Song: Paramore - Brick by Boring Brick
Warnings: M/M, mild smut, character death
Disclaimers: YEAH I OWN EM! BUDOKAN TONIGHT, BBY! 8D ll I wish ;;
Summary: "He lived in a fairy tale. His head was in the clouds. He was fucking sky high with every breath he inhaled and every jolt of pleasure the other guitarist sent through his body."
The sensation burned across his skin like a wild fire on a moonless night, searing straight past his flesh and into his heart. A hitch in his breath, a curl of his fingertips; they were all sinful signals of what he was doing and just how damn wrong it was. White flesh was torn open with the rake of fingernails against beautiful skin, red blood blooming down his back and latching onto his fingertips. A sweet taste of copper, the smell of rum and the scent of cigarettes – it didn’t make up for any lies, but it helped him deceive himself anyway.
It was the same pattern. The same routine.
So much fucking lying, so much deceit. Uruha was simply a genius at feeding his brain false hope. He was amazing at telling himself things would work out in the end.
Even as tears streamed down his face, even as he sobbed into his lover’s shoulder, sinking his teeth into the hot flesh, Uruha gave and accepted. How many times had this happened before? How many times had Aoi said ‘no’ but given into Uruha’s needs anyway? How long ago had it turned violent? How long ago had they started hurting each other?
Lies, lies, lies, lies!
He lived in a fairy tale. His head was in the clouds. He was fucking sky high with every breath he inhaled and every jolt of pleasure the other guitarist sent through his body. He embraced the bruises, he embraced the blood. He even fell for that sick look on the other’s face when he saw the delicious crimson spilling from his abdomen.
The honey blond was stupid. He was masochistic. He was so damn in love it wasn’t even funny anymore.
Aoi was a user. He was a manipulator. He wanted to hold on to what he knew he could never let go of completely. He brought sadistic pleasure from watching Uruha bleed such beautiful patterns over his white sheets, from claiming him in ways he knew nobody else would ever dare try. He used Uruha’s forgiving personality and he sowed so much pleasure in the brief moments that he turned sadistic and almost murderous. He knew that it was his normal behavior of being ‘Prince Charming’ that kept the guitarist at his side.
He didn’t love him. He never would. But Uruha’s hope was sickeningly beautiful nonetheless.
A delicate throat was exposed to him, and the ebon-haired man tore into it like a hungry wolf. The flesh was mauled beneath his teeth – beautiful bruises blooming on porcelain flesh. He heard the wet sound of his cock slipping in and out of the blonde’s unprepared hole, the slap of flesh against flesh and god he thirsted for more.
Crying, so much crying; tears of pleasure, tears of pain, tears of heart break. It wasn’t true. He couldn’t hold it in his hand. He couldn’t feel it with his heart. But he believed, he wanted to believe so damn desperately.
But what the fuck was the point anymore? What was the purpose of this? Even as Uruha’s body tensed, a breathless rush of Aoi’s true name falling from his lips while pleasure coursed through his limbs – he knew that this wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He hated doubt, he hated seeing past his lie. But his feet needed to hit the ground. Aoi wasn’t going to save him anymore. Aoi wasn’t the catalyst to seal his wounds.
Aoi was just twisting the knife.
It was that day Uruha had shoved Aoi away from him, standing on his bloody limbs and scrambling for his pants. It was the day that he had reached for his bed side table when the rhythm guitarist lay there so calmly as he sought his weapon. There was no cool gun to meet his hand, no safety net from the other’s predatory gaze. No way to get away from it completely.
It would be the last time he’d feel a cool shiver on his spine, the feeling of cool hands on bare flesh. It would be the last time he’d hear Aoi’s words in his ears, that husky voice murmuring words he’d wanted to hear all along.
One to the heart. One to the temple.
Well make sure to build your home brick by boring brick or the wolf's gonna blow it down.
A/N: Uhm... I'm not sure where this come from. Stemmed from a bit to much roleplay and Paramore.
...Don't hate me.