Watch You Disappear
Fandom: My Passion (british 'dance punk' band)
Pairing: Surprise! ;P
Chapter: One of one
Rating: PG?
Story summary: My Passion's bus catches fire
Warnings: Contains slash! And, unfortunately, main character death
Disclaimer: Don't own anyone... Obviously. But this NEVER happened. (John's still alive)
I can remember the day I met him, I was just four years old but I remember it as though it were yesterday; it was the first day of September, the first day at my new infant school, a new life in a new town, that’s what my mother had said. The weak winter sun was shining through the window of the classroom, and, though many other students had arrived since I had, I was sitting by myself in the corner of the room. They didn't like me; I'd only been in a room with them for five minutes but already they didn't like me, and all because of my accent! But he was different, when he came up to me and I spoke, he didn't turn away or giggle, he didn't run to tell his friends about me, he listened; actually listened to me. We were going to be friends, he decided, best friends. Of course I didn’t object, it would be a nice change to have a friend.
He was a small boy, with lank, mousy brown hair that hung in his eyes, his teeth were uneven and his clothes were messy - none of the other kids liked him, either - ‘Oh how much he's changed since then,’ I think, wiping a tear from my eye...
I remember my fifth birthday party, he was the only person there, we had cake and sweets and played pass the parcel, we had a great time! Just us. No-one else. We were each other's only friends, but that was okay because we didn't need anyone else. On his 10th birthday his mum took us to London for the day; we ate pizza and went to the cinema, we went on the London eye afterwards and he got so scared he was sick - his mum was really mad at him! I remember when we were thirteen we went to a music festival, we loved it so much that we came back to my house and spent the rest of the afternoon attempting to play my dad's guitars, to everyone in the house's annoyance... I can remember in year ten when these guys were bulling me and he stood up to them, he told them to back off! That didn't end well for him - a black eye and a broken arm - the bullies were expelled, though, and he always insisted it was worth getting beaten up just so they couldn't tease me anymore. When we first met Jonny we were in year 11, he was a few years younger than us but the only other kid in the school who liked rock music, we got on so well we eventually started a band; That was all I ever wanted to do, be in a band, I worked hard at school for my parents sake but I only ever wanted to perform onstage with my friends. We found Harry and Simon and they joined the band, and we started gigging, we were still at college and used to come in the night after a gig totally exhausted, sometimes we'd fall asleep in lessons! But the teachers weren't too harsh on us, they knew we were doing what we loved and had made a big effort to come into class. That was around the same time we met Andy; He had seen us playing a small show in London and had really loved us. He asked us if we had a manager yet, we said hadn’t, and eventually, after talking with him more, that’s what he became! I remember when Harry decided to leave the band, we were just starting to get a really dedicated fan base but he couldn't do it anymore, his heart wasn't in it. Everyone was very upset but we all knew that the band was all we wanted, all we needed; we had each other and that's all that mattered. When we toured for the first time I remember being so excited! To go on our first tour of Europe, was a big enough thing, but as support for a band that were really well known in America - we didn’t understand how we managed to get so lucky - they were real nice guys too, we had a blast! We got on so well that they invited us to tour with them again; we said yes, of course - you'd have to be mad to turn that down - though now I'm sure everyone wishes we'd said no...
The tour had been going so well, up until then, my dad had come with us and was getting along really well with Andy. We were having the time of our lives! It was all too good to be true, something was bound to go wrong, we should have realised that! But we didn’t, not until it was too late.
We had stopped for the night so the bus driver could have a rest, we didn’t have money for a hotel and, as we had bunks on the bus, we decided we may as well sleep there. It was the middle of the night when we were woken up by shouting, Andy was shouting.
“Everyone get off the bus! Get off the bus now!”
Still half asleep I rolled out of my bunk, stumbling slightly as I stood up. I could hear other people shouting now, but I didn't realise what was happening until I smelled the smoke, until I saw the flames, and that's when I realised, our tour bus was on fire!
“Everyone get off the bus right now!”
Simon was on the floor, people were stumbling, banging into each other, tripping on Simon, Simon was screaming, shouting for help; I pulled him up and he held onto me tightly, not wanting to lose me in the thick smoke that was now beginning to fill the bus. My eyes watered and I swallowed loudly, trying to prevent the coughing fit that would inevitably start at any moment. Simon grabbed my hand and began to pull me with him, it was dark and hard to find our way, the heat was overwhelming and the flames seemed to be getting bigger with every step we took. The bus was full of smoke now, and I couldn’t see a thing so I closed my eyes and let Simon guide me... When we reached the door and the cold night air hit my face I breathed a sigh of relief; we had made it! Simon helped me off the bus and dragged me over to the others, the coughing fit I had held back earlier finally broke free and my dad made me sit down and drink some water, whilst he checked me over to make sure I was okay. I sipped the water and handed it back to my dad, breathing in deeply - trying to clear my lungs - as I looked around. Andy and Mark were just getting off the bus, Simon was a little way off talking to Jon - who was looking more worried by the second - my dad was still sitting with me, handing me the bottle of water every few seconds and encouraging me to drink from it. Everyone was there, standing in their pyjamas in the cool night breeze. Everyone, that is, except him; I didn't have to think twice before jumping up and running back towards the bus. My dad’s shout alerted everyone to the fact that something was wrong, and all of a sudden everyone was screaming at me, pleading for me to come back, but I wouldn't - I couldn't leave him...
I took a deep breath and plunged into the sea of blackness, searching blindly for the bed where I hoped he would be. Sure enough when I found his bunk he was still there, lying curled up under the thick duvet. I pulled the duvet off of him and checked his pulse, it was weak and he was hardly breathing, I began to panic, calling his name a few times I shook him slightly, trying desperately to wake him up so I could get him off the bus. It didn’t work. I decided the only thing I could do would be to carry him; he was heavy and I couldn’t see where I was going, but I managed to pull him with me, and I eventually got him outside, into the fresh air. I lay him down gently on the cold pavement and collapsed beside him, gasping for breath, as everyone rushed over. My dad was once again next to me, checking to make sure I was okay, I had been careless in my hurry to get back off the bus and could feel burns up my arms from where the flames had brushed me, I couldn’t breathe properly and I was finding it increasingly hard to stay awake. There was a loud bang as one of the doors fell off the bus and the windows shattered, adding to the panic already building up inside everyone, I hoped desperately no-one else had been stuck on the bus. There were people running back and forth, phoning for ambulances. I drifted in and out of consciousness. I heard people phoning for the fire brigade, I could hear voices, I could hear sirens. The last thing I heard before I blacked out was Andy's voice.
"He's not going to make it."
I awoke to a bright light shining in my eyes. I blinked and looked around. I was in a white bed, my arms and head were bandaged and a monitor was slowly beeping beside me, my dad was sitting in a chair next to me, holding my hand. He smiled when he realised I was awake.
"They didn't know if you'd make it," he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
I couldn't remember what had happened at first, I didn't know where I was, but gradually I began to remember, "How long-? Where's-? Is he okay?" I croaked, my throat dry.
My dad's expression changed immediately from a look of relief to a look of deepest sympathy "You've only been here a couple of hours," he began in response to my first question; we both knew that wasn't what I wanted answered. I knew it could only be bad news, "They did everything they could... But he- he breathed in too much- the smoke- It's not your fault, you couldn't have done anything. You couldn't have got to him any quicker- I'm sorry..."
It took a few minutes for it to sink in, and even then I couldn't quite believe it "N-no..." I whispered shakily. “He can’t- No.”
My father paused as if searching for something comforting to say, a better way to put it, but in the end he merely confirmed it by whispering, "He's dead"
It hurt too much to describe in words, everything happened as if in slow motion, as if in a dream, a horrible nightmare. People were talking to me but I didn't hear a word they said, people were hugging me but I didn't feel a thing... There was a ringing in my ears that would not stop, all my limbs felt numb, I couldn't move, and all the time the same six words were running through my mind;
"He's not going to make it."
So now, standing by his coffin, looking down at his sleeping form, I wonder why it had to happen. Why did he have to die? Why not me? Was it something he did wrong? Something bad which a greater power felt the need to punish him for? No, he could never have done anything bad... I gaze at his angel-like face and think about how much he changed in the twenty years I knew him, how beautiful he had been when that last breath was cruelly snatched away from him; how beautiful he still is, even in death. I try to imagine he's only sleeping, that a gentle nudge is all it'd take to have him awake, smiling his beautiful smile and hugging me like he always did. But I know it's not true; his chest doesn't rise and fall, his eyelids don't flutter, the corner of his mouth doesn't twitch in the way that was so familiar to me; I memorised everything he did while he dreamt, as I watched him - captivated by this sleeping beauty. But now he will sleep forever. Tears are stinging my eyes, threatening to fall as I look, for the last time, at his blissfully peaceful face, I try to memorise every last detail, his skin; so smooth and pale, like porcelain, though the usual light pink tinge is missing from his cheeks - yet another reminder that he isn't merely sleeping - his blond hair, nearly white from so many years of bleaching, still hangs in front of his eyes, as if trying to hide them, as it did all those years ago on the day of our first meeting - I never understood why he’d want to hide something so gorgeous from the world, but now they'll never be seen again - his pale, pale pink lips... I feel a tear roll down my cheek and wipe it away hastily, the guys can't see me crying, I have to be strong for everyone...
You never told him, a small voice inside my head states, and now he'll never know, another tear falls as I realise how true this is, he'll never know how much I cared.
“He'll never know how much I loved him,” I whisper quietly, my voice echoes in the silence of the small church, as if taunting me, making fun of me as those bullies had all those years before - the bullies he had saved me from. The tears are falling freely now and I wipe my eyes, undoubtedly smudging my make up, but I don't care. All I care about is him, and now he's gone. Forever. He'll never wake up.
Pairing: Surprise! ;P
Chapter: One of one
Rating: PG?
Story summary: My Passion's bus catches fire
Warnings: Contains slash! And, unfortunately, main character death
Disclaimer: Don't own anyone... Obviously. But this NEVER happened. (John's still alive)
I can remember the day I met him, I was just four years old but I remember it as though it were yesterday; it was the first day of September, the first day at my new infant school, a new life in a new town, that’s what my mother had said. The weak winter sun was shining through the window of the classroom, and, though many other students had arrived since I had, I was sitting by myself in the corner of the room. They didn't like me; I'd only been in a room with them for five minutes but already they didn't like me, and all because of my accent! But he was different, when he came up to me and I spoke, he didn't turn away or giggle, he didn't run to tell his friends about me, he listened; actually listened to me. We were going to be friends, he decided, best friends. Of course I didn’t object, it would be a nice change to have a friend.
He was a small boy, with lank, mousy brown hair that hung in his eyes, his teeth were uneven and his clothes were messy - none of the other kids liked him, either - ‘Oh how much he's changed since then,’ I think, wiping a tear from my eye...
I remember my fifth birthday party, he was the only person there, we had cake and sweets and played pass the parcel, we had a great time! Just us. No-one else. We were each other's only friends, but that was okay because we didn't need anyone else. On his 10th birthday his mum took us to London for the day; we ate pizza and went to the cinema, we went on the London eye afterwards and he got so scared he was sick - his mum was really mad at him! I remember when we were thirteen we went to a music festival, we loved it so much that we came back to my house and spent the rest of the afternoon attempting to play my dad's guitars, to everyone in the house's annoyance... I can remember in year ten when these guys were bulling me and he stood up to them, he told them to back off! That didn't end well for him - a black eye and a broken arm - the bullies were expelled, though, and he always insisted it was worth getting beaten up just so they couldn't tease me anymore. When we first met Jonny we were in year 11, he was a few years younger than us but the only other kid in the school who liked rock music, we got on so well we eventually started a band; That was all I ever wanted to do, be in a band, I worked hard at school for my parents sake but I only ever wanted to perform onstage with my friends. We found Harry and Simon and they joined the band, and we started gigging, we were still at college and used to come in the night after a gig totally exhausted, sometimes we'd fall asleep in lessons! But the teachers weren't too harsh on us, they knew we were doing what we loved and had made a big effort to come into class. That was around the same time we met Andy; He had seen us playing a small show in London and had really loved us. He asked us if we had a manager yet, we said hadn’t, and eventually, after talking with him more, that’s what he became! I remember when Harry decided to leave the band, we were just starting to get a really dedicated fan base but he couldn't do it anymore, his heart wasn't in it. Everyone was very upset but we all knew that the band was all we wanted, all we needed; we had each other and that's all that mattered. When we toured for the first time I remember being so excited! To go on our first tour of Europe, was a big enough thing, but as support for a band that were really well known in America - we didn’t understand how we managed to get so lucky - they were real nice guys too, we had a blast! We got on so well that they invited us to tour with them again; we said yes, of course - you'd have to be mad to turn that down - though now I'm sure everyone wishes we'd said no...
The tour had been going so well, up until then, my dad had come with us and was getting along really well with Andy. We were having the time of our lives! It was all too good to be true, something was bound to go wrong, we should have realised that! But we didn’t, not until it was too late.
We had stopped for the night so the bus driver could have a rest, we didn’t have money for a hotel and, as we had bunks on the bus, we decided we may as well sleep there. It was the middle of the night when we were woken up by shouting, Andy was shouting.
“Everyone get off the bus! Get off the bus now!”
Still half asleep I rolled out of my bunk, stumbling slightly as I stood up. I could hear other people shouting now, but I didn't realise what was happening until I smelled the smoke, until I saw the flames, and that's when I realised, our tour bus was on fire!
“Everyone get off the bus right now!”
Simon was on the floor, people were stumbling, banging into each other, tripping on Simon, Simon was screaming, shouting for help; I pulled him up and he held onto me tightly, not wanting to lose me in the thick smoke that was now beginning to fill the bus. My eyes watered and I swallowed loudly, trying to prevent the coughing fit that would inevitably start at any moment. Simon grabbed my hand and began to pull me with him, it was dark and hard to find our way, the heat was overwhelming and the flames seemed to be getting bigger with every step we took. The bus was full of smoke now, and I couldn’t see a thing so I closed my eyes and let Simon guide me... When we reached the door and the cold night air hit my face I breathed a sigh of relief; we had made it! Simon helped me off the bus and dragged me over to the others, the coughing fit I had held back earlier finally broke free and my dad made me sit down and drink some water, whilst he checked me over to make sure I was okay. I sipped the water and handed it back to my dad, breathing in deeply - trying to clear my lungs - as I looked around. Andy and Mark were just getting off the bus, Simon was a little way off talking to Jon - who was looking more worried by the second - my dad was still sitting with me, handing me the bottle of water every few seconds and encouraging me to drink from it. Everyone was there, standing in their pyjamas in the cool night breeze. Everyone, that is, except him; I didn't have to think twice before jumping up and running back towards the bus. My dad’s shout alerted everyone to the fact that something was wrong, and all of a sudden everyone was screaming at me, pleading for me to come back, but I wouldn't - I couldn't leave him...
I took a deep breath and plunged into the sea of blackness, searching blindly for the bed where I hoped he would be. Sure enough when I found his bunk he was still there, lying curled up under the thick duvet. I pulled the duvet off of him and checked his pulse, it was weak and he was hardly breathing, I began to panic, calling his name a few times I shook him slightly, trying desperately to wake him up so I could get him off the bus. It didn’t work. I decided the only thing I could do would be to carry him; he was heavy and I couldn’t see where I was going, but I managed to pull him with me, and I eventually got him outside, into the fresh air. I lay him down gently on the cold pavement and collapsed beside him, gasping for breath, as everyone rushed over. My dad was once again next to me, checking to make sure I was okay, I had been careless in my hurry to get back off the bus and could feel burns up my arms from where the flames had brushed me, I couldn’t breathe properly and I was finding it increasingly hard to stay awake. There was a loud bang as one of the doors fell off the bus and the windows shattered, adding to the panic already building up inside everyone, I hoped desperately no-one else had been stuck on the bus. There were people running back and forth, phoning for ambulances. I drifted in and out of consciousness. I heard people phoning for the fire brigade, I could hear voices, I could hear sirens. The last thing I heard before I blacked out was Andy's voice.
"He's not going to make it."
I awoke to a bright light shining in my eyes. I blinked and looked around. I was in a white bed, my arms and head were bandaged and a monitor was slowly beeping beside me, my dad was sitting in a chair next to me, holding my hand. He smiled when he realised I was awake.
"They didn't know if you'd make it," he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
I couldn't remember what had happened at first, I didn't know where I was, but gradually I began to remember, "How long-? Where's-? Is he okay?" I croaked, my throat dry.
My dad's expression changed immediately from a look of relief to a look of deepest sympathy "You've only been here a couple of hours," he began in response to my first question; we both knew that wasn't what I wanted answered. I knew it could only be bad news, "They did everything they could... But he- he breathed in too much- the smoke- It's not your fault, you couldn't have done anything. You couldn't have got to him any quicker- I'm sorry..."
It took a few minutes for it to sink in, and even then I couldn't quite believe it "N-no..." I whispered shakily. “He can’t- No.”
My father paused as if searching for something comforting to say, a better way to put it, but in the end he merely confirmed it by whispering, "He's dead"
It hurt too much to describe in words, everything happened as if in slow motion, as if in a dream, a horrible nightmare. People were talking to me but I didn't hear a word they said, people were hugging me but I didn't feel a thing... There was a ringing in my ears that would not stop, all my limbs felt numb, I couldn't move, and all the time the same six words were running through my mind;
"He's not going to make it."
So now, standing by his coffin, looking down at his sleeping form, I wonder why it had to happen. Why did he have to die? Why not me? Was it something he did wrong? Something bad which a greater power felt the need to punish him for? No, he could never have done anything bad... I gaze at his angel-like face and think about how much he changed in the twenty years I knew him, how beautiful he had been when that last breath was cruelly snatched away from him; how beautiful he still is, even in death. I try to imagine he's only sleeping, that a gentle nudge is all it'd take to have him awake, smiling his beautiful smile and hugging me like he always did. But I know it's not true; his chest doesn't rise and fall, his eyelids don't flutter, the corner of his mouth doesn't twitch in the way that was so familiar to me; I memorised everything he did while he dreamt, as I watched him - captivated by this sleeping beauty. But now he will sleep forever. Tears are stinging my eyes, threatening to fall as I look, for the last time, at his blissfully peaceful face, I try to memorise every last detail, his skin; so smooth and pale, like porcelain, though the usual light pink tinge is missing from his cheeks - yet another reminder that he isn't merely sleeping - his blond hair, nearly white from so many years of bleaching, still hangs in front of his eyes, as if trying to hide them, as it did all those years ago on the day of our first meeting - I never understood why he’d want to hide something so gorgeous from the world, but now they'll never be seen again - his pale, pale pink lips... I feel a tear roll down my cheek and wipe it away hastily, the guys can't see me crying, I have to be strong for everyone...
You never told him, a small voice inside my head states, and now he'll never know, another tear falls as I realise how true this is, he'll never know how much I cared.
“He'll never know how much I loved him,” I whisper quietly, my voice echoes in the silence of the small church, as if taunting me, making fun of me as those bullies had all those years before - the bullies he had saved me from. The tears are falling freely now and I wipe my eyes, undoubtedly smudging my make up, but I don't care. All I care about is him, and now he's gone. Forever. He'll never wake up.