The Raven.
Title: The Raven.
Pairing: Implied Zacky//Brian & Matt//Brian.
Summary: Brian's soul isn't done with the world yet.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. It has no real reference to the men used, no harm intended. I don't make money from this, all I get is the satisfaction.
Authors Notes: This story is the spawn from one of my favorite poems and a drawing which I love. It's twisted, and slightly grim. So if you don't like that. Then don't read.
One thing on the hearts, lips and souls of parents’ world wide, was they never wanted to bury their children. It was ungodly, it was suppose to be the other way around it was their time before their children’s, no father or mother wanted to look at the ashen face of their son before the casket closed and the procession moved to the final resting place of the late, Brian Haner Jr.
Brian looked flawless, even in death, in fact you could almost say dying set his soul free weren’t we all vessels? Only here until someone decided that it was time to be broken and released. No longer bound to the chains of an ungodly relationship, but at the same time torn from the one person who’d loved him for so long and the family, and extended family he knew and love. But at the same time, before the funeral when the staff from the morgue came to collect Brian from where he’d died they had the unpleasant surprise of finding his face not as peaceful as any other of their deceased clients but eyes wide open and his lifeless eyes looking like they’d been created by the fire ridden pits of the seven rings of hell and vengeance.
But there he was, casket open once more as the priest gave his blessing, and read the stories which everyone had put together about the good times, funny times, bad times and everything in between.
Everyone said their pieces, wished Brian the best in his next life and slowly one by one they began to leave heading toward the after-party to celebrate rather then mourn. Why mourn such a man who lived for everything and deep down wanted the best for those he loved, and had loved.
"Don’t be stupid." Came Jimmy’s voice, wavering as he tried to be that bigger man that didn’t crack in front of his friends, they needed him to be the fortress which protected. "He loved the pair of you." He snapped, icy coloured eyes flaring at the two men who stood at opposite sides of the coffin, lifting a lithe finger and pointing it to Zacky. "You, you changed, he couldn’t keep up despite the fact he tried. He lost you before you even realised what was going on. And when you figured out that he was so lost in it all he had to bail out before you brought him down any lower, you killed him. I don’t know who you met, or what you fucked with but I hope you really are happy. He used to talk to me every night over the fucking phone asking me, me of all people what to do. He couldn’t tell you, that’d have made him look so fucking controlling. For your information Syn Gates doesn’t live at home, he lives out there for the outside world to see, not us." Pausing for breath, god, why did it have to be Brian the son of a bitch should be here right now talking. Not relying on his best friend to clear up the mess. "He changed subjects, switched around because how can you tell someone ‘you’ve changed, I don’t like it. I’ve lost my Zacky, when you see him, tell him to come the fuck home’ or something along those lines." And Zacky remained emotionless, not bothering to even utter a small word as those jade eyes of his watched that glistening white coffin descend into the plot that had been bought for Brian’s father, not his son. But Jimmy wasn’t finished, how could he? He’d lost the only guy that had ever seen the justice in his motives and the way he acted, a brother that he never had. Then he remembered, Matt. "You, you and your problems stressed him out to no end, choked him out at times, he watched you crumble too under guys and girls who had you wrapped around their little fucking fingers. You think we liked that? Watching you leave with people we knew would fuck you over." Dumbfounded, Matt just did what came naturally to him, rolled his shoulders and looked away. "The pair of you can look the fuck away all you want. You both killed Brian equally. And I hoped to god he comes back and fucking ruins the pair of you. I hope you can’t sleep at night knowing that while you value whatever is left of your life. Brian is stone cold fucking dead being eaten by maggots." And with that, the lanky man allowed himself to be pulled away by Johnny and Jacoby. Leaving the two males to stare each off while the grave workers made short work of burying their beloved Brian.
Months flew by, and neither slept at night because Jimmy’s words haunted their minds. Also, Brian had once said to them "Remember, I’m always watching, even when the lights are down and you think you’re alone." As much as it was a joke back then, now, it felt like the pictures of the guitarist watched you like something out of the horror movies. The gang of friends had disbanded after Brian’s "accidental" death, cause? They’d claimed that he’d had a heart attack and died in his sleep but post mortem concluded Brian had died of Takotsubo Cardiomyopathy before the finishing blow could be dealt, the "living" appearance before Zack had killed him was the involuntary twitches. When everyone had asked what the fuck Takotsubo Cardiomyopathy was in modern terms the doctor had smiled sadly and replied "Broken Heart Syndrome."
Of course, music was their life, Matt settled for following Brians wanted to pursue being a musician in the studio, Jimmy had done the same, Zacky found peace in tattoo and Johnny? He stopped working entirely. Course there was cracks, friends had divided and it was in some cases "brother" against brother or jokingly as Jimmy had put it "team Matt" and "team Zacky". There was always an empty seat at the bar, in the tattoo studio, on your couch and now at family dinners.
And then it started little things at first after a year or so of Brian being buried. Such as Brian’s belongings appearing back in Zacky’s house, his escalade car keys to his favourite brand of Gin returning to live in the liquor cabinet. And of course, Zacky bought it as a bad joke but the guys denied it. Even Matt had said it hadn’t been him. And every time Zacky moved them, they came right on back the next day. Jimmy, Johnny and Matt began to complain that they were seeing shit, and then blaming Johnny for switching their brownies for "magical" ones, shadows across the wall just for a split second; the lights would die out or flicker light a butchers stores when it was opening up for the day. Shadows cast like the chains holding the meat hooks, moving without any wind. These moved with no motive, the figure even in the split second its posture screamed no motive. It just simply existed. No explanations, no one spoke of it, but their eyes said it all.
Matt and Zacky began questioning if Jimmy had an Indian ancestry or was a gypsy in the past life, and Jimmy being Jimmy just laughed and waggled his eyebrows. "No, I’m not, but Brian is." And with that, he rose and left the room, and for the first time in their life, Zacky and Matt were suddenly way out of their depth. They were in a very cold world, where the dead walked, talked and came back with a vengeance. Their spirits simply existed, given life by an un-earthy force no longer surviving on a purpose; they had no meaning and no emotion to grasp onto or a rein on their morals or self-control. They existed on the wings of their own pestilence, tattered, torn down and decayed. And like serpents with a mouth full of venom they would prey until their victim had their dose before allowing the grave to take them back. And their eyes, their eyes as pale as the full moon, horrors swam in them, ghosts of past, present and future. Ghosts of things you thought you’d buried long ago, but there they were. Just one look had you screaming out, you felt their pain, their woes written into their body, forever carving their story on canvas’ of skin. Screaming for a purpose once more, or eternal peace. But they were forced to soldier through a world where neither death nor life mattered.
And in that flash of realisation, they saw Brian. Or what remained of him, the year and months had not been kind to the Man’s body or maybe the force that had given him life had asked for a payment and Brian’s soul had readily given it; half of his face no more then the bone structure, showing those raw cheekbones no flesh to give them life. Patches of flesh rotted down to bone, exposing the bloodied femur, radius and ulna, fibula and tibia through ripped and weather worn clothes. A thousand horrors embedded in the one eye left rolling in that one socket which hadn’t rotted away and in the other just endless black where an eyeball should have been rolling. A shattered spirit in a plague ridden body, like a real life Dorian Grey except Zacky’s and Matt’s pestilences were now withering Brian’s rotting remains. And the most horrifying thing next to seeing your dead lover was that gaping hole under his jaw, exposing a serpentine tongue ridden with thick salvia while pointed teeth bared at them. No words were needed; Brian was their final disease, death in a once glorified man torn down to his very bones and for the price of eternal peace brought back as a monster to do deaths bidding. And for what? Just to have some form of life in the next where he wouldn’t endure anymore pain.
"Brian?"
A name and the decayed body straightened up, like a robot told to activate. Forked tongue flickering through that gaping hole before retracting only to protrude out of his mouth. Blinded by rage and sorrow, only sense of smell to follow, that one white eye flaring in its socket almost like a scared child trying to locate its mother. But instead of being greeted by open arms they got a shriek, a shriek which had Matt and Zack wailing themselves, ear splitting and emitting generations of pain.
And the only response they got back was a growled "No more."
And soon a gloom seemed to have grasped the group, and Zack got the most. And just like Edgar Allen Poe’s - The Raven, he heard knocking at his door night after night. Just knock knock knock and the air grew gold, and the wind ceased to have a name. The clock hands slowed down to a tick....tock....tick...t- before nothing, halted on 11.23pm the exact moment Brian ceased to exist in this world. Just a gentle rapping at his ‘chamber’ door and the hushed and gentle calling of "Zacky" but it held the venom of the world behind it. And Zacky could just imagine that spit slicken tongue gaping through his ex-lovers jaw as he spoke, even going as far as to brush against the door just to ‘taste’ him. Though the jade eyed man was thankful, because Brian couldn’t enter his room whether it was because the soul needed permission or simply, the muscles in his arms were so rotted they were hanging on by mere slivers of skin.
"I’m always here Zacky, always watching, always waiting. And you’ll think of me for the rest of your life because I’m just that embedded into you. Like maggots in flesh, I’m going to eat away at you until your nothing more then a carcass of what you were."
And then silence, the warmth returned, the wind sprang forth and finally the clock began to tick.
Orange County time’s newspapers were usually pretty boring. Until one of the stories caught his attention, "Friends of deceased man found dead at their homes" All brutally mutilated, with what officials described as sickening organ stealing and, hearts torn from their chests and replaced with pieces of torn paper with the words "I love you." written across them or "you took my heart, I’m taking theirs." And one by one, plots began to fill with bodies of dead friends of past and present.
Matt had been spared the visits by Brian’s demented soul in fact it seemed to respond to his emotions, and almost in order of who Matt would most likely hire a hit man to take out; they dropped like flies, moths to the flame. And when this sickening revelation was suggested by Jimmy to Matt, it really screamed ‘too much power for one man’ he didn’t know whether to be scared or smug that he had some form of control over his deceased lover. Like Moses bringing the plagues of Egypt upon the Egyptians, Matt now had the power to avenge anything he wanted through puppetry of Brian’s remains. It was like The Raven and Tim Burtons ‘Sleepy Hollow’. But then again he realised, that Brian had only allowed a return to the land of the living to have his justice served.
The air grew cold in December, approaching the second year Brian had been ‘deceased’ and rather then be a happy occasion it was one of doom and gloom, no longer any laughter between friends just drinks to celebrate their lives. It was down to a small group now that Brian seemed to pass over, their souls some how saved from his decaying grip.
Jimmy and Matt got on with daily life, or tried to, in and out of work, to the bar and occasionally visiting Brian’s grave knowing that the man they were paying respects to wasn’t really there. But they hoped it brought their friend some sanity amongst the pain and blinding suffering. Zacky had to take an extended vacation from work, Brian’s plagues kept him awake at night, paranoid throughout the days to the point where all hope was gone. Succumbing to the painful madness his ex-lover had taken to his grave. He even went as far to consult those who spoke to the paranormal, though the women sent him away, summoning Brian was painful and they saw his remorse and bleeding heart like a soldier shot in the war; his dying cries a traumatising experience to behold. Their only advice was to "make peace." And that left many gateways.
So he tried the obvious, trying to buy his way back into the mans good graces, visiting his empty grave and even making friends with Matt, Jimmy and the rest. But it didn’t appease, in fact the howling at his door got worse, deafening dying screams and knowing stare which penetrated the solid oak door right into his very soul nothing in the land of the living would ever suffice his unsociable need. And one day, Zacky snapped, opening the door of his bedroom and it happened again. The clocks stopped, the air grew cold and the wind ceased to exist and their stood the ghostly remains, glassed eye staring through Zacky like the arrows blocking out the sun of wars past. So piercing, and oh so remorseful.
And no words were ever said. Brian’s shattered remains entered that room and no one left, there he sits at Zacky’s window, never moving, never speaking just that one eye forever peering at where his body used to lay; in the arms of a man he once loved while at the command of another mans mind. His eye never moving, swirling the stories of loved ones past and present. And his shadow forever casting the story of his woe. For in the end, death would be a sweet escape for a tortured soul, and thus Brian spared Zacky’s life to live one of madness, grief-stricken frenzies every time he walks in and out of that door.
And in the words of Edgar Allen Poe:
"And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!"