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“Damaged goods are less than worth it
You’ve heard it once before, you know it
Trust me, and leave it all behind”
Watching the performance from backstage, Andy glared at the blonde behind the microphone as he took a gulp of beer. Jason Gulley. Steel Party’s vocalist. He felt his blood boil with every note. That voice… He hated Jason Gulley. Hated the crowd that loved him. Hated every damn part of him. From his blue eyes to his haunting voice. He hated it all.
The smirk on the blonde man’s lips… He hated that, too. That damn smirk. That damn confidence. He wanted to… Show him how he hated him. How he really, truly hated him. Because of course he did. He was from Steel Party. Andy was from CarDust. And they hated each other. They tried to kill each other last month. And he hated the way he’d punched him then. Hated the way the guy punched back.
But the lights were hitting him hard and hazy, and suddenly Jason was everything. He felt around for something to hold onto. He found nothing, but gripped the wall for support. He’d never been so confused. And that was a lie. He was confused like this every night and every morning.
“Behind!
Trust me, and leave it all behind”
The words were a dime a dozen. He knew it. But he wanted to leave it all behind. Hell, he’d used the same words in his own songs. But he really, really…
As Jason waved himself off the stage with the rest of the band, trying to walk past him to the backstage area, he grabbed the blonde by the collar. The rest of the band disappeared in his eyes, and all he could hear was the roaring of the crowd. The intense roaring, screaming, rolling sound of the people. Maybe they’d left them there, he didn’t know. But those blue eyes were staring at him, hazy as his own. And he kissed him hard on the mouth. He hated that kiss. Because it was burning him inside out.
He stretched his left leg out, feeling around the space beside him. He knew he’d gone somewhere last night. Couldn’t remember where. Couldn’t even remember what he’d drank. What’d it matter, anyway? Last night ended the same as the rest. With someone beside him.
His foot brushed the area below him. The sheets, soiled and slightly uncomfortable, had been kicked to the foot of the bed. He guessed he was in the motel room he’d rented the night before, with this specific purpose in mind, before heading to the…
Wait… One brown eye opened wide when he realized where he’d been the night before. The Tyvel Records Battle of the Bands. CarDust, his band, versus Steel Party. Described by Crush! Magazine as the “Biggest Event in Punk Rock since the Ramones hit the scene.” CarDust and Steel Platoon were to play all night, as their screaming followers eagerly voted their pick. Who’s the hottest punk band on the circuit? The rivalry, settled once and for all. He tried to roll over, but felt the figure beside him stir.
“Shit…” He heard the male voice mutter. He closed his eyes, not really wanting to know which groupie he’d nailed. The figure shifted, then either stood quickly or fell off the bed. He’d probably seen the tattoo. “Shit!”
Andy had a tattoo that everybody knew about, and a tattoo that nobody knew about. He had a huge dragonfly on his back. It was between his shoulder blades, green and blue and cool-looking, so he showed it to the world one morning on Good Morning, America, giving Regis a near heart-attack. But he also had another one. One that no one bothered to notice. A Celtic Cross on the sole of his foot. No one knew about that one.
His brother gave him that tattoo when he was twelve.
The guy was trying to gather his things. Andy didn’t really care. But, pulling himself out of his sleepy daze, he sat up and brushed his brown hair over his shoulder. He was tired of mornings like these. He’d have to stop drinking soon. Right… He grimaced at the thought. Andy McCarron, giving up his keg-a-day habit?
He heard the guy scramble backwards. “Holy Fucking-”
“Calm the fuck down.” He sighed, finally opening his eyes to look at the guy. “Look, you’re freakin’ over noth-” He stopped when he realized who was there with him.
The bleached blonde hair and dragon tattoo on the shoulder were instantly recognizable. Jason Gulley. Lead vocalist of Steel Party. His eyes widened considerably as he scrambled out of the cursed bed. The cursed, soiled, tainted bed. It had now become a sacrilegious object.
“Fuck!”
He fell on his back and immediately scrambled to grab the nearest cover. Jason Gulley. Jason Gulley! He’d had drunken sex with Jason Fucking Gulley! Shit, he was in hell. The shock was enough to quell the immediate rage upon sight. The closest he’d ever been to the man was a highly publicized fistfight. Which he won, of course.
Hazy memories floated through his mind. He’d been drunk up there on stage. He did that sometimes for kicks. Hell, he’d read somewhere that Janis Joplin did it all the time. But he’d gone a little too far with it. Sang is last song of the night, feeling higher than the sky. And then…
Then Andy had grabbed him. The band scattered, not wanting to get into the fight. But they weren’t fighting.
Slow chills began to run through his body as he desperately ached to kill. He’d slept with Andy McCarron. That dipshit, Andy McCarron. What the Hell had hit his drunken head so hard he’d lost his mind?
He took a breath as the cursed brunette began to catch his own. Okay… he thought to himself. Slow down…
He had no idea what he was going to do. Andy McCarron, the bastard who sang the only songs that could rival his own, had pulled him into a night of really drunk… Well, whatever they had done. He was nude, so it was anyone’s guess.
The history between them… This was bad. The world knew their mutual hatred. They’d grown up in different cities, in different states, but their stories were practically the same. Garage bands formed out of summer boredom. They were signed to Tyvel Records within a week of each other. Their first albums came out in the same month. Then, the next month, Jason had made the mistake of actually bashing CarDust’s first hit, Steamroller. He’d never even heard the song. But, when asked what he thought of it, he’d told the pretty blonde from People Magazine that it was total shit.
CarDust responded with a song called Fast Lane Sadie. The lyrics included “Jason don’t want her, It’s just too bad off, Steel Hang-over killed her, Our sound made him jerk off.”
They’d been tripping each other up ever since.
A month back, he and Andy had gotten into a fistfight. Jason had won, of course. But it was so hotly publicized, everyone acted like it was the closest match ever. No one could decide who won. Andy had come flying at him after he’d insulted the brunette’s music for the eight-thousandth time. Came at him with a hard punch to the gut, brown eyes dark with rage. He still remembered every fucking detail, which scared him more than it should have.
Since then, there’d been bashing back and forth. Until last night.
His specially styled hair, perfect for these indie-loving days, fell into his eyes as he pulled on his boxers. He was still in a daze. Still… Still not comprehending. It couldn’t go like this. It just couldn’t. He didn’t. They hadn’t. No Way.
Not… Not him and Andy.
Andy the Asshole.
He pulled on his pants and turned to look towards him. Andy was looking at him with a mixture of shock, anger, and fear. For once, the long-haired man had a point.
“This can’t…” He began.
“Get out? Damn right.” The brunette snorted. He pulled on his shirt, and began looking around. Probably looking for something to disguise himself, so he could get out of there.
“Let’s just…”
“Yeah.”
Jason pulled on his jacket and headed for the door. He heard Andy follow.
All the way down to the lobby, he felt those brown eyes on his back. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. A feeling he hated. He wanted to turn around and slug him. Again. But where would that get them?
They walked smoothly through the lobby, full of middle-aged men and women looking for a cheap vacation or cheaper one-night stand. The thought made Jason nauseous.
He didn't. They hadn't. They would never, ever speak of that again. It would just... The night would just disappear.
One step outside, and he felt even more sick.
There they were. On the cover of Star.
Kissing fiercely, twisting in the sheets, Andy's hands gripping his hair,his own hand between Andy’s thighs.
Headline: Friendly Rivalry?
To tarredglittered, who likes band-fics. ((like me!))
No. Not a one-shot. Yes. Another Chapter fic. What the hell is wrong with me?
