The Speed of Pain

“Marilyn?”” Twiggy poked his head into the singers bedroom, to see him amongst a mess of papers scattered across his desk, his head looking up at the sound of his voice - a small smile gracing his features as Twiggy shut the door with a small click behind him. His boots dragged on the carpet as he walked across to Marilyn who reached out for Twiggy - his arms snaking around his slender waist and pulling him closer to his body, a small sigh emitting from the singer as Twiggy’ head fell into his neck; his shoulder hiding the grimace pulling at his features.

“You’ve been making yourself scarce recently,” Marilyn mumbled into his hair, Twiggy’s arms just wrapping around his pale shoulders, unspeaking as he tried to resist Marilyn’s efforts at seeing his face, his eyes pressing shut as he felt Marilyn’s finger hook under his chin, his lips pressing down upon Twiggy’s with a small sigh.

It was too easy for Twiggy to get lost with Marilyn, the way his lips moved against his, how his arms would always pull Twiggy’s body impossibly close to his while he would mutter possessively against his ear - it was enough to completely change his mood. At least, it normally would.

But he couldn’t, not now. Not when this had to be done, even if he yearned to carry on, life wasn’t always that simple.

“Marilyn, Marilyn stop. We need to talk...I need to talk.”

He could see the panic bloom in his eyes, every person knew what those words meant - yet he could see in his eyes that he was trying to shield himself from that, somehow seeing it differently. Like Twiggy was someone different. He was human. And all things needed to end.

“You know what’s coming, don’t try and deny it. We both know it’s been brewing for a while...”

“Twiggy, come on Twiggy - think about this before you make any rash decisions-“

“Stop Marilyn. I came here to say my part, you can’t help nor change how I think.”

“Stop Twiggy, stop this. And stop it now - why are you even fooling around like this.”

“You know I’m not. You know it, we’ve both been expecting this; come on look around you. You have Tim, you have Dita - and I have...well you know where this is going now Marilyn, don’t pretend this is going to somehow change.”

He watched Marilyn’s knuckles turn pale, his hands gripping the side of the table as his eyes looked straight up at Twiggy - something in them he had never seen before. There was so much loneliness. So much pain. And a resounding plead. A plead of him not to go, to stay with him like he had promised. If he would have known how life would lay out for him, maybe he would not have made that promise and tried so hard never to break it. “What are you implying here, Twiggy? I have not fucking replaced you. I never can, don’t believe for one moment that I could-“

“But you have. You did a long time ago, but I didn’t come here to argue - I don’t want to leave...I just don’t want to create any bad feelings, for me - please, Marilyn?”

“I can’t promise that, you know me Twiggy - just...please, calm down and think this over...”

“I have. Can’t you fucking understand-“ he stopped himself, unwilling to anger himself over this as he took a few calming breaths, his body calming before he met Marilyn’s eyes once again. “I don’t love you like I did yesterday, I don’t love you the way I did last month, I can’t love you the same way I did last year anymore. I can’t do this Marilyn, I’ve forgotten why I’ve even tried.”

“What do you mean ’you’ve forgotten why you tried’, huh? Did it all mean fucking nothing to you, all of it, everything us. Do you not even care about this, did you ever even care?” He was on his feet now, his voice raised as Twiggy hung his head, unable to look the singer in the eyes - knowing if he did all resolve would fail and he would fall back into his embrace, but he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He was to stay strong, he had to do this - or the pressure would surely kill him. He couldn’t do this anymore.

“Stop it. Do not try to guilt trip me, I just can’t carry on like this anymore. Dita is in love with you, Tim can easily fill in for whatever I was-“ even simply admitting that fact ripped him apart, but to show any emotion now would destroy him “-you simple do not need me anymore.”

“You can’t be serious Twiggy, look at me - fucking look.” He felt Marilyn’s hands on his cheeks as he tilted his head up towards to singers, his breath catching in his throat as his jaw quivered, taking everything in him not to break down. For the first time in the years recently passed, the singer had tears rolling down his face - his make up tear stained as they ran down his chin, his teeth gritted as he pulled Twiggy closer. “Does this look like the face of someone who can easily replace you? Tell me that to my fucking face.”

“Let it go Marilyn. I couldn’t give in now, could I? I’d come back and we’d go back to how it was before. Not last year, last week. We’d argue, we’d throw things; and it would not get better...” his voice trailed off, his eyes meeting Marilyn’s before dropping his eyes, tracing over the wood before looking back up. “Let me go Marilyn, let me go.”

“I can’t...” the singers hoarse voice trailed off as he pulled Twiggy’s lips to his, a small sob escaping Twiggy as he felt his own tears beginning to fall down his face, tasting the salt in their kiss as his lips pulled away.

“I’m sorry Marilyn, just...look after yourself, for me? Please.” He stumbled backwards as Marilyn stood on the opposite side of the table, standing almost dumbstruck as his mouth tried to form words, Twiggy backing away slowly, his hand dropping a small piece of paper as he left. “Goodbye, Manson.” And that was it, he had severed the ties he had with him with two words - so impersonal and cold as he walked away, the tears streaming down the face as he reached the door.

“What happened to ’for always’?”

“Always is over.”

“Come back...” he flinched as he heard the desperate plea in Marilyn’s voice, but it was too late now. It couldn’t go back to any normal, they would be treading on thin ice if he would come back.

“I’ll be gone by the end of the week.” As the door shut behind him he heard the smash of glass, cringing as he let the tears fall freely down his cheeks - barely making it around the corner of the corridor before falling back against the wall, slipping down as his head fell forward. That was it. Seven years of friendship, laughter, sex...love; it was gone. He knew it was the right thing to do, but it really did not help his conscience. As he sat against that cold wall, he heard the screams of rage echoing from Marilyn’s room, a sob wracking his body as the singers voice ripped him apart to hear him in so much pain. And it was all his fault.

It was only hours later when John had found Twiggy slumped in the hallway he had moved from that spot, the tears unable to fall anymore as he stared blankly - responding only to John with small grunts and nods, he had ended it all.

And he had never hated himself so much.



Marilyn felt Twiggy’s hand fall into his outstretched palm, his fingers tracing the lines on his hands as he turned to face him - his red hair falling into his eyes as he met Twiggy’s eyes, his head falling onto his shoulder as Marilyn let out a small sigh, his fingers still interlaced with the bassists as he moved their hands slightly; a content whimper escaping Twiggy’s lips.

“What’s wrong?” The singer mumbled, his eyes running over the lyrics before him, his free hand hovering over the paper as if wondering how to continue - feeling Twiggy’s head shift slightly, Marilyn dropping his pen to run his fingers through his dreads. “You’re not normally like this.”

“It’s nothing...just, it’s nothing.” Twiggy’s voice was quiet as he moved his body closed to Marilyn’s, his free arm hanging around the singers waist as if to pull him closer - almost as if he was afraid he would disappear before his very eyes, his hand clinging to his waist like a lost child. Marilyn was unsure what to even say, if he wouldn’t disclose what was wrong, how could he help? But it seemed simple contact was the only thing that could help him. He was unnerved, scared even, at seeing his friend - his lover - like this. So fearful, so scared that Marilyn would some how fall through his fingers like smoke.

“I’m not going anywhere, Twiggy.” He spoke slowly, almost giving time for each word to sink into Twiggy’s mind. He shifted his body slightly, dropping his pen, and pulling Twiggy towards him - his arms snaked around his waist, pulling his body firmly towards him as the bassists head fell into the crook of his neck, murmuring incoherent things as confusion and a drop of fear passed through Marilyn’s eyes, burying his head in his dreads as he tried to soothe his friend, hands running through his hair.

“Just don’t leave me alone, Marilyn.”

“I’ll be here for you always.”

“For always?”

“For always.”



His mind was a cruel thing, and Marilyn knew it - yet it seemed to rear its ugly head all the more. That single memory continued to loop around in his mind like a broken film reel, constantly beating his mind - almost as if it was determined to rip apart every aspect of sanity he had left in his mind.

Life fucked everyone over, and even when he had found someone who didn’t want to be let go by him - they had walked away, leaving Marilyn alone. Again. He had promised a long time ago he wouldn’t leave him like it seemed like every single person close to him, but he should have realised it was only a matter of time. It always was with him.

“Are you okay, with all of this...with Twiggy?” Marilyn looked up at the sound of Dita’s voice, feeling her hand on his shoulder - his eyes flicking down to it before shrugging his shoulder away, standing up and looking across the empty street; the sun shining down seeming to mock his mood. As if something up there was happy at his misfortune, but he wouldn’t be quite surprised himself. He didn’t deserve anything good in his life, he was immensely surprised Dita herself hadn’t walked away by now.

“Think about that question, do I really seem like I’m ok with this?” He snapped, his eyes looked ahead at the cab that pulled him outside of the hotel, unable to help the small whimper slipping from his lips. This was the last chance to somehow get Twiggy back, he couldn’t let him go so easily - he wouldn’t. He had promised to never leave, and he wouldn’t. He couldn’t face the idea of Twiggy turning his back on him for what could be forever, how could he let go of someone so close so easily?

“I’m sorry, Marilyn - I didn’t mean to pry.” Her voice was quiet as his eyes traced across the empty street, feeling her hand lightly touch his shoulder, this time his body relaxing slightly to her touch. “I can go, I should go...”

“Don’t.” He knew it was no final goodbye, but having someone else walk away from him in such a short time, well it would give his already fragile mind set another crack. But he knew himself that having Dita walk away from him would cause no where near enough pain as Twiggy walking away would - or rather did.

Marilyn turned his head as he heard the dragging of luggage on the pavement, his hands clenching slightly as he watched Twiggy pull his bag - John and Ginger hanging slightly behind, whispering quickly behind them. His eyes dropped to their hands, interlaced as they walked - his upper lip curving slightly, a small wave of jealousy stabbing through him. That used to be him, Twiggy’s hand in his as they walked - but he would always pull his hand away in public, almost afraid of what the public would think. America’s Antichrist. Scared of nothing. Scared of nothing but admitting he was in love with his best friend.

Realisations like that always did come too late.

His body seemed immobile as he stood watching silently as he turned to John and Ginger, almost as if he was not there watching, his arms pulling John into a hug as the guitarist patted his back slightly - his eyes flitting over to Marilyn before turning back to Twiggy as he pulled back. He murmured something, Ginger offering him a small smile before the bassist turned away to the cab, dragging his bag slowly behind him.

He couldn’t let this happen, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t let him go before one last attempt on his part.

“Twiggy, Twiggy wait!” He moved his body from the shadow of the hotel, moving faster than he remembered intending to as Twiggy turned his head at the sound of the singers voice, his eyes involuntarily brightening up at the sound, his hand twitching to move forward before he moved it back.

“I’ve said all I need to, Manson...” Something inside crumbled a little hearing him unable to use his name, resorting to a simple formality to brush him away. He really was disposable, no one really needed him in their lives, there were so many examples of people. Trent, Missi, Daisy...now Twiggy.

But that didn’t stop him from trying to regain the one good thing he had.

“Don’t do this...please - you promised me Twiggy, you said you wouldn’t turn away like everyone else has.” He was pleaded, he was unashamedly ready to get down on his knees to get him back - he didn’t care who was watching. He didn’t care his fiancee was watching, he didn’t care his bandmates were, he didn’t even care if the public eye was watching - he needed him. “I need you Twiggy, you can’t fool your self into thinking I don’t-”

“You do not need me. Look behind you, your fiancee, you have her. You have Tim. Move on, move along for me please. Forget about me, ok?” Twiggy offered him a small smile from behind his dreadlocks, Marilyn’s eyes meeting his as he watching the tears fall down his face - staining his back up and clouding his vision. “You don’t need me, just...just forget about me alright.”

“You are talking absolute bullshit. And you absolutely know it,” Marilyn pulled himself closer to Twiggy, feeling the tears spill over onto his cheeks. “Don’t leave me.”

“The hardest part of this is leaving you, I just...I just can’t do this anymore Marilyn - I’m sorry.” He stumped backwards, his hand finding the cab door as Marilyn’s eyes simpply stared blankly ahead, almost unseeing as he watching Twiggy slip into the cab; pulling at his sleeve as he dried his eyes, the driver tugging his bag into the car.

It wasn’t until the engine came to life did it seem to kick into his mind that this was his last chance to change anything, the last time he could possibly even see Twiggy. He almost fell forwards, his hands clutching the side of the window as Twiggy stared up at him, his teeth tugging his bottom lip almost as if to hold back a sob as the car began to move slowly.

“I love you, Twiggy.” He choked it out quickly, how many times had Twiggy uttered those words and feigned sleep? How many times had he pretend to ignore? Things were always too late for him.

“I’m sorry.”

And he was gone. Marilyn stumped back as the car sped down the road, but it wasn’t until the car rounded the corner that it seemed to creep upon his mind. He was gone. Twiggy was gone - and all of it, it was his fault. He despised himself.

Every aspect.

Every fucking feeling, he drove Twiggy away. He drove the closest fucking thing he had to a partner he had, and he deserved everything he got.

“Come back...” his legs seemed to give way against that cold pavement, falling onto his knees outside the quiet hotel as he eyes stared at the end of the road, somehow hoping he would return, a smile on his face saying they’d try it again. But life was no dream, life was just pain with small absences filled with numbness. He had tried so hard to outrace the speed of pain, but he had failed. Failed miserably.

No one could outrace the speed of pain.