(no subject)
Title: Avenged
Author: E*A
Pairing: Brandon Flowers/Sam Endicott [The Killers/The Bravery]
Rating: R
Summary: Sam finds Brandon backstage and sets things straight.
Disclaimer: Not true, not real, don't know, don't own.
Notes: There is quite a bit of bashing of the Killers and the Bravery, but it's mainly just playing off the rumors of their rivalry. Please comment...it's my first Bravery fic and first Killers fic.
I want to rip his heart right out and spit on it. What an ingrate. What a fool. He just breezes past me like he’s the next fucking big thing, he’s the fucking big man on campus, he’s fucking Mr. Brightside. Well, fuck Mr. Brightside.
He straightens his velvet jacket and makes sure the collar of his yellow shirt pokes out just enough to look cool. His eyeliner looks messy, like he was in a hurry, but he sat there for ten minutes trying to make today’s eyeliner look like last night’s.
I taught him everything he knows and he just turns around and claims I’m nothing more than his carbon copy. What a fucker. What a fucker. I taught him the eyeliner trick. I helped him learn how to do his hair. I pulled him out of his cage. Brandon owes me.
Of course Mr. Flowers can’t see me. The black jacket helps me blend into the black curtains around me and he isn’t expecting an old friend to pop up like this. Old friend. Old friend turned enemy and I’m out to shut him up.
I step slowly away from the curtains as he fixes his eyeliner in the mirror. My pale face shows first and I can see the surprise in his eyes slowly appear as his shaky hands put the pencil back in its case.
“What are you doing here?” He asks, trying to be calm, but I can tell he’s five minutes away from calling security. Why did he mess with me? I bet he’s asking himself that now.
I watch him turn around and look at me directly. I say nothing and I know how uncomfortable that makes him. He crosses his legs and looks like he’s prepared to wait it out. I’m a hell of a lot more patient than he.
“Well, are you going to answer me?” Brandon’s voice sounds a little anxious. I wonder if he’s told his fiancé about our little NYC excursion. I wonder if he’s ever told his fiancé about the first time he was ever with a man. “Sam, you truly haven’t changed. You’re still playing your same old games, aren’t you?”
I still keep quiet and he smiles slowly, lights a cigarette and turns back to the mirror, keeping one eye on me and the other on his shaky hand tracing the rims of his eyes.
I move closer and the fear appears again. “You’re going to keep your mouth shut from now on, Brandon. You’re just a smear on my canvas. I can fucking ruin you, kid. You know I can.”
Brandon’s eyes look at mine through the mirror again and he sets the pencil down. “You won’t do it. You ruin me, you ruin you.” I say nothing, but I keep his eyes locked until he eventually looks away. “Besides, if the Killers are going down, the Bravery goes down. No one wants to see Mr. Brightside die before the second act now, do they?”
His cocky attitude is such a turn off. I used to wonder when he broke if it was just New York making his soul hard. He was a sweet kid, good intentioned. Maybe I ruined him.
I step right behind his back and I let my hands piece his shoulders. I grasp them tightly and he tenses and squirms under my pressure. He will listen to me now.
I lean down to his ear and whisper roughly, “You’re going to shut your mouth. We’re just as good as you if not better, you worthless fuck. You’re not such an innocent little Mormon boy, you’ve committed irreversible sins.”
A smile slowly creeps onto his face, “But, darling, it was just an honest mistake.” His cocky tone annoys me more than anything and I can’t take him any longer.
My hands clasp tighter around his skin and he yelps a bit in pain. “You know I could ruin you. You know I could. Don’t fucking make me.”
“What are you going to do, Sam? Throw me in music-jail?”
I push him off his chair and he slams his elbow against a table. I hear him quietly curse in pain. There was a time when I’d be down there right next to him, picking him up and apologizing all over myself. That time has come and gone.
He stands up and I know he’s too afraid of me to even think of pushing back and part of me really wants to call him a pussy for it, but I’m glad I won’t forever be known as the guy who gave the weakling of the Killers a black eye.
I feel my cell phone start to vibrate the lining of my jacket. I pull it out just to see that it’s Mike calling me for rehearsal. I start to walk towards the door, not even giving a fuck in the pathetic boy on the floor needs medical help.
“I wasn’t fucking over you when you moved on!” He screams and I turn around quickly. His voice is in pain and for a minute I wonder if it’s just because of his elbow. His eyes tell me differently. “Yeah, what? Just go out and fuck the first mindless fucking virgin you can fucking find in New York City, right? Right? Fuck you! You didn’t give a shit and a half about me, Sam. It took one fucking kiss for you to have me and one fucking kiss for you to move on.”
Shock takes over my face; I’m stunned that he even has emotion after all the gutless things he’s been saying.
“You fucking wanted my life. I’ve heard the stories. You went out and got a girlfriend that looked just like mine and you probably fucked her with more emotion than you fucked me with.”
“Who have you been talking to, Brandon? I haven’t been serious with anyone since last summer. Since you, you fucking idiot.”
“You’re such a tool, Sam, you’re such a fucking liar. Go tell your stories to another one of your fucks.”
I turn around again, leaving Brandon still sitting on the floor. As the door shuts, I hear something slam against it. I stand silently by the door as I hear him sob and pick himself up. My cell phone rings again, this time it’s off vibrate so everyone can hear it. I turn it off quickly and the sobs stop, I know he heard me.
I know it won’t be the last I’ve seen of him.
Author: E*A
Pairing: Brandon Flowers/Sam Endicott [The Killers/The Bravery]
Rating: R
Summary: Sam finds Brandon backstage and sets things straight.
Disclaimer: Not true, not real, don't know, don't own.
Notes: There is quite a bit of bashing of the Killers and the Bravery, but it's mainly just playing off the rumors of their rivalry. Please comment...it's my first Bravery fic and first Killers fic.
I want to rip his heart right out and spit on it. What an ingrate. What a fool. He just breezes past me like he’s the next fucking big thing, he’s the fucking big man on campus, he’s fucking Mr. Brightside. Well, fuck Mr. Brightside.
He straightens his velvet jacket and makes sure the collar of his yellow shirt pokes out just enough to look cool. His eyeliner looks messy, like he was in a hurry, but he sat there for ten minutes trying to make today’s eyeliner look like last night’s.
I taught him everything he knows and he just turns around and claims I’m nothing more than his carbon copy. What a fucker. What a fucker. I taught him the eyeliner trick. I helped him learn how to do his hair. I pulled him out of his cage. Brandon owes me.
Of course Mr. Flowers can’t see me. The black jacket helps me blend into the black curtains around me and he isn’t expecting an old friend to pop up like this. Old friend. Old friend turned enemy and I’m out to shut him up.
I step slowly away from the curtains as he fixes his eyeliner in the mirror. My pale face shows first and I can see the surprise in his eyes slowly appear as his shaky hands put the pencil back in its case.
“What are you doing here?” He asks, trying to be calm, but I can tell he’s five minutes away from calling security. Why did he mess with me? I bet he’s asking himself that now.
I watch him turn around and look at me directly. I say nothing and I know how uncomfortable that makes him. He crosses his legs and looks like he’s prepared to wait it out. I’m a hell of a lot more patient than he.
“Well, are you going to answer me?” Brandon’s voice sounds a little anxious. I wonder if he’s told his fiancé about our little NYC excursion. I wonder if he’s ever told his fiancé about the first time he was ever with a man. “Sam, you truly haven’t changed. You’re still playing your same old games, aren’t you?”
I still keep quiet and he smiles slowly, lights a cigarette and turns back to the mirror, keeping one eye on me and the other on his shaky hand tracing the rims of his eyes.
I move closer and the fear appears again. “You’re going to keep your mouth shut from now on, Brandon. You’re just a smear on my canvas. I can fucking ruin you, kid. You know I can.”
Brandon’s eyes look at mine through the mirror again and he sets the pencil down. “You won’t do it. You ruin me, you ruin you.” I say nothing, but I keep his eyes locked until he eventually looks away. “Besides, if the Killers are going down, the Bravery goes down. No one wants to see Mr. Brightside die before the second act now, do they?”
His cocky attitude is such a turn off. I used to wonder when he broke if it was just New York making his soul hard. He was a sweet kid, good intentioned. Maybe I ruined him.
I step right behind his back and I let my hands piece his shoulders. I grasp them tightly and he tenses and squirms under my pressure. He will listen to me now.
I lean down to his ear and whisper roughly, “You’re going to shut your mouth. We’re just as good as you if not better, you worthless fuck. You’re not such an innocent little Mormon boy, you’ve committed irreversible sins.”
A smile slowly creeps onto his face, “But, darling, it was just an honest mistake.” His cocky tone annoys me more than anything and I can’t take him any longer.
My hands clasp tighter around his skin and he yelps a bit in pain. “You know I could ruin you. You know I could. Don’t fucking make me.”
“What are you going to do, Sam? Throw me in music-jail?”
I push him off his chair and he slams his elbow against a table. I hear him quietly curse in pain. There was a time when I’d be down there right next to him, picking him up and apologizing all over myself. That time has come and gone.
He stands up and I know he’s too afraid of me to even think of pushing back and part of me really wants to call him a pussy for it, but I’m glad I won’t forever be known as the guy who gave the weakling of the Killers a black eye.
I feel my cell phone start to vibrate the lining of my jacket. I pull it out just to see that it’s Mike calling me for rehearsal. I start to walk towards the door, not even giving a fuck in the pathetic boy on the floor needs medical help.
“I wasn’t fucking over you when you moved on!” He screams and I turn around quickly. His voice is in pain and for a minute I wonder if it’s just because of his elbow. His eyes tell me differently. “Yeah, what? Just go out and fuck the first mindless fucking virgin you can fucking find in New York City, right? Right? Fuck you! You didn’t give a shit and a half about me, Sam. It took one fucking kiss for you to have me and one fucking kiss for you to move on.”
Shock takes over my face; I’m stunned that he even has emotion after all the gutless things he’s been saying.
“You fucking wanted my life. I’ve heard the stories. You went out and got a girlfriend that looked just like mine and you probably fucked her with more emotion than you fucked me with.”
“Who have you been talking to, Brandon? I haven’t been serious with anyone since last summer. Since you, you fucking idiot.”
“You’re such a tool, Sam, you’re such a fucking liar. Go tell your stories to another one of your fucks.”
I turn around again, leaving Brandon still sitting on the floor. As the door shuts, I hear something slam against it. I stand silently by the door as I hear him sob and pick himself up. My cell phone rings again, this time it’s off vibrate so everyone can hear it. I turn it off quickly and the sobs stop, I know he heard me.
I know it won’t be the last I’ve seen of him.