Wind Beneath My Wings

(Brian’s POV)

I walk across the stage to where you’re knelt beside your amp. You’ve got your back to me and so don’t notice my presence as I approach.

“Zacky?” I ask quietly, not wanting to make you jump.

“Yeah?” You reply, briefly looking up at me, a gentle smile curving your lips, before you turn back to the amplifier, ready to talk as you work.

“I just wanted to give you this…”

You turn round to face me again and I extend my hand towards you, a sealed envelope hanging from my fingers. You take it and turn it over in your hands, your gaze resting on the front where I’ve written your name. You look up at me, a confused curiosity resonating from your eyes as your finger moves to the flap to prize it open.

“No!” I say suddenly. “Not yet…”

“Why? What is it?” You get to your feet and stand in front of me, your eyes momentarily looking into mine, before glancing back down at the envelope.

“Just… open it and see… But not yet! Please- Wait until I’ve gone…” I stress.

You frown at me but slip it into your hoodie pocket to show that you’ll do as I’ve asked. I sigh with relief and smile at you appreciatively.

“Thanks, Zack,” I say graciously, lightly touching my hand to your upper arm. You smile at me and I tip my head in the tiniest of nods, then turn and walk away. I can feel your eyes boring into my back as I leave, but I keep walking and don’t turn round.

~*~

(Zacky’s POV)

I watch as you walk away from me, my hand already dipping back into my pocket and pulling out the envelope as you close the stage door behind you. I walk to the edge of the stage and sit with my legs hanging over the edge as I slip my finger beneath the envelope’s flap, tearing it open and pulling the folded paper from its confines. I smooth the crease out against my thigh and begin to read, vaguely surprised by the unusually neat appearance of your handwriting.

Dear Zacky,

You know, it’s funny. I know exactly what I want to say but have absolutely no idea where to start. I guess I should begin by apologizing for giving you this letter and running away like the coward I am, rather than speaking to you face to face… It’s not that I didn’t want to, I just… I’m scared about how you’ll react and I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. And besides, I’ve never been very good at saying what I want to say when put on the spot.

I heard a song on the radio the other day… Maybe you know it… I don’t know if it’s your cup of tea, but then I wouldn’t have thought it would be mine. I was only listening to it because I wasn’t really in the mood to do anything else, but as I was listening to the lyrics, I realized how potent they are and how relevant they are to me- to us…

You see, I found something out- I saw something which got me thinking…

Now, I’m stuck again. I don’t know what to say next. I’m awful with letters! I bet if you were writing this, you would know exactly how to say what I’m trying to say, and your words would be beautiful where mine are simply crude.

Maybe I should start by telling you what I saw… Please, Zacky, don’t be alarmed and please, please don’t be embarrassed. One night, a few weeks ago, I pulled back the curtain of your bunk to find you sleeping. Your covers had risen up; as had one of the long sleeves of the t-shirt you were wearing for bed, and I saw them, Zacky. I saw the scars on your thighs, poking out from beneath your boxers and the ones on your arm, carved around your tattoos.

I was horrified. Even in the dark they were vivid, more so than the ink otherwise adorning your forearms, and crude against your pale skin. I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t seen them sooner- it was clear that you’d been inflicting them upon your skin for a while- but I realized that you had been pretty clever. The cuts on your thighs would have been relatively easy to cover up and all you had to do to hide the ones on your arm(s?) was wear long sleeves, something which you’ve been doing and which I’ve simply failed to appreciate the reason for. I feel stupid, Zacky, but I’m hurt as well.

Why didn’t you tell me? I’m your friend, Z- you can tell meanything. It kills me to think that you’d rather hurt yourself than talk to me. I cried that night. Yes, that’s right, Brian Haner cried. I pulled the covers over you, hiding your scars as I knew you’d been doing, and walked away. Leaving the bus behind me, I broke into a run, trying to get as far away as I could, as quickly as I could as I felt the tears welling in my eyes.

I didn’t sleep that night. The image of your arm and legs was ingrained in my mind and flashed up every time I tried to think of anything else. I’ve not seen your scars since then but I’m haunted by that image- it scares me to the core.

I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to talk to you- I know that’s what I should have done- but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I know it was wrong to go behind your back, and I’m so very, very sorry, but I had to do something and so I went to Matt. You two have been friends longer than any of the rest of us and so I figured that if anyone would know how to handle the situation with you, then Matt would. I guess I also figured that you’d rather I told him than the others, considering how close you two are, but I realize that that could also have been wrong. If Matt knowing had of come between the two of you then I would have been to blame… But I had to take the risk- I couldn’t just do nothing.

I told Matt that I needed his help with something and took him out for coffee. I told him what I’d seen and he said that he already knew. He’d already seen what you’d been doing and had spoken to you about it. I asked why you did it and he looked at me hard, retaining eye-contact for a long minute as he chewed on his lip ring. “It’s because of you, Brian,” he said, his voice thickening with sadness for you, his best friend.

He told me that you like me as more than just a friend. I didn’t believe him at first- I thought he was fucking with my head- but he didn’t laugh at me; he just sat back and watched my face change from amusement to bewilderment. I shook my head disbelievingly and sunk back in my seat as he sat up a little and said “He loves you, Brian”.

He watched me as his revelation sunk in. I don’t even think that I was thinking about the implications of such a statement- I was merely accepting what he’d said.

That was nearly two weeks ago now and I can still remember what he said almost word for word. He told me about how you had apparently fallen for me within the first year of us meeting and how your interest in me has only grown as time has passed. He told me that you’d do anything for me- anything to ensure my happiness- regardless of the impact that it could have upon you. He said that you’d never confirmed it, but that he had noticed how you played down your ability on guitar so that my own ability would appear superior. I’ve never thought of it in that way- I know that we’re evenly matched- but our fans and the media certainly believe what you’re letting them believe.

Astounded, I asked Matt why you would do that. Matt just looked at me and said simply, “He loves you, Brian.”

I couldn’t believe what he was saying. I didn’twant to believe what he was saying. He sounded sincere but I was so scared I’d believe him, then find him laughing in my face. I was utterly terrified of falling from the great height that realizing our feelings were mutual would have taken me to.

You see, Zacky: I love you, too. It seems I was slower than you when it came to realizing it, but you mean absolutely everything to me.

You don’t have to try to impress me. You do that anyway. You shouldn’t lower yourself in order to make me look like a good guitarist because, frankly, you could be a hundred times better than me and I’d be completely content with the fact that I can just play by your side each night.

More than that, though, you shouldn’t be afraid to tell me how you feel. I care about you so much it hurts and the fact that your scared to come to me because you’re scared about how I’d react to your feelings shreds my heart.

It beats for you, Zacky. When you’re not around, I can feel my pulse fading, but it regains its strength when you return. You warm it like no-one else does and you’ve always been the one to resuscitate it when it’s been knocked one too many times. Your kind words and pillar-like strength have helped me more than you could ever know, and while I’ve never been able to fully communicate my gratitude, I know that without you I would be nothing.

Because, Zacky, you are the wind beneath my wings. You are my everything. You’re everything that I could ever hope to be and everything that I’m not. You’re essentially my sole reason for getting up in the morning and thoughts of you are the last things to go through my mind before I fall asleep at night. You lift me up and keep me flying when all I want to do is give up, and I want to do the same for you. I want to turn the tables around and be the wind beneathyour wings. I want to show you how much you mean to me and I want to do for you what you’ve done for me, regardless of the impact that that may have on me. Even if everything that I have falls away, as long as you are happy then so am I because without you in my life, my life is not worth living.

I tell you this because I want to make amends. I want to apologize for not realizing how you feel sooner and I want to make that up to you. I tell you this because it hurts me to know what you’ve resorted to doing because of my lack of observation. I want to make things right again because your hurting of yourself hurts me more than anything else can. But most of all, I tell you this because I feel the same.

I love you, Zacky.

I hope I’m not too late for there to be an ‘us’.

With love,
Brian.

I swipe the heel of my sleeve-covered hand across my eyes as I gaze down through blurred vision at the letter trembling in my lap. Terrified of making your words run with my falling tears, I place the paper beside me on the stage and lean forward; burying my head in my hands as I try to come to terms with your revelations.

I can’t believe you know. I feel utterly naked in the knowledge that you’ve seen my cuts, as though my clothes have been stripped away to leave me bare and defenseless. I want to cover myself up and run away and hide, but I know that that would be futile now that you’ve seen what you have. Now that you know how I feel…

I am so angry at Matt for telling you! He had no right! I could kill him, but at the same time, he’s saved me from having to tell you myself… I don’t know if I would ever have found the courage to say anything to you, so maybe he’s helped me out…

I need to talk to you.

Shuffling backwards, I haul my legs up onto the stage and stand, grabbing your letter and heading for the stage door. I don’t know where I’ll find you and so head towards the dressing room. If you’re as nervous about this as I am, then you certainly won’t be in catering.

“Have either of you seen Brian?” I ask Matt and Jimmy as I stick my head around the door.

“Yeah, about 20 minutes ago. He was headed towards the bus, I think, but he didn’t really seem in the mood for talking…” Jimmy tells me helpfully.

“No, probably not…”

“Are you okay, Zack?” Matt asks, looking at me quizzically.

“Yeah… Why?”

“You just- You look like you’ve been crying…”

“Yeah, well… If you hadn’t let it slip that I have feelings for him, then maybe I wouldn’t have been!” I growl. Matt bites his lip guiltily but doesn’t look apologetic. “I need to find Brian.”

“Are you mad at me?” He asks as he stands and walks towards me.

I take a deep breath and stare him right in the eye, then smile and shake my head.

Matt pulls me into a hug and asks, “Has he spoken to you?”

“He wrote me a letter- one of the nicest letters I’ve ever had…” I tell him, unable to stop myself smiling.

“Go, talk to him. He knows how you feel, but you need to tell him yourself- confirm it to him. And don’t worry about what people will think of the two of you- we’re all here for you.”

I free my arms from his grip and wrap them around his body, thanking him for his help and support. I love Matt. He’s my best friend and has been for as long as I can remember. I can never be mad at him for long.

“Go get him, tiger!” I pull away from Matt, and laugh as I walk over to Jimmy and slap him round the back of the head. He slaps my back as I turn to leave and I know that Matt’s right: we do have the backing of our band.

As I head in the direction of the bus, my nerves return and a sickness settles in the pit of my stomach. I ascend the steps and find myself standing in the main corridor in the bus’ confines and, though my legs feel like rubber, I mange to make my way to the lounge area at the back. I open the door and there you are, sitting on the couch listening to music through your headphones.

“Zacky!” You say, startled, as you fumble with your CD player in an attempt to turn it off. I’m not sure why you’re so shocked by my presence. You must have known that I would come and see you… Then again, maybe the same nerves that course through my body are also coursing through yours, making you jumpy where they’ve made me weak.

We stare at each other for a minute, neither of us speaking before I drop my gaze away from you. You pat the seat beside you and I look at it for several seconds then sit, inching away from you a little as I find it awkward to be so close to you.

“I read your letter,” I say unnecessarily, but it breaks the crushing silence that has descended over us. You nod, clearly unsure of where to take the conversation.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble eventually.

“For what?” I ask, turning to look directly at you.

“For not talking to you face to face…”

“Bri, it doesn’t matter. You told me what you wanted to say- how you did it is unimportant. And besides, I like the letter. I’m going to keep it. I couldn’t do that with a conversation.”

“I suppose not… I’m sorry for going behind your back.”

I don’t respond immediately. I’m not quite sure what to say. I know that the conversation will resort to talking about my cuts sooner or later and I’m already wondering if I’ll be able to deal with it. I don’t want to bring it up because I don’t want to talk about it, but I won’t know when it’s coming if you speak of it first.

“And I’m sorry that you had to see what I’ve been doing,” I whisper, fearing the next thing you say as soon as the words leave my lips. “You weren’t meant to see…”

“I realized that. Is it true, Zack? Do you cut yourself because of me?”

I clamp my eyes shut and bow my head, unable to bring myself to look at you. I feel awful because I know that you’re taking this as an indication that I blame you.

“Zacky!” You say weakly. I know you’re hurt- I can hear it in your voice- but your disappointment seems to be aimed at yourself more than it is at me.

“Brian, I don’t blame you. I don’t ever want you to think that I do,” I tell you, grabbing your wrists. I look into your eyes to find them reddening with unshed tears, and the pain that I see in your soft brown orbs is enough for my tear ducts to once again let loose a few stray, salty droplets. They slide slowly down my cheeks, as we stare into each others eyes, and you move your hand to my face to tenderly wipe them away.

“Tell me! Tell me why you do it!” You urge softly.

I look at you, pleading with my eyes that you don’t make me explain myself. I don’t know how to tell you without hurting you. Whatever I say will make you blame yourself because you’re the nicest, most caring person in the world and you feel that you should know when your best friends are hurting.

But you’re not to blame. It’s my fault. I chose to feel like this. I’m the one with the inability to open up to people. I’m the one who chose this method of coping. I hid this from you to protect you- to stop you from being able to blame yourself.

“Zacky, please! I just want to be able to help. If it’s because of me then I need to know so I can make it right.”

“It’s not because of you. It’s me. I do it because I need a form of release- I need some way to cope. I love you, Brian, but do you know how much it fucking hurts to love someone that you can’t have? It was killing me to know that I couldn’t be what you wanted. I was going mad with despair and heartache. It was driving me insane keeping those feelings to myself and I needed to talk to someone but I couldn’t do it. I physically could not bring myself to open up to anyone, but I had to find some form of release. So I took to cutting myself.” My last sentence sounds as though it belongs to some foreign tongue and I realize that it’s the first time I’ve ever actually said the words. I attempt a dry laugh at that but it comes out sounding strained and I burst into tears. Your strong arms pull me to your body and I curl up against you and cry into your chest. “I never wanted to do this. I never meant to let things get to me so much, it just… it just happened! God! I’m so fucking pathetic!”

“Don’t say that, Zacky,” You say softly and I can feel you burying your lips into my hair and kissing the top of my head. “You are not pathetic.”

“Then why do I keep crying and resorting to cutting myself? If I’m not pathetic, why don’t I have the balls to talk to someone?” I mutter miserably. Despite resting in the safety of your arms, I feel like crap.

“Because you’re unhappy and you’re trying to deal with that on your own. We all cope with things differently. This is your way, but it doesn’t have to be. I want to help you realize that there are other ways. I want to eliminate your reasons for feeling so low. I am so, so sorry that you had to feel this way for so long. I’m sorry for hiding my feelings- I’m not sure what I was so scared about, but I want to make it up to you. I want to stop you from hurting because I’d rather die than see you go through any more pain. I’d rather die than be the cause of any more of your pain. I love you, Zacky.”

“You mean that?”

“I mean it more than I’ve meant anything else in my life!”

“You don’t just feel sorry for me?”

“Would I kiss you if I did?”

“You haven’t ki-” I start, but you stop me mid-sentence by pressing your lips to mine. I laugh against your mouth and kiss you back, allowing our lips to linger close together for a moment before we move apart. Our eyes meet and we stare into each others soul for a few, long seconds as I fall for you all over again. A smile breaks out on my tear stained face and your hand moves to cup my cheek.

“Zacky, will you be mine?”

My smile grows and I nod, my head reeling with ecstasy, before your lips once again come into contact with my own and I allow your tongue entrance into my mouth.

As we separate once more, you pull at the long sleeves of my hoodie and I fear that you’re about to destroy this moment of perfection. I attempt to protest until your lips brush against the first scar that you come across, causing me to realize what you’re doing. A smile spreads over my face as you move to the next scar, placing another feather-soft kiss against the imperfection on my skin: erasing my pain. With each butterfly-kiss, you pull at the discomfort that your-knowing placed upon me, until it is finally obliterated as you once again reach my mouth: ending my discomfort with another blissful kiss to my lips, which sends my heart into complete captivation.

The lust that has built up within me over the years is finally able to subside as you satisfy my desire with your kisses. I can feel my heart swelling with content and I want this moment to last forever because I don’t think even sex could make me feel as complete as I do now.

“I love you,” I say as I twist round slightly to lie against you on the couch.

“I love you, too. Promise me you won’t hide anything from me… Promise me that you’ll talk to me if you’re hurting. If I ever do anything to hurt you, tell me so I can make it right because I just want you to be happy, especially after all that you’ve done for me…”

“Brian, I am happy. You’re all I want and as long as I have you, I’m the happiest guy around.” I say. “But I’ll promise you that, as long as you’ll promise me the same thing…”

You nod at me and smile, draping your arms around my shoulders so that your hands hang over my chest.

“Oh, and, Zacky?” You ask softly. I tilt my head back to look up into your face. “I want you to stop this crap with playing your guitar skills down.”

I let my head drop back down so that I’m staring down the length of my body. “I haven’t… I’m just not as good as you…”

“Don’t put yourself down, Zack. You’re better than you think you are… And I don’t know who you’re trying to kid. When Matt told me he thought that you’d been playing your ability down, I didn’t get how you could have, but I’ve since realized what you’ve been doing. Each time I have a bad night, you’re playing’s also a bit crappy… That’s not a coincidence, is it?” I shake my head reluctantly and you continue, “You don’t have to do that. I’m a big boy- I can take the criticism. I’d rather watch you have a good show than look like I’m having a half-decent one myself at the expense of your skill…”

I look back up at you and smile, nodding my agreement as you dip your head and kiss the tip of my nose. You lift your hand to my hair to pull some back from my eyes and I place my hand on top and move yours downwards to rest your palm over my chest.

“Do you feel that?” I ask. You look a little confused so I clarify, “It beats for you, Brian. It feels so alive right now. Thank you for the letter and thank you for always being here for me and for now being mine.”

“Thank you to you as well. Thank you for everything that you’ve done for me up until now and everything which I know you’ll do for me in the future. You are the most amazing person I know and I don’t ever want you to forget that.” You haul me up towards you a bit and lean over my face to press your lips to mine once again. I tell you how much I love you for what feels like the thousandth time tonight and you do the same before we are interrupted by a cough from the doorway.

“Brian, if you do anything to hurt Zacky, I will personally see to it that you pay,” Matt says. He’s smiling, but we both know that he’ll stay true to his word.

You nod. “I’ll see to it myself that I pay if I hurt him,” You say, you’re face set with a determination to make sure that things don’t come to that, which makes me smile.

“And, Zack…?” My smile fades at the serious tone to Matt’s voice. I look up at him and know exactly what he’s going to ask; nodding I pre-empt his question.

“Yeah, I’ll stop the cutting,” I say, allowing myself to smile again, this time in order to reassure you all of my word; for it is a promise, now that all I’ve ever wanted is mine.