Wounds and Marks

Twiggy's skinny arms found the underside of the hotel pillow, curling slightly against the soft sheets he had fell on moments ago. A frown pulled at his lips even as his eyes closed, where was Marilyn? He missed him, and even if he wouldn't admit, he was worried about the singer. He knew how he could get, especially with a platter of girls, drugs and alcohol on offer to him at the click of his fingers - only one out of the three really bugged the dreadlocked bassist. He could get as many girls as he wanted, but every time he saw Marilyn with another girl - there was something inside of him that reared it's ugly head, something that made him want to tear away any chick hung over Marilyn like cheap drapes. He knew it was completely irrational behaviour, Marilyn had stated himself that what they had were just quick fucks, but it didn't stop the jealousy that reared it's ugly head.

Rolling onto his back, he looked to the side slightly at the clock; 3:42 flashed on the dark LED screen in red light, Twiggy just letting out a strangled sigh. He needed to stay calm, Marilyn would be back anytime soon - it wasn't as if he himself hadn't had his late nights…and he wasn't his mother. But sometimes he wished he meant more to Marilyn than just a friend - even if they did fuck, it felt more like he was there just if Marilyn felt the need and nothing more, and that just hurt too much considering that he meant so much more to Twiggy. But Marilyn was scared of commitment, and he knew it. But it didn't mean he wanted him any less, he wanted to show him that Twiggy wouldn't be the one to leave him - he would be the one that would stay with him no matter what…if he was just given the very chance to show him.

Pulling the sheets away from his body, he slipped out of them - still in his metallic dress - and padded across the floor to the bathroom, the bright light stinging his alcohol lidded eyes. He was going insane, why was he caring so much about Marilyn? He had vowed to forget relationships after the fuck him with Jessicka, but goddamn it - Marilyn had promised all kinds of things that night, he said he'd love him…yeah fucking right. Another tour, and he was still off fucking whatever chick he came across. He wished he could stop, he wish he could stop caring and save him the pain - but he goddamn couldn't, the singer took his fucking heart and he knew it. He loved twisting it around, but pain was always so close to pleasure - he couldn't even bring himself to stop whatever game he was messing with.

Hands finding the metallic tap, he let the cold water flow out - watching it splash against the cold white before bringing it up to his face, uncaring of the smudged make-up he would leave behind. He needed to stay clam and collected, if Marilyn came back to find and emotional wreck he would walk straight back out to whoever was willing to fuck him for the night. And Twiggy would rather keep that roll to himself. His hand held the sides of the sink as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. He was a mess, and he knew it - but as he stared, he suddenly knew why he was out so late. Of course. Twiggy had gotten a little too close to John on stage, leading him to go off with a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hands looking for the white powder to take it all away. "Fuck." The word slipped from his lips easily, of-fucking-course. He had caused him to go off like that. and even if he knew it was not completely his fault - it didn't stop the self rage rear its head.

"Well, well, well - feeling a little emotional are we Twiggy?" Twiggy turned to see the singer still in his black all in one from preforming, his dyed red hair hanging over his face - and his arm hanging loosely around some whores waist. Twiggy just stared, his fists clenching slightly at the sight of the girl practically shoving herself at Marilyn, his eyes no where near her face. Twiggy still stayed silent as he continued to slur, his lips meeting hers causing Twiggy to turn away for a moment - an unfamiliar feeling washing down over him. Moving forward slightly, he tried to push past them - Marilyn's arm blocking his way.

"Now, now Twiggy - don't be a spoilt sport dear," his half laughed, his voice had a patronising edge to it - something that twisted Twiggy's insides. And not even in a good way. He simply pushed by him, he was not arguing with him - not now, for the first time since they had met, he wished he would just fucking leave him alone. "Can't you take it, hm? If you don't like it - go fuck John like you clearly wanted to earlier." Marilyn grunted it, the playfulness gone from his tone, his eyes cold and blank as he stared at the dreadlocked bassist.

"Excuse me?" Twiggy did not get angry, he was hurt by what his friend had said - but that did not mean anger couldn't leak into his tone and actions. "One time, one time I go close to anybody else you flip your fucking shit - you despise hypocrites Marilyn, yet you are being one yourself."

"Hypocrite? Are you really taking it that to that level?" He snarled at his friend, the anger starting to show behind his red contacts, his voice held shock in it - as if in shock Twiggy had even stood up to him.

"Oh you know what, I really do think I fucking am - you can't just throw me to the side and expect me to some crawling back to you every time," Twiggy's voice was beginning to rise as he spoke, the anger in his voice masking the hurt creeping up on him. He despised arguing, especially with Marilyn - it tore him up inside, but showing him any sign of emotion other than anger would show he had won. He just wanted this to be over, for Marilyn to take him into his arms and say it was over…but life wasn't that simple.

"What do you expect me to do? You are not my partner Twiggy, I have Rose - and even if she isn't here - you are nothing more than a fuck to me. Get that into your fucking head."Marilyn had made his way forward, the girl staying behind him slightly as Twiggy just stared up at the taller man, his mouth opening once before closing. His mind had been telling him that same thing all night, but actually hearing it from the singers lips seemed to make it concrete. Concrete he was fucking drowning in.

"That's not what you said that night." His voice was quiet, dejected, every once of anger was gone - that had killed him, but he would not be fucking showing it him. He grunted at the singer slight, expecting - hoping for - some sort of statement in return as he turned to the carpet - unwilling to meet his eyes in fear he would do something he would regret. What he didn't expect was to hear a slamming of a door, Twiggy looking up to see an empty room. He'd gone. He'd expected something, a reply, a retort - anything…but he'd simply walked away from him. Twiggy back peddled slightly towards the twisted sheets on the bed, falling back against them - a small sound emitting from his mouth. He didn't realise he was crying until he let out a strangled sob, his shaking hands coming up to his face to feel a wet trail leading from his eyes - he hadn't cried in years, yet here he was. Alone, in a hotel room, crying over a man that he was nothing more than a quick fuck too. He needed him, and it killed him that he didn't even seem to care anymore - what he had just done seemed to show that fact clear as day. He shouldn't be in love with his best friend, he was not part of some cliche movie - bot god-fucking-damnit it seemed his life was turing into one.

He waited, his brown eyes staring at that small hallway - hoping to hell and back he would come back, walk in and say this was all some big fucking prank. But that wasn't Marilyn, and he one wit all too well - yet some tiny part inside of him didn't want him to come back, he wanted him to just leave him the hell alone; well at least for a few hours. He needed to clear his head, but how was that even possible when his head was a fucking stir pot of emotions. He was turning into a hollywood cliche - and it was something he never even wanted to be. He wanted his friend, he wanted Marilyn - he just didn't want him this far away. He let the tears fall freely, pulling the loose covers over his shaking body - his hand reaching out for the pills on the bedside table. As he held those white pills, the same pills that could easily end it, but he let them slip from his fingers - all except for one. One was safe…more than one wasn't so safe. But he wouldn't do it, and for one reason only. Ironically enough it was the same man that made him want to do it; that was how fucked up his life really was. But surely a few more pills wouldn't hurt right? Right. He slipped a few more into his hand, just to take the edge away from it all…yeah, thats it. He looked down at them with solemn eyes before slipping them into his mouth and dry swallowing. Take the pain away…it was just a step towards outracing the speed…of…pain

He was awoken by the feeling of being shaken, as if he was only a rag doll in anthers hands - his eyelids heavy as he was shook. He began to become more aware of his senses, he could feel the heat and strength of the hands holding his forearms, and he began to pick up on a faint whimpering. A voice pleading, the feeling of hot tears slipping onto his bare chest - the pleading growing louder and more desperate as he didn't respond. A voice calling his name, a sob twisting the voice.

"Twiggy, wake up," Marilyn's frantic voice sounded from above him - as soon as he realised who was doing the pleading, he suddenly became desperate to open his eyes, to be able to talk. But no matter how much he willed himself to move, he could't - his mind still held by a mixture of drugs and sleep. "Please, I'm sorry for what I said…" his voice trailed off, his arms continued to be shaken by Marilyn. His body moving easily with his strength, but as he did, he slowly started to gain some control over his senses and limbs. His lips began to mumble incoherent things, Marilyn stopping for a moment and looking down at Twiggy as his lips moved, his heavy eyelids slowly beginning to move.

"Shit…" the words fell from his lips easily as he opened his eyes to see Marilyn's panicked face above his, his read hair hanging down and his make up distorted and…tear stained? He couldn't care about him that much, could he? Well, he was his best friends…friends, yeah always friends - friends could care that much right? He didn't even have time to dwell on it all, feeling Marilyn pull his body to his - his tattooed wrapping around Twiggy's bare torso like it was the last thing holding him to sanity. He was caught off guard after spending the night telling himself that he meant nothing to Marilyn, to have him pleading with him to wake up and clinging on to him…it just sent his emotions free falling. Slowly he lifted his arms up, hooking around Marilyn's waist - his head leaning down onto the singers shoulder. "I'm sorry." He mumbled, into his shoulder, unsure of what he was saying it for…it just seemed rather appropriate, though Marilyn did not seem to agree.

"Don't you dare." Marilyn pulled back, his arms holding Twiggy's warm forearms as he looked him straight in the eyes. "This is my fault. All of it, I shouldn't have said what I did…goddamn it Twiggy, I am so sorry - you have no idea." His head hung down then, looking down at the sheet rather than at the man who he had almost destroyed hours before.

"Don't you." Twiggy offered him a small smile as his hand came out to tilt his head back up, "I know how your temper can get, but I can't say I was a saint in all of this. If I never would have been so…clingy-" he paused, unsure of how to continue for a moment before looking back up to him "- and if I never went near John none of this ever would have happened."

Marilyn let his head be moved up, frowning slightly at his words before moving closer - pulling Twiggy's body back to his. "I'm so sorry," he whimpered against his dreadlocks as Twiggy buried his head in the crook of his neck. Marilyn's arms wrapped around his bare torso, holding his body as close as he could get - forming some sort of mind cocoon around them both. Marilyn pulled back, his fingers catching under Twiggy's chin tilting it upwards before pressing his lips to the bassist - a whimper coming from the bassist as his hands clawed at Marilyn's back to get that impossible amount closer.

He missed this. He missed being in Marilyn's arms. He was a living breathing cliche of a man, but he didn't even care - he had spent months dwelling over the fact that Marilyn didn't care for him, but now it seemed he couldn't be more important to the man. And he was the most important man in Twiggy's life, for always. Though of course he really should've realised what those words meant - he had held so much disbelief when Marilyn had said it was for him. He had told him, looking him straight in the eye and telling him that they would be for always. He would never forget that night, but then there were so many other nights that had changed his mind. The night he broke up with Jessicka should be a night he associated with sadness, but Marilyn had helped him that night more than anyone could imagine - he had said he would love Twiggy, love him for fucking ever, it was those words that kept him sane when nothing else in this world would. God…if Marilyn was able to read the thoughts going through Twiggy's mind, he would slap the cliche right out of him and the sense back in - but he just couldn't help his thoughts.

"Everything I said Twiggy, I am so fucking sorry," Marilyn murmured once again against Twiggy's lips, a frown pulling at his features. A fact that had Twiggy grimacing. Despite what he had said earlier, he would give anything for him - and he couldn't stand seeing him like that. Pulling the singer backwards as he fell back against the bed, he felt Marilyn's hands fall to his lower back - pressing him against his body. "I love you Twiggy, and you have no idea how sorry I am if I have made you think any different - just don't walk away from me like everybody else did…"

"Don't Marilyn, please listen to me - I didn't run away when you found Missi, and I won't now - haven't all these years proved I'm not going to run and jump ship at the first sign of trouble? You have to believe me, there are so many reasons for me to stay with you. I fucking love you." Twiggy kept his gaze with Marilyn, he wasn't wavering on this - he didn't want him to think he was only saying this with half a heart…but he goddamn wasn't, there was so much Marilyn didn't even know. And wouldn't know. Twiggy's lips slipped into a pout as Marilyn rolled off him, eyes squinting shut slightly - scared he had taken it too far, but after a few moments he felt Marilyn slide under the covers with him - his, now bare, tattooed arm coming around his waist to pull him close to him.

"For always Twiggy, like I said…for always."

-------------------------------

Jeordie awoke with a start, sitting up with a start as the photographs of a certain singer fell to the floor at the side of the bed. His black hair was almost stuck to his forehead, his breathing heavy as his dark eyes began to make-out shapes in the room, light filtering in through the gap in the curtains. His hands shook as he reached down to pick up one of the photos, the red-haired singer hand his arms around Twiggy's waist as he smiled for the camera - Twiggy's head off in the clouds.

Why did he have to find them, why tonight, why?

He wished he had never taken the sleeping pills, he wished he had never seen the candid pictures of his wedding, he wished he could forget. He wish he could forget what had happened, but what had been done was done. He was still in love with the man he walked away from all those years ago, and he could never forget what they had…what they once had.

"I miss you." The words fell from his lips like a silent prayer, the tears beginning to fall from his already dark eyes onto the sheets below him. His head fell into his hands as the photo fell once again, the tears flowing freely now. He had been warned not to get close to him, but he had - and he had walked away, he had to. He seemed to have moved on…Dita Von Teese. The sobs flowing from his lips became louder and desperate as the memories flashed behind his closed eyelids - the way he had held him that night…he couldn't take it. Looking up, he saw the photo pinned onto the wall, a photo of them both when they were happy…well, seemed to be happy. It was a month before he left…he was so naive, so naive. His head fell back into his hands as the radio sounded quietly behind him.



---------------------------

Ah ok I'm not sure what inspired me to write this, but 'Love Hurts' was a very big inspiration for this, namely the version used in Halloween 2 (Rob Zombie, 2009) definitely inspired me. For Katie, we both write so happy fics you see.

xx