The Brightest of my Darkest days

-In the brightest hour of my darkest day

I realize what is wrong with me-

It was five in the afternoon and the sun was already half-setting. I stared out the window at the neon shade of pink starting to creep over the horizon. There was only one thing on my mind, the thought of one person caged inside of me. Parties were always the best and the worst. It was the hangovers that got me more than anything. Waking up feeling like somebody put a bullet through my skull wasn’t the greatest feeling in the world. Especially, when it was accompanied by a throbbing neck full of fresh bruises. When I was drunk I could barely decipher who it was when I woke up halfway through the day. Girl, boy, fan, friend, somebody I didn’t even know; I couldn’t remember until the painful buzz went away. Not this time, though. The teeth and kisses felt familiar, but oh-so distant.

-Can’t get over you

Can’t get through to you

It’s been a helter-skelter romance from the start-

Brian.

God damnit, Brian. Damn you, Synyster Gates. Damn your alcoholism. Damn your bisexuality. Damn your slut complex. Most of all damn you. The words hurt me to think. It felt too much like I was speaking them out loud and by thinking about the man I was so in Love with felt as if it was I that I was damning to Hell, not him.

It wasn’t like we didn’t have a ‘thing’ going on. It had always been that way; wanton glances, suggestive smirks and occasional blushes when our skin brushed over each other’s seemingly accidentally. There had been the rare moments where our lips and tongues would brush when and if we ever ended in a situation alone. Just him and I. And oh God, when he pushed me up against the wall and forced his lips over mine it was electricity, not blood that ran through my veins. Those situations were painfully off beat, though. Especially, as of late. He’d been fooling around and pretending to fall in Love with our tour manager’s twin sister. It was only an act to cover our tracks and when Matt almost stumbled in on something and began to question whatever was between Brian and I, and we all knew it. Hell, it had been almost a year since anything was shared between us; he was faking it with Michelle, and I was just fucking around.

-Take these memories that’re haunting me

Of a paper man cut into shreds

By his own pair of scissors-

My eyes floated to my left arm as they always did when I thought like this.

-He’ll never forgive her, he’ll never forgive her-

I was in Love with him. It was blatantly obvious to everyone around us. But if anything more than glances were shared, could you say bye-bye Avenged Sevenfold? ‘Cause I sure as Hell could. Sacrifices had to be made for the sake of the band and the mental stability for those who knew. Everybody’s except mine, that is. It wasn’t like the band was homophobic; Not even Matt, the concept was just hard to grasp in a sense. Brian was with Michelle anyways, messing up their relationship would obviously seem like my intent if I made any advances. Their relationship was disgustingly cute, even if it was all fake. As for me, well, I’m just a slut now.

-Because days come and go

But my feelings for you are forever-

But only because I felt like I needed to compensate for my so-called loss of Brian. Even if he didn’t want me, the rest of the world did. And the rest of the world was better than nobody at all.

-Because days, come and go

But my feelings for you are forever-

The alcohol had the ability to make it better, though. Not forever, of course, but at least a good day or two before the booze left my bloodstream and the bullet left my brain.

-Sitting by a fire on a lonely night

Hanging over from another good time-

The bullet hadn’t left my brain yet, but I was completely conscious of what happened last night as the sun died in a gorgeous rush of fire that reminded me of his eyes and body heat. My elbow throbbed with pain in unison with my hangover from leaning on the windowsill for the past half hour staring into whatever thoughts the sunset decided to bring me.

It wasn’t the usual party last night. Well, it was in many aspects, but in others it was abnormal and nostalgic. Alcohol and laughter ridden like all the others, but it lacked Michelle, and I lacked desire for all the gorgeous women that surrounded, even in my drunkest state where I got aroused over the smallest things. I, myself, wondered why I didn’t have any thoughts of fucking the brains out of the girl sitting in my lap. If it was any other party I would have had her in another room in a heartbeat slipping her out of her too-short dress and pressing myself into her skin all the while imagining she was Brian. It might’ve been the way he was moving, weaving in and out of guests in fluid motions when he danced without much shame. I couldn’t see his iris’s in the dark, smoky atmosphere, but I managed to spot a grin he flashed when he floated by me to the bass of the music playing. There was no way of telling whether it was directed to me or the girl straddling my lap. The only thing I could do was hope it was for me. It wasn’t like she noticed anyways; she was too busy engulfing her lips on to my own. She tasted like cherry chapstick and alcohol, but I stayed disinterested and let my eyes follow Brian sweep around the room half-dancing half-drunken stumbling. Somehow he managed to make intoxication graceful and surprisingly sexy.

I didn’t doubt the girl would’ve been an amazing fuck due to the way she kissed with force and sensuality. In a way, I wouldn’t’ve minded taking her to another room to give her the good time she was all but begging for, but my hopes were far too high to be deterred by the soft, meaningless flick of a stranger’s tongue. After a few minutes to shrug her off she got the point and climbed off me with a sour expression. I wobbled a bit in my attempt to stand up off of the couch. My first few attempts failed; I braced myself on the table next to the couch, spilling my straight whisky in the process. The next few I managed to kill the vertigo and make as straight of a line to wherever Brian was.

-With another girl

Little dirty girl

You should listen to this story of a life-

It’s not easy repressing romantic feelings and sexual urges over a person so unbelievably close to you. I could tell you that straight up from experience. Especially if you knew for a fact there were the moments they felt the same about it. I might be able to pass of my intoxication as a semi-logical excuse or justification. Like a dog, even though I was blinded by a haze of smoke and vertigo I could follow the unique scent of his cheap cologne that fit him so well along with his footsteps that drowned out the thumping bass somehow. “Brian?” I called, finding him in a separate room with two other people I didn’t recognize. My usual lisp was obviously slurred. His head jerked up at the sound of my exaggerated lisp.“Hm?” He grunted, turning back to opening his beer can. At that point I realized that I had nothing to say after I mumbled his name. He looked at me and smiled after the crack and hiss of cracking the seal of his beer. There was no doubt he was as drunk if not more drunk as I was; his gorgeous eyes had a pale film over them and his perfect smile a bit more goofy than usual. I returned his look; meeting a gaze I saw something nostalgic and carnal flash behind his eyes. At that point, when our eyes locked, the look on his face showed that he was feeling the same electivity running through his veins that I was. I shivered at the thought of us. The thought of him. Alone. For the first time in what seemed like forever.

Memories hit me-the times our lips brushed hesitantly for the first time, giving into the only way to murder the tension. The tension before our mouths collapsed on one another’s. The nervousness before, the paranoia after. The taste of his skin and how I thought that getting him to myself would make me stop wanting that gorgeous guitarist so bad. How it only ended up making me want Brian more. All these memories collapsed in our stare, though intoxicated knowing damn well what was going on. Brian bit his lip in response to my unintentional smile and blush. One of the strangers in the room who bore a striking resemblance to Dan Jacobs coughed lightly, looked at both of us, and took hold of the second stranger’s had to drag him out of the room. The cough had broken down our gaze along with an indecipherable statement one had made to the other in what seemed like a mild Greek accent. Brian’s words came out mumbled and slightly slurred into a sentence I hadn’t heard since he started faking Love with Michelle. “Alcohol isn’t my only addiction,” he referenced to what we used to have with his eyes pointed downward avoiding eye contact with the noting on the carpeted floor.

-You’re my heroin

In this moment I’m lonely fulfilling my darkest dreams-

It took a moment for the statement to hit me. I was too lost in thought for it to register properly between the ringing in my ears. It was slightly surreal and completely suffocating. It felt as if his words had wrapped themselves around my neck and were choking me desperately. He was drunk. That was all. He was just drunk. It’ll go away when the alcohol does and everything will fade again, and the façade would resume. He coughed awkwardly in the silence; I couldn’t tell if it was a cough or a hiccup, or both for that matter, but at least it was something that cut the tension between us. His glazed eyes cut over to the open door, cueing me silently to shut it. I didn’t move. I was frozen in place, suffocating from across the room. We stood eye-to-eye waiting for the other to move until Brian shuffled over to the door and shut it with a quiet click.

Everything spun. Hardly anything made sense and I was completely disconnected to almost everything. The distant yet deafening hum of the music, the soft click of Brian’s booths growing closer to me taking what seemed an eternity to place his ever familiar hands on my shoulders, pressing me up against the wall I was leaning on. With a sigh against my lips he crushed his mouth onto mine without shame. And that same rush I had been vacant of for so long exploded at first contact of our tongues. We slid into the kiss like it was something natural and to be embraced not embarrassed of. Like it was still instinct despite the lack of physical contact in a year or more. This wouldn’t look suspicious at all; Syn and Zacky, the two members of the band who did the absolute most fan service onstage and elsewhere, drunken and alone in a dimly lit room at a party. Even close friends knew hardly anything about the almost-relationship, so even if they were caught nobody would understand why they were here as opposed to the party filled with woman and alcohol they locked themselves out of.

-All these drugs all these women

I’m never forgiving the broken Heart of mine-

“Brian,” I half-whispered half-moaned into his lips. He said nothing, of course. I was always the loud one when it came to these situations, because I didn’t fight it. I didn’t feel the need to hold back when it came to Brian. It was too perfect to repress anything, too overwhelming to be ashamed.

“Zack…” he whispered back after few moments of silence. I was extremely surprised at the unusual and drawn out vocalization. It was extremely rare when he purred into my lips in between snaps of his teeth over them. Every time our tongues met and our lips collided it put me out of my misery. And I had been miserable and alone for so long. “I missed you so much,” he moaned, tugging on my hair for emphasis. That action wasn’t anything new, but the words that came along with it were as rare as they were stumbled over each other.“I missed you too,” I told him.“You have no idea,” he replied. I wrapped my arms around his back, pulling him closer to me. I needed to feel his warmth. In all the times we had been together I had never felt need this badly; physical or emotional.

-Because days come and go

But my feelings for you are forever-

I have no idea why I keep reading into this so far. It didn’t feel fake; it didn’t feel drunk either. It just felt natural. Him ignoring me the entire day hurt a lot more than forcing myself to believe that it was only a side effect of the beer.

-Because days come and go

But my feelings for you are forever-

It was like he couldn’t bear to look at me. Like he was disgusted by the thought of me. We hadn’t even an exchanged a “Hello” or a simple “Good Morning.” No. If we passed each other in the hallway his eyes would jerk downward to the floor, away from me. If we were in the same room, no matter how many people were in it, we’d always manage to float to opposite sides. So I stayed in here, pacing in my room trapped in my thoughts without a solution to anything at hand. The past four and a half hours I had spent alone; the most movement I had made was pacing from wall to wall, or from my bed to my window, anticipating the sunset that had now come and gone. When the streaks of bright pink and orange and goldenrod yellow faded into the pitch dark of the night it felt like a way out of this situation had died along with it.

-One last kiss before I go-

He had never completely ignored me before. Sure, some of our encounters ended up awkward for a few hours after from time to time, but this…this killed me. This was the white-hot knife twisting inside of my chest. This made me breathless in all the wrong ways.

-Dry your tears-

I wanted to scream and kick and stage an entire temper tantrum in hopes of him running into my room to see what the matter was.

-One last kiss before I go-

Even then, would it matter? I wouldn’t get to taste him or feel his skin. Last night could’ve been the last time we had. One may call it closure; I’d just call it death. It may not be the cliché of what people consider dying, but to me it was far worse than having my body placed into the dirt to shrivel up and rot from the inside out. In fact, that thought seemed rather appealing at the moment. Far better and less painful than the death I was going through; not my body shriveling up but every other aspect of my existence so my skin became nothing more than a cave. I had been on metaphorical life-support keeping me alive because even though he was with Michelle, he was still there; he could still bear to look and speak to me.

It is time to let you go-

Now pull the plug. That’s it. It’s over. The-fucking-end.