errorYou must be logged in to review this story.
Only the Strong Survive
folder
Singers/Bands/Musicians › Kill Hannah
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
940
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Singers/Bands/Musicians › Kill Hannah
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
940
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. I do not know the celebrity I am writing about. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Raining All the Time
Title: Only the Strong Survive
Players: Mat Devine
Rated: PG-13 for dark thoughts
Summary: Mat's walking around Chicago, contemplating his life and trying to convince himself to go home.
I never thought I'd end up being this pathetic.
It was raining in Chicago. Not really rain, but a misty, never-ending drizzle that was more annoying than anything else. Mat Devine scarcely noticed. He was wandering through the less-than-crowded streets of North Avenue, past all the places that had been his hangouts for as long as he could remember. Just .... aimlessly wandering.
Not pathetic, maybe. Just trapped in my own private hell. Mat shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. He was out on the street, with people all around him. This was not the place to break down.
There. The coffee shop on the corner. A good place to sit quietly and just .... think. Mat looked up at the light, waiting for it to turn red and the "walk" sign to flash. When it did, he hurried across the street, not looking at anyone around him. The rain was actually starting to get a little heavier now, and he wanted to get inside before it started to pour.
A few seconds later, he pushed open the door of the shop and went inside, shaking his head and running one small, slender hand through his damp hair. He looked up self-consciously as someone approached him with a friendly smile, telling him that a waitress would be with him shortly. Giving the girl a polite smile back, he headed for a small booth in the very back of the place, where he knew he could hide himself behind the big plant in the corner and not be seen. Surreptitiously glancing at himself in one of the mirrored posts on the way to the back, he raised one hand to his face, wiping away a bit of smudged kohl eyeliner. Damn. I hate when my makeup gets fucked up.
Mat looked up as a waitress approached, smiling a little and nodding at the girl. He waited until she had taken his order and walked away before he let himself sink back against the leather cushion of the booth, his body going limp and his hands resting on the table in front of him. I can't hide here all day. Sooner or later I'll have to go back home. And I know what's gonna happen when I do. He'll just be pissed that I've been out all day today and he'll beat me up again. Before or after he fucks me. Doesn't matter which.
How did things get this bad anyway? Jake and me were good when we started. He says it's me. That I do things to push him over the edge and that's why he beats me. Maybe I do. I don't know. I don't know anything any more. I just know if I leave him then I don't have anybody. And I can't take being alone.
Mat's head jerked up in surprise at the sound of the waitress' voice, yanked out of his thoughts and back to the present. He gave her a slight smile as she set the coffee mug down on the table, laying a few napkins beside it. "You let me know if you need anything else, sugar."
"Thanks, I will." He managed another smile as the girl's eyes ran over him appraisingly and she gave him another wide smile before she turned and walked away. He could hear her talking to one of her friends behind the bar area of the coffee shop. "He's cute. Maybe I'll give him my number."
And maybe I should get a tattoo across my forehead that says BACK OFF, I'M GAY. Mat sighed, stirring sugar into his coffee. Maybe if I could've been what my parents wanted and settled down with some nice girl and had the house in the suburbs with the white picket fence and all that shit then I'd be happier. At least I wouldn't be getting beaten up all the time. And all the other shit that goes with it.
But that's not who I am. I can't live my parents' life. I can't be what they think I should be. I'm not a fucking nine to five drone. I'm a musician. This band is all I've ever wanted. Well that's a lie. The band and .... somebody to love me. At least I got one out of two.
Mat leaned back and took a few sips of the hot coffee. The warmth seemed to flow through him, almost but not quite reaching the ball of tension in his stomach, that knowledge of what was waiting for him at home. He moved back to the corner of the booth, stretching his legs out along the leather seat and leaning his head back against the high back.
I have to go home sometime. Maybe this time he'll be drunk and passed out and he won't hit me. Or maybe for once he won't care where I've been. Or think I've been out slutting around with other people behind his back. He sighed and picked up the coffee mug, warming his hands with it. Yeah right. And when he wakes up or gets in a bad mood it'll be the same thing all over again. He'll beat me, he'll fuck me and I'll just take it.
Why the hell do I stay with him? Cause I'm pathetic. Cause I can't deal with being alone. Anything's better than being alone. Even being with somebody who treats me the way he does. At least there's somebody there. I'd rather get beaten and raped than just be ignored.
He set the mug down on the table, flinching at the word that raced across his mind. Rape. Yeah well that's what it is isn't it? I don't want it. At least I don't think I do. His slender hands clenched tightly in his lap, so tightly that his nails cut into his palms. Part of me does want it. Part of me gets off on it. Part of me needs that pain. I hate myself for that. But I can't make it go away and I can't make it stop. So I stay with him even though I know one day he's gonna go too far and kill me. Or worse. He's gonna fuck me up so that I won't die but I won't really be alive either. Maybe I'm just waiting for that. To let him make that decision for me.
"Hey, are you alright?"
Mat's attention was drawn back to the present and his surroundings by the voice of the waitress. She was standing at the end of the table, leaning over it, her hands pressed against the surface. It was only then that he realized he was curled in the corner of the booth, almost as if he was trying to shield his small, thin body from an expected blow.
He blushed, unable to meet her eyes. "Yeah I'm okay. Just .... doing a lot of thinking." He self-consciously lowered his arms, glad that he'd worn a sweatshirt with long sleeves so that the dark bruises on his pale flesh weren't visible. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."
"That's alright hon. You need anything else?" She cocked her head to the side, looking quizzical. Damn, this one was cute alright, but there was something off about him. Like a scared rabbit. Something in his eyes.
Mat shook his head, reaching out for the coffee cup she'd just refilled. "No I'm fine. Thanks though." He smiled up at her, not moving from the corner of the booth. Just go away. Go the fuck away. I'm not interested.
"Okay, sugar. Here's your check. See you around." She moved away then, to his relief, winking back over her shoulder at him. When Mat picked up the check, her number was scrawled across the back. Well not like I'd ever call. She's wasting her time.
He settled back in the booth, his legs drawn up against his chest and the coffee mug clutched in one hand. I can't stay here all night. It's already getting dark outside. Maybe I should call Dan, or Greg. They'd let me stay with them. Mat closed his eyes, giving himself a mental shake. What am I thinking? No way. If I did that then I'd have to tell them what's going on. Not that they don't all know something's wrong. But I don't want them to know how bad it is. The last thing I need is their fucking pity.
And I have to go back home anyway. I can't just abandon everything there. I've never been the kind of person who walked out and just gave up and I'm not gonna start being like that now. It's not me and I won't turn into that. I got myself into this and I have to get myself out. Either that or just deal with it and face up to what I let him do to me.
The coffee was gone and it was dark outside. Mat glanced out of the window, his heart sinking. He had to go home. He'd already been gone way too long. He shivered at the thought of what he'd be walking into. But I did this to myself. There's no way out.
He put a hand against the leather seat to push himself to the front of the booth to get out, then drew it back with a hiss of pain. Raisign his hand to the light, he blinked a little at the cuts his nails had made in his palm. They hurt, but not that much. A sting. Just enough for him to know they were there.
"Stigmata." Mat couldn't help letting out a bitter little laugh as he whispered the single word. Kinda suits me. I guess I am a martyr.
He had to resist the urge to lay his head down on the table on folded arms and cry, to let out everything that he'd been keeping inside for longer than he wants to think about.
Martyrs always die.
No. He wouldn't think about it. He'd just go home and take whatever consequences fate handed out to him. It's not like I have a choice, not now. Maybe there is a way out. But if there is I can't see it. Or maybe I'm just not ready to.
The waitress glanced at him as he went to the cashier to pay the check and walked out of the coffee shop. "Weird guy. Nice ass, cute, but weird." She shook her head and turned to look at her friend. "Bet he's gay. What a fucking waste."
I just have to make it through tonight. One day at a time.
Mat jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he headed out of the coffee shop, down North Avenue toward home. At least it's not raining any more. It was a small comfort as he headed toward the apartment he shared with Jake, his feet dragging, moving more and more slowly with each step. He dreaded what he knew he'd be walking into, but he knew it was unavoidable.
No way out.
Players: Mat Devine
Rated: PG-13 for dark thoughts
Summary: Mat's walking around Chicago, contemplating his life and trying to convince himself to go home.
I never thought I'd end up being this pathetic.
It was raining in Chicago. Not really rain, but a misty, never-ending drizzle that was more annoying than anything else. Mat Devine scarcely noticed. He was wandering through the less-than-crowded streets of North Avenue, past all the places that had been his hangouts for as long as he could remember. Just .... aimlessly wandering.
Not pathetic, maybe. Just trapped in my own private hell. Mat shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. He was out on the street, with people all around him. This was not the place to break down.
There. The coffee shop on the corner. A good place to sit quietly and just .... think. Mat looked up at the light, waiting for it to turn red and the "walk" sign to flash. When it did, he hurried across the street, not looking at anyone around him. The rain was actually starting to get a little heavier now, and he wanted to get inside before it started to pour.
A few seconds later, he pushed open the door of the shop and went inside, shaking his head and running one small, slender hand through his damp hair. He looked up self-consciously as someone approached him with a friendly smile, telling him that a waitress would be with him shortly. Giving the girl a polite smile back, he headed for a small booth in the very back of the place, where he knew he could hide himself behind the big plant in the corner and not be seen. Surreptitiously glancing at himself in one of the mirrored posts on the way to the back, he raised one hand to his face, wiping away a bit of smudged kohl eyeliner. Damn. I hate when my makeup gets fucked up.
Mat looked up as a waitress approached, smiling a little and nodding at the girl. He waited until she had taken his order and walked away before he let himself sink back against the leather cushion of the booth, his body going limp and his hands resting on the table in front of him. I can't hide here all day. Sooner or later I'll have to go back home. And I know what's gonna happen when I do. He'll just be pissed that I've been out all day today and he'll beat me up again. Before or after he fucks me. Doesn't matter which.
How did things get this bad anyway? Jake and me were good when we started. He says it's me. That I do things to push him over the edge and that's why he beats me. Maybe I do. I don't know. I don't know anything any more. I just know if I leave him then I don't have anybody. And I can't take being alone.
Mat's head jerked up in surprise at the sound of the waitress' voice, yanked out of his thoughts and back to the present. He gave her a slight smile as she set the coffee mug down on the table, laying a few napkins beside it. "You let me know if you need anything else, sugar."
"Thanks, I will." He managed another smile as the girl's eyes ran over him appraisingly and she gave him another wide smile before she turned and walked away. He could hear her talking to one of her friends behind the bar area of the coffee shop. "He's cute. Maybe I'll give him my number."
And maybe I should get a tattoo across my forehead that says BACK OFF, I'M GAY. Mat sighed, stirring sugar into his coffee. Maybe if I could've been what my parents wanted and settled down with some nice girl and had the house in the suburbs with the white picket fence and all that shit then I'd be happier. At least I wouldn't be getting beaten up all the time. And all the other shit that goes with it.
But that's not who I am. I can't live my parents' life. I can't be what they think I should be. I'm not a fucking nine to five drone. I'm a musician. This band is all I've ever wanted. Well that's a lie. The band and .... somebody to love me. At least I got one out of two.
Mat leaned back and took a few sips of the hot coffee. The warmth seemed to flow through him, almost but not quite reaching the ball of tension in his stomach, that knowledge of what was waiting for him at home. He moved back to the corner of the booth, stretching his legs out along the leather seat and leaning his head back against the high back.
I have to go home sometime. Maybe this time he'll be drunk and passed out and he won't hit me. Or maybe for once he won't care where I've been. Or think I've been out slutting around with other people behind his back. He sighed and picked up the coffee mug, warming his hands with it. Yeah right. And when he wakes up or gets in a bad mood it'll be the same thing all over again. He'll beat me, he'll fuck me and I'll just take it.
Why the hell do I stay with him? Cause I'm pathetic. Cause I can't deal with being alone. Anything's better than being alone. Even being with somebody who treats me the way he does. At least there's somebody there. I'd rather get beaten and raped than just be ignored.
He set the mug down on the table, flinching at the word that raced across his mind. Rape. Yeah well that's what it is isn't it? I don't want it. At least I don't think I do. His slender hands clenched tightly in his lap, so tightly that his nails cut into his palms. Part of me does want it. Part of me gets off on it. Part of me needs that pain. I hate myself for that. But I can't make it go away and I can't make it stop. So I stay with him even though I know one day he's gonna go too far and kill me. Or worse. He's gonna fuck me up so that I won't die but I won't really be alive either. Maybe I'm just waiting for that. To let him make that decision for me.
"Hey, are you alright?"
Mat's attention was drawn back to the present and his surroundings by the voice of the waitress. She was standing at the end of the table, leaning over it, her hands pressed against the surface. It was only then that he realized he was curled in the corner of the booth, almost as if he was trying to shield his small, thin body from an expected blow.
He blushed, unable to meet her eyes. "Yeah I'm okay. Just .... doing a lot of thinking." He self-consciously lowered his arms, glad that he'd worn a sweatshirt with long sleeves so that the dark bruises on his pale flesh weren't visible. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."
"That's alright hon. You need anything else?" She cocked her head to the side, looking quizzical. Damn, this one was cute alright, but there was something off about him. Like a scared rabbit. Something in his eyes.
Mat shook his head, reaching out for the coffee cup she'd just refilled. "No I'm fine. Thanks though." He smiled up at her, not moving from the corner of the booth. Just go away. Go the fuck away. I'm not interested.
"Okay, sugar. Here's your check. See you around." She moved away then, to his relief, winking back over her shoulder at him. When Mat picked up the check, her number was scrawled across the back. Well not like I'd ever call. She's wasting her time.
He settled back in the booth, his legs drawn up against his chest and the coffee mug clutched in one hand. I can't stay here all night. It's already getting dark outside. Maybe I should call Dan, or Greg. They'd let me stay with them. Mat closed his eyes, giving himself a mental shake. What am I thinking? No way. If I did that then I'd have to tell them what's going on. Not that they don't all know something's wrong. But I don't want them to know how bad it is. The last thing I need is their fucking pity.
And I have to go back home anyway. I can't just abandon everything there. I've never been the kind of person who walked out and just gave up and I'm not gonna start being like that now. It's not me and I won't turn into that. I got myself into this and I have to get myself out. Either that or just deal with it and face up to what I let him do to me.
The coffee was gone and it was dark outside. Mat glanced out of the window, his heart sinking. He had to go home. He'd already been gone way too long. He shivered at the thought of what he'd be walking into. But I did this to myself. There's no way out.
He put a hand against the leather seat to push himself to the front of the booth to get out, then drew it back with a hiss of pain. Raisign his hand to the light, he blinked a little at the cuts his nails had made in his palm. They hurt, but not that much. A sting. Just enough for him to know they were there.
"Stigmata." Mat couldn't help letting out a bitter little laugh as he whispered the single word. Kinda suits me. I guess I am a martyr.
He had to resist the urge to lay his head down on the table on folded arms and cry, to let out everything that he'd been keeping inside for longer than he wants to think about.
Martyrs always die.
No. He wouldn't think about it. He'd just go home and take whatever consequences fate handed out to him. It's not like I have a choice, not now. Maybe there is a way out. But if there is I can't see it. Or maybe I'm just not ready to.
The waitress glanced at him as he went to the cashier to pay the check and walked out of the coffee shop. "Weird guy. Nice ass, cute, but weird." She shook her head and turned to look at her friend. "Bet he's gay. What a fucking waste."
I just have to make it through tonight. One day at a time.
Mat jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he headed out of the coffee shop, down North Avenue toward home. At least it's not raining any more. It was a small comfort as he headed toward the apartment he shared with Jake, his feet dragging, moving more and more slowly with each step. He dreaded what he knew he'd be walking into, but he knew it was unavoidable.
No way out.