Self Destruction
2004
Trent sighed, heavily; as he shrugged open the studio door. It was just one of those nights, it usually was. He settled himself in front of the multi-track, tears running, freely, down his face; finally, he felt safe enough to let his head droop onto his crossed arms.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Trent worked to steady his breathing as he cradled Chris in his arms. His lover was already dozing; short, shallow breathes intermingled with deeper, more protracted
ones. He ran his hand up and down the drummer's thin frame, arms and over his neck; pausing at the already, deep purple marks forming at the crook of his neck and up his collarbone.
"Fragile." He whispered to himself, pressing a kiss to the back of Chris's head.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The crude sunlight shining through the expansive windows of the studio coupled with the sound of heavy shoes thudding across the floor woke the unbalanced singer from his fevered sleep.
“Trent?” He recognized the voice, almost immediately, as Alan’s and lifted his head in response.
“Hey, man.” He choked his voice strange, alien to him.
“You don’t look so good.” Alan looked intently at Trent with silent concern, as he advanced toward the singer. .
“I’m alright;” He began to lie, before admitting “I’m just not sleeping so well.”
“I thought you had been better.” Alan remarked, leaning against the soundboard; still refusing to avert his gaze.
The truth was he had. Physically, Trent had healed in droves since his last release and everyone was so proud of him…he couldn’t understand it. But, emotionally, it was all so much worse. Without the comfortable numb he had become so accustomed to after Chris had left him and then the band, he was falling apart. The new record was going to be his new distraction, but it was hard to work by himself…without his partner. Every formula he had ever followed had factored in Chris, somehow, and this new blueprint was an unwelcome change.
“We don’t have to work today.” Alan startled Trent when he spoke. “We’re ahead of schedule.”
Trent nodded, he didn’t want to be alone, but he didn’t want Alan to stay and worry about him. There was no way Alan knew what was really bothering him anyway and even if he did, he wouldn’t understand. Trent knew that Chris hadn’t just disappeared but he couldn’t help but feel like the drummer was betraying him by touring with Manson. It may have just been a temporary spot but Trent still took the news to heart and he could hardly breathe past the sinking feeling in his chest. He forced a meager smile and waved the producer out of the door.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Twiggy had darted to the door before anyone else even bothered to notice the feeble knock. No one remarked of the bassist’s absence until they heard the shrill, elated cry from the doorway.
“Chris!” Trent’s stomach dropped at the name, but he shuffled in behind the rest of the inebriated band secretly hoping he knew who was at the door.
Trent hadn’t known what to do when his lover had left and he really didn’t know what to do now that he was at the front door. He had made rounds at all the hotels and tried calling Chris‘s family, but they hadn‘t heard from the drummer either; Trent had never regretted anything more in his life. But, now he had a second chance. He let the ecstatic band have their sloppy ‘Hello’s’, happy to not have told them the circumstance of Chris’s departure. Soon, after the others had grown bored and dispersed, Chris approached his best friend.
“So, you guys need some help with the record?” He asked, gaze fixed downward.
Trent gave a solemn nod, he had really let the album suffer in Chris’s absence…he had had no one left to impress. “I’m glad you’re back.” he stepped closer to his partner but he didn’t have to make another move.
Chris stepped forward, wrapping Trent in a warm embrace that said everything he would’ve never thought to.
Trent nestled his nose into Chris’s chest, breathing in his scent, intoxicating and uncorrupted as he murmured to him “Without you, everything falls apart…and it’s not as much fun to pick up the pieces.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This time, Trent woke on his own, in a cold sweat. He looked around, frantically, searching for any sign of Chris. He sighed deeply and abandoned the office chair for the small, leather couch.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chris probably would've heard them if the house hadn't been so crowded. But, they were finished and everyone wanted to celebrate; at the moment Pogo and Daisy were happily sitting as the table, doing shots with the pretty waitress they'd brought back from the city. Between them and the deafeningly bass heavy music Chris couldn't hear himself think but Trent had been acting weird lately and he had to find him.
He knocked once before slowly opening the door to Trent's room. Chris snapped the door shut as quickly as he could after he finally registered what he had seen. He couldn't help but giggle at the thought of the two lusty figures that had happened to find a home on his and Trent's bed. He way sure they had to be Manson and Twiggy, especially after he heard the distressed squeak that followed the slight bang of the door shutting. He smirked to himself before going back to join the others. Upon entering the living room he was joined almost immediately by a drunk and disheartened Daisy.
"Hey, what happened with the blonde?" Chris inquired
"Eh, she followed Pogo out to the guest house." The guitarist shrugged.
"And you didn't follow them?" He shot daisy a wily smile.
"Nah, she wasn’t cool with it." He shifted uncomfortably; Chris knew he was trying to hide how hurt he was.
"Hey, why don't you go take a look in the master bedroom?" Chris suppressed his amusement.
"Why?" Daisy reared his head back a little in confusion but gave a small laugh.
"Manson and Twiggy are in there," the drummer gasped though a bout of laughter "all hot and heavy."
The guitarist cocked his head to the side, eyes darting past Chris and then back. "Manson's in there." Daisy motioned toward the bustling living area.
Chris's mouth dropped open before heading back to the bedroom. Just as he passed Twiggy in the hallway his gaze fell on a disheveled Trent gently shutting the door behind him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Trent’s eyes snapped open again. The singer rose purposefully, pulling out a recently acquired cellular telephone. As he dialed the number that he hoped was still in service he thought back to the expression on his ex-lovers’ face. A pang of guilt hit him with the first ring, but a smile spread over his face when a familiar voice responded.
“Hey, Jeordie.” Trent spoke as evenly as he could…two could play this game.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Trent worked to steady his breathing as he cradled Chris in his arms. His lover was already dozing; short, shallow breathes intermingled with deeper, more protracted
ones. He ran his hand up and down the drummer's thin frame, arms and over his neck; pausing at the already, deep purple marks forming at the crook of his neck and up his collarbone.
"Fragile." He whispered to himself, pressing a kiss to the back of Chris's head.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The crude sunlight shining through the expansive windows of the studio coupled with the sound of heavy shoes thudding across the floor woke the unbalanced singer from his fevered sleep.
“Trent?” He recognized the voice, almost immediately, as Alan’s and lifted his head in response.
“Hey, man.” He choked his voice strange, alien to him.
“You don’t look so good.” Alan looked intently at Trent with silent concern, as he advanced toward the singer. .
“I’m alright;” He began to lie, before admitting “I’m just not sleeping so well.”
“I thought you had been better.” Alan remarked, leaning against the soundboard; still refusing to avert his gaze.
The truth was he had. Physically, Trent had healed in droves since his last release and everyone was so proud of him…he couldn’t understand it. But, emotionally, it was all so much worse. Without the comfortable numb he had become so accustomed to after Chris had left him and then the band, he was falling apart. The new record was going to be his new distraction, but it was hard to work by himself…without his partner. Every formula he had ever followed had factored in Chris, somehow, and this new blueprint was an unwelcome change.
“We don’t have to work today.” Alan startled Trent when he spoke. “We’re ahead of schedule.”
Trent nodded, he didn’t want to be alone, but he didn’t want Alan to stay and worry about him. There was no way Alan knew what was really bothering him anyway and even if he did, he wouldn’t understand. Trent knew that Chris hadn’t just disappeared but he couldn’t help but feel like the drummer was betraying him by touring with Manson. It may have just been a temporary spot but Trent still took the news to heart and he could hardly breathe past the sinking feeling in his chest. He forced a meager smile and waved the producer out of the door.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Twiggy had darted to the door before anyone else even bothered to notice the feeble knock. No one remarked of the bassist’s absence until they heard the shrill, elated cry from the doorway.
“Chris!” Trent’s stomach dropped at the name, but he shuffled in behind the rest of the inebriated band secretly hoping he knew who was at the door.
Trent hadn’t known what to do when his lover had left and he really didn’t know what to do now that he was at the front door. He had made rounds at all the hotels and tried calling Chris‘s family, but they hadn‘t heard from the drummer either; Trent had never regretted anything more in his life. But, now he had a second chance. He let the ecstatic band have their sloppy ‘Hello’s’, happy to not have told them the circumstance of Chris’s departure. Soon, after the others had grown bored and dispersed, Chris approached his best friend.
“So, you guys need some help with the record?” He asked, gaze fixed downward.
Trent gave a solemn nod, he had really let the album suffer in Chris’s absence…he had had no one left to impress. “I’m glad you’re back.” he stepped closer to his partner but he didn’t have to make another move.
Chris stepped forward, wrapping Trent in a warm embrace that said everything he would’ve never thought to.
Trent nestled his nose into Chris’s chest, breathing in his scent, intoxicating and uncorrupted as he murmured to him “Without you, everything falls apart…and it’s not as much fun to pick up the pieces.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This time, Trent woke on his own, in a cold sweat. He looked around, frantically, searching for any sign of Chris. He sighed deeply and abandoned the office chair for the small, leather couch.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chris probably would've heard them if the house hadn't been so crowded. But, they were finished and everyone wanted to celebrate; at the moment Pogo and Daisy were happily sitting as the table, doing shots with the pretty waitress they'd brought back from the city. Between them and the deafeningly bass heavy music Chris couldn't hear himself think but Trent had been acting weird lately and he had to find him.
He knocked once before slowly opening the door to Trent's room. Chris snapped the door shut as quickly as he could after he finally registered what he had seen. He couldn't help but giggle at the thought of the two lusty figures that had happened to find a home on his and Trent's bed. He way sure they had to be Manson and Twiggy, especially after he heard the distressed squeak that followed the slight bang of the door shutting. He smirked to himself before going back to join the others. Upon entering the living room he was joined almost immediately by a drunk and disheartened Daisy.
"Hey, what happened with the blonde?" Chris inquired
"Eh, she followed Pogo out to the guest house." The guitarist shrugged.
"And you didn't follow them?" He shot daisy a wily smile.
"Nah, she wasn’t cool with it." He shifted uncomfortably; Chris knew he was trying to hide how hurt he was.
"Hey, why don't you go take a look in the master bedroom?" Chris suppressed his amusement.
"Why?" Daisy reared his head back a little in confusion but gave a small laugh.
"Manson and Twiggy are in there," the drummer gasped though a bout of laughter "all hot and heavy."
The guitarist cocked his head to the side, eyes darting past Chris and then back. "Manson's in there." Daisy motioned toward the bustling living area.
Chris's mouth dropped open before heading back to the bedroom. Just as he passed Twiggy in the hallway his gaze fell on a disheveled Trent gently shutting the door behind him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Trent’s eyes snapped open again. The singer rose purposefully, pulling out a recently acquired cellular telephone. As he dialed the number that he hoped was still in service he thought back to the expression on his ex-lovers’ face. A pang of guilt hit him with the first ring, but a smile spread over his face when a familiar voice responded.
“Hey, Jeordie.” Trent spoke as evenly as he could…two could play this game.