Sequel: Falling ›
We Only Wake up When We Sleep
Storm
Matt watched Johnny through the glass, looking out past the driving rain, his amber eyes full and shining with desperate concern. As much as he wanted to go and help the young bassist, pick up his frail, soaked body and carry him inside, Matt knew that it would be useless to intervene. Zacky had tried before the weather had gotten really bad and had ended up with a split lip for all his troubles. Johnny did not want to talk to anyone. Matt sighed as another clap of thunder reverberated through the air, lightning sparking in the near distance. He could see Johnny’s head jerk upwards, gazing at the sky with sheer desperation.
“Fuck this.” He announced to the room, vacating his position by the window. Brian looked up from where he held the worried, nervous Zacky against his chest, a questioning look quirking one eyebrow. “I’m going to help him, damn it. Get him inside.” Matt jerked his head towards the window but the guitarist already knew exactly who he was talking about.
“Good luck.” He smiled glumly, stroking Zacky’s hair in a half-hearted attempt to comfort himself. Matt said nothing, flicking his hood up over his head as he left the room. Bracing himself, he pushed open the back door, rain violently attacking his bare face and hands, soaking him through in a matter of minutes. Still unsure of what he would or should say, he practically ran over to the bench where Johnny was slumped, shivering and staring and silent. Knowing the direct approach would never work, he sat beside the smaller man.
“Whatcha doin’ out here?” He nudged Johnny’s ribs gently with his elbow, trying to keep his tone light, conversational. Matt swallowed hard, feeling as though someone had shoved their hand in his chest and was now blindly groping around for his heart, all too aware of the way Johnny’s lower lip quivered. Trembling, he pointed up to the stormy sky. “Talk to me, buddy.” Matt was surprised at the strength of his own voice, the courage summoned from somewhere deep within. He knew he had to be strong for Johnny.
“I’m listening to Jimmy playing drums.” He whispered hoarsely. The hand inside the singer’s chest had found his heart and was crushing it in a vice-like grip. Johnny started crying then, unashamedly, like a little boy. Throwing himself against Matt’s side, he sobbed harder, needing the feel of strong arms around him. Matt complied with that need instinctively, cocooning Johnny in his safe embrace. Both men shuddered against each other, Matt trying to hold back his own tears. He broke in the end, fingers tightening in the sodden fabric of Johnny’s thin shirt.
Desperately, he tried to piece himself back together. Matt stood, scooping the bassist easily into his arms.
“C-come on, we can listen just as well inside.” The gaps between the thunderclaps became shorter and Matt hurried inside. The two guitarists stared at him in amazement. Matt said nothing, carrying Johnny upstairs to the bathroom. Gently setting him down on the tiles, the older man instructed Johnny to take off his wet clothes as he left in search of dry clothes for the both of them.
When he returned, Johnny was still stood in the same place, water dripping from his saturated clothing and pooling on the cold tiles. His whole body was shaking uncontrollably, cold from the rain and over-spilling with emotion. His chaotic eyes stared helplessly at Matt as he dropped the pile of clothes near the door. The feeling in Matt’s chest grew heavy. Careful, Matt stepped close to Johnny and slipped his fingers beneath the hem of his shirt, pushing it up the smaller man’s chest and tugging it over his head. Matt let his hand linger on Johnny’s shoulder, his tattoo matching with the larger version on Johnny’s pale chest. A weak smile tugged at the corners of his lips. The skin beneath his fingertips was cool and damp; he picked up a towel and handed it to Johnny.
The action sparked a reaction from Johnny and he awkwardly pushed off the stiff denim that clung to his legs, drying himself off. The smile on Matt’s face widened with relief. He quickly stripped out of his own sodden clothes.
“Are you alright?” Matt asked when they were both fully dressed once more, genuine concern lacing his deep voice. Johnny didn’t reply, eyes drifting downwards. He shrugged, trying to shrink back into his hoodie. “Come on, you can talk to me.” His gentle charm was slowly chipping away at the wall Johnny had built around himself.
“I miss him so fucking much, y’know?” Johnny’s voice was thick with raw emotion. “H-he’s always there, in my dreams, and it hurts to wake up all alone. Reminds me that he’s not here and that the dreams are just lies or twisted memories.” Matt shook his head, despairing of the clumsy way in which Lacey had dealt with the whole situation. She had been careless; pushing Johnny away in the wake of Jimmy’s passing, unable to accept the changes in her boyfriend’s demeanour. It was just another thing he didn’t need to deal with. “It just seems like it would be so much easier with s-someone to just be there – Brian and Zack have each other. You have Val.” Bitterness took over the grief. “What the fuck have I got?”
Johnny’s fist slammed into the wall, a spider web of cracks distorting the smooth tiles, a smear of blood vivid and warm against their cool whiteness. Tears prickled in the corners of his eyes, the sharp, stinging pain overriding his other emotions.
“Fuck.” He hissed between gritted teeth. Matt stood there, watching as the younger man came undone before his eyes. This was one of those rare occasions where he felt utterly helpless. Johnny cradled his bruised and bloodied fist against his chest, hiccupping with ugly, heart-wrenching sobs.
“You don’t have to be alone, Jay, I’m here for you.” Johnny’s red-rimmed eyes turned to meet Matt’s gaze. “I fucking promise you that.” With surprisingly gentle fingers, the singer took Johnny’s injured hand in his and led him towards the sink. The feeling of helplessness was slowly dissipating.
Neither of the two men watched the blood swirl through the water, eyes locked together. Johnny dared to ask the question burning in the front of his mind.
“Please stay with me tonight?” He swallowed back his hope, expecting Matt to politely decline.
“Of course.” Matt hoped that Val would understand. If he could help Johnny’s suspected depression just a little bit, he knew that things would get easier for all of them.
Johnny bit his lip, scared to fall asleep and scared to seek the comfort of Matt’s arms he so desperately needed. Matt slipped beneath the duvet with him, curling his arms around Johnny’s torso and pulling him against his chest. A sinking feeling overcame him as he realised how skinny Johnny had become. Wide, puppy-dog eyes looked up at him, just visible in the darkness, and Matt was almost certain that his quickened heartbeat was audible above the now gentle rain. Johnny’s fingers clung onto Matt’s back without shame and Matt caved into the sheer force of temptation, pressing their mouths together.
“Matt. You have a wife.” Johnny’s voice was stronger, more rational than either man had expected.
“Sorry.” The apology was mumbled into Johnny’s jaw as Matt silently cursed himself for being so weak. “I don’t know why I did that.” Even to his own ears, the lie sounded hollow. A quiet sigh escaped Matt’s lips, tickling the sensitive skin beneath Johnny’s ear. “Oh god, I’m sorry.”
“Why did you kiss me?” His voice was hoarse and his cheeks were flushed. Johnny longed for the comfort of love, foolish hope taking over.
“I kissed you because I wanted to, because you looked so adorable, because it just seemed like the right thing to do.” Matt was aware of the warmth radiating from his own face; he sounded overly emotional, almost romantic. He shuddered, different emotions battling out in his mind. Guilt bubbled up; he didn’t want to cheat on Val. A fiery kind of passion fought hard to be heard. The need to protect Johnny clung to him like a spider monkey. Subtle pain crept through and poisoned everything. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths to clear his head and trying to figure out what he should do.
Don’t do that to him, Matt. You can’t just kiss him like that and tell him you don’t fucking love him. Quit the bullshit. Jimmy’s voice cut through his mind, crystal clear amidst the chaos.
“Fuck it, ‘cause I could fall in love with someone like you.”
“Fuck this.” He announced to the room, vacating his position by the window. Brian looked up from where he held the worried, nervous Zacky against his chest, a questioning look quirking one eyebrow. “I’m going to help him, damn it. Get him inside.” Matt jerked his head towards the window but the guitarist already knew exactly who he was talking about.
“Good luck.” He smiled glumly, stroking Zacky’s hair in a half-hearted attempt to comfort himself. Matt said nothing, flicking his hood up over his head as he left the room. Bracing himself, he pushed open the back door, rain violently attacking his bare face and hands, soaking him through in a matter of minutes. Still unsure of what he would or should say, he practically ran over to the bench where Johnny was slumped, shivering and staring and silent. Knowing the direct approach would never work, he sat beside the smaller man.
“Whatcha doin’ out here?” He nudged Johnny’s ribs gently with his elbow, trying to keep his tone light, conversational. Matt swallowed hard, feeling as though someone had shoved their hand in his chest and was now blindly groping around for his heart, all too aware of the way Johnny’s lower lip quivered. Trembling, he pointed up to the stormy sky. “Talk to me, buddy.” Matt was surprised at the strength of his own voice, the courage summoned from somewhere deep within. He knew he had to be strong for Johnny.
“I’m listening to Jimmy playing drums.” He whispered hoarsely. The hand inside the singer’s chest had found his heart and was crushing it in a vice-like grip. Johnny started crying then, unashamedly, like a little boy. Throwing himself against Matt’s side, he sobbed harder, needing the feel of strong arms around him. Matt complied with that need instinctively, cocooning Johnny in his safe embrace. Both men shuddered against each other, Matt trying to hold back his own tears. He broke in the end, fingers tightening in the sodden fabric of Johnny’s thin shirt.
Desperately, he tried to piece himself back together. Matt stood, scooping the bassist easily into his arms.
“C-come on, we can listen just as well inside.” The gaps between the thunderclaps became shorter and Matt hurried inside. The two guitarists stared at him in amazement. Matt said nothing, carrying Johnny upstairs to the bathroom. Gently setting him down on the tiles, the older man instructed Johnny to take off his wet clothes as he left in search of dry clothes for the both of them.
When he returned, Johnny was still stood in the same place, water dripping from his saturated clothing and pooling on the cold tiles. His whole body was shaking uncontrollably, cold from the rain and over-spilling with emotion. His chaotic eyes stared helplessly at Matt as he dropped the pile of clothes near the door. The feeling in Matt’s chest grew heavy. Careful, Matt stepped close to Johnny and slipped his fingers beneath the hem of his shirt, pushing it up the smaller man’s chest and tugging it over his head. Matt let his hand linger on Johnny’s shoulder, his tattoo matching with the larger version on Johnny’s pale chest. A weak smile tugged at the corners of his lips. The skin beneath his fingertips was cool and damp; he picked up a towel and handed it to Johnny.
The action sparked a reaction from Johnny and he awkwardly pushed off the stiff denim that clung to his legs, drying himself off. The smile on Matt’s face widened with relief. He quickly stripped out of his own sodden clothes.
“Are you alright?” Matt asked when they were both fully dressed once more, genuine concern lacing his deep voice. Johnny didn’t reply, eyes drifting downwards. He shrugged, trying to shrink back into his hoodie. “Come on, you can talk to me.” His gentle charm was slowly chipping away at the wall Johnny had built around himself.
“I miss him so fucking much, y’know?” Johnny’s voice was thick with raw emotion. “H-he’s always there, in my dreams, and it hurts to wake up all alone. Reminds me that he’s not here and that the dreams are just lies or twisted memories.” Matt shook his head, despairing of the clumsy way in which Lacey had dealt with the whole situation. She had been careless; pushing Johnny away in the wake of Jimmy’s passing, unable to accept the changes in her boyfriend’s demeanour. It was just another thing he didn’t need to deal with. “It just seems like it would be so much easier with s-someone to just be there – Brian and Zack have each other. You have Val.” Bitterness took over the grief. “What the fuck have I got?”
Johnny’s fist slammed into the wall, a spider web of cracks distorting the smooth tiles, a smear of blood vivid and warm against their cool whiteness. Tears prickled in the corners of his eyes, the sharp, stinging pain overriding his other emotions.
“Fuck.” He hissed between gritted teeth. Matt stood there, watching as the younger man came undone before his eyes. This was one of those rare occasions where he felt utterly helpless. Johnny cradled his bruised and bloodied fist against his chest, hiccupping with ugly, heart-wrenching sobs.
“You don’t have to be alone, Jay, I’m here for you.” Johnny’s red-rimmed eyes turned to meet Matt’s gaze. “I fucking promise you that.” With surprisingly gentle fingers, the singer took Johnny’s injured hand in his and led him towards the sink. The feeling of helplessness was slowly dissipating.
Neither of the two men watched the blood swirl through the water, eyes locked together. Johnny dared to ask the question burning in the front of his mind.
“Please stay with me tonight?” He swallowed back his hope, expecting Matt to politely decline.
“Of course.” Matt hoped that Val would understand. If he could help Johnny’s suspected depression just a little bit, he knew that things would get easier for all of them.
Johnny bit his lip, scared to fall asleep and scared to seek the comfort of Matt’s arms he so desperately needed. Matt slipped beneath the duvet with him, curling his arms around Johnny’s torso and pulling him against his chest. A sinking feeling overcame him as he realised how skinny Johnny had become. Wide, puppy-dog eyes looked up at him, just visible in the darkness, and Matt was almost certain that his quickened heartbeat was audible above the now gentle rain. Johnny’s fingers clung onto Matt’s back without shame and Matt caved into the sheer force of temptation, pressing their mouths together.
“Matt. You have a wife.” Johnny’s voice was stronger, more rational than either man had expected.
“Sorry.” The apology was mumbled into Johnny’s jaw as Matt silently cursed himself for being so weak. “I don’t know why I did that.” Even to his own ears, the lie sounded hollow. A quiet sigh escaped Matt’s lips, tickling the sensitive skin beneath Johnny’s ear. “Oh god, I’m sorry.”
“Why did you kiss me?” His voice was hoarse and his cheeks were flushed. Johnny longed for the comfort of love, foolish hope taking over.
“I kissed you because I wanted to, because you looked so adorable, because it just seemed like the right thing to do.” Matt was aware of the warmth radiating from his own face; he sounded overly emotional, almost romantic. He shuddered, different emotions battling out in his mind. Guilt bubbled up; he didn’t want to cheat on Val. A fiery kind of passion fought hard to be heard. The need to protect Johnny clung to him like a spider monkey. Subtle pain crept through and poisoned everything. He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths to clear his head and trying to figure out what he should do.
Don’t do that to him, Matt. You can’t just kiss him like that and tell him you don’t fucking love him. Quit the bullshit. Jimmy’s voice cut through his mind, crystal clear amidst the chaos.
“Fuck it, ‘cause I could fall in love with someone like you.”
♠ ♠ ♠
Thoughts?