Mr. Brightside [Chapter One.]
Title: Mr. Brightside
Rating: R
Pairing: Flyzik / Merrick
POV: Third
Summary: It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this?
Disclaimer: Totally fictional, I own nothing.
Credit: Title to The Killers
A/N: Something new, aha :') More people voted for Flyzik and Zack, so I thought I'd give them a go. Zack actually suits the part better than Jack, which you'll soon realise as you read, haha! I'd love to hear your thoughts and ideas <3
Masterpost.
Tumblr.
Zack’s head was fucking pounding.
As his eyelids fluttered open, a groan escaping his mouth, he reminded himself to never, not ever drink that much again.
He didn’t even think he could suffer from a hangover since now.
“Zack, get the fuck up.” A harsh, cold voice spat to the largely built boy.
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m not riding a bike, you prick.” Zack retorted, sarcasm lacing his husky words as his elbows propped himself in his bunk.
Zack’s eyes began to adjust to the lighting, signalling morning, and he yawned deeply. He was debating hitting his head back against that comfortable pillow and just going back to sleep. He felt like he needed it, after all. He knew that the other boys would understand, Jack would probably pout at him, Alex would just shrug, and Rian would roll his eyes, but neither would complain. Honestly, nobody ever complained about Zack’s decisions. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why, but he guessed it was something to do with the fact that he was built like a brick shithouse. His band members had seen him fight too many times, and they knew his temper was like a time bomb ticking, they made sure they were well out of his radius when he finally exploded.
“Zack, for fuck sake, you’re not going back to bed. If your head hurts, then man the fuck up and get over it. We can’t be dealing with your bullshit right now, I bet you’ve forgotten that you’re supposed to be doing an acoustic show with Alex later.”
Matt Flyzik, on the other hand, he couldn’t give two shits about Zack and his anger issues, or as he liked to call them, “Just another way to get attention.”
Matt was the only person who would argue back with the second youngest of the boys. Unlike Jack, he didn’t cower away and burst into tears. Unlike Alex, he didn’t just shrug it off (before going to comfort Jack), and he most certainly did not act like Rian and try to “sympathise” with a boy who needed to be set straight.
Sure, he was just a tour manager, but without him, they wouldn’t have scored in places such as the UK, somewhere that those four men had dreamed of when they were teenagers. They owed Matt everything they had.
Zack hated that.
“I didn’t forget,” Zack huffed, lying through his teeth. “And maybe if you could just get out of my face for one fucking second, I’d be out of this bunk and getting ready.”
Matt simply rolled his eyes and turned on his heel to walk towards the sofas in their quite abysmal living area, because he wasn’t in the mood for Zack’s hung over argument. If Zack wanted to act like the child he portrayed himself to be, then so be it.
The twenty-one year old male threw his quilt off his body, before swinging his legs across the bunk and climbing out. Stretching his arms across his body, his joints offered a satisfying click.
Tugging the waistband of his boxers a little below his hips, he was in that mood to just try to piss Matt off as much as possible. Really, Flyzik had asked for it. Zack didn’t need a wake up call; he didn’t need yelling at what, ten in the morning?
It was too early for this crap.
“Oh look, Mr. Brightside’s finally decided to make an appearance.” Matt commented, a forced smile tugging his lips. He could tell by the way that Zack glared daggers at him that his little joke had somewhat scarred him.
It was an old joke, of course.
Negative and pessimistic were two words that could describe Zack perfectly, he would never look on the “bright side” on any situation, and from Matt adoring The Killers, the joking nickname seemed to suit perfectly. Of course, Zack never approved.
“And pull your boxers up, your jungle of pubic hair is not something that I wish to see.”
Zack simply shrugged his shoulders, “You never complained in high school.” Was all he had to say, before walking to the miniature refrigerator and finding something to satisfy his headache.
Jack looked up from the women’s ‘real life’ magazine he was reading to giggle at the frustrated look upon dear Matthew’s face. The older man’s cheeks were beginning to heat as blood rushed to the surface.
“Aw, I love it when you blush, Matt.” Jack grinned teasingly, “It seems that’s the only time when you shut up.”
Matt frowned, arms folding across his chest childishly, “Be careful, Barakat, because you know I have information that could ruin your life in a heartbeat.” However, as his expression softened, a genuine smile playing across his features, it was obvious that he had a soft spot for the boy and he was merely joking with him.
Jack was just so gullible, though.
“W-what?! What do you know about me? Oh my God, I swear to God, it was one time!” Jack protested, throwing his magazine to the table, eyes widened with fear. “Shit, Matt, please, I was just kidding...”
Pulling out a carton of orange juice, Zack raised an eyebrow towards Jack for he could tell that Matt wasn’t being at all serious. “He’s just pulling your leg, Jack.” He sighed, unscrewing the lid.
“But he’s not touching me...?”
Jack had never been the smartest of the boys.
“I mean he’s just playing around, having a joke, fuck, I thought you’d have understood his retarded humour by now.” Zack tilted the carton to his lips, guzzling down the refreshing liquid. It was certainly a better taste than the mix of whiskey, vodka, and sambuca from last night.
“Oh...” Was all Jack could say, before his bottom lip jutted outwards. “I hate you, Matt.” He whined, retrieving the magazine he’d thrown, eyes darting to an article about a woman whose face was ripped off by a dog. He was amused by the strangest of things.
“I love you, too, Jacky boy.” Matt smirked, “Though, I’m really quite curious to what was just “one time”.”
Zack slid himself beside the youngest member of All Time Low, peering over his shoulder, “Mm, me too.”
Jack froze, turning the page quickly. “It was nothing. I- uh... I didn’t say anything.” He mumbled hastily, “Strange to see you two finally agreeing to something, though. Seems like forever since you’ve managed to do that.” He added, as Alex padded in from the bathroom.
“Am I just imagining things? Or did Jack seriously say that you two agreed on something?!” Alex opened his mouth in mock horror, palms pressed against his cheeks. Zack thought he looked like that annoying little kid from that movie which Jack had the strangest of obsessions with, Home Alone.
“Ha, you put Kevin McCallister to shame.” Jack laughed, noticing Alex’s similar expression, also.
Alex batted his eyelids, “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised.”
Jack grinned, opening his arms out for the eldest member to climb in and snuggle against his chest. It was the fact that both Jack and Alex were straight which bothered Zack. It just reminded him over and over again that he was to be forever lonely. If two heterosexual men can have a somewhat cute relationship together, then how the fuck did he, a bisexual male, not have any luck with anybody?
“You two make me sick.”
Yet this was a comment from Matt, who shared similar opinions to that of Zack.
“And to be quite honest with you, I doubt that agreeing about Jack’s strange past actually counts. Zack’s still a tosser.” He stated, Alex having to roll across onto Zack’s lap to stop the boy from lashing out.
Matt knew the exact buttons to press with the muscular male.
“Alex, get off me you fat shit.” Zack growled, shoving the boy.
Alex huffed, rolling back onto Jack who appeared to eager to accept Alex’s weight against him. “Aw, Alex isn’t fat. He’s just... cuddly.”
The English born boy was quick to backhand Jack’s stomach, something he wouldn’t dare do to Zack.
“Ow...” Jack moaned, “I was pulling your leg.” He quoted Flyzik.
Alex cocked his head, “You were what?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Jack grinned, before turning to Zack whose eyes seemed to be watching Matt as he punched numbers into his cell phone. “See, I’m not the only thick member of the band.” He commented matter-of-factly, but Zack could care less.
“Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.” He sighed, standing to his feet. “I’m getting in the shower.”
“Good, you smell like a brothel.”
“Sex and alcohol? Yeah, you know that smell on me all too well, don’t you, Matt?” Zack pushed past his tour manager as Jack and Alex’s laughing subsided.
“Just fucking wash, you tramp.” Matt snapped, holding his cell phone up to his ear as he connected a call.
Zack shook his head, “Ugh, you do my fucking head in.” And he grabbed a towel from a nearby bunk to tie it around his waist, covering his boxer shorts. From beneath the white fabric, Zack slipped out from his underwear, tossing them into the bunk which he knew belonged to Matt. “Might as well give him something to store in the wank bank.” He chuckled cruelly, before entering the cramped bathroom.
Locking the door behind himself, he was hoping that a shower may wash away his throbbing headache, or even better, that the heat would overpower him, cause him to faint, and he could go back to fucking bed. That would teach Matt a lesson.
Unwrapping his towel, he let it drop to the tiled floor. His naked body shuddered from the draught coming from the frosted window panel beside him.
Leaning into the shower, Zack twisted the dial, a jet of freezing water splashing against his arm.
A few seconds, and the water seemed hot enough to be bearable, and Zack stepped inside.
Tilting his chin up, water streamed down his hair and face. His hands ran through his tangled locks as he closed his eyes, he fucking loved showers.
Not only did they improve his hygiene, they seemed to be the perfect opportunity to think.
Sure, Zack loved being in a band, (without the side order of Flyzik, however), but he rarely ever got a moment to himself. He’d try so hard to escape from everything, maybe with an excuse of, “I just want to take some photos by myself...” but even then, Matt didn’t trust him. Usually Rian would be sent off to effectively, “babysit” poor Zachary, and keep him in line.
Showers gave him the space he needed.
Hands full of shower gel massaged Zack’s chest, thoughts running through his mind.
The same thoughts as always.
Thoughts of Matt.
“He’s a dickhead, a fucking dickhead. It’s his fault for everything.”
He washed the soap from his torso.
“I know I miss him, and how we used to be, but I shouldn’t...”
He squirted shampoo into his hair.
“If he wasn’t such a... a wanker, maybe things would be different.
Do I want it to be different?”
Conditioner followed.
“I don’t even know, all I know is that I’m better off hating him.”
But Zack and Matt hadn’t always hated each other.
Far from it, in fact.
You could have said that maybe, somewhere along the line, they’d fallen in and out of love.
But as Zack turned off the shower and stepped out, picking his towel from off the ground, he forced a laugh from the back of his throat.
“Keep kidding yourself, boy, maybe one day it’ll work.”
Rating: R
Pairing: Flyzik / Merrick
POV: Third
Summary: It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this?
Disclaimer: Totally fictional, I own nothing.
Credit: Title to The Killers
A/N: Something new, aha :') More people voted for Flyzik and Zack, so I thought I'd give them a go. Zack actually suits the part better than Jack, which you'll soon realise as you read, haha! I'd love to hear your thoughts and ideas <3
Masterpost.
Tumblr.
Zack’s head was fucking pounding.
As his eyelids fluttered open, a groan escaping his mouth, he reminded himself to never, not ever drink that much again.
He didn’t even think he could suffer from a hangover since now.
“Zack, get the fuck up.” A harsh, cold voice spat to the largely built boy.
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m not riding a bike, you prick.” Zack retorted, sarcasm lacing his husky words as his elbows propped himself in his bunk.
Zack’s eyes began to adjust to the lighting, signalling morning, and he yawned deeply. He was debating hitting his head back against that comfortable pillow and just going back to sleep. He felt like he needed it, after all. He knew that the other boys would understand, Jack would probably pout at him, Alex would just shrug, and Rian would roll his eyes, but neither would complain. Honestly, nobody ever complained about Zack’s decisions. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why, but he guessed it was something to do with the fact that he was built like a brick shithouse. His band members had seen him fight too many times, and they knew his temper was like a time bomb ticking, they made sure they were well out of his radius when he finally exploded.
“Zack, for fuck sake, you’re not going back to bed. If your head hurts, then man the fuck up and get over it. We can’t be dealing with your bullshit right now, I bet you’ve forgotten that you’re supposed to be doing an acoustic show with Alex later.”
Matt Flyzik, on the other hand, he couldn’t give two shits about Zack and his anger issues, or as he liked to call them, “Just another way to get attention.”
Matt was the only person who would argue back with the second youngest of the boys. Unlike Jack, he didn’t cower away and burst into tears. Unlike Alex, he didn’t just shrug it off (before going to comfort Jack), and he most certainly did not act like Rian and try to “sympathise” with a boy who needed to be set straight.
Sure, he was just a tour manager, but without him, they wouldn’t have scored in places such as the UK, somewhere that those four men had dreamed of when they were teenagers. They owed Matt everything they had.
Zack hated that.
“I didn’t forget,” Zack huffed, lying through his teeth. “And maybe if you could just get out of my face for one fucking second, I’d be out of this bunk and getting ready.”
Matt simply rolled his eyes and turned on his heel to walk towards the sofas in their quite abysmal living area, because he wasn’t in the mood for Zack’s hung over argument. If Zack wanted to act like the child he portrayed himself to be, then so be it.
The twenty-one year old male threw his quilt off his body, before swinging his legs across the bunk and climbing out. Stretching his arms across his body, his joints offered a satisfying click.
Tugging the waistband of his boxers a little below his hips, he was in that mood to just try to piss Matt off as much as possible. Really, Flyzik had asked for it. Zack didn’t need a wake up call; he didn’t need yelling at what, ten in the morning?
It was too early for this crap.
“Oh look, Mr. Brightside’s finally decided to make an appearance.” Matt commented, a forced smile tugging his lips. He could tell by the way that Zack glared daggers at him that his little joke had somewhat scarred him.
It was an old joke, of course.
Negative and pessimistic were two words that could describe Zack perfectly, he would never look on the “bright side” on any situation, and from Matt adoring The Killers, the joking nickname seemed to suit perfectly. Of course, Zack never approved.
“And pull your boxers up, your jungle of pubic hair is not something that I wish to see.”
Zack simply shrugged his shoulders, “You never complained in high school.” Was all he had to say, before walking to the miniature refrigerator and finding something to satisfy his headache.
Jack looked up from the women’s ‘real life’ magazine he was reading to giggle at the frustrated look upon dear Matthew’s face. The older man’s cheeks were beginning to heat as blood rushed to the surface.
“Aw, I love it when you blush, Matt.” Jack grinned teasingly, “It seems that’s the only time when you shut up.”
Matt frowned, arms folding across his chest childishly, “Be careful, Barakat, because you know I have information that could ruin your life in a heartbeat.” However, as his expression softened, a genuine smile playing across his features, it was obvious that he had a soft spot for the boy and he was merely joking with him.
Jack was just so gullible, though.
“W-what?! What do you know about me? Oh my God, I swear to God, it was one time!” Jack protested, throwing his magazine to the table, eyes widened with fear. “Shit, Matt, please, I was just kidding...”
Pulling out a carton of orange juice, Zack raised an eyebrow towards Jack for he could tell that Matt wasn’t being at all serious. “He’s just pulling your leg, Jack.” He sighed, unscrewing the lid.
“But he’s not touching me...?”
Jack had never been the smartest of the boys.
“I mean he’s just playing around, having a joke, fuck, I thought you’d have understood his retarded humour by now.” Zack tilted the carton to his lips, guzzling down the refreshing liquid. It was certainly a better taste than the mix of whiskey, vodka, and sambuca from last night.
“Oh...” Was all Jack could say, before his bottom lip jutted outwards. “I hate you, Matt.” He whined, retrieving the magazine he’d thrown, eyes darting to an article about a woman whose face was ripped off by a dog. He was amused by the strangest of things.
“I love you, too, Jacky boy.” Matt smirked, “Though, I’m really quite curious to what was just “one time”.”
Zack slid himself beside the youngest member of All Time Low, peering over his shoulder, “Mm, me too.”
Jack froze, turning the page quickly. “It was nothing. I- uh... I didn’t say anything.” He mumbled hastily, “Strange to see you two finally agreeing to something, though. Seems like forever since you’ve managed to do that.” He added, as Alex padded in from the bathroom.
“Am I just imagining things? Or did Jack seriously say that you two agreed on something?!” Alex opened his mouth in mock horror, palms pressed against his cheeks. Zack thought he looked like that annoying little kid from that movie which Jack had the strangest of obsessions with, Home Alone.
“Ha, you put Kevin McCallister to shame.” Jack laughed, noticing Alex’s similar expression, also.
Alex batted his eyelids, “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised.”
Jack grinned, opening his arms out for the eldest member to climb in and snuggle against his chest. It was the fact that both Jack and Alex were straight which bothered Zack. It just reminded him over and over again that he was to be forever lonely. If two heterosexual men can have a somewhat cute relationship together, then how the fuck did he, a bisexual male, not have any luck with anybody?
“You two make me sick.”
Yet this was a comment from Matt, who shared similar opinions to that of Zack.
“And to be quite honest with you, I doubt that agreeing about Jack’s strange past actually counts. Zack’s still a tosser.” He stated, Alex having to roll across onto Zack’s lap to stop the boy from lashing out.
Matt knew the exact buttons to press with the muscular male.
“Alex, get off me you fat shit.” Zack growled, shoving the boy.
Alex huffed, rolling back onto Jack who appeared to eager to accept Alex’s weight against him. “Aw, Alex isn’t fat. He’s just... cuddly.”
The English born boy was quick to backhand Jack’s stomach, something he wouldn’t dare do to Zack.
“Ow...” Jack moaned, “I was pulling your leg.” He quoted Flyzik.
Alex cocked his head, “You were what?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Jack grinned, before turning to Zack whose eyes seemed to be watching Matt as he punched numbers into his cell phone. “See, I’m not the only thick member of the band.” He commented matter-of-factly, but Zack could care less.
“Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.” He sighed, standing to his feet. “I’m getting in the shower.”
“Good, you smell like a brothel.”
“Sex and alcohol? Yeah, you know that smell on me all too well, don’t you, Matt?” Zack pushed past his tour manager as Jack and Alex’s laughing subsided.
“Just fucking wash, you tramp.” Matt snapped, holding his cell phone up to his ear as he connected a call.
Zack shook his head, “Ugh, you do my fucking head in.” And he grabbed a towel from a nearby bunk to tie it around his waist, covering his boxer shorts. From beneath the white fabric, Zack slipped out from his underwear, tossing them into the bunk which he knew belonged to Matt. “Might as well give him something to store in the wank bank.” He chuckled cruelly, before entering the cramped bathroom.
Locking the door behind himself, he was hoping that a shower may wash away his throbbing headache, or even better, that the heat would overpower him, cause him to faint, and he could go back to fucking bed. That would teach Matt a lesson.
Unwrapping his towel, he let it drop to the tiled floor. His naked body shuddered from the draught coming from the frosted window panel beside him.
Leaning into the shower, Zack twisted the dial, a jet of freezing water splashing against his arm.
A few seconds, and the water seemed hot enough to be bearable, and Zack stepped inside.
Tilting his chin up, water streamed down his hair and face. His hands ran through his tangled locks as he closed his eyes, he fucking loved showers.
Not only did they improve his hygiene, they seemed to be the perfect opportunity to think.
Sure, Zack loved being in a band, (without the side order of Flyzik, however), but he rarely ever got a moment to himself. He’d try so hard to escape from everything, maybe with an excuse of, “I just want to take some photos by myself...” but even then, Matt didn’t trust him. Usually Rian would be sent off to effectively, “babysit” poor Zachary, and keep him in line.
Showers gave him the space he needed.
Hands full of shower gel massaged Zack’s chest, thoughts running through his mind.
The same thoughts as always.
Thoughts of Matt.
“He’s a dickhead, a fucking dickhead. It’s his fault for everything.”
He washed the soap from his torso.
“I know I miss him, and how we used to be, but I shouldn’t...”
He squirted shampoo into his hair.
“If he wasn’t such a... a wanker, maybe things would be different.
Do I want it to be different?”
Conditioner followed.
“I don’t even know, all I know is that I’m better off hating him.”
But Zack and Matt hadn’t always hated each other.
Far from it, in fact.
You could have said that maybe, somewhere along the line, they’d fallen in and out of love.
But as Zack turned off the shower and stepped out, picking his towel from off the ground, he forced a laugh from the back of his throat.
“Keep kidding yourself, boy, maybe one day it’ll work.”