A/N Didn't I say? Needed a break and now I'm back. This is an older story (not really) that I was working on. It's not quite done yet but that's all right. Read at your own risk it's my usual if you know what I mean.

Elapsed is published if anyone cares. There's a link to it in my Bio. There's also a book published between myself and Xanthofile (love love love love his writing) so if you're interested in that there's either a link in my bio or his. Awesome writer, I suggest checking it out.

Anwyay, enjoy this if you will, if not oh well. Review if you please.

Tyler Menning was probably one of the world’s hottest rock stars to ever hit the nations. Even at twenty eight, nearly twenty nine he was still glistening on magazine covers, perfect smile, lean, tall, thin frame that left the ladies screaming, and captivating blue eyes. He had a voice that was highly envied and a downright sexy attitude that left anyone quivering in their pants, men and women alike. His band loved him, the people loved him, he was rich, he was famous, and he was successful. But if there was one this Tyler was not…it was happy.

In fact, this lack of happiness was what found him sitting drearily at a bar of a nearly deserted tavern, miles away from where the last gig was held. He’d been so depressed as he walked off stage that he ordered for a jet to be ready for him, packed his things, and left without saying a word to anyone or celebrating the success. His band mates, the only friends he’d had in a while, understood perfectly, but his manager was anything but thrilled and gave him an earful almost the entire ride home. This did nothing to improve his mien and he was even more hurried than usual to get to his favorite pub.

They knew him here simply as Tyler. This was his home town, and even though he still wore his stage get up and dark makeup they treated him like the smart, stand up student he’d been when he’d left to pursue his career in music. Needless to say they were the only ones that really made him happy when they cheered him on after his first major success and Tyler was sure to repay their kindness by providing for the town. In turn they treated him as Tyler and kept more than quiet that he lived there.

It was a small town. Population one hundred outside of the college that was nearby. But even that was small and no one there knew about the local rock star. This helped put Tyler’s mind to ease as he took his usual seat at the bar and received his usual welcome home and Irish cream delight. The first one always went down fast and anymore he didn’t have to ask for a second one. It always appeared as his head was craned back to get the most out of his lager, waiting for him to trade up and sip at it delicately. This was what helped to ease the pain a little, knowing that this little town truly knew him and took the time to see to him, Tyler, instead of Tyler Menning, famous rock star and sexiest man alive.

He sighed as he sat there, still nursing a half full glass of beer, head in hand, his painted and netted fingers absentmindedly playing through the thick black strands. He didn’t even noticed when someone sat down next to him, sitting quietly for a moment before clearing their throat and addressing him.

“You look awfully blue this evening,” said a young man. Tyler jumped and looked over at him wide eyed, the man holding up his hands reassuringly. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s just…I noticed you were looking a little down in the dumps and I thought I might butt in and try and cheer you up.” The man smiled and Tyler felt himself relaxing a little.

“Oh…thanks…I’m fine really,” he said.

The man ticked his tongue. He looked really young, but sober enough. “C’mon now, there has to be something? Girlfriend dump you?” he asked. “What are you drinking?”

Tyler sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I wish…Irish Cream,” he said as an afterthought, taking a sip while he remembered he had it. The heat from his hand had soured the drink and he grimaced, pushing it away with a dejected sigh.

The man chuckled lightly. “Here, allow me,” he said, raising his hand and pointing to Tyler.

“No, you don’t have to, really, I should be buying you the drink,” said Tyler, sitting up and countering the call.

“Awe, c’mon, I’m trying to make you feel better. It’s the least I can do, you haven’t thrown me on my ass yet for being annoying,” he said lightly.

Tyler looked over at him for a moment, taking in the man’s soft features, honey-brown, shoulder-length hair that bobbed just slightly at the bottom, warm green eyes that were so friendly it made his heart clench. He sighed again and went back to leaning on the bar and brooding. “Really…I should be buying for you. You’re a student here, aren’t you?” he said, switching the conversation.

The man nodded. Kid really now to Tyler. “Yeah, second year here. You live here? I’ve never seen you here before,” he said. He was interrupted as the bartender stopped in front of them.

“What would you like me to do Ty?” he asked, his character relaxed and friendly towards the famous rock star.

Tyler smiled. “Get me another one of these and him what ever he wants,” he said. The man nodded and carried on.

“You’re done after this one,” he said.

“Pat, I’m nearly twenty nine, not eighteen,” said Tyler, a small grin on his face.

Pat pointed at him. “Hey, you bite that tongue of yours. I don’t care that your mother let you in here every once in a while when you were younger, but there are other people that would like to sack me for it,” he said sternly, a soft edge to the bark.

Tyler chuckled. “Yes, sir, my apologies,” he said politely.

“That’s more like it. Here, enjoy it, then go home and get some sleep, you look a mess,” he said, reaching up to ruffle Tyler’s perfect hair. The singer didn’t so much as flinch and simply chuckled, flopping it back into place.

“So you are from around here? Gawd’s how long have you lived here?” asked the boy again.

Tyler shrugged. “My family and I moved up here when I was about two. Been here ever since,” he said, sipping casually at his final drink for the night.

“Cool. Thanks for this,” said the boy, tipping his drink up.

“No prob,” said Tyler. “So what’s your name?”

“Uh, Chris Fields. And yourself?” he asked, holding out his hand.

Tyler took it softly. “Tyler Menning. Just call me Ty,” he said.

Chris furrowed his brow. “Menning…that sounds really familiar…wait does…do you have a shop nearby?” he asked finally.

Tyler chuckled softly. “My mom owns a little solon. Menning’s Beauty Boutique I think is what she just renamed it to. You might have heard about it form some of your class mates,” he said, dismissing it and forgetting to mention that he was an international star, top of the charts going on six months.

Chris nodded. “Yeah I think some of the girls were talking about it. So that’s cool, you have roots here, awesome,” he said.

Tyler nodded. “Yeah,” he said. He sighed and slipped quickly back into his depressed state. He chugged the contents of his glass and thumped it back to the bar, reaching in to his back pocket and pulling out his wallet. He extracted three bills. The amount of which Chris could not see, before he moved up the bar a ways. “All right, Pat, I’ll see you tomorrow night,” he said.

“K. You take care now, call if you need anything,” he said.

“I will,” said Tyler. He sighed and looked around the little bar before slamming his hand hard onto the counter. “House rounds!” he shouted before leaving against an uproar of thanks.

The street was quiet as he made his way down, the stars and moon enough to light his way. He never worried about being out and about so late at night, the town always peaceful, no threats even from the ruffians at the college. It was always calm there and he breathed in the fresh night air as he made his way home.

His suitcase had already been dropped off, what was in it unpacked, so Tyler was free to go to bed without the worry of having to wake up and reestablish himself. It was a nice feeling, something to help ease the tension he felt and he comfortably took a shower, cleaning his face of the black makeup and stripping off his rock star clothes, washing away the dirt and dust of being on stage.

It was as relaxing as it could be for him. All Tyler could do was think about the boy he met at the pub. Was he going to be used again? It wouldn’t surprise him in the least bit. This Chris boy wasn’t the first one to approach him sweetly and pretend he had no idea who he was. He wasn’t the first one to speak to him like a normal human, seeming completely unaware. Tyler had lost count of exactly how many people had pulled that on him. He’d even lost count of how many times he’d been literally fucked because he’d been so desperate for real human attention that he believed the men that fed him these lies. He let them in, each one of them in a different way, and in the end he was screwed because all the people had wanted was to screw with him then run off and tell their friends.

It was by good fortune that his sexuality wasn’t the talk of the town. He was gay and the people that knew him best knew this, but everyone else saw him as straight little play boy Tyler Menning. That was fine with him. He’d rather have the chance of having a real relationship stay hidden than be broadcast nationwide so that everyone could see that the sex god Ty was a fag. He didn’t really think it would matter, people seemed to love gay rock stars any more. But it was still nice to have something close to him that was still private.

Tyler sighed heavily as he flopped into his over sized bed, a bed he shared with no one even though it felt so empty with just himself. After being used so many times at hotels and the like he’d decided it wasn’t worth it to let someone in and soil his good bed, so anyone he ever had any more either used their bed or a couch. His bed was his.

As his mind drifted away he couldn’t help but think about Chris again. The boy was beautiful and to be honest Ty didn’t think he had the heart to indulge in a night of love from him. Even if he was hot as hell and looked more than well put together. He was tired of being used, and he was tired of using, and he fell asleep with thoughts of rejection playing through his head.