Blind Angels is a collaboration between myself and Ruby. rubyred2 is her FictionPress account s/n.

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Summary: Ren's band, The House of Usher, has a big fan base that's only getting bigger. Everyone worships the new bassist Zia, who is sharp and sweet as the blade of a cake knife. Troubled Ren couldn't care less about anything other than music, or so it seems. But Zia's got a plan of his own, and when Zia's around, unholy chaos is never far behind.

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Ren had always said he liked the quiet. What he meant was he liked the quiet inside, the kind of peace that he had struggled his whole life to get. Mostly, he had found the best way to keep his head quiet was to keep the outside noisy. As long as he had something going on - someone speaking to him, a song to write, a boy to fuck - it was quiet. Noise from outside kept it quiet within. Who would have thought?

It was right before House of Usher was to hit the stage. Everyone was manic tuning their guitars, putting on make up, just restlessly looking for something to do. All but Ren who sat still and stagnate as water, unmoving and unmoved.

He leaned his head on the cool glass of the mirror he was sitting next to. Whose bright idea it was to put a sink and a mirror backstage, he’d never know. It seemed almost like a dare to the drunken musicians that played at places like this.

He stared into his own honey gold eyes, tracing a long finger over his reflection’s high forehead, long nose and full lips. His black painted chipped nails moved down over his jutting collar bones. I really needed to eat more often, he thought idly. Maybe I should write a song about a boy who wastes into nothing as everyone watches him doing it, just standing by like fools while it happens.

Then someone covered his eyes from behind. A scent of sticky sweet candy and slight male musk attacked his nose. Zia. Fuck.

“Miss me?” A bright high voice asked him, chirping like a little bird with cheer and joy.

Hell no, I didn’t miss you at all, I don’t miss people when they’re gone, what’s the point in that. But his lips replied. “Hello Zia, how are you tonight, how did you get back here?” His eyes were still trapped behind Zia’s hand, the smooth cool palm being tickled by long pale lashes.

A husky bedroom laugh came down like pearls from those ruby slipper spun sugar lips. Do you like blindfolds then? Do you like it when no one can see what you’re doing in the dark? Ren shook the tought away as he reached up then to grip Zia’s wrist, pulling it down from his eyes. “You always ask me that, and I never tell.”

The boy looked pleased with himself, wearing one of his most beloved pets - a ten foot long gold and white Boa wrapped about his neck waist and shoulders. It was coiled around him as if it owned him, not the other way around.

“Well, Baby missed you, even if you didn’t miss us.”

Ren shook his head. His long blonde hair was his prize as much as Baby was Zia’s.

“Doesn’t all the noise freak that thing out?” Ren asked, looking at it askance.

“Nah, she’s pretty passive.” Zia reached out to touch Ren’s long bangs. He had always liked the way Ren's bangs fell into his eyes then the rest of his hair ghosting to his sharp chin. The other swatted the brat’s hand away.

A hint of white teeth, oddly child-like in that lush mouth was all the answer he gave to Ren’s rudeness at smacking at his hand. His dimple bloomed in the side of his golden tan cheek. Ren kind of wanted to slap the look off his face. “You’ve been coming backstage to every show I’ve done for two weeks now, why?” he demanded suddenly, almost angry.

“You want to know?” Zia’s blue-green eyes gleamed with a hidden fire. He beckoned Ren close. “Come here.”

The singer glared sullenly but leaned over. Again he inhaled, candy, smoke, Amaretto, all the things that screamed ‘Zia’ to him. The boy’s breath was warm, fanning his cheek and ear. He waited, almost anxious now, wondering what he was going to say.

"Baby wanted to scope you out." Zia bit his lightly glossed lower lip, flashing Ren an innocent look. The snake's head was now lightly resting between his fingers, dangerously close to Ren's chest. Its tiny pink forked tongue darted out and almost reached the taller boy's shirt. Ren's eyes moved down his own chest, very tempted to touch it.

"Go on, you can pet her," the sweet voice practically purred. Hesitantly, Ren touched the snake's head with two fingers and stroked. It was cold and smooth and dry. But when that tongue flickered out again, he recoiled.

Zia's dark-lined eyes widened, revealing all their green-blue in a flash. "Whoa! I guess she must like you."

"What the hell makes you say that?"

"Well, she didn't bite you. Literally, she's bitten everyone else who tried to touch her."

Ren stopped as a grin spread over Zia's face. Cute. There was a flash of deviance there and Ren didn't know what to make of it. If it was flirtation, it obviously wasn't getting anywhere, because Ren's face was totally deadpan, and not amused.

"I'm busy. Go bother someone else." He turned back to the mirror and picked up his grubby black eyeliner pencil, leaning in to start smudging it around his eyes. He liked the foggy, muddled look. Matched his mood, most of the time.

And as Ren half-expected, Zia did nothing but stand up a bit straighter, playing with the snake. He could see the reflection of them in the mirror - long, lean body in a black tank top patterned with some faded pink design, snake entwined with his arms. Ren clenched his jaw and managed to ignore them, blocking them out of sight and mind. He stroked the pencil nub around his eyes, line by line, smudging it with his pinkie.

The silence grew between them, somehow becoming loud enough to mute out the other scattered conversation and instrument noise. I should have known better, thought Ren, than to think I could get away with ignoring him.

"I really am here to scope you out, you know," Zia smirked. "I heard through the grapevine you need a bassist."

The snake's dappled back stretched between Zia's shoulder and his hand, arching gracefully.

"Then try out next week like everyone else," Ren grunted, smudging liner under the bottom of his left eye.

A flutter of laughter poured through the room as Zia held his sides with his free arm. "Oh, that's classic. Ren, no. I'm not trying out next week like everyone else. I'm going to be your new bassist."

Ren said nothing, but he felt fire. Arrogant brat. There, he was done with the liner. Now for the-

Cool, smooth snakeskin slid against the back of Ren's neck. He instantly tensed, the hair on the back of his neck prickling up.

"I wasn't lying, you know," Zia said in a low teasing tone, leaning in so his face and Ren's both showed in the mirror. "She bites. Hard. Don't worry, though. No venom."

Ren's jaw muscles twitched. He stared at the snake's reflection, at its yellow head as the thing slowly slinked its way down his shoulder. When he finally spoke, it was in no uncertain terms. "Get that thing away from me."

In an instant, they were away, and Zia was off talking to someone else, bright and sweet. Ren pulled his hands through his hair, wondering how the hell anything got done with that kid around. He got up to grab his guitar, yanking it out of the case like it was fighting him, and stormed over to his practice amp so he could tune, jamming in the metal plug. It was a decent guitar, black Gibson with red checkerboard inlay over half the face. Easy to tune.

He plucked the notes one by one, letting the sound reverberate though him, though it was quiet compared to the sounds all around him. The notes converged, diverged, converged again. He closed his eyes, picking out a song. Right now he'd write a new one, if he had time before they were on. Yeah, he could use a new song right now. A glimpse of the eternal dark, the abyss of creativity that connected him to some deeper thing he couldn't ever quite grasp. But grasping it was never the point. The point was the searching.

When he opened his eyes again, there was a boy standing in front of him. A boy that seared Ren's eyes with a flash of anger, regret, ugliness. Cory. Cory with his sweet, sad grey eyes, rimmed with red. A slim face, pointed chin. The boy drew a slender hand through sandy hair, sweeping his bangs over his forehead, thinly veiling his left eye. Ren's moment ended, and a sick feeling replaced it. Thick bile in the pit of his stomach. Nausea. Cory. Ren knew him all too well.

"Ren, can we talk?" He asked in a shaky voice.

Ren looked over his shoulder. A wall and a stack of amps. Great. Nowhere to run. "What's there to talk about?" he asked. His fingers had stopped on the guitar strings, but they still hovered there now, as if for protection. He wouldn't look in Cory's eyes. He didn't want to.

"Us, I guess."

Ren glowered for a minute, then started playing a song. If the volume had been up, it would have sounded nonsensical. With the volume down, it just blended with the other noise. "Over, Cory. End of fucking conversation. I don't know what you're doing here and I don't wanna know, get it? I'm playing a show in five fucking minutes."

"Ren, why? Did I do something wrong did I-"

Ren stopped playing only long enough to flip the volume up, then continued, head down.

"So that's it," Cory said, but his voice was drowned out now. "That's fucking it?! That's all I am to you, a whore and a confessional booth? Fuck you! You made me care about you. Did you know that? All the shit you told me, I actually wanted to be there for you. Well fuck it! I don't give a shit what you've fucking been through, you deserved it, you asshole!"

The sound from Ren's guitar died slowly, but only because their band was being announced. He unplugged his guitar and got up, sweeping straight past Cory without so much as a glance.

He didn't see anyone around him except his band members as they slung their guitars around their necks and got up. He didn't see Zia watching from his group in the corner, a half-interested gleam in his eyes as he toyed idly with the snake.

Showtime.

Moving swiftly from backstage, Zia swayed his hips. He almost danced when he walked. It was second nature for him now, left over from his short time dabbling in musical theatre. The music called to him as he skipped down the long dank hallway from backstage to the wide open space of the bar. Baby undulated in time to his movements. His light steps become more rhythmic as he shoved open the door, letting the roar washing over him.

Tossing his head back, his shaggy layers of shoulder length jet hair spilled down his pink and black coat. He spread his arms to take in the whole club, his senses drowning in the wonderful noise and heat of it all. “Come on Baby girl. Let’s go meet our adoring public, shall we?” He stroked his snake lovingly as he moved into the throngs of people. His smile widened as right away he was grabbed by someone’s hand. “Zia!”

Arms wrapped around him, tightly pressing Baby into his chest. She hissed then, loud enough to make the girl draw back with fear lighting her eyes, quickly replaced by laugher.

“Oh, you have Baby with you! She’s so pretty. I wish I had a snake.” It was Ally, her eyes rimmed in sliver eyeliner, cleavage showing, her short skirt riding up her tights. She wrapped her arm around his waist and he let her. He knew she loved posing as his girlfriend or something like that. It caused no harm to let her sometimes. It kept the drunken groupies off him at least a bit.

They moved swiftly to the bar where Tom hopped off his stool in the middle of their group to give Zia the center of everything. “Hey, boys, girls and porn stars,” he said, grinning a wicked grin as he dragged Tom into his lap.

A laugh rippled over them as they all began talking at once. He asked Mary about her sick cat, reminding her to come back into the animal clinic where he worked any time for more discounted medicine for it.

Then he touched Kelly’s cheek asking if she’s lost weight. She blushed a bit muttered that she had lost a little, thanking him for taking the time to go on runs with her.

The heady mix of the close press of bodies, loud talking and information made him feel so alive. So right at home and in his element. Baby was touched fondled and played with as much as Zia was touched fondled and hugged.

The two of them glowed with all the love and attention, giving it back as much as they took it. They where all so vibrant and alive. More then a few people in the club envied Zia’s group for their closeness and their glee at being together.

As everyone waited for the main show to begin, there was a pause in the merry babble from the huge group clustering close to Zia. At last a lanky girl named Becky with horn rimmed glasses broke the silence. “I hear House of Usher needs a new bassist. This is the old one’s last show.”

“Are you going to try out?” The bartender leaned over to hand Zia his drink, a cool frothy mix of Amaretto and ice cream called a Dreamsicle. His eyes danced as much as his swinging feet did as he let the question lie.

“Well, I didn’t want anyone to know yet, but I’ve been offered the position, the try out next week is simply for show.” Beth flicked her long red hair over her shoulder. “That’s great, I mean you where so good in Bed on Fire, there’s no reason why you wouldn’t fit right in with House of Usher, and everyone knows they’re going places.”

“Wasn’t Jamie in Bed on Fire too?” Ally asked, pointing to the stage where the drummer sat waiting in the back, sitting in his set. He had Zia’s same blue green eyes but his hair was sandy not jet. There was at least a slight rebalance between them. “Yeah he was for a little while. He’s my cousin.” He chewed on his straw as he snuggled the side of his face into Baby’s coils draping over his shoulders and neck. Then the lights dimmed for the main show to begin.

As one they all stopped talking, watching Zia to see if he would stay or go to dance. Gracefully he stood up, walking away abruptly. The crowd was thick as he fought his way to the front of the stage but he made his way with a combination of elbows glares and Baby staring at people.

Ren stood there, blonde hair hideing his eyes, as he stretched his arms out. He bent back slightly to stare at the ceiling like he was in another world. His black silk shirt gaped out slightly; the tight deep red leather pants suited him perfectly. He had somewhere along the line painted black and gold body glitter over his nose, cheek bones and collarbones. Then he snapped forward, looking down suddenly, fixing Zia with a razor sharp look.

Zia stood there watching right under him, their eyes locked. I want you, I want to break you, I want to be you, I want to press you into the mattress and hear you scream, I want to never see you again… Everything passed between them in a short lived but intense moment. Or so Zia thought. Maybe he was wrong, but something passed in that heated stare, he knew it.

Ren paused then smiled for the people watching. “Hey, we are House of Usher, hope everyone is ready for tonight’s show. It’s Lina’s last.” The spotlight picked out the bassist, a willowy girl with a nose ring, her short hair a mass of blonde and black streaks. “Why did you have to go and sign with another band, you bitch?” he asked as the whole club laughed.

“And so let’s get this party going, this is Close.”

Zia felt the first lines of the song hit him in the chest, just like the first time he had heard it. His lips parted and he swayed in time, hands in the air as if in a trance. He let the music flow over him, Ren’s voice caressing his skin. It got under his skin, sliding in and out of his ears and into his blood. He imagined that voice whispering in his ear as the blonde singer pummeled him from behind stroking, his cock in time to his moans. He knew Ren sang for him alone even if Ren didn’t know it yet.

Close to you is close to hell I won’t kiss

You don’t tell

Closer than heart beats we miss

The body heat when it cools

Ren purred into the mic, prowling the stage like a tiger, he fixed his eyes on each of his band mates in turn, singing them under his spell. He leaned down to brush finger tips with some of the fans as they reached for his hands. Zia bit his lip until he could almost taste blood, wanting to lean up, to touch and be touched, but clinging to his pride.

Harder to hear the better to see

Don’t run into the light unless

You know what you seek

Closer to you, closer to hell

Zia then reached up his hands alone, lonely in midair, and those long fingers brushed over his waiting palms. Ren met his eyes again. A challenge was screaming there. Something so different from all the other flat bored stares he had been smacked with over the last two weeks.

Come find me

I’m locked away and needless to say

I don’t know where you hid the key

Closer to you is closer to pain

Ren turned his back to the roar, spreading his arms in a classic pose as the band played on like they where on fire. As the bridge carried on, Zia mouthed the next words. He knew this song by heart. He knew all their songs by heart. Something moved on his neck, and he glanced down. Even his snake was entranced with Ren reaching up for the stage.

I’m looking for the beautiful death

Somehow I’ll marry the bones

Carry me from this rot

And in the aftermath just say it was always my way

Ren crouched on the stage now, belting out the ending lines, roaring all his passion into them. He was even more alive here than when Zia was at the middle of his group. He had even more power, and the black haired boy wanted it. Zia smiled as the song ended. Soon, he was going to get everything he wanted. And who cared how, or what happened afterwards. Only losers worried about petty things like collateral damage.