(no subject)
Title: Broken Pews and Empty Aisles
Author: xvanilla_cokex / tune out
Band: Avenged Sevenfold
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I do not own anyone mentioned in this story. Nor do I have any affiliation. It is all fiction, it is all in good fun. Brand New, however, owns the title.
Summary: Brian is on the verge of a complete breakdown.
Date(s) Posted: 03/10/06
Maybe it was your own fault for alienating yourself from the rest of the group. From your so called friends, while they drank and had a good time and laughed, and you, you just sat there and stirred your beer in your hands and stared down at the glazed wood of the table top in front of you. The jokes went over your head, you never paid attention, and when questions were directed at you they were answered with an apathetic shrug, your eyes never leaving the table. For once in your life, you, Brian Haner, were not the life of the party. You had no desire to be, you just wanted peace and quiet and somewhere to work out your thoughts. But that would never happen, not in this fast paced lifestyle that you were growing accustomed to living as of late. Everything was just becoming too much to handle and unbeknownst to everyone around you, you were feeling ragged and worn down, on the verge of something miserable and horrible. This shouldn’t be happening, not while you were home and supposed to be relaxing. Not so close to the holidays, not when every night you could crawl in bed with someone as beautiful and wonderful as Zacky. But, for some reason, not even that could bring a smile to your face anymore, you were just on your edge, you were falling apart, and everyone saw it, but no one understood. No one could seem to get why you didn’t want to laugh at their jokes or be around them. Zacky didn’t understand why you had no desire for intimacy, why all his advances towards you always led you to rolling over on your sides, tears leaking out of your chocolate brown eyes as you heard him sigh and shuffle out from under the covers, making his way to the bathroom. Zacky didn’t understand, and quite frankly, neither did you.
“Bri?” Jimmy’s knuckles pressed against your shoulder lightly, trying to bring you up from your trance. You tilted your head to look up at him, brushing your long brown hair away from your eyes. “You okay?” You gave him a shrug, keeping your dry lips together, breathing through your nose. Your throat felt like it wasn’t working, dry and cracked, but you didn’t even have the energy to lift your glass to your lips. Your chin trembled slightly and you could feel your eyes begin to water and you looked back down, not willing to let him see this side of you. This wasn’t you; you weren’t supposed to break down for no reason in public. You were co-alpha male, you were bigger and stronger and badder than most everyone around you, and yet here you were, just breaking down in a bar. Shaking your head slowly, you lifted yourself up from the vinyl-coated bench, cold shaking fingers pressed on the sweaty gloss of the table.
“I have to go to the bathroom.” Your voice was barely audible, so broken from not being used all night, when normally you’d be the one talking everyone’s ear off while Zacky just clung to you and laughed. But no, tonight was everyone else’s night, and you were just dying inside. Jimmy cocked his head to the side as he watched you stand up, your hands crossing over your chest as if some sort of protective shield as you made your way into the bathroom. You looked around at the stalls, making sure no one else was around before you entered one, leaning against the dirty wall, and not caring what stuck to your back. Tears began rolling down your cheeks and your hands found your face, swiping at the hot liquid burning at your skin. This was not you, what had happened, what had made you this way.
You walked into the bedroom from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around your slender hips, another in your hand as you ran it slowly through your long wet hair, dropping your arm as they started to ache. This wasn’t normal, this lack of energy, this urge to cry constantly, this feeling of loss and heartache when there had been nothing lost or broken. You were just falling apart, and it was taking its toll on you and everyone around you, especially the man in your bed. His black hair framing his pale face as he leaned down over the book in his lap, the blanket pulled up enough to cover most of his body as he scrunched up near the headboard. He brought a finger to his lips and slid his tongue out over it, bringing the wet finger down to turn the page, his now dull green eyes scanning over the words. You bit at your bottom lip, bringing the small piece of flesh back between your teeth, watching him as he did. His eyes never left the paper in front of him and he never acknowledged your presence, even as you slunk your wet body onto the bed next to him, closing your eyes. You let out a sigh and he closed his eyes, opening them again, the green orbs wet and glossy and his chin trembling. Your eyes watered at the sight of him and you slid your arms around him, his snaking back around you. Sobs erupted from his mouth and you pulled him closer, rubbing at his back as he shook and cried, tears leaking down your own cheeks, mixing with the wetness dripping from the curling tendrils of your hair.
“What’s wrong with me, Brian? What’s wrong with all of us, why don’t you want us anymore? Why don’t you want me anymore? Did I do something, what did I do? Tell me and I’ll fix it, I swear I’ll fix it, I just can’t take this anymore.” Choked sobs left his mouth following those words, mumbled pleadingly against your ear. Your silent cries were buried into his neck, your long fingers rubbing up and down his spine, trying to calm him down. Words were lost in your throat, you couldn’t speak. You were shaking and cold and hollow and nothing could stop that, not even the love in your heart for the one in your arms. You were empty and drained, and you didn’t know how to explain that to him. How he could never fix you when you didn’t even know where to begin to fix yourself.
“Shh, baby, you didn’t do anything. I promise you, I swear on everything you didn’t do anything. I just… I don’t know what’s going on with me, Zack. I don’t know how to fix things and I’m just…”
“I can’t live like this, Brian.” He cut you off, pulling away from your embrace as he wiped at his eyes. “I can’t do this, I can’t hurt because you hurt, I’m sorry.” He pulled his full bottom lip between his teeth, droplets of tears falling off the steel hoops shoved into his skin. You looked at him, your eyes narrowing as you cocked your head, wiping at your own eyes, the tears continuing to leak down. He closed his eyes, once a bright green that lit up a room - now a dull grayish green lacking that certain sparkle that made him so childlike, reaching his hand forward to rub at your cheeks. Your hand slid to his, holding onto his skin, rubbing at it, your hands freezing against him. You felt cold and clammy, dead against his warm skin. “Brian, please, figure this out and get better, because you’re just bringing us all down with you. We were talking about it while you were in the bathroom tonight, we hoped you’d come back out of your shell, that you’d come back to us, you know? But you just didn’t and we’re worried, we’re all really worried.” You nodded and swallowed thickly, closing your eyes tightly as you stood up. You gave him a small fake smile as you slid off the bed, wiping at your eyes.
“I’ll be fine, Zacky.” You nodded and slipped back into the bathroom, dropping your towels and turning the water back on. You slid under the scalding spray and leaned against the wall, sliding down as your body shook, sobs overtaking your chest. You were coming too close to possibly losing the best thing that ever happened to you, just because you couldn’t help yourself.
Your hands shook as you moved the acoustic guitar in your lap, chewing on your bottom lip and closing your eyes. For the first time in your life, nothing about this felt natural. Could this have been it? Could you have possibly drained yourself of talent and creativity and love of your craft, and that was what was making you this way? You opened your eyes, strumming the strings gently, the sound sending chills down your spine. This wasn’t right, nothing sounded right. Nothing was good enough anymore and you couldn’t handle it. You set the piece of wood down on the ground gently, standing up and pacing back and forth across the living room. Your heart raced and you ran your long shaking fingers through your hair, trying to keep your breathing to a normal pace. How were you going to tell everyone that you couldn’t do this anymore, that your first true love, the one thing you thought would never betray you, had left you, had taken everything from you. This was worse than what any one person could do to you, this was your life, this was your blood.
“Maybe its just writer’s block.” You nodded and mumbled to yourself, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “Yeah, yeah that’s all it is. I don’t need to write anyway, I just… relax. Relax, Brian.” You took a deep breath and pushed your hair back, exhaling with force. It would never leave you. Music would never leave you, talent would never leave you. Your father could still outplay you and he was the same way you were. The same, minus the mental breakdown you were currently in the middle of. He didn’t go through the needless tears and the paranoia and the constant state of isolation and loneliness despite the million people that always seemed to be around you. You inhaled deeply through your nose and exhaled again with a sigh, leaning your head back. Your back ached and your skin was covered in goosebumps, a constant state of cold surrounding the house. Maybe that was why Zacky was always wearing hoodies and drinking warm beverages. And maybe the dull scratches all over his arms really were just from the dog and various other excuses he’d give you.
Zacky was one to talk, one to make you feel bad about feeling miserable. The shape up or ship out speech was something you had never expected; especially coming from the man you nursed through everything. Alcohol overdoses, minor eating disorders, scars constantly appearing on his pale skin in tiny symmetric lines. You had stayed with him through everything, and vowed to him that through it all you would make him see how wonderful and perfect that he was. And often, you had him believing you; often you had made him see how beautiful and perfect he was. But now you were falling apart and he wasn’t even trying, he was just giving up on you because he couldn’t handle your problems. Couldn’t handle the fact that for some unknown reason, you just couldn’t get happy. Sure, you’d smile and laugh sometimes, you’d come out of it and make your appearances that everything was fine, but this had been a long time coming. You had been breaking down for months now and no one could see, no one could believe that you, you the man with the golden ego, just couldn’t take living anymore.
“Brian, what are you doing?” And there was the devil himself, one of your black hoodies all too big on his frame, his eyes scanning over your body. You wondered if maybe yours looked as dead as his did, as lifeless and boring. Maybe you were just bored. He was leaning against the doorframe, the white wood paneling along the doorframe separating the kitchen from the living room matching the color of his all too pale skin. You looked at him, sighing at the effort even that seemed to take from you. His eyes watched you, his fingers wrapping tighter around the steaming mug in his hand, peppermint tea from the scent that wafted up from the steam and to your nostrils.
“I don’t even know.” You mumbled and sat yourself back down on the couch, leaning your head back on the cushion as you felt another breakdown approaching. You sucked in a breath as he stood up, making his way towards you. You heard him walking, the floorboards creaking underneath his feet and the sound of a mug being placed on a glass coffee table. The springs groaned next to you as he sat down, his fingers running slowly through your hair. His chin rested on your shoulder and his hot peppermint and caffeine-flavored breath hit your neck.
“I wish I knew how to fix you.”
“Like you’d even bother to try.” You didn’t miss a beat, your head pulling away from him. You stood up, despite your aching body begging you to sit back down. He looked up at you, his mouth dropping open as he supported himself, his head shaking. He snapped his mouth shut and stood up, crossing his arms tight over his chest as he pushed passed you, picking up his mug. You just stood there, watching him as he moved angrily back into the kitchen. You followed him, watching as he opened one of the drawers, looking for something.
“Don’t look at me. I wouldn’t bother to help you, don’t look at me.” He muttered, his chin shaking as he spoke. Guilt filled your body, and you were grateful you could at least feel something. Your eyes never left him though, not even as he slammed the drawer shut, leaning against it as his shoulders started to shake. You watched him cry, you watched as he began to sob, but you didn’t move to comfort him. You didn’t have the energy, and what good would it do? He sunk down to his knees, sniffling and holding onto the counter top above his head, tears streaking down his red cheeks. You leaned against the doorframe, the opposite side that he had occupied before coming into the living room, your head pushing hard against the wood. The pain was kind of relaxing, kind of numbing, and you liked it. But you just started at him, stared unblinking until he finally looked up at you, wiping at his nose and cheeks.
“I don’t want to live anymore.” The words flowed from your lips before you could realize what you were saying, his eyes widening as he sat back, his head slamming into the cabinet behind him. He pressed himself back into the woodwork, the handle must have been digging into his back, his face turned upwards towards you and set in a face of fear, as if you were some sort of a monster.
“How can you say that, Brian? How can you…”
“How many times have you said it to me, Zacky? How many times have I been your rock? I can’t do this, I can’t take care of you and me at the same time and you need so much attention. You need all of me and I’m so fucked right now, Zacky, and you don’t help me, you just keep… throwing things at me. You make me feel horrible, you tell me you’re going to leave if I don’t take care of you better, but I do the best I can. I don’t… I can’t…” You trailed off, your throat choking. All you were doing was guilt tripping him for not taking care of you when it wasn’t even his job. You shook your head and pushed yourself away from the doorframe, walking back towards the stairs. You climbed them two at a time, your body aching at the exertion, but there was nothing left to do but run now. All you could do was run away from the one who loved you, but even that you were beginning to doubt.
You closed the bathroom door behind you; you couldn’t let him see you like this. You needed to relax; you needed to get out of this. You plugged the tub and ran the hot water, wiping at your face as you tried to will yourself to stop crying. That wasn’t going to help now, not with your lover crying downstairs and your body feeling so empty. You peeled the clothes off your skin and sank into the tub, the water still rushing in, almost half full. It burned, it was scalding your skin, but you needed it, you needed to shed this layer of skin, you needed to burn out the bad and somehow emerge from it reborn again to fix the chaos that you caused. You could only guess what Zacky was doing downstairs, sobbing and trying to cut himself on something, who knew where else he hid his razors. He was good at sneaking around, good at finding hiding places from your oblivious eyes. As much as you wanted to say you noticed everything, you saw simply in a straight line. Your shoulders slammed against the porcelain as you only sobbed harder, your hands gripping the edge of the tub.
The water kept rising, burning at your body. You held your breath and sunk your head under the water, air bubbles coming from your nose, along with your mouth as you opened it to let out another choked sob underwater. You swallowed some, your head fighting to push up, your eyes squeezed shut, but you forced yourself to stay under. You kept yourself under, choking under the water, your fingers slipping as your upper body fought to come up. The water was spilling over the sides, the faucet still running but you wouldn’t give in. You would be reborn new, you would fix things…
A pair of hands reached under your armpits, pulling your struggling body out of the water. You coughed and sputtered, your blackened lungs fighting for air, trying to force the water from your lungs. You spat up some, coughing hard and crying still, shaking as the water overflowed around the two of you, your eyes finally opening. And maybe it was the fact that you were oxygen deprived, but the way the bathroom light shone around Zacky’s body, he looked to be glowing. His cheeks were red as he sniffed, his arms wrapping tight around you as you took in a deep breath, coughing and crying as you wrapped your arms tight back around him. And you sat there, maybe for minutes, maybe for hours, maybe just for seconds, with your arms tight around the other, the only sounds were your choked breathing and the water pouring from the faucet.
Your hand met his, fingers entwining as you walked along the beach, the sun setting slowly behind the two of you. His face pressed into your arm, a content sigh leaving his mouth as you leaned your head down, pressing your lips to his head. He smiled wide and dropped his hand from yours, sliding his arms around you.
“Believe it or not, I think I like this place. I mean, minus the sun, I think its pretty great. Just you and me, and no one expecting anything from us…”
“Except you expecting sex like every ten minutes.” A smirk formed on your lips, looking down at Zacky’s head, his fingers pinching at your side, a laugh escaping from his lips.
“Yeah, well, you owe me. I pulled a lot of strings to get us this vacation, Brian Haner, and I swear to god, you better pay me back for it.” You just smiled and rubbed at his back, your legs moving at an even pace with his, your feet synching up and hitting the ground in step, the Hawaiian sun beating down on your backs as you continued your stroll along the beach. He would try hard to be your rock and you would continue to be his. Your funk had disappeared, all you needed was some time to yourself, some time with the one you loved, to try and rebuild the relationship that had begun to deteriorate. He had learned that you weren’t strong enough to bear your burdens and his all at once, and you had learned not to try to. A relationship was a joint decision, not everything had to be on your shoulders.
Author: xvanilla_cokex / tune out
Band: Avenged Sevenfold
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I do not own anyone mentioned in this story. Nor do I have any affiliation. It is all fiction, it is all in good fun. Brand New, however, owns the title.
Summary: Brian is on the verge of a complete breakdown.
Date(s) Posted: 03/10/06
Maybe it was your own fault for alienating yourself from the rest of the group. From your so called friends, while they drank and had a good time and laughed, and you, you just sat there and stirred your beer in your hands and stared down at the glazed wood of the table top in front of you. The jokes went over your head, you never paid attention, and when questions were directed at you they were answered with an apathetic shrug, your eyes never leaving the table. For once in your life, you, Brian Haner, were not the life of the party. You had no desire to be, you just wanted peace and quiet and somewhere to work out your thoughts. But that would never happen, not in this fast paced lifestyle that you were growing accustomed to living as of late. Everything was just becoming too much to handle and unbeknownst to everyone around you, you were feeling ragged and worn down, on the verge of something miserable and horrible. This shouldn’t be happening, not while you were home and supposed to be relaxing. Not so close to the holidays, not when every night you could crawl in bed with someone as beautiful and wonderful as Zacky. But, for some reason, not even that could bring a smile to your face anymore, you were just on your edge, you were falling apart, and everyone saw it, but no one understood. No one could seem to get why you didn’t want to laugh at their jokes or be around them. Zacky didn’t understand why you had no desire for intimacy, why all his advances towards you always led you to rolling over on your sides, tears leaking out of your chocolate brown eyes as you heard him sigh and shuffle out from under the covers, making his way to the bathroom. Zacky didn’t understand, and quite frankly, neither did you.
“Bri?” Jimmy’s knuckles pressed against your shoulder lightly, trying to bring you up from your trance. You tilted your head to look up at him, brushing your long brown hair away from your eyes. “You okay?” You gave him a shrug, keeping your dry lips together, breathing through your nose. Your throat felt like it wasn’t working, dry and cracked, but you didn’t even have the energy to lift your glass to your lips. Your chin trembled slightly and you could feel your eyes begin to water and you looked back down, not willing to let him see this side of you. This wasn’t you; you weren’t supposed to break down for no reason in public. You were co-alpha male, you were bigger and stronger and badder than most everyone around you, and yet here you were, just breaking down in a bar. Shaking your head slowly, you lifted yourself up from the vinyl-coated bench, cold shaking fingers pressed on the sweaty gloss of the table.
“I have to go to the bathroom.” Your voice was barely audible, so broken from not being used all night, when normally you’d be the one talking everyone’s ear off while Zacky just clung to you and laughed. But no, tonight was everyone else’s night, and you were just dying inside. Jimmy cocked his head to the side as he watched you stand up, your hands crossing over your chest as if some sort of protective shield as you made your way into the bathroom. You looked around at the stalls, making sure no one else was around before you entered one, leaning against the dirty wall, and not caring what stuck to your back. Tears began rolling down your cheeks and your hands found your face, swiping at the hot liquid burning at your skin. This was not you, what had happened, what had made you this way.
You walked into the bedroom from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around your slender hips, another in your hand as you ran it slowly through your long wet hair, dropping your arm as they started to ache. This wasn’t normal, this lack of energy, this urge to cry constantly, this feeling of loss and heartache when there had been nothing lost or broken. You were just falling apart, and it was taking its toll on you and everyone around you, especially the man in your bed. His black hair framing his pale face as he leaned down over the book in his lap, the blanket pulled up enough to cover most of his body as he scrunched up near the headboard. He brought a finger to his lips and slid his tongue out over it, bringing the wet finger down to turn the page, his now dull green eyes scanning over the words. You bit at your bottom lip, bringing the small piece of flesh back between your teeth, watching him as he did. His eyes never left the paper in front of him and he never acknowledged your presence, even as you slunk your wet body onto the bed next to him, closing your eyes. You let out a sigh and he closed his eyes, opening them again, the green orbs wet and glossy and his chin trembling. Your eyes watered at the sight of him and you slid your arms around him, his snaking back around you. Sobs erupted from his mouth and you pulled him closer, rubbing at his back as he shook and cried, tears leaking down your own cheeks, mixing with the wetness dripping from the curling tendrils of your hair.
“What’s wrong with me, Brian? What’s wrong with all of us, why don’t you want us anymore? Why don’t you want me anymore? Did I do something, what did I do? Tell me and I’ll fix it, I swear I’ll fix it, I just can’t take this anymore.” Choked sobs left his mouth following those words, mumbled pleadingly against your ear. Your silent cries were buried into his neck, your long fingers rubbing up and down his spine, trying to calm him down. Words were lost in your throat, you couldn’t speak. You were shaking and cold and hollow and nothing could stop that, not even the love in your heart for the one in your arms. You were empty and drained, and you didn’t know how to explain that to him. How he could never fix you when you didn’t even know where to begin to fix yourself.
“Shh, baby, you didn’t do anything. I promise you, I swear on everything you didn’t do anything. I just… I don’t know what’s going on with me, Zack. I don’t know how to fix things and I’m just…”
“I can’t live like this, Brian.” He cut you off, pulling away from your embrace as he wiped at his eyes. “I can’t do this, I can’t hurt because you hurt, I’m sorry.” He pulled his full bottom lip between his teeth, droplets of tears falling off the steel hoops shoved into his skin. You looked at him, your eyes narrowing as you cocked your head, wiping at your own eyes, the tears continuing to leak down. He closed his eyes, once a bright green that lit up a room - now a dull grayish green lacking that certain sparkle that made him so childlike, reaching his hand forward to rub at your cheeks. Your hand slid to his, holding onto his skin, rubbing at it, your hands freezing against him. You felt cold and clammy, dead against his warm skin. “Brian, please, figure this out and get better, because you’re just bringing us all down with you. We were talking about it while you were in the bathroom tonight, we hoped you’d come back out of your shell, that you’d come back to us, you know? But you just didn’t and we’re worried, we’re all really worried.” You nodded and swallowed thickly, closing your eyes tightly as you stood up. You gave him a small fake smile as you slid off the bed, wiping at your eyes.
“I’ll be fine, Zacky.” You nodded and slipped back into the bathroom, dropping your towels and turning the water back on. You slid under the scalding spray and leaned against the wall, sliding down as your body shook, sobs overtaking your chest. You were coming too close to possibly losing the best thing that ever happened to you, just because you couldn’t help yourself.
Your hands shook as you moved the acoustic guitar in your lap, chewing on your bottom lip and closing your eyes. For the first time in your life, nothing about this felt natural. Could this have been it? Could you have possibly drained yourself of talent and creativity and love of your craft, and that was what was making you this way? You opened your eyes, strumming the strings gently, the sound sending chills down your spine. This wasn’t right, nothing sounded right. Nothing was good enough anymore and you couldn’t handle it. You set the piece of wood down on the ground gently, standing up and pacing back and forth across the living room. Your heart raced and you ran your long shaking fingers through your hair, trying to keep your breathing to a normal pace. How were you going to tell everyone that you couldn’t do this anymore, that your first true love, the one thing you thought would never betray you, had left you, had taken everything from you. This was worse than what any one person could do to you, this was your life, this was your blood.
“Maybe its just writer’s block.” You nodded and mumbled to yourself, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “Yeah, yeah that’s all it is. I don’t need to write anyway, I just… relax. Relax, Brian.” You took a deep breath and pushed your hair back, exhaling with force. It would never leave you. Music would never leave you, talent would never leave you. Your father could still outplay you and he was the same way you were. The same, minus the mental breakdown you were currently in the middle of. He didn’t go through the needless tears and the paranoia and the constant state of isolation and loneliness despite the million people that always seemed to be around you. You inhaled deeply through your nose and exhaled again with a sigh, leaning your head back. Your back ached and your skin was covered in goosebumps, a constant state of cold surrounding the house. Maybe that was why Zacky was always wearing hoodies and drinking warm beverages. And maybe the dull scratches all over his arms really were just from the dog and various other excuses he’d give you.
Zacky was one to talk, one to make you feel bad about feeling miserable. The shape up or ship out speech was something you had never expected; especially coming from the man you nursed through everything. Alcohol overdoses, minor eating disorders, scars constantly appearing on his pale skin in tiny symmetric lines. You had stayed with him through everything, and vowed to him that through it all you would make him see how wonderful and perfect that he was. And often, you had him believing you; often you had made him see how beautiful and perfect he was. But now you were falling apart and he wasn’t even trying, he was just giving up on you because he couldn’t handle your problems. Couldn’t handle the fact that for some unknown reason, you just couldn’t get happy. Sure, you’d smile and laugh sometimes, you’d come out of it and make your appearances that everything was fine, but this had been a long time coming. You had been breaking down for months now and no one could see, no one could believe that you, you the man with the golden ego, just couldn’t take living anymore.
“Brian, what are you doing?” And there was the devil himself, one of your black hoodies all too big on his frame, his eyes scanning over your body. You wondered if maybe yours looked as dead as his did, as lifeless and boring. Maybe you were just bored. He was leaning against the doorframe, the white wood paneling along the doorframe separating the kitchen from the living room matching the color of his all too pale skin. You looked at him, sighing at the effort even that seemed to take from you. His eyes watched you, his fingers wrapping tighter around the steaming mug in his hand, peppermint tea from the scent that wafted up from the steam and to your nostrils.
“I don’t even know.” You mumbled and sat yourself back down on the couch, leaning your head back on the cushion as you felt another breakdown approaching. You sucked in a breath as he stood up, making his way towards you. You heard him walking, the floorboards creaking underneath his feet and the sound of a mug being placed on a glass coffee table. The springs groaned next to you as he sat down, his fingers running slowly through your hair. His chin rested on your shoulder and his hot peppermint and caffeine-flavored breath hit your neck.
“I wish I knew how to fix you.”
“Like you’d even bother to try.” You didn’t miss a beat, your head pulling away from him. You stood up, despite your aching body begging you to sit back down. He looked up at you, his mouth dropping open as he supported himself, his head shaking. He snapped his mouth shut and stood up, crossing his arms tight over his chest as he pushed passed you, picking up his mug. You just stood there, watching him as he moved angrily back into the kitchen. You followed him, watching as he opened one of the drawers, looking for something.
“Don’t look at me. I wouldn’t bother to help you, don’t look at me.” He muttered, his chin shaking as he spoke. Guilt filled your body, and you were grateful you could at least feel something. Your eyes never left him though, not even as he slammed the drawer shut, leaning against it as his shoulders started to shake. You watched him cry, you watched as he began to sob, but you didn’t move to comfort him. You didn’t have the energy, and what good would it do? He sunk down to his knees, sniffling and holding onto the counter top above his head, tears streaking down his red cheeks. You leaned against the doorframe, the opposite side that he had occupied before coming into the living room, your head pushing hard against the wood. The pain was kind of relaxing, kind of numbing, and you liked it. But you just started at him, stared unblinking until he finally looked up at you, wiping at his nose and cheeks.
“I don’t want to live anymore.” The words flowed from your lips before you could realize what you were saying, his eyes widening as he sat back, his head slamming into the cabinet behind him. He pressed himself back into the woodwork, the handle must have been digging into his back, his face turned upwards towards you and set in a face of fear, as if you were some sort of a monster.
“How can you say that, Brian? How can you…”
“How many times have you said it to me, Zacky? How many times have I been your rock? I can’t do this, I can’t take care of you and me at the same time and you need so much attention. You need all of me and I’m so fucked right now, Zacky, and you don’t help me, you just keep… throwing things at me. You make me feel horrible, you tell me you’re going to leave if I don’t take care of you better, but I do the best I can. I don’t… I can’t…” You trailed off, your throat choking. All you were doing was guilt tripping him for not taking care of you when it wasn’t even his job. You shook your head and pushed yourself away from the doorframe, walking back towards the stairs. You climbed them two at a time, your body aching at the exertion, but there was nothing left to do but run now. All you could do was run away from the one who loved you, but even that you were beginning to doubt.
You closed the bathroom door behind you; you couldn’t let him see you like this. You needed to relax; you needed to get out of this. You plugged the tub and ran the hot water, wiping at your face as you tried to will yourself to stop crying. That wasn’t going to help now, not with your lover crying downstairs and your body feeling so empty. You peeled the clothes off your skin and sank into the tub, the water still rushing in, almost half full. It burned, it was scalding your skin, but you needed it, you needed to shed this layer of skin, you needed to burn out the bad and somehow emerge from it reborn again to fix the chaos that you caused. You could only guess what Zacky was doing downstairs, sobbing and trying to cut himself on something, who knew where else he hid his razors. He was good at sneaking around, good at finding hiding places from your oblivious eyes. As much as you wanted to say you noticed everything, you saw simply in a straight line. Your shoulders slammed against the porcelain as you only sobbed harder, your hands gripping the edge of the tub.
The water kept rising, burning at your body. You held your breath and sunk your head under the water, air bubbles coming from your nose, along with your mouth as you opened it to let out another choked sob underwater. You swallowed some, your head fighting to push up, your eyes squeezed shut, but you forced yourself to stay under. You kept yourself under, choking under the water, your fingers slipping as your upper body fought to come up. The water was spilling over the sides, the faucet still running but you wouldn’t give in. You would be reborn new, you would fix things…
A pair of hands reached under your armpits, pulling your struggling body out of the water. You coughed and sputtered, your blackened lungs fighting for air, trying to force the water from your lungs. You spat up some, coughing hard and crying still, shaking as the water overflowed around the two of you, your eyes finally opening. And maybe it was the fact that you were oxygen deprived, but the way the bathroom light shone around Zacky’s body, he looked to be glowing. His cheeks were red as he sniffed, his arms wrapping tight around you as you took in a deep breath, coughing and crying as you wrapped your arms tight back around him. And you sat there, maybe for minutes, maybe for hours, maybe just for seconds, with your arms tight around the other, the only sounds were your choked breathing and the water pouring from the faucet.
Your hand met his, fingers entwining as you walked along the beach, the sun setting slowly behind the two of you. His face pressed into your arm, a content sigh leaving his mouth as you leaned your head down, pressing your lips to his head. He smiled wide and dropped his hand from yours, sliding his arms around you.
“Believe it or not, I think I like this place. I mean, minus the sun, I think its pretty great. Just you and me, and no one expecting anything from us…”
“Except you expecting sex like every ten minutes.” A smirk formed on your lips, looking down at Zacky’s head, his fingers pinching at your side, a laugh escaping from his lips.
“Yeah, well, you owe me. I pulled a lot of strings to get us this vacation, Brian Haner, and I swear to god, you better pay me back for it.” You just smiled and rubbed at his back, your legs moving at an even pace with his, your feet synching up and hitting the ground in step, the Hawaiian sun beating down on your backs as you continued your stroll along the beach. He would try hard to be your rock and you would continue to be his. Your funk had disappeared, all you needed was some time to yourself, some time with the one you loved, to try and rebuild the relationship that had begun to deteriorate. He had learned that you weren’t strong enough to bear your burdens and his all at once, and you had learned not to try to. A relationship was a joint decision, not everything had to be on your shoulders.