Unholy Confessions.
Title: Unholy Confessions.
Author: spikemhinoda------->jess.
Rating: R.
Pairing: [Zacky Vengeance/Synyster Gates]
Summary: Don't let them see anything. Don't let your eyes give it away.
Disclaimer: Never happened.
A/N: Well, I felt the need to get some shit off my chest and this plotline seemed like the only efficient way to do that.
Dedications: To anyone who's been stuck in unrequited love.
_______________________________
I. You loved watching him. He was amazing, he was talented, he was...theirs. He and yourself were the two in the band girls creamed over. Zacky Vengeance and Synyster Gates: rock stars extraordinaire, best friends for life.
"Try not to lose you. Two vibrant hearts could change," Matt sings to the over-enthused crowd. Being on stage made you feel liberated; the crowd, the bass, him. You were ogling him again and you knew it. The thing was, you couldn't even help it, this was when he looked his best: his raven and purple locks were everywhere, his kohl liner was smudged, his wife beater drenched in sweat, his eyes closed...
You receive a jab in your side and glance up, your mocha eyes meeting with Matt's copper ones. He knows, he knows you've been staring at Zack.
"I wish I could be the one, the one who won't care at all," Matt sings, heading back to the front center of the stage, soaking in the waves of attention and admiration of the crowd. You can only focus on staring at your guitar for a minute before your head tilts up, letting your gaze settle on him again. You can see he's eyeing a platinum blonde in the crowd. She smiles seductively at Zacky and he winks back, flirtatious smirk plastered to his face.
"It's hurting you, but it's killing me."
II. You hated sleeping under him, he almost always had a new girl every night. You can hear him now, murmuring sweet nothings to that blonde he'd chatted up after the show. His meaningless promises he whispers make you cringe and you can instantly feel venom [and bile] building up inside of you. You're dying to be her, you're dying to be his.
"Oh God, Zacky!" She cries. You feel like crying too, just not in the same way.
"Mm, Baby," Zacky moans. You reach your hand under your pillow, searching for Lady Luck, your pocket knife. Feeling the wooden handle, you grasp it tightly and pull it out. You've had Lady Luck since you were about sixteen, and never once has she denied you a night of killing loneliness.
You run your right index finger down the sharp end of the blade and feel a jolt of pain run through that finger. You pull your finger back and examine it in the dim bunk lighting, noticing you gave your finger a small cut. You sigh and roll your sleeve up to your elbow joint.
"Zack, you're so good!"
You cut left, right, up, down...
"You're perfect, babe!"
...diagnal, in zags, intersecting...
"Oh God!"
You're finished and so are they. You look down to admire your bloody masterpiece:
FAKE.
III. You loved photo shoots. The camera, the lights...everything about photo shoots made you feel like a rock star.
"Guess who's going to be in our photo shoot," Zacky challenges from his seat in front of the vanity table where Gina and Alicia, your make-up artists, are working on your make-up for said shoot.
"I don't know, Zack. Who?" You ask, closing your left eye as Gina smears on some red eye-smudge on your eyelid.
"Christine Dolce," Zacky answers. Your eyes avert to the mirror in front of you two, looking into Zacky's jade eyes He's giving you a knowing stare down. He [and everyone else] know of your obsession with the blonde Michael Vincent model.
"Oh..." is all you feel you can respond with.
IV. You hated soap opera moments. It made you feel so cliche and...over-dramatic. The whole set-up was over-used to you; already done. Most of all, you hated yourself for getting into these moments. After the shoot, you hated yourself more than ever because you caused one of these moments. You had finally snapped.
You were talking to Christine after the shoot, having a [surprisingly] intelligent conversation with her. She wasn't just a model, she was a real person. Cue Zacky entering.
"Hey Bri," he casually greets, slinging his arm around your waist. You gulp nervously at his actions, this reminding you of one of those crush vs. true love situations that were on every episode of "All My Children" [or whatever your mom watched at 11:00.] This can't ever end good.
"Hey Zack," you greet back. Christine eyes you two.
"So Brian, you want me to send you a pair of Destroyed Denims in 38 W?" Christine asks, carrying on your previous conversation. You nod in response.
"Okay, right. Forget I'm here because there's a pretty lady in front of you," Zacky teases. Any other day you'd laugh it off, but today it just pissed you off.
"You know what Zack? Fuck off! I'm not in the fucking mood!" You hiss and storm off. You're not even sure why you feel so angry, hurt, frustrated, and confused, but you do.
Stepping onto the bus, you feel nausea take control over your body. Just thinking about how much everything has been destroying you lately is too much too handle. You sprint to the bathroom, quickly falling to your knees, hands gripping the porcelain of the toilet bowl. You violently empty your insides, tears falling. Your throat burns as well as your heart [which is feeling pretty heavy right now.] After you pause, you feel a hand on your back. You jerk your head to the right in shock. It's only Jimmy.
"Sh...Bri, it's okay," he assures you gently.
"I love him!" You sob. Jimmy nods, you emptying your stomach again, knuckles turning a pallid color.
"I know Bri, I know."
V. You loved/hated talking about your problems. It helped you relieve yourself, but but it made you feel so dependent and needy, like you needed help. Well, you do need help, hence why Jimmy had sat you down on the tour bus couch.
"Talk to me," Jimmy commands, calmly looking you over.
"...I'm upset," is all you say. Jimmy's brows furrow.
"Okay. Care to expand?" He asks. You sigh.
"I-I'm in love with Zacky," you quietly confess. Jimmy is silent for a minute.
"You know, he loves you, too," Jimmy tells you. You sigh, rubbing your tired eyes.
"It's not the sa-" you're interrupted by the tour bus door opening. It's him; Zacky
"I'm going to nap," you lamely lie, scurrying to the back of the bus to avoid the awkward situation that you knew was just waiting to happen.
VI. You hated having problems. You hated having problems so much. More so, you hated people who tried to help you with your problems. If you were killing yourself over something, the last thing you'd want would be someone offering you fake sympathy or forced pity. It wasn't anyone's place to try and sort you out, it was your job. You were the one to blame, you were the one who would save yourself.
"Bri?" You hear Zacky call from outside your bunk. You force out a grunt, offering it off as a decent response, yourself feeling so put down you can't even form coherent words. Zacky pulls back the curtain and gives you a sympathetic look. If you would have had the energy to, you would have cringed. There it is, that god-damned sympathy.
"Brian, what's wrong?" Zacky asks. You just stare at him emotionless.
Don't let them see anything. Don't let your eyes give it away.
"Can I...?" Zacky drifts, eyeing your bunk mattress. You know he's meaning laying in your bunk with you. You know this probably won't help thing get any better, but you nonetheless scoot over, giving Zacky some room. Zacky takes this as the cue to climb into your bunk which he does with ease.
"Brian," Zacky whispers, "you want to tell me what's been going on with you?" Zacky is looking up at you, jade eyes begging to be told something, anything but lies.
"...Nothing." Great job with telling the truth! Zacky frowns, his eyes burning with hurt.
"Don't you dare lie to me Brian Elwin Haner Junior!" Zacky hisses in a whisper through clenched teeth. You gulp. Damn, you're in for it.
"I've known you for...for..." Zacky's voice cracks from distress and desperation, "for a long fucking time and you can't even open up to me!" He's crying now. You know the feeling. When all else fails, when all other emotions just don't seem to work, cry.
"I'm trying to help you! I'm trying to bring the old you back!" You look down, ashamed at yourself for making him worry over you so much. You knew you weren't worth it.
"Brian, I love you!" Zacky cries. You heart drops into your stomach. You wish you were alone so you could handle yourself in the most irrational ways. You wouldn't now though, no. You'd be strong, you'd be the strong one.
"That's my problem," you whisper, eyes closing. You give up, you're going to "white-flag" this one. You just can't take it anymore.
"What?" Zack asks. When the silence consumes the two of you, you're not sure how to react. You're thinking about blocking everything out forever, it sounds suitable. Just as you're about to let go, Zacky grips the life out of you. You open your eyes, looking down to the younger male.
"Brian, don't ever keep things like that a secret! We could have avoided this, we could've already been together--" You tune out Zacky for a moment during his rant. Is he confessing to you what you've been waiting to confess for years ever since that one rehearsal in Matt's basement?
"Zack?" You interrupt. Zacky looks up. "Shut up, you're ruining it," you say pressing your lips against his.
VII. You loved the limelight. Being the center of attention was your thing. What could you say, you were great at it. Just recently your band had been nominated in the FUSE Chainsaw Awards for "Best New Rock Band In A Video." It bugged you that you were voted for something that labeled you as "new." Your band had been around for a few years now, but you could bet 75% of your fan base had no idea.
"Zacky! Synyster!" Paparazzi call, desperately begging for you two guitar gods to take a few quick snap shots. Zacky steps closer to you, throwing an arm around your shoulders, grinning like mad. Your left arm slides around his waist and his grin turns into an all-out smirk. You two were hot and you knew it.
"Happy to be back?" Zacky asks. You turn to face him, noses bumping awkwardly. Zacky blushes and looks down.
"I missed Brian Haner," he mumbles shyly. You smile.
"I missed him, too."
Author: spikemhinoda------->jess.
Rating: R.
Pairing: [Zacky Vengeance/Synyster Gates]
Summary: Don't let them see anything. Don't let your eyes give it away.
Disclaimer: Never happened.
A/N: Well, I felt the need to get some shit off my chest and this plotline seemed like the only efficient way to do that.
Dedications: To anyone who's been stuck in unrequited love.
_______________________________
I. You loved watching him. He was amazing, he was talented, he was...theirs. He and yourself were the two in the band girls creamed over. Zacky Vengeance and Synyster Gates: rock stars extraordinaire, best friends for life.
"Try not to lose you. Two vibrant hearts could change," Matt sings to the over-enthused crowd. Being on stage made you feel liberated; the crowd, the bass, him. You were ogling him again and you knew it. The thing was, you couldn't even help it, this was when he looked his best: his raven and purple locks were everywhere, his kohl liner was smudged, his wife beater drenched in sweat, his eyes closed...
You receive a jab in your side and glance up, your mocha eyes meeting with Matt's copper ones. He knows, he knows you've been staring at Zack.
"I wish I could be the one, the one who won't care at all," Matt sings, heading back to the front center of the stage, soaking in the waves of attention and admiration of the crowd. You can only focus on staring at your guitar for a minute before your head tilts up, letting your gaze settle on him again. You can see he's eyeing a platinum blonde in the crowd. She smiles seductively at Zacky and he winks back, flirtatious smirk plastered to his face.
"It's hurting you, but it's killing me."
II. You hated sleeping under him, he almost always had a new girl every night. You can hear him now, murmuring sweet nothings to that blonde he'd chatted up after the show. His meaningless promises he whispers make you cringe and you can instantly feel venom [and bile] building up inside of you. You're dying to be her, you're dying to be his.
"Oh God, Zacky!" She cries. You feel like crying too, just not in the same way.
"Mm, Baby," Zacky moans. You reach your hand under your pillow, searching for Lady Luck, your pocket knife. Feeling the wooden handle, you grasp it tightly and pull it out. You've had Lady Luck since you were about sixteen, and never once has she denied you a night of killing loneliness.
You run your right index finger down the sharp end of the blade and feel a jolt of pain run through that finger. You pull your finger back and examine it in the dim bunk lighting, noticing you gave your finger a small cut. You sigh and roll your sleeve up to your elbow joint.
"Zack, you're so good!"
You cut left, right, up, down...
"You're perfect, babe!"
...diagnal, in zags, intersecting...
"Oh God!"
You're finished and so are they. You look down to admire your bloody masterpiece:
FAKE.
III. You loved photo shoots. The camera, the lights...everything about photo shoots made you feel like a rock star.
"Guess who's going to be in our photo shoot," Zacky challenges from his seat in front of the vanity table where Gina and Alicia, your make-up artists, are working on your make-up for said shoot.
"I don't know, Zack. Who?" You ask, closing your left eye as Gina smears on some red eye-smudge on your eyelid.
"Christine Dolce," Zacky answers. Your eyes avert to the mirror in front of you two, looking into Zacky's jade eyes He's giving you a knowing stare down. He [and everyone else] know of your obsession with the blonde Michael Vincent model.
"Oh..." is all you feel you can respond with.
IV. You hated soap opera moments. It made you feel so cliche and...over-dramatic. The whole set-up was over-used to you; already done. Most of all, you hated yourself for getting into these moments. After the shoot, you hated yourself more than ever because you caused one of these moments. You had finally snapped.
You were talking to Christine after the shoot, having a [surprisingly] intelligent conversation with her. She wasn't just a model, she was a real person. Cue Zacky entering.
"Hey Bri," he casually greets, slinging his arm around your waist. You gulp nervously at his actions, this reminding you of one of those crush vs. true love situations that were on every episode of "All My Children" [or whatever your mom watched at 11:00.] This can't ever end good.
"Hey Zack," you greet back. Christine eyes you two.
"So Brian, you want me to send you a pair of Destroyed Denims in 38 W?" Christine asks, carrying on your previous conversation. You nod in response.
"Okay, right. Forget I'm here because there's a pretty lady in front of you," Zacky teases. Any other day you'd laugh it off, but today it just pissed you off.
"You know what Zack? Fuck off! I'm not in the fucking mood!" You hiss and storm off. You're not even sure why you feel so angry, hurt, frustrated, and confused, but you do.
Stepping onto the bus, you feel nausea take control over your body. Just thinking about how much everything has been destroying you lately is too much too handle. You sprint to the bathroom, quickly falling to your knees, hands gripping the porcelain of the toilet bowl. You violently empty your insides, tears falling. Your throat burns as well as your heart [which is feeling pretty heavy right now.] After you pause, you feel a hand on your back. You jerk your head to the right in shock. It's only Jimmy.
"Sh...Bri, it's okay," he assures you gently.
"I love him!" You sob. Jimmy nods, you emptying your stomach again, knuckles turning a pallid color.
"I know Bri, I know."
V. You loved/hated talking about your problems. It helped you relieve yourself, but but it made you feel so dependent and needy, like you needed help. Well, you do need help, hence why Jimmy had sat you down on the tour bus couch.
"Talk to me," Jimmy commands, calmly looking you over.
"...I'm upset," is all you say. Jimmy's brows furrow.
"Okay. Care to expand?" He asks. You sigh.
"I-I'm in love with Zacky," you quietly confess. Jimmy is silent for a minute.
"You know, he loves you, too," Jimmy tells you. You sigh, rubbing your tired eyes.
"It's not the sa-" you're interrupted by the tour bus door opening. It's him; Zacky
"I'm going to nap," you lamely lie, scurrying to the back of the bus to avoid the awkward situation that you knew was just waiting to happen.
VI. You hated having problems. You hated having problems so much. More so, you hated people who tried to help you with your problems. If you were killing yourself over something, the last thing you'd want would be someone offering you fake sympathy or forced pity. It wasn't anyone's place to try and sort you out, it was your job. You were the one to blame, you were the one who would save yourself.
"Bri?" You hear Zacky call from outside your bunk. You force out a grunt, offering it off as a decent response, yourself feeling so put down you can't even form coherent words. Zacky pulls back the curtain and gives you a sympathetic look. If you would have had the energy to, you would have cringed. There it is, that god-damned sympathy.
"Brian, what's wrong?" Zacky asks. You just stare at him emotionless.
Don't let them see anything. Don't let your eyes give it away.
"Can I...?" Zacky drifts, eyeing your bunk mattress. You know he's meaning laying in your bunk with you. You know this probably won't help thing get any better, but you nonetheless scoot over, giving Zacky some room. Zacky takes this as the cue to climb into your bunk which he does with ease.
"Brian," Zacky whispers, "you want to tell me what's been going on with you?" Zacky is looking up at you, jade eyes begging to be told something, anything but lies.
"...Nothing." Great job with telling the truth! Zacky frowns, his eyes burning with hurt.
"Don't you dare lie to me Brian Elwin Haner Junior!" Zacky hisses in a whisper through clenched teeth. You gulp. Damn, you're in for it.
"I've known you for...for..." Zacky's voice cracks from distress and desperation, "for a long fucking time and you can't even open up to me!" He's crying now. You know the feeling. When all else fails, when all other emotions just don't seem to work, cry.
"I'm trying to help you! I'm trying to bring the old you back!" You look down, ashamed at yourself for making him worry over you so much. You knew you weren't worth it.
"Brian, I love you!" Zacky cries. You heart drops into your stomach. You wish you were alone so you could handle yourself in the most irrational ways. You wouldn't now though, no. You'd be strong, you'd be the strong one.
"That's my problem," you whisper, eyes closing. You give up, you're going to "white-flag" this one. You just can't take it anymore.
"What?" Zack asks. When the silence consumes the two of you, you're not sure how to react. You're thinking about blocking everything out forever, it sounds suitable. Just as you're about to let go, Zacky grips the life out of you. You open your eyes, looking down to the younger male.
"Brian, don't ever keep things like that a secret! We could have avoided this, we could've already been together--" You tune out Zacky for a moment during his rant. Is he confessing to you what you've been waiting to confess for years ever since that one rehearsal in Matt's basement?
"Zack?" You interrupt. Zacky looks up. "Shut up, you're ruining it," you say pressing your lips against his.
VII. You loved the limelight. Being the center of attention was your thing. What could you say, you were great at it. Just recently your band had been nominated in the FUSE Chainsaw Awards for "Best New Rock Band In A Video." It bugged you that you were voted for something that labeled you as "new." Your band had been around for a few years now, but you could bet 75% of your fan base had no idea.
"Zacky! Synyster!" Paparazzi call, desperately begging for you two guitar gods to take a few quick snap shots. Zacky steps closer to you, throwing an arm around your shoulders, grinning like mad. Your left arm slides around his waist and his grin turns into an all-out smirk. You two were hot and you knew it.
"Happy to be back?" Zacky asks. You turn to face him, noses bumping awkwardly. Zacky blushes and looks down.
"I missed Brian Haner," he mumbles shyly. You smile.
"I missed him, too."