of paper as he tried to prepare himself, but there was no way he could even conceive of doing that, because what came after sent shots of pain throughout his entire system, his body responding perversely, however, and it seemed to enjoy the harsh beating Matt was giving it. He couldn’t make sense of the thoughts rushing through his mind and the sensations breaking out over his entire body.

He felt Matt begin to thrust inside him, and each time he cried out, wincing slightly with every rough touch to his spent and ripped flesh. This wasn’t the Matt that he’d idolized in school; this was a beast…but unfortunately, his heart lay with the man behind him, so he somewhat let this happen. He had enticed this, he told himself.

After about five minutes of the sound of skin on skin and small noises from both men, Brian felt a warm heat fill him up and he shuddered slightly, his body finally betraying him and the orgasm ripped painfully through him, despite all force of will to keep it at bay. He could feel Matt smirk against his neck as he leaned over to take a look at the mess the boy had made on his desk with a chuckle. He pulled out and Brian collapsed onto the ground, pulling his bare knees to his chest as Matt walked out of the room and into the bathroom. He began to sob at being so horribly violated, but was beginning, already, to convince himself that Matt was right…

Zacky awoke with a start, tears already wetting his doll-like features as he had been tossing and turning in his sleep, trying to rid himself of the memories…no, that wasn’t right. They were merely dreams…unless Syn was somehow reaching out to him and showing him these things through dreams. He shuddered at the thought. Sweat coated his body as he sat bolt upright in his tour bus bed, breathing heavily as he touched his chest, finding it soaked with perspiration. He collapsed back onto his bed, panting still as his jeweled eyes found the top of the tour bus.

“Oh my God,” was all the smaller guitarist could utter as he shut his eyes, though they flew open instantly, trying to rid himself of the images that were burned into his imagination, the tears beginning again. Syn had always seemed so strong, so able to fight anyone off…but he supposed Matt was different.

He didn’t dare go back to sleep that night, because every time he shut his eyes, the images were there, flashing neon at him, taunting him from dreamland. He frowned slightly as his eyes began to trace lazy circles on the ceiling; there would be no sleep for Zacky Vengeance tonight. Not that there was much for him anyway, but the one time he’d actually managed to sleep, the nightmares ravaged him to within an inch of openly sobbing, which wouldn’t have been abnormal as of late. Finally, as the sun began to peek over the horizon, his eyes slipped shut again, mind too exhausted from mulling over the details to take anymore, and he slipped into a deep sleep.

Zacky was an absolute wreck the next morning, shivering slightly and his eyes were distant as he sat on the steps to the tour bus, his hair messily covered by a trucker hat, his plaid shirt haphazard on his back, just a simple pair of worn jeans on his legs. He had his arms crossed, his head leaning on his forearm as he tried in vain to stem the flow of tears that had been consuming him since he awoke from his dead-like sleep, but somehow the images that he’d dreamed of still haunted him.

Noticing this, Rev came up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder as he always did. Zacky sniffled and pushed the tears off his face before looking up, biting back a sob as he saw the similar-yet-different face of the man that had made a cameo appearance in the dream he was currently crying over.

“Hey, Zack, what is it, man?” came the same voice he’d heard, and he shuddered slightly, brows knitting together suddenly, his bloodshot green eyes searching for the icy gaze. It was suddenly much more than a dream to him, and his stomach flipped sickly, wanting to blurt out what was on his mind.

“How could you have left him like that?” he questioned, and it was Rev’s turn to look entirely confused, and he arched an eyebrow. Zacky immediately felt bad, jumping to conclusions like that anyway.

“Excuse me?”

Zacky bit his lip, realizing what he was doing, and he shook his head, looking away. “Just…a dream I had, is all; don’t worry about it.”

“I am going to worry about it, Z. Tell me,” Rev said in a calm voice, brows furrowing further as he leaned in.

“I just…I had a dream about…Matt and Syn,” he started in a shaky voice. “And Matt invited Syn over to his house to work on Geometry homework, and he agreed. He was all infatuated with Matt, but no one knew it. You guys must have been like, seventeen or something. And you were there too, and when he was gonna take him home, you just left, and…and…oh god, Matt…he…” his voice trailed off as a shudder rushed through him.

Rev’s jaw had dropped, realization and recognition hitting him with every word that began to ring familiarly true. How could he have known about that day? The day after that, Syn had never been the same…and finally, everything, all the missing pieces fell into place. His mind ricocheted around for a moment, coming to a gut-wrenching conclusion. That was when Matt…oh, God, and he could have stopped it. He suddenly felt as if he’d missed a stair.

“Um…a-are you sure?” he asked, sounding more than a little unsettled, and because of this it caused Zacky to look back at him, his own eyebrows raised in question.

“Pretty sure…why?” he asked, brushing a bit of hair off his forehead, feeling kind of dizzy.

“Because… that actually happened,” Rev said, his voice dropping in caliber, his tongue poking over his lips for a second before biting at it slightly. “I mean, I think. I can’t be sure, but…that sounds like a day we had back in high school.”

“How’s that possible? I didn’t even know you guys back then,” Zacky rationalized with a slight frown. “And it’s not like I’d know that anyway…it was really…really, graphic.” He shuddered again, beginning to worry on his lip.

“I don’t know, man,” Rev replied, brows creasing more. A wave of guilt did end up overcoming him as he thought back to that day. Everything had really changed after that. Brian was no longer Brian, and had begun to drink, going to parties, and dragging Rev along with him. No matter what, he never let Rev out of his sight. It was as if he was clinging to something so desperately, wanting to be the same kid he was before, but he couldn’t. That was about the time he made up the alias Synyster Gates, and he’d always wondered why… “I could have stopped this,” he whispered.

Zacky looked up. “Man, don’t blame yourself for this,” he scolded gently, his brows knitting together slightly. “You didn’t know. None of us did.”

“I was the guy’s best friend, and when he changed, I didn’t do shit,” the drummer whispered harshly. Zacky wrapped an arm around the other man’s neck, feeling odd comforting the taller man, but his own problems had been forgone in light of Rev’s sudden change in behavior.

“That doesn’t mean it’s your fault, Jimmy,” Zacky said with a frown, feeling his snakebites clink faintly against his teeth. The taller man nodded slightly, though seemed entirely unconvinced.

All their playful behavior and bantering had been long forgone in lieu of tragedy. Zacky was remembering back to their last show, and smirked at their antics. The throwing of the towel due to the drumsticks, and then after, the throwing of the pillow during that dream…the thought made him flush slightly. God, he wished he could be that carefree. He never thought he’d be here, of all places, waiting for Syn to get out of the hospital. This tour hadn’t gone at all well for them, he decided after a moment of reflection.

Zacky frowned at the thought. This was supposed to be their biggest tour yet, the one where they were going to take the world by storm and show them what Avenged Sevenfold was worth. He sighed as he let his head rest further on his forearm, eyes idly tracing the inked flesh with a heavy sigh.

Johnny had come up behind Rev and draped his arms over his thin shoulders, tilting his head and whispering “is he okay?” to Rev, who nodded slightly.

“Weird dream,” Rev replied with a slight nod, leaning up to kiss at Johnny’s neck. He let out a small laugh and shied away from the touch, still unused to the contact. He wrinkled his nose slightly and gave a little grin to Rev, more as compensation for pulling away than anything.

Zacky frowned slightly, watching the two of them out of the corner of his eye and he swallowed hard, trying to get rid of a sudden lump that had formed in his throat. He licked over his lip and brought the metal back into his mouth, nibbling idly. The thoughts, or rather, images kept flashing across his consciousness, his mind easily dwelling on the nightmarish qualities of said images. He shivered slightly and pushed himself off the stairs of the bus, muttering a quick goodbye to the couple and walking away.

He had just begun to walk, away from the tour bus, and soon he found himself out of the park and onto the streets of the city. He bit his lip and glanced around, behind him and in front of him. He had to go to the hospital. Now. But where was it?

Left! He decided to go the way his mind told him to and he stopped at a small kiosk that had a map of the city laying neatly it its little display. He grinned faintly, the expression all but foreign to him as his fingers picked up the pamphlet, and he pulled it out all the way, the map splaying out in front of him.

“Hospital, hospital, it can’t be that damn hard to find a fucking hospital,” Zacky muttered, his fingers tracing over the roads that were shown. “HA!” he exclaimed as he found a workable path toward his destination. Now, only to follow those directions and make his way there.

He pocketed the pamphlet and grinned a bit more, though the expression faded as he walked along, trying to remember the street name he was supposed to take next. After a few circles and wrong turns, he finally made his way to the leering white building that held Syn captive but also kept him alive.

He took a deep breath and walked to the front door, pulling it open and walking to the front desk with one of his winning little grins.

“Hi, I was wondering if I could visit someone?” he asked, feigning the cute and innocent act. Hey, if it got him what he wanted, it was fine by him. The nurse smiled at him.

“Who are you here to visit, sweetheart?” she asked in a calm yet caring voice. He nipped his lip ring slightly.

“Brian Haner, Jr.?” Zacky offered, and the nurse arched an eyebrow, moving to her computer before looking up at him again.

“Which ward?” she asked.

“Um, either surgical or ICU,” he replied, sucking his entire lip into his mouth and suckling on it nervously while she typed the information in.

“All right, he’s in the surgical ward, and it says immediate family. One exception.”

Zacky frowned slightly. He ran his hand through his hair and swallowed hard. He should have expected it, though the one exception made his eyebrow rise slightly. What, had Syn been coherent enough to let them know about him or something?

“According to notes taken from members close to Mr. Haner, namely a Mr. Sullivan, who claimed to know him longest, we’ve been told we can admit a Zackary Baker to see him, because he has no family around here,” she read off the computer, and Zacky couldn’t hold back the ecstatic squeal that he let out. He covered his mouth immediately afterwards, a slight flush creeping up his cheeks and he gave a sheepish grin. She glanced at him, eyebrows raised so high they were in danger of disappearing into her hairline. “I’m assuming you’re Zackary?”

He could only nod. He reminded himself to thank Rev later for this one.

“Here, this’ll tell the floor nurses you’re okay to see him,” the lady said, scribbling something on a sheet of paper and she handed it to him. “They’ll know what to do. The surgical floor is the second floor. Go left until you see the sign. You can’t miss it.”

He grinned a little more. “Thank you so much,” he said sincerely, grasping the sheet of paper for dear life. She merely nodded and went back to her work as he tore off toward the elevator, pushing the button eagerly.

“Oh, come on you stupid fucking thing,” Zacky muttered impatiently at the elevator, glancing up to see the lights changing the numbers far too slow for his impatience. He wasn’t quite sure why he felt so anxious, he just did. Just then, his cell phone rang in his jeans. He whipped it out, slightly annoyed to see a number not in his contacts, but answered it anyway. “Hello?”

“Zackary Baker?” came a professional voice on the other end and he raised an eyebrow slightly.

“This is he,” he replied as the door to the elevator opened and he slipped inside, leaning against the back of the small, enclosed space.

“We were told to call you if Brian Haner’s condition changed,” came the disembodied voice came again. Zacky felt his stomach jump slightly as he made a slight noise of assent in his throat, pushing his hair off his face with his good arm.

“Go on,” he responded, his free hand gripping at the rail behind him. It was a hospital after all. He wasn’t sure what to expect and his stomach had clenched a little too nervously for his comfort.

“Well, we’re happy to inform you that he’s pulled out of his coma and he seems to be responding just fine; he’s been asking for you,” came the voice again, and Zacky held the phone away from his face as he squealed again. “Mr. Baker?”

He put the phone back to his ear and said “thank you! I’ll be up in just a minute.”

“You’re at the hospital?” the voice sounded puzzled and Zacky giggled slightly, finding that a little odd himself.

“Yeah, I was just coming to visit,” he chirped, and he heard a soft laugh on the other end. He giggled himself and bit at his lip ring, suddenly nervous, but glad he was the first to know. Thank you, again, Jimmy, he thought.

“That’s a little strange,” came the voice again. It sounded slightly mystified, but Zacky didn’t pay too much attention to it.

“Yup,” he said happily. He was in too good of a mood to worry about the strangeness of the coincidence.

“I guess I’ll be seeing you in a bit, then,” came the doctor’s voice, and Zacky giggled again.

“Yup!” he replied. “Byeeee!” Without hearing the doctor’s reply he pushed the end call button, hopping from one foot to the other, humming expectantly, even more so now that he knew Syn would be awake.

He squeaked happily when the elevator reached the right floor and he moved off the wall, walking at a quick pace, glancing around for the surgical unit and finding it easily. He giggled sheepishly as the phone was still held to his ear. He walked to the nurses’ station and handed them the piece of paper.

“Hi, I’m here to see Brian Haner?” he said, tilting his head, a wide grin spreading on his pierced lips.

“Room 34,” replied the nurse boredly after glancing half-heartedly at the paper Zacky had handed him. He grinned slightly and pushed off the counter, looking from one room to the other, finally seeing room 34.

He made a slight noise and bit his lip, pushing his hands against the door, his stomach fluttering nervously. He pushed the door open, and there he was.

It looked like Syn was asleep, his head tilted to the side on the pillow, his breathing assisted by a ventilator, just in case something were to go wrong. The machines beeped around him, surrounding him like a technical army. His hands were splayed against the bed, a heart rate monitor attached to his right index finger. His bottom lip looked stitched, seeing the garish dark mark across his pale pink lips. He was wearing a white and blue striped hospital gown. Zacky was willing to lay bets that Syn would have killed someone if the garb was flowered and the thought made him giggle slightly as he slipped into the room, causing Syn to stir faintly.

His eyes opened slightly, but not really enough to see, as Zacky circled his bed to come on his right side, pushing his hair off his face with a small smile.

“Zack?” came his soft, somewhat weak voice, and Zacky’s small smile grew, his fingers dancing along his jaw line. The larger man leaned into the touch.

“Yeah, Syn, it’s me,” he said and he felt Syn’s head shift slightly so his face was looking at Zacky and a tired smile crept onto his face.

“Hey,” he said, his voice hoarse. He hadn’t used it for a while, so it wasn’t surprising. He’d been in the coma for a surprisingly short amount of time for his injuries, and for that everyone was thankful. “Did you miss me?” A ghost of his regular smirk crossed his pale face.

Zacky gave him a faint smile, and tilted his head. “Of course I missed you,” he said in a tender whisper, moving to place a light kiss on Syn’s lips, which was marred by stitches. Syn extended upward to return the embrace ever so tentatively.

“Fuck, I feel so useless with all this shit on me,” he muttered once Zacky pulled away. He yanked lightly on the IV line and Zacky put his hand on his forearm, shaking his head slightly.

“Don’t do that,” he said in a soft voice, and Syn looked over at him, a small smile forming on his face as he reached his hand up to cup Zacky’s face.

“I missed you,” he said softly. Zacky shook his head a little, though not enough to let the hand fall from his face. He’d missed Syn’s touch too much to shake it off like that. It sent butterflies up in his stomach, just the one simple touch.

“You didn’t even know you were gone,” Zacky argued softly, though the smile was still present on his face. Syn shrugged slightly.

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you,” he replied with a tired smile and Zacky’s hand found his face, caressing the high, defined cheekbones lightly. Syn leaned into the touch, his lips upturning slightly.

“They didn’t think you were going to pull through,” Zacky said, his voice tinged with a faint sadness and Syn opened his eyes, rubbing his own thumb over his cheek, a small expression of love playing at his face.

“I had to,” he whispered.

“Oh, stop,” Zacky protested, scrunching up his nose cutely, looking away and it elicited a hoarse chuckle from Syn.

“Cutie,” he replied, touching his jaw line lightly. That just made Zacky scrunch up his nose more and shake his head, shying away from the touch. Syn let another guttural, quiet laugh escape him.

“I’m not cute,” Zacky insisted, but Syn was just looking at him, shaking his head minimally.

“Bullshit you’re not,” Syn replied with a grin, attempting to sit up, but Zacky increased the pressure on his forearm and he sighed, relaxing against the bed. The smaller guitarist could tell he was restless. “I really fucking hate this.”

“I know you do,” Zacky said in a soothing voice, smoothing Syn’s hair back from his forehead, and Syn looked over at him.

“How the fuck did you get here so fast anyway?” he asked with a slight arched eyebrow and Zacky just shrugged. The eyebrow piqued a little higher and Zacky looked at him.

“I’m not sure; I just got this insane urge to be here, and here I am,” he said with a slight grin. Syn smiled, the eyebrow relaxing back into its original spot and he leaned his head back.

“Huh, weird,” he said, looking up at the ceiling. Zacky cocked his head to the side and began to rub on Syn’s forearm with his thumb comfortingly. The dream suddenly hit him and he grimaced, and it was right when Syn looked back over at him. “What is it?” he asked.

“Just this really…disturbing dream I had,” Zacky said with a slight shrug, but the interested look that crossed Syn’s face told him he wouldn’t be getting off that easy. “It was about you…and Matt.”

“What about?” Syn asked, a slight line forming on the bridge of his nose as his brows knit together. Zacky licked over his lips and gave Syn a pointed glance and the knitting quickly came undone in favor of raised eyebrows, surprise reflecting in his dark eyes.

“Oh!” he said, blinking a few times. Zacky nodded wordlessly and rubbed the back of his neck with his casted arm. His morbid curiosity got the better of him and he asked, “what…where did it take place?”

Remembering what Jimmy had said about it possibly have taken place, Zacky was hesitant to answer. Syn encouraged him by raising his eyebrows a little higher and tilting his head slightly.

“A high school,” Zacky said. Syn nodded his head slightly, his head declining slightly, as if to tell him to continue. “Well, you guys were in…Geometry class and Matt asked you to come over after school to help with an assignment, but you said you wouldn’t be much help. He said that you guys could work on it together…and it was like, from your point of view.”

Syn had relaxed against the pillows with a slight sigh, shutting his eyes, reliving the day that sounded just like the dream and a shudder ran through him, but he motioned with his hand for Zacky to carry on.

“The class ended and you met up with Jimmy, er, Rev…and I guess you were in love with Matt or something, and Val was there too,” Zacky continued, watching Syn’s face, the brows creasing slightly. “After the classes were over, you went out to Matt’s car and Jimmy went home. You guys went to his house and….he-he backed you against a desk…and he said something about you enjoying it and…” He couldn’t prolong the explanation any more and let his head fall. “It was so horrible…” he whispered, his voice sounding almost defeated.

The silence around them seemed to be broken only by the beeps of the machines around them as Syn kept his eyes shut, brows twitching every so often as the scene played itself in his mind, details matching his memories.

“My God, how could you know that?” Syn asked, finally breaking the silence that had overcome them as he played the memory back in his mind. Matt’s voice instantly echoed ‘Now, you’re going to enjoy this’ in his head.

“Y-you mean…it did happen that way?” Zacky couldn’t stop himself from asking, pulling his right lip ring into his mouth and sucked on it nervously.

“Yeah…”

“Oh my God,” Zacky whispered, a shudder ran through him and he pulled his knees to his chest in the hard chair and Syn looked over to him, arching an eyebrow with a faint grin to try and break the tension that had overcome them.

“Come here,” he said, patting the bed. “I don’t think they’ll kill either of us if you hop up here for a little bit.” Zacky gave a slight smile and let his feet slide off the chair and back onto the ground, pulling himself off the chair. He took a couple steps toward the bed and collapsed on it.

Syn’s fingers wrapped around his forearm and pulled him down so he was lying horizontally beside him and he smiled slightly.

“How’s your chest?” Zacky asked, tracing the stripes on his hospital gown and he felt Syn shift beside him, fingers grasping the gown, pulling upward and showing a rather garish incision cutting through his tanned skin, pink tingeing the outside of the cut, showing that it was at least scarring. He touched the scab lightly, eyes moving up to Syn’s face, not wanting to hurt him. Syn just smiled down at him, looking into his eyes for a second. “Does it hurt?”

“Ha, with all the drugs they’ve been giving me? I’m lucky I can feel your hands on me,” Syn replied with a faint, throaty laugh. “But I’m glad I can.”

Matt, on the other hand, wasn’t doing nearly as well as Syn. It seemed he’d had an adverse reaction to the drugs that the hospital had given him and he’d become even more violent. He’d given a few of the nurses a black eye and they’d tossed him in solitary confinement, which didn’t make Val very happy.

“Why can’t I see him?” she protested one day when she’d come to visit, but was barred from it. She had her fists balled up, ready to fight, her eyes flashing dangerously, the golden flecks flickering angrily as she questioned the authority that had told her earlier that she could come see him.

“He’s not in any shape to see anyone,” replied one of the nurses matter-of-factly and Val narrowed her eyes slightly, the deep hazel glinting in the sterile light around them. Her blonde hair hung in her face, framing it easily, creating an almost innocent shape to her face if her eyes weren’t flashing so dangerously. She was a lot of power in a little package.

“I am his girlfriend, and he will want to see me,” she explained in a firm, defiant voice, and the nurse glanced questioningly to her supervisor who just shrugged and motioned to let her go. He had obviously had to deal with quite a few angry visitors and had just taken to giving into their requests, letting them learn their own way why they were barred from seeing their loved ones.

The flustered nurse brought her to the room, and motioned to a window with a tight-lipped expression and nodded to her, walking off. Val followed her with a scowl, moving up onto her tiptoes to look into the room before entering, and what she saw made her gasp quietly.

Her boyfriend was sitting on the ground, an expression of utter rage painting on his face, breathing heavily, and she could almost hear the ragged sounds torn from his chest as his eyes darkened even more and a silent scream was issued from those pierced lips. She bit her lip.

He wasn’t getting any better. If anything, he was getting worse. She blinked back tears and turned away from the door for a second, wrapping her slender arms about herself, a soft sigh escaping her before she gathered up the courage to turn around and put her hand on the door, as it had been unlocked previously by the nurse. She pushed the door open softly and a low growl met her ear.

“Matt, baby?” she said in a soft voice, and the growl was evanescent on the air, only a ghost of the sound as the door shut softly behind her. Empty hazel eyes looked up at her, blinking in confusion.

She still was the only one that could shake him from his anger and bring him back to the real world. She felt a sudden, strange satisfaction in that, and found a comfortable peace, a happiness in that fact.

Val knelt beside Matt, running her fingers through his haphazard hair, and she pressed her forehead to his. He shut his eyes and pressed back, nudging his nose with hers.

“You okay, baby?” she whispered. She shut her eyes and felt his body weight shift beside her, signaling a light shrug. A shudder ran through him after the movement of his shoulders, as he pressed his body to hers, shifting his hips so he was facing her, looking up to see her eyes closed. His brows furrowed before he started to speak.

“I don’t know anymore,” he replied in a rough whisper, a little lower than his normal speaking voice as he wrapped his arms around the blonde’s neck, burying his face in between her neck and her shoulder. “I don’t know what’s going on. One minute I’m fine, and the next it’s like some monster’s coming over me and I’m powerless to stop him. There’s nothing I can do to contain it or stop it or anything. The way it makes me act just makes me want to die…” His confessions were rough, thick, as though the very sorrow in his eyes were running a pulsing vein through his soft-spoken voice.

“Shhh,” she whispered soothingly, her hand running through his hair again, pressing kisses to the side of his head, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and shutting her eyes. “Matt, Brian’s all right,” she said softly, and that caused him to look up at her, his eyes moist.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice echoing deeply around the room. She nodded against him and continued threading her fingers through his short locks, as a comforting gesture.

“Yeah, the surgeries went fine,” she said in a soft voice, pulling away slightly to smile at him, her eyes sparkling a little despite the situation. His eyes looked into hers and a faint ghost of his smile tugged at his lips, the dimples only very slightly coming into play.

“Good,” he said simply, nodding a bit and moving to nuzzle her nose with his own, earning him a quiet giggle from the blonde girl beside him. The dimples deepened as the smile grew and he shut his eyes a bit. “I missed you, so much.”

“I missed you too, baby, more than you know,” she replied, leaning in to press a light kiss to his lips, the familiar bite of the piercing a simple, missed pleasure that she reveled in as their lips touched. He smiled into the kiss, pressing back ever so softly.

“I’m going to get better, for you,” he whispered once the kiss broken and he could feel her smile against his lips and nudge his nose this time.

“You need to get better for you,” she responded, “but for me too would be a bonus.” He laughed lowly, roughly, a rumbling sound that seemed to envelop the both of them into a second of comfort, peace and serenity. She tilted her head to the side slightly, a lock of her hair falling in her eyes and she made no move to brush it away as she looked on at him. Their lips were mere centimeters apart. “I know you can do this, baby. I know you can. I have confidence in you.”

He smiled against her lips again, feeling the lip ring shift slightly as he did so, opening his eyes to look into hers of almost the same color, their greens only slightly different, their gold flecks in different places, a rim of dark green around her pupil sometimes and a more fiery yellow surrounding his.

“I love you,” he intoned in a low voice, the smile widening as her lips curled into a similar expression, alighting her eyes and making them seem full of dark fire.

“I love you too, Matt,” she said softly. She laughed quietly and he piqued an eyebrow. “They said you were in no shape to be having visitors. I guess they don’t know me very well, do they?” Her grin widened and so did his.

“No, baby, they don’t,” he replied, placing another soft kiss to her lips before pulling away to look in her eyes. “I wish I could be like this forever. I wish you were all the therapy I needed.”

The statement made her smile a little more, a sad sort of connotation taking on the expression as she cocked her head to the side, his eyes boring into hers as their gaze held.

“I know, Matt; me too,” she said softly, her hand moving out to cup his cheek lightly, pad of her thumb rubbing over the creased skin as he smiled, the dimples very pronounced, deep, completely revealed, just like his eyes in the moment. “We’ll be okay. You can beat this. You’re stronger than this.”

“I know,” was his soft, faint reply as he looked down. She put her index finger beneath his chin to make him look up at her, eyebrows raised slightly on the both of them as their eyes made contact again.

“You. Can. Do. This,” she said firmly, her voice intoning each word by itself, to stress her point. “You have people who love you waiting for you. You have people who can forgive you and move on, if you give them the proper apology. You have people waiting for you.”

It was the apology bit that caught Matt’s attention. His brows furrowed slightly, a foreign flash crossing his eyes, and a look of confusion soon followed in hers. In an instant, it felt like Val was looking at a completely different person.

“Matt?” she asked, cocking her head to the side faintly, trying to see what had happened, and honestly kind of afraid of what had.

“What did Brian tell you?” he asked in a dark tone, and she blinked faintly, her head righting itself, as she looked surprised, the expression splashing across her face as she felt the emotion rushing through her.

“Matt, Brian’s been in a coma, he hasn’t told me anything,” she responded, her eyebrows furrowing ever so faintly, but the words didn’t seem to have much of an effect on him.

“Who told you?” he asked in a more forceful voice than Val had ever heard Matt use and she moved away from him instinctively.

“Um, Zacky did,” she said, brows furrowing even more, the creases in her forehead becoming even deeper as a low growl was let out from her boyfriend…who didn’t seem too much like her boyfriend at the moment.

“That motherfucker,” Matt growled, and the knit brows came undone in favor of a surprised, open-eyed expression, her hazel eyes sparkling with a faint fear, but still her defiance was still in check.

“Matt…” she tried, but only was rewarded with a low grunt. She stood up, eyes narrowing slightly before she remembered where he was and why he was here, and she took a deep breath, leaning over to kiss his head boldly before speaking again. “I’m going to go now. I’m not sure when I can come back, but I’ll be back soon. I love you…” she whispered the last bit before moving away from him and toward the door, tears in her eyes as she looked back to him.

He was in the same position that he’d been in when she’d walked in, hunched over on the floor, a dark look on his face, muttering faintly under his breath and his hands on his thighs as he did so.

An intense wave of sorrow came over her as she pushed the door open, walking away from him. She shut her eyes and let a few simple tears slide down her cheek as she shut the door behind her with a slow snap. She turned away, walking down the hallway at a slow pace, her arms wrapped around herself. She stopped at the end of the hall, looking to the ground then to the nurses.

“He’s not getting any better, is he?” she asked softly, her voice no longer defiant and a faint grey trail tracing down her face as she spoke. The supervisor shook his head, flipping a page.

“He’s had an adverse reaction to some of the drugs we’ve been administering and we’re trying to remedy the problem as we speak, but there’s not much hope,” he replied, setting his clipboard down. “There aren’t many different treatments for his kind of disease.”

A broken sob escaped Val then, and she turned toward the elevator and walked slowly away from them to it, pressing the button and leaning her head against the cool wall until she heard a low “ding” signaling the arrival of the elevator, slipping in and leaning back on the wall, waiting in the silence until it reached the ground floor.

When it reached said floor, she bolted out, pushing the glass doors open as she ran. She just…ran.

“Damn it all, Zacky fucking Vengeance, stop fucking fussing over me!” came Syn’s irritated tone, punctuated by Zacky’s giggle, which forced a groan out of the bedridden guitarist, who just slumped back on the bed, head tilting back on the pillow. “Why me, O God.”

“Because you love me,” Zacky replied with a grin, changing Syn’s dressing on his chest with a chuckle as he ripped another frustrated groan from the guitarist. He knew the whole bed rest thing was really getting to Syn, and he felt bad, and that was why he always stayed by his side, whenever he could. His broken arm was healing, and the cast was set to come off soon, so then he’d be able to help more. Right now he was there more for the little things, like moral support and changing the dressing on the incisions.

“Yeah, I do,” Syn responded, looking over at him with a slight sigh as he felt the weight shift on his bed. He reached up to push a lock of hair impeding the sparkling green eyes. The pad of his thumb passed over the full cheeks of the rhythm guitarist and he watched Zacky lean into the touch, his eyes fluttering shut. “Look at me,” he commanded gently, and the eyes opened again. “Your eyes are amazing,” Syn said in a reverent whisper and Zacky’s nose wrinkled slightly and he looked away, shaking his head a little. Syn placed his index finger beneath Zacky’s chin and guided his gaze back. “They are.”

“Yours are too,” Zacky confessed with a slight grin, his head tilting to the side a little, in a coy gesture. He pulled his left snakebite into his mouth and began to suck on it idly. Syn smiled at him, eyes glittering.

“You’re cute too,” Syn muttered, leaning in to press a kiss to those pierced, full lips, still reveling in the feel of the cold metal as compared to the hot lips beneath them. Zacky pressed back chastely and they shared a soft kiss. As the kiss broke, Syn muttered against his lips, “Love you.”

Zacky smiled widely. “I love you too,” he replied, that little lilt of a lisp falling from his lips as the words were whispered on a hushed tone, pulling a smile from the bedridden guitarist. “You’ll be out of here in no time. Back on your feet and back out on the road with me.”

“Hope so,” Syn said, eyes widening then rolling his eyes and letting his head fall back on the pillows again, a rough sigh escaping him. Zacky laughed softly and cocked his head to the side, watching the cabin-fever ridden guitarist thrash slightly in his soft confines.

“But until then you’re going to have to deal with me fussing over you,” Zacky added and the groan came again. He pouted a little. “What? Would you rather me NOT fuss over you? Because I could leave.”

He instantly felt those strong fingers snake around his wrist and the grin formed on his face again. He looked up, straight into the other’s eyes and they both smiled at each other.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Syn replied firmly, and Zacky giggled, leaning forward and pressing his lips to the other, and he heard a low sound escape Syn as he did so. Fingers threaded through hair simultaneously and the kiss deepened slightly. Zacky shifted slightly so that he was virtually on top of the taller man, and tongues moved out to meet eager ones of the same, tangling together between them, breathing becoming scarce as the passionate embrace continued. For a moment Zacky debated straddling the guitarist beneath him, but the back injury weighed heavily on his mind and he didn’t want to offset anything.

He decided he was content to have the strong hands of the other guitarist on his hips, curling against the fabric as Syn pulled him closer, a low sound ripping from his throat, as he pressed closer to him.

The moment seemed to last forever, soft skin pressing and sliding against each other, low moans of passion and want escaping the both of them as tongues wrestled and lips pressed brutally. Syn was thankful that the bite to his lip had healed rather well, otherwise this probably wouldn’t have been happening the way it was, and he was perfectly content with how it was unfolding between them.

Zack wanted more, and Syn could tell. In truth, he wanted more too, but he didn’t know if his battered body would allow it. He was reveling in the sensations, and he decided that maybe that was enough for now as their lips touched and parted, tongues entangled then moving against each other’s, flicking teasingly at the flesh they found there.

Zacky pressed closer to Syn and put his hand on the chest in question, fingers curling slightly. He felt Syn wince slightly as he pressed a little too hard on his chest and he pulled away slightly, blushing horribly.

“Sorry,” Zacky mumbled against Syn’s lips and he felt the head attached to those lips shake slightly, and he opened his eyes. Syn was looking down at him, a small smile on his face.

“I’d rather deal with the pain than deal with not kissing you,” he responded, and Zacky flushed brightly, which made Syn laugh richly, his thumb running over his cheek again. Zacky pushed his shoulder playfully, a grin trying to fight the blush for the brightest thing on his face.

“You’re a sap,” Zacky jested and Syn’s lips twisted into a slight grimace, causing a giggle to be torn from the smaller guitarist.

“Yeah, guess I am,” Syn replied, running his own hand through Zacky’s hair, watching him get the same reaction as Syn always gave. He watched the guitarist beside him lean into the touch, his eyes fluttering shut, a content smile on his face.

“What happened to Synyster Gates, huh?” Zacky teased with a wide grin as Syn pulled away. “The one who called me a fag all the time.” His finger traced down the guitarist’s exposed line of symmetry, then back up again, eyes trained on the flesh he found there.

“Why, did it turn you on?” Syn asked with a smirk, and Zacky laughed out loud, looking back up at Syn with a slight shake of his head, his fingers moving to thread through his hair. A thought struck him and a wide grin plastered on his face, causing Syn to raise an eyebrow in question.

“No, but douche bag sure did,” Zacky said through a sudden fit of giggles, his hand falling from Syn’s hair and the bedridden guitarist laughed out loud, letting his head fall back and his jaw fell open, expelling the rich sound coming from him, making Zacky laugh harder as well. The strong arms wrapped tightly around him and Zacky heard a sigh once the laughter died down. He looked up to see Syn’s eyes shut. “What’s up?”

“I just love you, that’s all,” Syn replied, opening his eyes with a grin on his face. Zacky grinned right back, cocking his head to the side slightly as he did so.

“I love you too,” he replied, his hand moving to run through Syn’s hair again. The taller guitarist leaned into the touch, loving the affection.

“I never thought this would happen, actually,” Syn muttered, nuzzling the hand running through his hair. Zacky tilted his head a little more, continuing the movement of his hand.

“Why?” he asked. The thought of the “dream” popped into his head and he idly wondered if that was what Syn meant. The fact that Matt told him he was the only one who’d do it to him.

“…Matt,” he answered, and Zacky knew he’d called it. Zacky nodded, his head righting itself as his hand moved from Syn’s hair to his jaw, cupping the strong feature and had him look the smaller guitarist in the eye. “He always told me he’d be the only one who’d ever love me, who’d ever care for me, who’d ever fuck me…it kind of offset me from any real relationship of any kind…”

“He was wrong, Syn,” Zacky interrupted in a soft voice. “You’re beautiful and there are plenty of people who love you, even if it’s merely on principle. I love you, Syn.” Syn blinked slightly, a little smile forming on his face as he looked into those stunning, bejeweled eyes, his hand moving up to cup his cheek.

A thought instantly struck him when heard his name on the tail end of that statement and his mind began to instantly race, a sudden urge to be called Brian by the other man eclipsing all other rational thought. His entire body tingled as he set his resolve. He came closer to the smaller man, his breath hitching slightly in his chest as he leaned in to whisper. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, but he felt it was only right.

“You can call me Brian, if you want,” his voice barely ghosted over Zacky’s ear and he pulled back, met with emerald eyes wide with surprise, blinking slightly.

“B-but…” Zacky protested; he never quite understood why Syn had never let anyone use his real name, and he still didn’t. Syn smiled slightly and cocked his head to the side, a grin playing on his face.

“I trust you,” he replied simply, drawing another surprised expression from the guitarist, but it was no longer confused. “I started going by Synyster because of…because of Matt. I felt like he had power over me because he used my name all the time, so I built a defense from it, and changing my name was part of that. Synyster is like, I’m above all that—above all the pain, all the other people who would hurt me, but when I’m with you, I’m not. I’m just Brian. I haven’t been able to be like that, like this, in a long time.”

A few weeks afterwards, Brian had declared that he wanted to visit Matt in the hospital. The band was wary about this, but Brian insisted that he had to. He sounded so desperate, Zacky, for one, couldn’t bear to take it from him. Johnny just frowned slightly, looking up to Rev for a response. The drummer merely sighed and saw the resolve in those amber eyes, knowing that this couldn’t, or wouldn’t be stopped. Brian was finally able to walk without wincing, so of course they agreed, after deliberation. Zacky was worried about it, though. He didn’t want there to be anything that would go wrong, though he knew the confrontation could be potentially messy.

He vaguely knew he couldn’t stop Brian, though. That much he’d learned in the years he’d been associated with him and the weeks they’d spent together.

Regardless, he drove “his Brian,” as he’d taken to calling him, to the mental institution and when they parked, Zacky turned to Brian, eyebrows raised slightly and Brian looked back, cocking his head to the side a bit.

“You sure you’re up to this, Bri?” he asked in a soft voice, and a small smile appeared on the larger guitarist’s face. Their eyes met again, the same intensity between the gazes as there had been beforehand, though the intense sparkling of their gazes kind of interrupted that, or just made it a little more interesting.

“What can he do to me, huh, Z?” he asked in return, brushing his fingers over Zacky’s jaw line with a sweet little smile, leaning in to place a light kiss to his lips. The electricity was still there between them, and it made the both of them smile collectively.

“Just…be careful,” Zacky whispered and Brian kissed his lips once more before moving to open the door to his car, when Zacky grabbed his wrist. “I love you, Brian.”

Brian cocked his head to the side, a soft look coming over his face, a smile pulling widely at his lips as his fingers moved to curl around Zacky’s, pulling them up to his lips, kissing the knuckles lightly.

“I love you too,” he said softly, and with another kiss he dropped the hand, smiling at Zacky before shutting the door. The smaller guitarist uttered a soft sigh as he watched Brian walk toward the entrance, a slight limp to his walk. The surgery had pinched a few nerves that affected his walking, but that was all that went wrong, and for that Zacky was thankful. He didn’t leave the parking lot, turning on some music and pulling out one of the books that Johnny had recommended to him.

Brian, on the other hand, made his way up to the floor Matt was on, smiling at the receptionist who waved him through. They’d already cleared the visit through the hospital, so he just walked right in.

In and out of the elevator, Brian reached his destination, a bitter nervousness rising up in him, like bile in the back of his throat. He kept reminding himself that Zacky loved him, and whatever Matt said otherwise was bullshit. He entered, encountering the same nurses that Val had, in better dispositions this time. He was waved through instantly and was escorted to the room that Matt resided in.

He peeked into the room to find the larger singer turned on his side facing the wall. “Hey, Matt,” came his voice, a lot softer and less strong than he’d wanted it to be, but it got Matt’s attention nonetheless. He turned over in the bed and that same smile came on his face.

“Hey Brian!” he replied cheerily, and the name sent shivers down his spine, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. He smiled back, slipping inside the room and shutting the door behind him. “How have you been? You look okay.”

“Yeah, I’ve been okay,” Brian said, running his hand over the back of his neck. Matt sat up on the edge of the bed and motioned for Brian to do the same. He obliged, mostly because his back was starting to ache faintly.

“I heard you went into surgery,” Matt remarked and Brian chuckled, nodding slightly. “Can I see? The scars I mean.” Brian nodded again, picking himself up off the bed and lifting his black t-shirt, revealing a garish purple incision scar on his lower back. Matt’s hand moved to caress the still-healing incision, brows furrowing slightly as Brian shivered at the rough touch. “Yeowch…What was that?”

“Slipped disk,” Brian replied simply, turning around and pulling the shirt down to show the scar emblazoned on his chest. Matt winced visibly, his hand moving to touch the other scar, concern drawing on his face; he seemed to be doing a little better, Brian thought. He hoped, deep down, that Matt would get better; there was no Avenged Sevenfold without him. “And before you ask, fractured sternum.”

Matt’s lips twisted slightly. He noted that those lips were void of the lip ring; they’d taken it away from him after his third episode when he’d tried to pull it out, shouting something about betrayal.

“I’m sorry…” came a soft voice that Brian barely recognized, and it made his eyebrows shoot up in surprise and he blinked, sitting back down beside the broken man beneath him, his own want of comfort conflicting with what Matt had done to him, and he couldn’t figure out what to do.

“Shhh…” Brian said, his fingers tracing Matt’s jaw line affectionately and Matt smiled a little, leaning in to press a kiss to Brian’s lips. The instant the soft skin touched his, something sparked inside of him. Whether it was resistance or something deeper he couldn’t be sure. That was about the time the world turned over for Brian. A million thoughts rushed through his head and one instinct told him to press in, to give into the man who’d dominated him for years, and the other told him to resist, for Zacky and for his own sanity. The two sides seemed to war for forever, but it was a mere few seconds between the embrace and his decision.

For a moment, he leaned into the kiss, the warm lips on his own feeling alien without the cold sting of the lip ring, and a slight shudder ran through him. This was new; this was different. Brian hadn’t felt this kind of a kiss from Matt…ever. The gentle embrace almost had him convinced.

Almost. He felt Matt press a little harder against his lips and a soft, guttural moan ripped from the larger man. That made Brian’s breath catch in his throat, and it brought his mind crashing down.

That was what brought him back to earth; that moan ripped from Matt was enough to break any fallacies he might have had.

He blinked slightly and pulled away this time. “No, Matt.” His voice was soft but firm. It had a negative effect nonetheless, though. He watched Matt’s eyes darken.

“You’re mine, Brian,” Matt instantly growled and Brian shook his head, surprised at his own reactions to the situation, but deep down he knew it had to go this way if they were ever going to go back to some semblance of normalcy. Those intense hazel eyes narrowed, as if to ask if he’d been challenged. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I’m not yours, Matt,” Brian said, in the same firm voice. “You don’t have any power over me. I don’t belong to you anymore. You’re my friend, Matt, that’ll never change, but I won’t let you do this to me any longer.” He knew he was treading on dangerous ground, but he needed to do this; Matt needed to know where he stood.

“Brian, I’m your onl-“

“No, you’re not, Matt,” Brian interrupted, holding his hand up, stunning Matt into an unwilling silence, eyes widening slightly. “You’re not my only anything. You can’t pull that on me. Zacky loves me. He cares about me. You lied to me. I can forgive you for that, but don’t say you own me. You don’t. You can’t. You have no power. I love you; I’ve always loved you, but I can’t do this anymore.”

Matt looked stunned. Flabbergasted, he stammered for a second, long eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he blinked in confusion, and he could see the silent war within his friend going on behind those glassy eyes as they stared on into his deep, amber ones. Half of him wanted to take back what he’d said, but the more dominant half told him to stick by what he’d said. He couldn’t let Matt beat him again.

“I…own…you,” Matt finally said in a low voice, and Brian’s eyes widened slightly at the tone. It was menacing, dark and commanding, and suddenly the guitarist felt fear. He didn’t back down, though.

“No, you don’t,” he riposted, and he could see the utter fury crossing Matt’s face at being defied. He had to stay strong; he couldn’t give in, not this time. He coolly watched Matt’s quickly reddening face, eyes flashing against the striking color rising in his cheeks. “You can’t own someone, Matt.” His voice was soft, gentle, and it seemed to get to the other man. That, coupled with the strong had that had moved to splay on his back.

He blinked, as if he was awakened from a dream rather quickly. Brian blinked as well; he’d never seen such a transition from fire to ice, but he’d seen it in his friend’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Brian heard again from his friend and he blinked, brows furrowing, concern overcoming his face again. He was too soft, and he knew it, but this was Matt. Matt was…well, he was just him. There was just something enigmatic and charismatic about him that made Brian want to forgive him for everything…but the scars on his body and face served as brazen reminders to what would happen again if he let Matt get to him again.

“Get better for you, for me, for us, okay, Matt?” he said in a soft voice, moving to stand up, pressing a light kiss to the clammy forehead as Matt gave a slight blink, biting his lip slightly and suddenly seeming vulnerable as his hazel eyes searched for Brian’s amber ones.

Their eyes met, and the sadness between the two of them almost made Brian want to cry, but he held it back, shaking his head. Matt’s eyes seemed to be pleading with Brian for something, but he wasn’t sure what it was, nor did he want to know, because no matter what, he knew he couldn’t give it to him.

“I can forgive you, Matt,” he whispered, “someday.” With that, he turned to the door, hearing the sheets rustle behind him and he shut his eyes, knowing Matt had resumed his previous position of being curled on his side. Why did he have to care? He sighed, letting his head fall slightly as he opened and shut the door, looking into the window and seeing his friend more vulnerable than he’d ever seen him, his body in a natural fetal position. He could see his shoulders shaking slightly and he shut his eyes, letting a few simple tears skitter down his face as he walked away.

He walked in and out of the elevator, looking down the whole way, a thousand thoughts making their existence known in his mind. He’d just walked away from Matt, and he knew that he’d just broken any power the larger singer had over him, and for that he was elated. There was just something about the way Matt had reacted that made his heart tug in the wrong place and start to hurt. No matter what Matt had done to him, he still cared very deeply for him. He just wished it didn’t have to be this way.

Syn didn’t know what to do now, and his mind was racing with a million thoughts as he walked toward the exit. What would he tell Zacky, if anything? He knew his…whatever he was, would ask about how it went. He’d ask what Matt did, how he reacted, if he was getting better. What would he say? How would Zacky react? Would he get jealous, like those eyes of his denoted? Would he get angry? Would he understand? An uneasy feeling settled itself in his stomach as he exited the mental institution. He felt as if something was going to go very, very wrong and he couldn’t shake the feeling.

He wrapped his arms around his midsection, toying with the seams of his t-shirt idly as he leaned against the wall, scanning the parking lot blindly; he wasn’t even looking for the few moments that he lingered there. He bit his lip, feeling the scar tissue’s texture difference as he ran his tongue over it. It was smoother than the rest of his lip, and he knew it was an ugly purplish color that stood out garishly against the soft pink of his lips.

Since the brawl, he’d been barely able to look himself in the mirror, meeting those eyes that still held that defiant light, but it was very easily dwindling. Why was that? The passion in his eyes was always his defense, his show that he was free from whatever oppression he found himself in. Every touch to his guitar lingered in his eyes, the defiant and blazing look there an enigma to many. Lately, though, it seemed they had fallen to the almost-dull brown that he saw when he looked into them.

He didn’t like it one bit.

He also couldn’t stand the scars that marred the tan flesh that used to be flawless on his face and body. He’d spend hours just fingering the scars, wishing the purple would fade so that he’d at least have a white-hot reminder instead of a weird purple scar that just lingered there. Normally he liked the color purple a lot, but the shade in which his scars were taking on just made his stomach uncomfortable, flutters of anxiety rising up every time he was forced to look in the mirror.

Syn scanned the parking lot, to somehow get rid of the sudden leaden feeling in his stomach from seeing Matt’s eyes so sad and empty, and his eyes rested on Zacky’s car. Grinning a little, he crept up on the driver’s side of the car, biting his lip as he rapped smartly on the window, startling the man inside. He earned a green-eyed glare when Zacky calmed himself and Syn grinned widely and tilted his head, watching the smaller man open the car door and get out.

“You’re an ass!” Syn heard Zacky exclaim and he stuck his tongue out at the smaller guitarist as he got another green-eyed glare. He grinned widely. Zacky huffed and leaned against the car door, slamming it shut with his body weight.

“Oh, come here, you,” Syn muttered, moving forward and wrapping his arms around Zacky’s neck, breathing out harshly as the smaller man finally moved to wrap his own arms around his waist. “I love you. You know that.”

“Yeah, but you’re still an ass,” Zacky mumbled though he’d buried his face in Syn’s chest with a low sigh. Syn chuckled lightly, smirking faintly as he leaned down to press his lips to Zacky’s hair, inhaling it, and the smirk faded to a content smile. “So what happened in there?”

Syn’s eyebrows rose slightly and he licked over his lips, shutting his eyes for a second before breathing, “I think he’s getting a little better,” in a soft voice. Zacky nodded against his chest, looking up with bright green eyes glittering with curiosity.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said softly and Syn looked down at him, his unstyled hair falling in his cocoa brown eyes, darkened with a slight confusion. His eyebrows lifted slightly and he sighed.

“He—we talked for a little bit and then he, uh, he kissed me,” Syn confessed, and it was Zacky’s turn to have his brows furrowed in confusion. His eyes narrowed and Syn’s brows rose again. “What?”

“He kissed you?” Zacky asked, looking up at Syn with his head slightly tilted and Syn nodded; it wasn’t really that much of a surprise. In fact, he’d kind of gone into the place thinking that Matt would pull something like that, just to be completely prepared, but Zacky didn’t seem to understand that.

“Yeah,” Syn responded, brows knitting together in confusion at Zacky’s indignant reaction. To him, it was no big surprise, and he wasn’t sure what his lover was expecting out of the visit. Maybe a black eye?

Well, Zacky wouldn’t stand to even let it get that bad; he had to put his foot down, or so he felt. “I’m not going to let you go see him again,” he said in a flat tone and Syn’s head declined slightly, moving back in a gesture of surprise, his right eyebrow rising a little in question.

“Excuse me?” he asked. The words hit Syn hard, making his stomach twist uncomfortably; he didn’t like the way that Zacky had said that. It wasn’t “I don’t want you to,” it was “I won’t let you.” There was that control again, and Syn balked at it.

“You heard me,” Zacky replied with a nod. Syn poked his tongue through his lips to moisten them, brows furrowing again. “I don’t want you going to see him anymore.”

“Zacky, he’s our friend,” Syn protested and Zacky’s eyebrows rose this time, an incredulous look overcoming his face, as if he couldn’t believe Syn had just said that to him.

“After—after what he did to you?!” he almost shouted, letting go of his lover and throwing his hands out into the air. Syn let go as well, running his hands through his hair as he took in Zacky’s reaction. “You—you’re willing to forgive him for fucking up your entire life?”

“My life isn’t fucked up, Zacky,” Syn protested, his hand resting on his forehead, his thumb and index finger pressing into his temples, massaging them with a slight sigh. An unmistakable anger overcame him as he watched his seething lover in front of him. “I’m happy, right now, aside from the fact that you’re yelling in my face!” His tone had risen considerably and his arms threw themselves out in exasperation, his brows furrowing slightly as his eyes darkened.

Zacky looked him over, eyebrows rising a little more as he took in the exasperated stance of his best friend. “Look, I just don’t want you getting hurt,” he explained.

By now, Syn’s mind had mulled over the whole control thing and he decided he wouldn’t stand for it. “Don’t fucking try and control me, Zacky,” he said dangerously, and if it were possible, the smaller man’s eyebrows rose more.

“I—I’m not trying to control you, Brian!” Zacky protested and Syn’s breath hitched, his face falling instantly as he looked away from the smaller man, running his hands through his hair as he turned away.

His thoughts were racing again, remembering all the times Matt would smile at him and say that he was his, playfully. He remembered each time Matt had told him not to do something, such as fight with Zacky, and he’d followed. He supposed this outburst could be considered lashing out at both Zacky and Matt for trying to control him like that—even though, deep down he knew it was preposterous and insane to be thinking Zacky could do such a thing, but like he had said, Matt had fucked him up.

“Bri…”Just the thought made him shift uncomfortably as he heard his name grate on his nerves. That made something in his mind snap.

“Don’t,” came the cold reply, eyes snapping up with fire glittering in them. “Just fucking don’t. You’re just as bad as him.” He heard a gasp from his friend and he could have broken down right there and taken it back, but some part of him didn’t, wouldn’t.

He knew he didn’t mean it deep down, and he couldn’t bring himself to look up to see the crestfallen look on Zacky’s face. He still heard a slight sob as he heard the car door slam. He shut his eyes as he heard the engine start, his stomach twisting as he heard the tires squealing as he pealed out of the parking lot, leaving him alone.

That was what he wanted, right? That was safest.

“Way to fucking go, Haner,” Syn chided himself, running his hand through his hair as he watched the car leave the parking lot, finally getting the courage to look up after he’d sped away. He was now alone, and he didn’t think it was the best thing anymore; in fact, it made him feel very uneasy as he wrapped his arms around himself, his shoulders shifting slightly as he shivered, suddenly feeling cold in the mid eighties heat.

He didn’t know what else to do. He leaned against the fence that surrounded the hospital, fighting back tears as he cursed himself for opening his mouth like that. He sighed to himself, shaking his head. He reached down and pulled his Sidekick out of his jeans, tilting his head a bit as his eyes scanned it. He sighed and dialed Rev’s number, since it was the first on his mind.

“’Sup, Syn?” Rev asked the instant he heard the rings cut off, and he cocked his head to the side a little, a small smile forcing its way onto his face despite it all. Rev had always been and would always be his closest friend and confidant.

“Hey,” he replied simply, leaning his head against the fence as he glanced up at the sky through his purple-tinted sunglasses, searching for something that definitely wasn’t up there.

“What’s up?” came his best friend’s voice again and Syn sighed, pushed his hair off his forehead. What was up? He felt like a complete and total ass for what he’d said to Zacky and he sighed again.

“I need you to come get me,” he finally said, and he could only imagine the look of confusion crossing Rev’s face as he gave the quizzical look, and that was exactly what he was doing, holding the phone away from him slightly as his brows furrowed, then let go for a one-eyebrow expression.

“First, where are you, and second, where’s—“ Rev asked, but a telltale slam of the tour bus was more than enough of an answer for him. He licked over his lips. “Hang on just a second, man.” He put the phone down, after hearing Syn’s affirmation, and he walked into Zacky’s bunk to see him curled up, sobbing slightly. “Zack-attack, what’s up? What happened?” he asked, sliding to sit beside the rhythm guitarist. He turned around and laid his head in Rev’s lap.

“He-he said I was just like Matt,” Zacky choked out, and Rev’s eyebrows rose as his thin, spidery fingers tangled lightly in his friend’s hair. “He said I was trying to control him or something. I wasn’t! I-I was just looking out for him…”

“What’d you say to him, Z?” Rev asked soothingly, continuing to rake his hands through his friend’s hair. He looked up at him, wide green eyes watery from tears, colliding with a slate blue.

“I said I wasn’t gonna let him go see Matt again,” he responded and Rev’s head tilted slightly, a sigh escaping him. Well, that was the problem right there; since the new revelations, Rev felt like he understood Syn more than he ever had, though he was waiting for his best friend to just talk to him about it freely, but that would come in time, he knew.

“Listen to how that sounds, Z,” Rev said. “You weren’t going to LET him. You understand that conveys control, right?” Zacky looked confused for a moment. Rev exhaled a little. “He’s very sensitive about control and I can totally understand why. From what I can tell, Matt had him on tender hooks ever since high school, like a marionette or something. I can understand how he’d balk at you trying to do the same.”

Zacky frowned and sighed; he hadn’t thought about that at all. “I probably should have said ‘I don’t want you to’ instead, huh?” he asked, and Rev nodded slightly. “Too late now.”

“Look, I’m gonna go get him, and when I get back, I want you two to talk, all right?” Rev asked, slipping out from Zacky, and he looked up, eyes widening slightly.

“Fuck…I left him there,” he said sadly, looking away as he bit his left lip ring and began to tug on it. “Zero for two, Z, way to fucking go.” He heard Rev sigh above him.

“Stop…I’ll be right back,” he proclaimed, walking back over to his phone and picking it up. “You still there, Syn?”

“Where the hell else would I be?” Syn asked flatly. He’d just been staring at the sky, listening to the muffled conversation but being unable to make anything out except for Zacky’s voice, which sounded upset, and Rev’s soothing voice.

“All right, you’re at the institution, right?” Rev asked, grabbing his keys and his wallet. He heard a sound of consent as Syn nodded a little, an exhalation audible over the phone. “Okay, I’ll be there in just a minute, all right?”

“Yeah, sure,” Syn said and he heard another exasperated sigh from his best friend before he said goodbye and hung up. “Why do I push everyone away?” he whispered as he slipped the phone back into his jeans, putting his hands into the expanses as well. He moved his hands out of his pockets and rubbed at his face, pushing his sunglasses off and up into his hair as he rubbed at his eyes, shaking his head a little.

He heard a car come into the parking lot and he didn’t look up from his hands until he felt his best friend’s hand pressing on his shoulder and he leaned in, his hands falling from his face as his face pressed to Rev’s chest.

“I’m a mess,” he muttered softly, and he felt Rev wrap his arms around him, and he moved to do the same. He felt those thin hands rubbing at his back and suddenly he fought back tears.

“You’re no more of a mess than you should be, Syn,” Rev said quietly, his other hand moving to stroke the hair that had faded from the black to his soft, natural brown that brought out his eyes. Syn sighed, looking upward into the face of his best friend.

“How the fuck can you put up with me?” Syn asked, his eyes glistening a little from unshed tears, and Rev smirked down at him, cocking his head to the side slightly as he pushed a lock of hair from Syn’s face.

“I’m pretty much the only one who can,” he responded smartly, and Syn’s face twisted slightly. See, that was the Rev he knew and loved, but it seemed he’d been repressing it for a while.

“Fuck you, man,” he retorted, and Rev smirked a little wider, but then dropped the expression for a softer one, running his fingers through his friend’s hair, watching his eyes as he pleaded for an answer.

“Because you’re my best friend, man; you’ve always been there for me,” Rev responded, and Syn smiled a little. “You were there for my first hangover, man. Remember our first trip?” They both laughed at that.

“That’s where you got your image of being the spaz attack from,” he replied and Rev nodded slightly, throwing his head back with laughter. “But you are so not a spaz, unless you’re around me.” Syn grinned proudly and Rev rolled his eyes playfully and they broke away from each other.

“Man, we’ve done everything together, what makes you think I’m gonna back out when I know you need me most, huh?” Rev asked, his eyebrows rising and Syn’s brows furrowed.

“Aw, man, you’re gonna make me cry,” the larger man muttered, his head falling slightly, but Rev caught his chin, pulling his face up to look at him, shaking his head as a soft smile graced his features.

“I’m not going anywhere, Brian, and neither is Zacky, so you better get used to it, because I know that’s what you’re trying to do, and it’s not gonna work; we’re here for you, for life, and there’s nothing you can do about it,” Rev rambled, and Syn shut his eyes, letting a few tears slip down his face as he pressed it to Rev’s chest one more time.

“Thank you,” he said barely above a whisper and Rev smiled, hugging him tighter, stroking his hair soothingly as he pressed his lips to it.

“It’s what I’m here for,” he whispered back and he felt the arms tighten around him, and he chuckled, hearing a half-choked chuckle come from the best friend in his arms. “I hate seeing you like this, Bri.”

“I hate being like this, Jimmy,” he replied softly and honestly, pulling away, tears making trails down his face, which Rev’s hand quickly moved up and brushed away. Syn leaned into the touch slightly, and Rev cupped his cheek with his palm, pushing any renegade tears away with his thumb.

“Zacky feels really bad about what happened,” Rev muttered and Syn shut his eyes, swallowing hard. He nodded a little bit, opening his eyes again, showing the glittery amber color of their true nature. With the tears coating them, the irises almost looked like jewels as well.

“So do I,” he admitted. His hands had moved to rest on Rev’s hips in a completely platonic gesture and the taller man had placed the hand not on Syn’s face on his shoulder. “I should talk to him, huh?” Rev nodded, his eyebrows rising slightly. “Even though he’s the one that left me.”

“Did you want it to get to a full-scale fight?” Rev asked. Syn shook his head, his lips curling into a slight frown as he looked to the ground for a moment, pressing his lips together, feeling the scar tissue against his skin and he shuddered.

“I guess it was my fault, huh?” Syn asked, looking back up at him. Rev sighed a little and brushed a few remaining strands of hair off his friend’s face, shaking his head slightly.

“It was both of you, so don’t try taking ALL the blame, all right, Brian?” he asked, pressing again with his friend’s real name and all he got was a smile, no reprimand, and no glare. It made him feel good that he could call him by his name again without getting his head bitten off at it.

“All right, fine,” he said with a slightly fake pout and Rev chuckled, shaking his head and ruffling the hair of his best friend, earning a disgruntled sound and they both burst into laughter as they walked toward the car.

Meanwhile, Zacky was worrying on his lip ring, thinking over the conversation and beating himself up over it when he felt the weight shift on his bunk and he glanced over to see Johnny sitting there, his head tilted slightly.

“You okay, Zack?” Johnny asked, knowing it was a stupid question, but was still surprised when he saw Zacky shake his head deftly, looking over at him with wide, green eyes swimming with tears, both shed and unshed. Maybe he just didn’t expect Zacky to admit that there was something wrong.

“Syn said I-I was just like Matt,” he said in a soft whisper and Johnny’s brows rose then furrowed, his lips twisting into a frown, cocking his head to the side as he tried to figure that out.

“Well, you’re not,” Johnny finally concluded with a nod, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Zacky smiled a little and reached up to ruffle the bassist’s hair, earning him a low whine and a shake of the head.

“I-I guess I was trying to control him,” he admitted with a slight frown, thinking over what Rev had said. “I should have just said I didn’t want him to go see Matt again, not that I wouldn’t let him.”

Johnny nodded a little. “Probably, but it’s all said and done now, so it’s time to just make up and get it done and over with,” he concluded and Zacky laughed slightly at the sure tone of the bassist’s voice and the nod of his head. “Don’t dwell on it, tell him you’re sorry and make up. It’s not that hard.” Johnny shrugged slightly and grinned at Zacky, who gave him a wry smile in return.

“God, you have a weird way of solving problems, man,” Zacky commented and Johnny laughed a little, tilting his head and nodding, his lips twisting ever so slightly as he pretended to think.

“I’ve got a weird way of everything—and it’s Christ,” he finally quipped after a moment and the two smaller friends smiled at each other as they heard the door to the tour bus open to admit two of the larger friends, and for a second, all their gazes were connected, and Syn looked into Zacky’s eyes. The electricity was still there and it still held them together, sending shivers down their spines as the contact held. They smiled at each other as Johnny jumped up and moved into Rev’s arms, nuzzling into his chest.

They both glanced at Rev and Johnny and Syn got a small smile on hi s face, winking at Rev when their eyes met and he walked over to Zacky, wrapping his arms around him without another word. Somewhat surprised, Zacky wrapped his own arms around Syn, pressing their bodies close.

“I’m sorry, Zacky,” Syn whispered softly into his lover’s ear and Zacky smiled a little, nuzzling the side of his head affectionately, the tears already drying on his face as he felt the warm wall of muscles pressed against his body.

“It’s okay,” he muttered back, pressing his lips to Syn’s neck, making him shiver slightly from the cold of the lip rings against him. “I understand. I should have thought about what I was saying before I said it. I just…I don’t want him hurting you anymore. You understand that, right?”

Syn nodded slightly, swallowing hard as he held Zacky tighter. “I love you, Zacky,” he whispered. “He won’t hurt me anymore. He can’t. I have you. He has no power over me anymore.”

“I love you too.” Those were Zacky’s only words back to the proclamation that Matt had no power over Syn, though the content smile that crept onto his face more than said how he felt.

Zacky smiled wider at the words as they played in his mind again and leaned in, their lips barely brushing the other’s. Syn shivered slightly at the contact of the metal to his flesh and pressed their lips together hard for just a moment before pulling back a little to feather soft kisses against those full lips in front of him. Zacky tried to kiss him back fully, but Syn kept pulling away at every attempt.

“I love you,” Syn muttered very softly again, against the flesh and Zacky’s lips upturned into a smile, tilting his head up to brush their lips together again.

“I love you too, Brian,” he whispered, and the name sent a shudder through Syn but he did nothing but grin, their lips touching and parting once more before Syn wrapped his arms tightly around Zacky, all but pulling him into his lap. “Mmm, your lap’s comfortable,” he said softly, nuzzling his face into the crook of Syn’s neck.

“I’m glad you think so,” Syn mumbled back, leaning his face to nuzzle his cheek against Zacky’s head, a fully happy and content smile playing on his face for once in a very long time.

“Oh, yes, I definitely think so; in fact, I might just stay here,” Zacky whispered back with a slight grin to his face as he pressed his lips to Syn’s neck, and he gasped, feeling the cold sting of the metal on his warm flesh. Zacky giggled softly and continued to place gentle, metal-ridden kisses to his neck, shifting his head slightly to just let the metal brush against his skin.

“God, you’re such a brat,” Syn breathed with a shiver, turning his body a little to nuzzle Zacky’s neck, placing feather-light kisses on it for a moment or two, hearing Zacky’s breath catch beneath his ministrations. He grinned a little at this and continued, pressing soft kisses all the way up his neck, on his Adam’s apple, his chin and finally reaching his lips. He placed another teasing kiss to the slightly swollen lips before pulling away again.

“You love me,” Zacky finally got out as their lips lingered centimeters apart and he watched Syn’s face turn into a small smirk and he nodded, their lips brushing together as he did so.

“Yes, yes I do,” he replied breathlessly, brushing their lips together again and Zacky let out a soft moan of longing, pushing forward again and Syn pulled back, a smirk on his face.

“Fuck, Bri, just kiss me, please,” the smaller guitarist moaned softly and Syn shivered, smiling a little before pressing their lips together again finally, his hand running up Zacky’s spine to grasp at the back of his neck, their heads tilting in unison as the kiss deepened, a soft moan escaping from one of the two of them; it was unclear as to who it actually escaped.

Rev wrapped his arms tightly around Johnny and smiled at the affectionate and quickly turning sensual exchange between two of his best friends. The bassist turned in his arms and leaned against the taller body mass, his head tilting upward to look into bright blue eyes looking down at him with a content expression. His arms wrapped around the taller man’s waist and he grinned up at him.

“We should leave them to make up,” Johnny said with a nod of finality and Rev nodded a little in return, nowhere near as dramatic as the bassist’s movement against his chest. They smiled at each other and Rev tossed a slight smirk at the two of them. Zacky had moved off Syn’s lap to straddle him and they’d fallen back on Syn’s bunk, still kissing feverishly, their hands splayed against each other’s bodies. He chuckled darkly before taking the bassist’s hand and beginning to lead him to another part of the bus.

“All right,” he said over his shoulder, flashing a slight grin over his shoulder before glancing in front of him again, his fingers lacing easily with the smaller man’s, and he squeezed it gently.

“Where are you taking me?” Johnny quipped playfully and Rev just shot him a grin over his shoulder, holding tighter to the hand in his.

“Away,” Rev said devilishly, showing off a slightly more devious side to himself, and to this Johnny grinned a little, dropping the subject, seeing as the drummer obviously had something in mind.

When they reached Rev’s bunk, Johnny flopped down on the bed and Rev slid in beside him. Johnny cocked his head at Rev and the drummer just smiled back before leaning in and pressing a kiss to Johnny’s lips. Johnny made a small noise in the back of his throat and shifted his body so that it was flush against the drummer’s. The bassist felt Rev wrap his thin arms tightly around his waist and he smiled into the kiss, pressing harder against him until they were horizontal, Rev pressing Johnny into the bed for the moment.

After a minute, Johnny broke away, breathing heavily. “One hell of a first kiss,” he gasped. Rev laughed breathlessly against his lips.

“I thought so; I’ve been wanting to do that for a while, but everything’s been so crazy--,” the drummer muttered in return, and he felt the bassist’s lips curl upward into a grin as their lips pressed together again. He nudged their noses together and Johnny laughed softly and pressed their mouths together again.

Rev’s tongue slid out to touch Johnny’s lips, wanting to taste him; the bassist moaned softly and his lips parted a little, allowing the taller man to take control, exploring the heated cavern, noting that it tasted faintly like bubblegum. He grinned a little into the kiss and moved to massage his tongue with Johnny’s. That seemed to bring him to life again and he pressed back, their tongues tangling sensuously, almost lazily in the slow way they were touching each other.

Rev’s hands slid up Johnny’s sides, lithe fingers brushing the skin barely beneath the shirt, and Johnny had gripped onto the taller man’s hips for the moment, their bodies pressed together against the bed. Johnny thumbed Rev’s hips and his back arched beneath him, a soft gasp eliciting from the movement.

Johnny grinned a little and moved to push Rev onto his back, straddling him, and the drummer shifted his hips upward in response to this, a soft moan dropping from his lips as his head tilted back, the kiss broken by this time. Johnny ground his smaller hips into Rev’s lean ones and they both moaned softly.

“Fuck, Johnny,” Rev moaned softly, his hips rocking upward against Johnny’s body, making a soft sound come from the smaller man atop him. Their moans were swallowed by another passionate kiss, and they felt the time stop that Syn and Zacky had experienced as their lips pressed wetly to each other’s.

Rev’s hands moved to Johnny’s hips, gripping them lightly and he heard another soft moan come from the smaller man as their hips ground together, their newly formed erections brushing lightly behind the fabric.

“I want you,” Johnny breathed against the taller man’s lips, and it earned him a low moan from deep in his chest as their hips moved together again. He watched Rev bite his lip lightly as their bodies brushed again. “Fuck it,” he muttered, his hands moving from Rev’s body to his own jeans, unbuttoning them.

Rev laughed huskily and did the same, and they shifted so that they were both able to pull the articles of clothing off, and discard them near the edge of the bunk. At the first touch of their naked bodies to each other’s, they moaned, Johnny’s a little higher and Rev’s a little rougher, but they weren’t much different in caliber. They were both wanton and aching.

They were both breathing heavily in anticipation as they resumed their previous position, and Johnny groaned softly as he felt Rev’s erection brush his and then move back to press against the cleft of his ass as his hips shifted.

“I need you,” Johnny changed the wording of his request as he felt Rev’s hips shift again, the head of his arousal brushing the sensitive flesh of his entrance and his jaw dropped slightly. Rev licked over his lips, which were suddenly dry as his hips shifted upward again.

“Oh God,” the taller man moaned, his hips moving upward again slowly as he gripped Johnny’s thinner hips. Johnny bit his lip, not thinking of any retort to that, considering his brain wasn’t exactly working in the way of humor at the moment.

“Do you have--you know,” Johnny stammered out and in the heat of the moment, Rev just nodded a little, leaning over slightly to reach into his travel bag, pulling out a sleek, silver tube of lubricant and a condom that he’d ripped off a longer strain of the packages. Johnny raised an eyebrow slightly. “Someone’s prepared.”

“I don’t do this often, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Rev breathed as he shifted back to his previous position, and Johnny chuckled softly, leaning down to press their lips together again.

“I didn’t say that, did I?” Johnny replied against his lips, nipping at the bottom lip lightly, making Rev’s back arch beneath him and a soft moan escape the lips, the warm breath spreading on his face as he did so. The smaller man’s hips shifted and they moaned in unison, Rev’s hips moving upward to meet the smaller pair against him. “Fuck me,” he muttered against his lips, and Rev swallowed hard before nodding a little.

His hand moved down; it was busy coating two of his thin fingers on the other hand in lubricant before he shifted his hips, his middle finger testing the entrance. He heard Johnny gasp atop him and grasp his shoulders. He took that as his cue to press inward, feeling Johnny’s hips buck downward onto his hand.

“God, more,” Johnny moaned, his back arching slightly as his hips shifted downward still. Rev kissed his side and pressed further in, feeling Johnny’s body contract around him for a moment before relaxing. “Please,” he heard Johnny whimper, and he slid the second finger in next to the first, earning him a rather loud moan from the smaller man atop him.

He moved his fingers around for a moment or two, stopping when he heard a low cry from Johnny, glancing up to his face to see it contorted into a look of pure pleasure. He grinned, brushing the same spot again, watching and feeling the way Johnny writhed under his touch, although by all standards he was on top of him.

“Please, just fuck me,” Johnny whimpered, his hips rocking downward against his hand and Rev sighed a little, slipping his hand away from his entrance. Johnny whimpered again at the loss of contact, but Rev slipped on the condom on in record time, slathering it with lubricant before pressing the head of his arousal to his entrance. Johnny moaned at the heat enveloping him just at that simple touch.

The smaller man pressed his hips down on his member, moaning a little as he felt Rev slip into him, while Rev groaned, his hips trying not to buck upward as Johnny slid down onto him, enveloping him completely. They sat like that for a moment, adjusting to the new change, Johnny uttering soft whimpers as his body adjusted to the new intrusion. Johnny nodded a little and Rev pressed his hips upward, causing the smaller man to contract around him slightly and groan, throwing his head back.

“Oh fuck,” Rev moaned thickly as his hips began to move in time with Johnny’s, thrusting upward into him, watching as the smaller man’s face contorted, his jaw dropping a little as he let out a rather loud groan.

The wet sound of skin on skin filled the bunk along with their soft cries of passion as the movements became more heated, less scripted and more abandoned. Johnny made sure to stay low over Rev, their lips connected as their bodies moved in time with each other’s.

Johnny moaned out particularly loud against his lips when Rev struck his prostate, his hips bucking downward again as Rev angled his thrust to hit it again, succeeding when he heard a soft cry from the man atop him.

“Oh, God,” Johnny panted between moans as he felt Rev’s lithe fingers wrap around his neglected erection, stroking it in time with his thrusts, making the smaller man go absolutely wild atop him, his head tossing back a little, barely grazing the ceiling of the bunk. “I--,“ Johnny started, but it was swallowed by a loud cry as his orgasm crept up on him, spreading warmth to every limb as his back arched. Rev felt Johnny contract around him as the orgasm rode itself out and he moaned, his head falling back a little.

Rev managed an incoherent curse as he continued to buck his hips upward into the smaller man, who was now leaning over him, whimpering slightly as the overly sensitive tissue was being barraged into all over again. A few more thrusts and Rev’s back curved gracefully off the bed, filling the condom and Johnny moaned softly at the last upward thrust.

They lay there gasping for breath after a moment, soft moans escaping them, breaking their passageway of breathing as Johnny pulled himself off Rev, both making slight noises of discontent as they disengaged from each other. Rev picked himself up off the bed, walking to the bathroom to dispose of the used article, slipping back into the bunk, lying down again. Johnny moved to lie on the taller man’s chest, curling up next to him.

“Mmm, you’re amazing,” the bassist muttered and Rev smiled down at him, the expression spreading on his face as he moved his fingers up to run them through Johnny’s short locks.

“So are you,” he said softly, leaning down to press another kiss to the bassist’s lips, who quickly and easily accepted the gesture, pressing back willingly as the innocent, closed-mouth kiss lasted a moment. “I love you,” he murmured against Johnny’s lips, where he felt a smile form.

“I love you too,” was the whispered reply from the bassist before the kiss became a little more than chaste all over again. In that moment, things felt right, despite all that had happened to their band. Things would right themselves, some way, or so Johnny felt.

Zacky had fallen asleep on Syn after their exertions; his head was nestled right between his neck and his shoulder, his breathing heavy and even against the taller guitarist and a small, affectionate smile played across thin lips as he looked down on him, fingers moving up to push hair off the smaller man’s forehead. He felt Zacky stir and the smile only grew as he shut his eyes, letting his head fall back on the bunk pillow, his arm wrapping a little tighter around Zacky with a content sigh as he felt the other nuzzle deeper into his neck.

The scene in Rev’s bunk wasn’t much different, except for the fact that Johnny moved a lot in his sleep, so Rev wasn’t nearly as peaceful as Syn was, but the same smile reflected on his face as he lie there with the bassist beside him, no matter how many times he kicked him in the side. The drummer was just laughing about it silently, though he envied the peace Syn was enjoying, no doubt. The poor fucker deserved it, the drummer rationalized.

Rev could hear slight whimpering coming from Johnny and looked over, watching him nuzzle further into his chest, just generally being cute in his sleep. Syn was pretty much thinking the same thing as he looked down at the rhythm guitarist with a slight grin.

After a while and Johnny actually getting situated, the four of them ended up falling asleep. Syn’s was lighter than the rest of their slumbers, though, and it always had been. That was why he was the first to awaken when he heard Val’s cell phone go off in another part of the bus. He started awake, sitting straight up and Zacky groaned, flopping down behind him, his body curling slightly.

“What?” the rhythm guitarist asked sleepily and the question was answered for him as he heard Val burst into hysterical tears; she was always very emotionally fragile when she first woke up.

“Oh shit,” Syn mumbled, rubbing sleep out of his eyes despite the fact that he was more than fully awake. He ran a hand through his haphazard brown hair, blinking as he stood up, pulling on a pair of pants and walking to the other part of the bus, only to have an emotionally distraught blonde crumple on top of him. “Val…what’s wrong?”

“M-Matt…he-he,” Val tried to articulate through the sobs that were racking her small body, but it wasn’t working very well. She was clutching onto the phone for dear life, her head on Syn’s chest, sobbing her heart out.

“Okay, Val, talk to me, please,” Syn pleaded with her, and after a few moments, she was able to catch her breath, her eyes still watering fiercely.

“We…need to go to the institution,” she explained rather coolly and Syn’s eyebrow arched slightly as she shifted off him, wiping angrily at her eyes. “Matt…there’s something we need to see…or something. They just said there was an accident and Matt’s gone. I-I don’t know what they mean. Come with me, Brian? Please? I can’t do this alone.” Her voice was imploring, as were her wide, hazel eyes.

“O-of course,” Syn said, running a hand through his hair again as he straightened up, pulling himself to his full height, feeling more than slightly uneasy himself. “Now?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Bring the rest of the band, if they want to come…” She nodded slightly as she walked into the bathroom.

“All right.”

Syn sighed and turned to walk back into the other room, where Zacky was looking at him with a curious expression, much more awake now. The lead guitarist sat beside his lover, leaning over on him for a second.

“Val wants us to go to the institution with her; it’s got something to do with Matt,” he explained, and he felt Zacky nod. “I’m not sure what’s up, but we all know Val doesn’t cry like that for no reason.”

There was a murmur of consent, considering the rest of the band had woken up. The four of them got dressed and were ready to go by the time Val came out of the bathroom, and she instantly latched onto Syn, her hand joining with the one that Zacky wasn’t currently grasping.

He found it amusing that he was the one that was being leant on for support when he was probably the least emotionally stable one there…but he knew how to deflect his thoughts until he was alone.

The ride there was quiet, all nervously piled into a cab. Zacky had claimed Syn’s lap and was sitting there, watching the scenery go by and worrying on his lip ring. Syn was trying to possibly fathom why the institution would call them at ten o’clock at night. No one really said anything even as they all got out of the cab, walking into the place, which looked fit to be closed down for the night, even though there was a stagnant ambulance sitting outside.

It must have been something really important.

That was the thought on every one of their minds as they made their way to the wing of the hospital that Matt was in, only to be stopped by a solemn looking doctor as well as a few EMT’s milling around.

“What’s going on?” Val asked in a rather shrill voice and the doctor barely batted an eyelash.

“Accident,” he replied simply, but that wasn’t enough for Val. She stood up straight, dropping Syn’s hand, and faced the taller doctor with a fire in her eyes that wouldn’t be put out by the tears.

“We were called here,” she retorted, and the doctor’s brows furrowed as he looked down to his clipboard with a slight sigh.

“You must be Valary DiBenedetto,” he said, and the fire was instantly gone from the blonde’s eyes. “Yes, you were called here. There’s been an…accident. Mr. Sanders…” He ran a hand through his hair almost nervously as the other four were noticed. “Who are they?”

“Family,” Val replied stubbornly, stepping up a little closer to the doctor. “I know there’s been an accident. Why did they say my Matt’s gone? Where is he, doctor? Where is my Mattie?”

“He committed suicide, Ms. DiBenedetto,” the doctor replied as though it was a normal, everyday occurrence, and the four men watched Val crumble to the ground in a sobbing heap. Johnny gasped and blinked, and Rev’s brows furrowed. Zacky put his hand over his mouth to cover his jaw hanging slack. Syn felt a surge of irritation go through him as he knelt beside her, wrapping his arms around her and she turned into him, grasping onto his shirt for dear life. Syn glared up at the doctor.

“Jesus Christ. Have you no tact, no sensitivity?” he asked, his brows furrowing slightly; anger was lashing out instead of the inevitable melancholy and utter sense of being lost that seemed to be building in the pit of his stomach. “Or do you get off on telling people their loved ones just died?”

The doctor looked taken aback by the sudden outburst. Zacky knelt beside the two of them, his hands on Syn’s shoulders and the lead guitarist looked back with a slight half-smile to him. Rev and Johnny, it seemed, were in shock. Johnny was leaning back against Rev, who was clinging onto him for dear life.

“How’d he do it?” came Val’s meek voice as she looked up at the doctor, who looked thankful not to be attacked again. He frowned deeply, and it seemed he was trying to be a bit more…evasive about it.

“He overdosed,” he replied, failing again to be tactful, and Val’s brows furrowed, and her head tilted, a hiccup escaping her as she tried to regain her composure with shaky, sharp inhalations of breath. “It seems he hadn’t been taking his medication for quite some time and just took them all about five hours ago.” Syn frowned slightly; that sounded like something Matt would do, for sure. It would also explain some things, such as why Matt wasn’t getting any better. He’d just given up. He felt tears sting at the corner of his eyes and sighed a little, feeling Val start to shake in his arms.

“Shhhh,” Syn said softly into her ear, cradling her and feeling Zacky’s arms around the both of them for a moment. “Where is he…?”

“They haven’t taken him away quite yet...” the doctor said with a frown, waving over toward the door that most of them had become quite familiar with. Syn picked Val up off the ground after a moment, steadying her with his own body weight as they made their way over, seeing him laying on the bed as though asleep, his hands crossed over his chest, his eyes shut, thankfully. The EMT’s were trying to pry a neatly folded letter from his fingers.

The four men sighed and looked away, Syn leading Val away from the scene. She’d started to cry again, burrowing her face in the guitarist’s chest. One of the EMT’s handed Rev the letter once they pried it from Matt’s grasp and read it over, making sure there was nothing relevant to their cause as they put him on a stretcher, placing a sheet over his body.

“Uh…” Rev said, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he held the document, labeled ‘To all the ones I loved’ in Matt’s writing, in a somewhat smeared pencil.

“Let’s get Val out of here first?” Syn suggested with a slight tilt of his head, eyeing the letter with faintly raised eyebrows. The rest of them nodded, and Syn began to talk to the EMT’s, arranging for him to call them about the funeral. Funeral…the word was so ultimate, so creepy, so deafeningly final. He had let Zacky take Val from him while he did this, and they were waiting by the elevator once he finished, sighing a little as they entered the moving box, exiting soon after and waiting on a cab.

One finally came, and the ride home was just as quiet as the ride there, except the fact that it was a sorrowful silence and not a nervous one. Syn had Val in his lap this time, holding her as she sniffled faintly. Rev still clutched the letter with intermittent sighs escaping him. Johnny was, seemingly, still in shock as he leaned against Rev, blinking once in a while to fight back tears. Zacky was sitting in the front seat with the driver, a frown on his face. The boys were just waiting for it all to hit them. Syn, for one, was feeling rather numb, but he knew the minute Val left his company, he’d be a disaster…but for now he had to be strong for her. She was always so strong for them.

They reached the bus and Zacky paid the driver. They all climbed out of the car awkwardly, Val almost falling into Rev. It seemed she had lost all will to move on her own. The drummer therefore decided to slip one arm beneath her armpit, supporting her as they walked toward the tour bus, all of them getting inside within a few moments. Rev moved to let Val rest in her bunk, which was Matt’s old one. She crawled in with much effort. He then moved to his own bunk, pulling the letter up to eye-level, examining it for a moment.

“I don’t wanna hear it right now--you guys can read it though,” she mumbled, turning over in the bed and shutting the curtain behind her with a sigh, a sob following the movement. Zacky tugged on his lip ring, finally noticing the letter and tilting his head to the side a bit. Rev licked over his lips and unfolded it, brows furrowing slightly.

“Want me to read it…?” he asked with some trepidation. Syn bit down on both his lips for a moment before holding his hand out. Rev sighed gratefully and handed over the piece of paper, watching Syn unfold it with his brows furrowing slightly. He took a deep breath before starting.

“All the ones I’ve loved,” Syn started in a shaky voice, clearing his throat after a second, brows knitting a little tighter as he took another deep breath.

“This is my repentance, my confession if you will. There is no redemption in my future. There is no way I can right the wrongs of my sins, and there is no way you can forgive me for them, no matter how much you say you can. I have done too much in this life to let it continue any further.

“I’ve hurt the ones I’ve loved the most and kept secrets too big for my body to handle. I’ve hidden behind my temper, my violent nature. I’ve hidden from the world the most important things to me.

“I’ve done unspeakable, and even more, unforgivable things to the people I’ve loved most. No matter how much you say you can forgive me, I’ll never be able to forgive myself for inflicting any sort of pain upon any of you.

"First off, to my family. My mother and father. When I was at my highest, I was at my lowest. I'm a complete and utter failure, and I'm sorry for bestowing that upon you. I love you.

“Brian…I’m sorry for everything. I know I’ve fucked you up beyond any form of redemption, and still you’re willing to forgive me. I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve anything from you. You’re such a great person, and I know I’ve fucked with that severely. I don’t know what I can do to make that right, and I don’t even think there is anything.

“Val…I’m so sorry. I’ve failed you more than anyone. I’ve done things you wouldn’t even think of and I know you would be just like Brian and forgive me, even though I know the thought that you might not be good enough might plague you. Baby, you were always good enough. More than enough. Please, believe me when I say that.

“Zacky…like I said, I’m sorry. Take care of Brian, please. Fix the damage that I’ve inflicted upon him, make him whole again. Give him what I took away; tell him you love him as much as possible; he needs you more than anyone in the world.

“Jimmy and Johnny…I’m sorry about everything. I know Avenged Sevenfold will be no more once I’m gone, and I’m sorry for shattering that dream with my own selfish psychosis. I’ve ruined everything I’ve ever touched, and I don’t deserve to live.

“Which brings me to the point of this. I no longer wish to live. I don’t care if I burn in hell for taking my own life, but I’ll just be right where I meant to be; I’d be in hell for so many other things, why not one more. I belong in hell for putting the people I loved most in my demented version of hell for so long. I belong there, and I’m off to find out exactly what that means, what it looks like, and how they live there.

“So please, forgive me for my sins, even though I’ll never forgive myself. Don’t cry for me, pray for me, and when you think of me, remember the good times. Please. Do me that one last favor, even though I know I don’t deserve it. I love you all, and wish you all the best.

“All my love, life, and will, Matt.” The voice reading the letter had gotten almost indistinct, thick with the tears that were threatening to fall as he had continued to let the words flow from the paper to his brain and out his mouth.

Syn’s voice had long since gone quiet, and he stared at the paper until he couldn’t make out the messy scrawl anymore through the blur, feeling the tears slip down his face as he dropped the letter to the ground, his hands going to his face as a wave of sorrow and nausea overcame him. He shuddered slightly, his eyes shutting, which caused a few tears to find their way down his face, a sob building up in his chest. He felt the arms of Zacky over him and he leaned in, his forehead resting against his shoulder.

“Matt…” he whispered, his voice choked as he shut his eyes, feeling the wetness of his eyelashes against his cheeks and he bit down on his lip for a second, his mind catching the full blow of the whole thing. He thought of Matt lying there, on that bed, looking so peaceful, and the sobs just doubled in their insistence to come out. “I don’t understand.” The words were choked, obvious that he was holding back the weeping.

“I’m sorry, baby,” came the rhythm guitarist’s voice in his ear, and the sob broke free, his brows furrowing as the tears traced a familiar path down his face, his eyes stinging.

“I never wanted him to die,” came the soft, broken reply from Syn, opening his eyes as he pulled away slightly from Zacky, his eyes watery as tears continued to course down his face. Zacky bit down on his lip and nodded slightly.

“No one did,” he replied in a paltry attempt at an even voice as he brushed the dark hair off his lover’s forehead. He couldn’t think of anything else to say, so he wrapped his arms around Syn again with a slight sigh.

“No matter what he did to me, I never wanted him to die!” Syn all but shouted, his voice husky and hoarse, the tears still falling, faster than before. “He was one of my best friends! He was my first love. He was all I ever had for a while. It isn’t fucking fair. It isn’t fucking fair…” His voice faded as he shut his eyes again, his arms wrapping tightly around Zacky, sobs breaking through his lips as he pursed them. “I never wanted him gone. Never ever. No matter what he did to me, I never wanted him gone.”

“I know, I know,” Zacky whispered, trying to calm the hysterical guitarist against him, pressing a kiss to his temple. Syn leaned into it, though he still sobbed, eyes screwed shut. He stayed like that for a few moments before he pulled away, another sob racking him, shoulders shifting slightly under the movement. His body was shivering slightly, from the exertion of trying to hold the sobs back.

“I could have forgiven him,” he said with a sniffle, opening his eyes again as he looked at Zacky, eyes already becoming a little puffy, the darkness of his eyes vivid against the bloodshot nature of the whites of his eyes. “I could have. I-I did! I never held it against him, really. I could have helped him through. I could have done something!!” his voice had risen again as more tears spilled from his eyes; they were still brimming with moisture as he looked onto his lover imploringly.

“You did all you could,” Zacky tried to protest, but Syn just pressed his lips together, looking down and letting his tears fall again, knowing that he was pathetic, but he didn’t care. This was his breaking point, and he was damned if he was going to hold it back.

“I could have done more,” he protested weakly, a slight sob following, rough and low as he shut his eyes again, licking over his lips and tasting the salt from his tears against his lips.

“No, you couldn’t have done anything,” came Val’s voice with a sniffle, and Syn looked up to see her, puffy eyed much like him, though her tears seemed to have dried for the moment. Her expression was stony. “If I couldn’t have done anything, what the hell makes you think you would have been able to?” Her voice was biting, more vicious than she had expected, and Syn’s brows furrowed at the tone.

“I…I,” Syn stammered out, looking down and biting his lip for a second, swallowing hard before looking up. “I could have helped him. I could have stayed under his control. I’d rather be hurt by him than have him not be here.”

“What do you think I could have done then?” she asked, brows furrowing slightly as she cocked her head to the side, a few tears escaping her hazel eyes that Matt had once written about. Syn looked up at her, imploringly, asking her not to ask this of him.

“I don’t know,” Syn whispered, looking down to his hands and leaning against Zacky with a sigh. “I don’t know. I can’t answer that.” He looked up at her, another tear or two slipping down his face. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Yes,” she whispered back to him, shutting her eyes and closing the bunk’s curtain on them again, and Syn bit his lip, looking up to Zacky with his head tilted a little.

“I don’t know what to do,” he confessed in a transparent whisper, eyebrows knitted slightly above his nose as he looked on. Zacky pressed his lips together and shook his head.

“I don’t either, Bri,” the rhythm guitarist admitted. “But I do know that Matt wouldn’t want you to cry over him like this. He told us…” his voice was choked up as he swallowed hard, attempting to continue, “to--to remember the good times, and--and not to cry for him.”

“How can I not cry for him? He’s DEAD!” Syn said, eyes filling with tears again as he looked to his hands again, feeling Rev’s hand on his shoulder and he shut his eyes, tears lingering on his cheeks for a second before falling in his lap, splashing silently on his hands. “I’m not just being a fuckin’ baby. I’ll never see him again. He’s gone, Zack. He’s…he’s dead and it’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault,” the drummer spoke up, eyebrows creased in sheer concern, and Syn looked up at him, tilting his head, tremors racking his collapsed body. He had slipped to the floor and was leaning his forehead against Zacky’s leg before he’d looked up.

“How is it not my fault?” he asked, his voice small, though it grew in intensity once he started to speak, only able to see the blurry outline of his best friend. “I did it, Jimmy. I told him he had no power over me. I told him I wouldn’t do it anymore, and the next day he fuckin’ snaps! How is that not my fault? Tell me how that’s not my fault.”

“It’s not your fault,” Rev maintained, and Syn just shook his head, looking away and pressing his forehead against Zacky’s thigh again. The drummer looked up at Zacky, asking for a little help. The rhythm guitarist nodded, his fingers threading through Syn’s hair.

“Babe, it’s not your fault,” he said softly, and Syn just shook his head. “Really. He would have done this anyway. He couldn’t live with what he’d done. He’s probably in a better place right now.”

“Always the fucking optimist,” Syn snapped in a low voice, not looking up at his lover. “I reminded him of what he’d done. I told him. I gave him a reason not to live. I…I killed him.” Another soft sob escaped his lips, as he looked further down at the ground, staring hard at it. “He’s gone, and there’s nothing I can do. He’s gone…” It seemed as if Syn was trying to get his mind around the phrase and he bit his lip again, a strange, embarrassed heat overcoming him for a moment as he thought over his breakdown, before he realized he didn’t care.

“He’s in a better place,” Johnny piped up, echoing Zacky’s sentiments and Syn looked up at him, eyes seemingly hollow now that the stream of tears had stopped for the moment.

“Yeah, sure,” he replied, his voice as empty as his eyes as he leaned against Zacky again, shutting his eyes and heaving a sigh before shaking his head. “I need to be alone. I’ll be back.”

With those words, he pulled himself off the floor and away from Zacky, letting himself put a light kiss on his lover’s lips and offer a half-smile that didn’t mean anything before he walked out of the bus, the night air hitting the still-drying tears on his face. He walked a little further away from the bus; he shut his eyes to let the last few tears slip down his face, drying in the night air as he reached a small patch of grass.

After a moment, it seemed the fresh air had an opposite effect on the guitarist, and the nausea rose up in his throat sickly, the taste of bile finding its way to the back of his throat. He trembled again, doubling over, falling to his knees and feeling the sickening sensations overcoming him, forcing all that he contained out through his mouth with a sickening sound of gagging and a dull splash against the concrete as his palms pressed to the pavement to stabilize his body.

After a moment of shuddering he finally picked himself up off the ground, smoothing out his clothing and looking down to the pool of sick in front of him with a wince as he made his way back to the tour bus, the night air now feeling good on his suddenly clammy skin.

His brows furrowed slightly as he leaned against the tour bus, shutting his eyes. He was very far from convinced that it wasn’t his fault. He shakily pulled his cigarettes out of his jeans pocket and pulled one out of the pack, lighting it up easily and taking a deep drag of it, shivering slightly.

The taste of nicotine, Syn had hoped, would calm him down and beat back the sobs in his chest that threatened to rear their ugly heads, spilling weakly from his lips. Instead, the smoke poured from them as he inhaled and exhaled the toxic chemicals.

It seemed to calm his nerves, though, because when he heard the telltale footfalls of his lover, he just shook his head, his hard façade back over his tired and puffy eyes as he looked up at the stars.

“You okay, Bri?” he heard Zacky’s voice as he came closer and he shrugged slightly, looking over to him with the same empty half-smile.

“Not really,” Syn replied honestly before taking another puff off the cigarette, his eyes drawn to the cherry at the end of the stick. “I will be, though, I think. Sorry for freaking out on you guys like that.”

Zacky shook his head slightly, looking up at Syn with his eyebrows raised, leaning up to press a kiss to his lover’s cheek. He smiled a little and looked over to him again, taking one more drag of the cigarette before abandoning it to the ground, letting out the smoke before pressing his lips to Zacky’s as if searching for something.

The rhythm guitarist pressed back and it seemed Syn had found it because he melted slightly into the embrace, a soft sound escaping him as their arms linked around each other, embracing in a much different way than usual. Syn idly wondered if Zacky could tell that he’d gotten sick, but he either didn’t notice, or didn’t care; the cigarette seemed to have done wonders. The lead guitarist suddenly felt as though he might fall over all over again, so he leaned them both against the bus, not letting go of Zacky.

“I love you,” Zacky whispered as he looked up at Syn, meeting with a slight, sad smile, as his eyes seemed to be getting teary again, but he fought it back.

“I love you too,” came Syn’s soft voice as he let his head fall onto his chest, shutting his eyes with a sigh. “I still think it’s my fault.”

The rhythm guitarist shook his head with a little sigh before looking upward, seeing that his lover had looked down and his hand found its way on his cheek, touching the chiseled cheekbones lightly. Syn leaned into the touch but didn’t look up at him, his eyelashes resting against his unnaturally pale cheeks.

“How can I convince you otherwise?” Zacky asked, eyes imploring as he tilted his head, searching for contact with Syn’s dark ones. Finally, he looked up and their eyes met, the same tension between them diminished slightly by the recent events.

“I don’t know; just kiss me I guess,” Syn replied in a low voice, and Zacky smiled a little, cocking his head to the side a little, leaning further in so their lips were barely touching before he spoke.

“I can do that.” With the words, their lips pressed together, though some of the passion had left the embrace, it was the thought that Syn had someone else there that counted, though he still felt the aching emptiness in his heart for the man who’d broken him so many times, but brought him up so many more.

Syn all but collapsed on Zacky after their kiss ended, and he had to call for Rev to help him get the guitarist into the bus again. It seemed it was his turn to give up the use of his limbs; much like Val had done on the way home from the hospital. He murmured softly in his half-asleep state and clutched to Zacky’s wrist as he moved away, a pleading look on his face asking the rhythm guitarist to stay with him. He, of course, agreed with a slight nod, and for once, Syn fell asleep on his lover’s chest instead of the other way around.

The next morning, Syn was awakened groggily by the sound of his cell phone going off somewhere near his lower back and he muttered to himself, pulling off Zacky and grasping at it, flipping it open and murmuring into it. He instantly woke up, however, when he found it was the coroner, asking about the funeral. He swallowed hard to keep back the wave of nausea and tears that threatened to overcome him once more.

After a few moments of hushed conversation, Val snatched the phone from Syn with a slightly affronted look, starting to talk to the coroner. Syn let her, of course. She was the rightful person to have setting up the funeral, after all. A wave of shame overcame him as he watched her start to cry softly again as they started sorting out the ceremony over the phone.

Val ended up asking for the help of the rest of the band anyway, despite the fact that she was a little less than reluctant to ask the guitarist. It seemed she’d found some way to actually pin it on him, but he didn’t protest, nor was he surprised. In a way he felt he deserved it, and it didn’t help his feelings of guilt and the ill-founded heartache that he felt every time he thought that Matt’s suicide was his fault.

Zacky had been keeping a very close eye on Syn every since his breakdown, offering slight bits of comfort through soft touches or bits of affection, or soft words exchanged in undertones. The guitarist very much appreciated these bits of comfort and clung to them as hard as they could, unsure of how he would take this if his lover weren’t there with him, especially the looks Val kept shooting him.

After about a week, the body was shipped back to California, as well as the band. They were happy to be home, but it was entirely overshadowed by the funeral. The funeral itself was arranged, planned and settled for the next Friday. They knew that a lot of people would be there, considering it had leaked to the presses what had happened, or at least some of it. There was no word on the motive of Matt’s death, only that he died. Fans and friends alike were going to be there to pay their last respects to an inspiration.

“I still can’t believe he’s gone,” Syn muttered softly as he was buttoning up the black dress shirt on the Friday that was supposed to be the last they ever saw Matt before he was put into the ground.

“I know, Bri,” Zacky said, fiddling with a tie. He gave up on it and walked over to press his lips to his lover’s, who smiled gratefully, knowing that was meant to be a subject changer, but today it wouldn’t work. “He’s in a better place. He was suffering, Brian. He couldn’t stand what he’d done.”

“Doesn’t mean he had to go and off himself,” Syn muttered almost bitterly and his face was forcefully yanked to look at Zacky’s face, whose expression was stern, his bright eyes slightly darkened.

“Stop blaming yourself, Bri, please,” he implored, his tone a lot softer than his expression, and Syn sighed slightly, leaning forward and letting his forehead rest on his green-eyed lover’s.

“I can’t help it; it’d be easier if Val would stop glaring at me like I jus--,“ Syn started, but glanced behind Zacky and cut himself off, as Val had just walked into the room, looking rather sheepish. She was dressed in a black dress, with a pleated skirt and a modest neck that scooped down slightly across her chest. She was looking rather awkward as she brushed a bit of blonde from her face.

“I…look, Brian, I’m sorry,” she stammered, not looking up at Syn, biting her lip slightly. “It’s just…so easy to find something, someone to blame when you’re upset. I never thought it was your fault.” Her own tone was imploring as she looked up, searching for eye contact, which was granted reluctantly.

“It’s okay; you’re right--it is my fault,” Syn said with his brows slightly furrowing, and Val sighed, shutting her eyes and looking away for a second before shaking her head, her blonde locks now falling all over her face.

“No, it’s not,” she insisted, and he looked back at her again. He’d noticed Zacky had slipped his hand in his own and he smiled over at him for just a second before returning his bewildered gaze to the girl in front of him. “Nothing could have prevented this. I think--I think he’s in a better place. I wouldn’t want him to suffer, and that seemed to be…all he was doing in that institution, so maybe it’s--it’s for the best.”

Syn bit his lip slightly as he looked away again, to the ground as he swallowed hard, trying to ingest what Val was saying and he sighed just the littlest bit before looking up at Val with a nod, his eyes wet with fresh tears that he promised himself wouldn’t fall. For a second, he actually felt like he could believe her, and believe Zacky.

“Okay,” he said in a shaky voice, and in a second, he felt Val’s arms around him, and he fought even harder not to break down, shutting his eyes as he felt Zacky let go of his hand for a second as he hugged her back.

“I never meant to make you cry,” she said softly and he laughed, even though it came out more as a sob than anything else as he let his head rest on her shoulder for a second before they pulled away.

“It’s all right, I’ll live,” he said, his voice slightly choked up as he felt Zacky reclaim his hand again and he laughed, gripping the hand in his very tightly as a sign of absolute appreciation. “I was hoping you wouldn’t stay mad at me forever. I don’t think I could handle that.”

“I was being rash,” Val admitted with a slight frown, her fingers lacing together in front of her with a sigh. “I wanted someone to blame, and you were the first I thought of. I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven,” the guitarist replied, thinking if I could forgive Matt for what he’d done to me, I can definitely forgive you. “It’s in the past, right?” Val nodded slightly and the rhythm guitarist was giving him a proud little smile that the lead returned with a sigh. “We should finish getting ready.” It was unclear whether he’d said this to Val or to Zacky, but both took heed of the words. Val excused herself, while Zacky went back to fussing with his tie. Syn finally got slightly exasperated and turned, fixing the tie for him, folding and lacing it so it was perfectly straight.

“I’m tie-retarded,” Zacky said with a pout, and Syn couldn’t help but smile at him, a strange looking on his face as he cocked his head to the side a little, dark eyes glittering with unshed tears and curiosity. “I can’t do a tie, so I’m tie-retarded.”

“Zacky, baby, I love you,” Syn said softly leaning over to press their lips together for a second before doing up his own black tie quickly, pulling a jacket over the ensemble and watching his lover do the same. “At least you’re not coat-retarded.”

The green-eyed man narrowed his eyes slightly and stuck his tongue out at the brown-eyed one that was grinning at him, and for once it felt, for a second, like nothing had happened, that Matt wasn’t going to be having a funeral in few hours, and Syn wondered what that meant. He shrugged it off, though, keeping it down for a later date of meditation as he kissed Zacky and ushered him out the door.

The ceremony wasn’t going to start for an hour or two, but there were a ton of people milling around. All around them were friends, family, fans, and just random people coming to see what the big party was about. Syn kept close to Zacky the entire time, or maybe it was the other way around, but the fact was that they barely left each other’s sides, and were getting some strange looks for it.

Syn felt a spidery hand on his shoulder and he glanced behind him, finding Rev looking at him with a concerned gleam in his eye. He cocked his head to the side a little and gave a small grin that eased none of the concern off his friend’s face.

“You all right?” came the slightly lisp-ridden question and Syn nodded a little looking to the ground before shutting his eyes completely. He felt Zacky watching him as he chattered with someone or another.

“Yeah, I’m all right,” he responded with a sigh, biting his lips. “Do you really think he’s in a better place than he was with us?”

Rev nodded definitively. “I think so, yeah,” he said. “Maybe his version of heaven is being on stage for the rest of his unnatural life. You know how much he loved being in front of everyone and singing his heart out.”

Syn swallowed hard and nodded, fighting back the tears once more as he sighed, shaky as it was. “Yeah, he loved it as much as the rest of us, if not more,” he replied just as unsteadily. Rev nodded a little again and led the two of his band mates over to where his shorter lover was sitting, holding the close seats for them. They sat down and waited rather impatiently for the ceremony to start.

The ceremony was taking place in a graveyard that Matt himself had chosen when they were in high school. He said he’d liked the architecture of the gates, and said that would be the reason he’d be buried here. Right before the ceremony started, it began to drizzle faintly.

Unfortunately, when the funeral did start, Syn couldn’t keep his emotions back, a tear or two slipping silently down his face, which he brushed away, irritated with them as they fell. When it was time for the words from people closest to Matt, Val went first.

“He was…the best man I ever knew, no matter what he did,” she started in a shaky voice reminiscent of Syn’s, and they smiled at each other for a second before she continued. “He was a lover, more than anything, despite the fact that he liked his fight every once in a while. I know there was something wrong with him, but I don’t care. I loved him, I still love him, and I’ll always be thinking about him. I love you, Matt, baby, and I hope you’re in a better place than you were with us.”

These last words were said in a rush as they came tumbling quickly out of her mouth as she walked away from the podium, looking at Syn and nodding a little. He licked over his lips and sighed before getting up off the chair and walking up to where Val had been standing moments before.

“Matt…was the best and the worst thing that ever happened to me, all wrapped into one,” he started, his voice stronger than he’d anticipated. He got a few confused looks for this opening line, but he continued on anyway, regardless. No one needed to know anyway; this was Matt’s eulogy, not theirs, and he would be damned if he didn’t make it count. “He was a friend, a band mate, a family member, a shoulder to lean on, and everything in between. He was amazing at what he did, and he did whatever he set his heart on. He was a passionate person, almost to a fault. On stage no one rivaled him. He was a god on that stage, he had control, and that’s how I want everyone here to remember him. I think that was the one place that he was free, on that stage, singing his heart out to whoever would listen. I want you all to remember the man who brought you lyrics to remember, and a voice to back them that rivaled gods, and the energy, the spell that he kept his captive audience under. I loved him, and he will be sorely missed.”

His voice had stayed surprisingly even as he spoke these words, even though sobs found themselves building up in his chest again. He looked around the crowd, as large as it was, and saw the effect his words had on people. Val was all but sobbing into a handkerchief, his band members had tears in their eyes, and the entire crowd was shocked into silence. A few tears broke out here and there, but most were just taken by the powerful words.

“Thank you,” he finally said, stepping off the podium and moving to sit by Zacky again, who instantly linked their hands together, uncaring of who was watching. Syn looked over and smiled a little, his eyes glimmering all over again.

“I’m proud of you,” his lover whispered, and the brown-eyed man shut his eyes with a slight sigh, leaning against his head for a second as he heard Matt’s family begin to speak about him, but he couldn’t listen to anymore. He blocked them out, listening intently instead to Zacky’s even breathing, a few of the tears brimming in his eyes slipping down his face, but he made no move to brush them away this time, seeing that Zacky had started to cry silently as well. “He’d be happy for us, you know. After he got over the whole…yeah.”

“I know,” Syn replied with a slight sigh, leaning into Zacky, not caring who watched in awe as their heads moved to look at each other. “I just wish it hadn’t happened this way. I miss him already.”

“No one would want you not to miss him, Bri,” Zacky spoke softly, looking up into his dark eyes with light ones of his own. “He’s better off this way. Like you said, he’s free now.”

“He’s free,” Syn repeated, tears welling up in his eyes and he shut them again. For some reason, the words hit him and he sighed slightly, fancying himself feeling how Matt did when his consciousness slipped from his body, and the burgeoning sense of freedom that overcame him as he separated from his human, imperfect self, becoming the Matt Brian knew all those years ago, with the wide grin and glittering eyes. He really was free. That thought was exactly what Syn needed to let go of the man they were lowering into the ground as he opened his eyes again.

He stood up as people were moving to pay their last respects, and they parted for him as he approached the coffin, out of respect or fear, or both, he would never know. He didn’t care, though, as he moved toward the body, touching one cold hand with one of his own warm, living ones and he sighed.

“You’re free now, aren’t you?” he whispered with a slight nod, as if finding the answer he wanted. “I love you. Goodbye.” He nodded again and shut his eyes, turning away from the open casket. He knew this nostalgia, this feeling of understanding for what happened wouldn’t last for a very long time, but he felt it was something he could keep and come back to. He’d start blaming himself all over again, but it would turn into a cycle, and eventually, he’d be okay. He would be, he kept telling himself.

The pair of arms that wrapped around him affirmed this, and he wrapped his own around the body attached, looking slightly down at bright green eyes asking for an answer, but the question was unknown to his brown-eyed counterpart, but the gaze disappeared in favor of a small smile.

“Let’s go; it’s over anyway,” Zacky whispered as their eyes met, and they nodded, their hands clasping together as they weaved through the crowd, talking politely to each person that came up to them as the rain seemed to start letting up, the sun shining weakly through the clouds as they made their way out of the cemetery. The car ride to Syn’s beach house was quiet and uneventful as they tried to soak up the reality that Matt wasn’t coming back. The only bit of contact between them was their fingers linked together over the gearshift.

Once they got to the house, they exited the car, walking up the driveway and into the house, shedding their funeral clothing down to the undershirts and the pants, and they turned to each other. Zacky wrapped his arms around Syn, pulling him close.

“We’ll be okay, right?” came the rhythm guitarist’s meek question, showing the first sign of weakness. The lead guitarist nodded slightly, hugging his lover a little tighter to him, swallowing hard before answering.

“Yeah; we’ve got each other,” he responded, whispering against Zacky’s ear. “We’ll be okay. We can handle anything, right?” He felt the nod against his face and he sighed softly, pressing a kiss to his lover’s hair, and their lips found each other through simple, fluid movements, and they knew everything would be all right…someday. They had each other. “I love you, Zacky.”

“I love you too, Bri,” Zacky responded with a very slight grin before their lips pressed together again, that intensity flaring up between them again, but very faintly, like hot coals in a nearly extinguished fire. It would be like a feeble flame that needed to be fanned and brought back to life, and they were willing to do that, to nurture and heal until the flame was a bonfire burning deep and thick in each other’s bloodstream again. They could do that.