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Bleeding Hearts -- Act 1 Scene 1 This is the first fic I've ever written, of any kind. Many thanks to my beta-readers who gave me the confidence to post this. xxoo vanessa BLEEDING HEARTS ACT 1 SCENE 1 "Thank you, you're beautiful!" The crowd went wild as Brian blew them a kiss on his way off the stage. A wide smile pulled at his dark lips, but disappeared the instant he was in the wings. He grabbed a package of cigarettes -- Steve's -- and lit one up, dragging in hard like it was the last he'd ever have. He flopped down on an old, sagging couch and kicked his feet up over one of its arms, continuing to smoke like it was going out of style. "Shit, Bri," ventured Stefan, "I didn't think we were /that/ bad..." he trailed off as Brian ignored him, scowling slightly at his fingernails. "Maybe he's pissed that his varnish is chipped," quipped Steve. "Very funny, boys," Brian mumbled sullenly. 'Damn, they're still cheering out there,' Brian thought to himself. 'Don't they realize that when the lights come on, it means we're done? Jesus.' He glanced over at Steve, who had just lit up a cigarette himself, and was waving it in one hand as he gestured broadly, illustrating something for Stefan, to whom he was speaking. 'They want us. Or at least, they want me. Everyone wants me, so it seems at times. So why doesn't /he/?' Brian sighed and stubbed out his cigarette on the floor. "Any booze in here?" he called out loudly. "There better be!" said Stef with a grin. A roadie materialized, bottles of beer in hand and an ingratiating smile on his face. Brian grabbed a bottle, tipped it back and drank deeply. It soothed his nerves, a little. The noise and bustle of backstage was starting to give him a headache, and the beer didn't /really/ make it any better. He looked over at his bandmates; they were still talking animatedly. Brian scowled again. "What's so interesting over there?" he called out. "Why don't you get off your lazy arse and come find out!" replied Steve wickedly. Brian rolled his eyes, then rolled off the couch and went over to join them. "My my, how good of you to join us," Stefan grinned. "So, what's so interesting over here?" "We were just discussing the local clubs suggested by one of the venue people, we can't decide where to go." Steve quickly outlined their choices. "Any input?" Brian shrugged. "They all sound the same to me." "That's no help!" Light punches rained down on Brian's shoulder from the mock-upset Steve, and he threw his arms up in defense, smiling slightly. "Fine then. The last one on the list sounded interesting..." Stef's eyes lit up. "Brian, you're my hero!" At the same time, Steve muttered a quick curse. "Brian, that's the place Stef wanted to go to, you were supposed to pick the one *I* wanted!" Brian laughed. "What's wrong with Stef's choice?" Steve leaned in close to whisper conspiratorially, "its a gaaaaaaaay bar." Brian burst out laughing. "Well, Steve my boy, we have you outnumbered, why not just live it up a night?" "Fine, fine, have it your way!" Steve threw up his hands in defeat. Brian smiled innocently, looking for all the world an angel. The music was loud, louder than the concert had been. Flamboyantly dressed people danced closely on the small floor, assaulted by strobe lights and colour-changing floods. Steve felt a little out of place, but the hard liquor in his glass and in his system was quickly working to banish that. His companions were vibrant, glowing; he couldn't remember the last time he saw them having so much fun. Copious amounts of alcohol had been imbibed on all three of their parts, and Steve was drunk enough to join them on the dance floor -- almost. Just then Brian turned to him and waved, motioning for him to come join them. 'Ah, what the hell,' he thought. 'You only live once.' No sooner had he reached the floor than Brian's small hands grabbed his hips and pulled him close to his dancing body. Steve quirked an eyebrow, but all he got back from Brian was a wink -- a naughty, naughty wink. Stef grinned at the two of them, and Steve knew he would get no help from him. He'd just have to deal with a drunken Brian for a night, no big deal... His mind wandered and his body moved of its own accord, writhing and grinding with Brian's. Stefan hovered nearby, watching the pair with mild surprise. 'That's /Steve/? He must have had more to drink than I thought...' Brian broke away from Steve, turning to Stef briefly to mime drinking something. Fair enough. Stef stepped over to Steve and with a sly grin, took up Brian's vacated position. The touch of his hands to Steve's hips was electric; a current of sensation surged outwards from his fingertips. Steve shut his eyes as he felt a twinge in his groin. 'Its just the alcohol,' he told himself, only half-believing it. His body continued to move in time with that of his partner, perhaps with even less reserve than before. His mind was racing, lost in the sensation of the flesh. Suddenly the hairs on the back of his neck prickled and he turned his head. Brian was staring at him, an unreadable expression in his dark-lined eyes. He tried to catch Brian's gaze, but the slight man had turned away as soon as Steve noticed him. Steve shrugged mentally and turned his attention back to Stef, who had noticed the entire exchange, quick as it was. "What was that?" he mouthed. Steve shrugged. "I'm not sure." They continued dancing, conscious of the other's body close by. Brian leaned against the railing, drink in hand, seething. 'This is /not/ happening, this is /not/ happening...' He watched his bandmates dance -- although dance would describe it less well than "writhe" or "grind" -- with each other, feeling thoroughly envious and upset. A cutting voice interrupted his thoughts. "OHMIGAWD! It's Brian Molko!" 'Oh, fuck. Just what I didn't need!' Brian found himself rushed by a pair of fangirls. He turned to face them. "Hello," he slurred. The fact he was obviously very drunk didn't deter the girls. "We saw your show! It was great! We love you! Ohmigawd Ohmigawd! Can I have your autograph?" A bar napkin and felt-tip marker were thrust at him. He signed his name (it would be his name, anyway, if his name had been Br--i-- Mo---l) and handed it back to the excited duo. He took a drink from the glass in his hand, just remembering he had it. The warm glow it traced down his throat helped to warm his suddenly cold body. Seeing as he was no longer interested in them, the fangirls slowly backed away, then skipped off gleefully, clutching their prize tightly. Brian's attention was already returned to his bandmates, or more specifically Steve. He sighed. He wanted to leave. Meanwhile, on the dance floor.... Steve was looking up at Stef, who was looking down at him. He was mostly unconscious of his body; he was having a hard enough time keeping track of his thoughts. 'This is not happening, this is not happening...I can't quite believe this...' He suddenly became aware of Stef's hand sliding from his hip to slip into his back pocket, and even more aware of the fact that it was in response to the newly taken, very similar positions of his own hands! 'I REALLY don't believe this!' But somehow, he did. It was-- "Can I cut in, boys?" a nasal voice sliced through his thoughts. "Brian!" Steve jumped, startled, putting space between his body and Stef's. "I'm tired, and smashed." He giggled. "Veeeeeeery smashed. I want to go back to the hotel." They looked at each other over Brian's head. "Okay Bri," Stef started, still looking at Steve. "I think we're ready to go, too." Steve nodded. They wound their way off the dance floor, Brian between the two taller men, his arms linked through theirs. He staggered more than walked, but his bandmates held him up. They hailed a cab quickly and were soon back at the hotel. Prev | Next Home |