He Isn't Worth It... Right?

Author's Note #1: So... hello! This is my very first story ever, and I'm going to be quite honest- this is probably full of grammatical errors and whatnot. Hopefully the coding came out alright, though. XD;

Most of the story will take place from the OC's view (As in Abel. Sorry if you don't like OCs, but since I'm just getting into this I'm going with what I'm comfortable with.)

Furthermore, I figured I'd do something different with this. Basically, this IS slash. That said, it would make sense that there's a "Romeo" somewhere in this story. Well, that's where you come in. Basically, I'm letting everyone that reads this story tell me who they want Abel to end up with, if they want him to end up with anyone at all. I have very little planned out, as to me it adds excitement if everything happens spur of the moment. I'll add this again on the bottom.

Hope you enjoy! And I love constructive criticism.
_
“Shut up.”

Why is it some people spoke to inanimate objects when they knew very well nothing would ever come of it? Really, just think about it for a second, and imagine the following situation:

Some people are playing basketball, and like all balls in athletics the basketball happens to get away. Well, not really get away because what really happened was a pass went horribly wrong, and instead of being shot towards a receiver it was aimed at your head. Not on purpose, of course. Now, you see it coming, and what you really want to do is say “No, stop!” but the rational side realizes two things. First, the ball would still smash right into your face and break your nose. Second, you would like an idiot for trying to prove you were some telekinetic with the ability to make things move or stop in mid-air.

Face it- it’s better to look like a victim that just got jumped in the hallway at school than to look like a victim that jumped in the hallway at school while trying to prove you were a superhero. Idiots weren’t favored in the outside world.

So, even in my sleep addled brain, it just didn’t make sense for me to tell me cell phone to stop ringing, when it was going to continue doing what it was programmed to do- ring. And it was a pleasant song to wake up to as well, as I’m an avid Dir en grey fan and hearing the chorus to Obscure always seemed to brighten my day, even if I knew the lyrics made no sense and weren’t exactly something you’d tell to your mother-in-law.

Not that I have a mother-in-law, but that is definitely not the point. What is the point, however, is that my cell phone was playing loudly just out of reach, meaning I had to get out of the pseudo cocoon I had made for myself out of my black and red comforter. I was the kind of weirdo that couldn’t sleep with a sheet and a comforter, and could only have one thing draped over me at all times. Otherwise, one would simply be kicked off and lie on the floor since I’m normally too lazy to bother picking it up. Well, more like too busy or apathetic, but I don’t want to get too technical about things that don’t matter.

Alas, I was far too comfortable, so I just let the blasted phone ring until it cut off, meaning the person that called would leave a message. Knowing the person that called- and I do know who it was because that is his personal ring tone- the message would more than likely be angry and peeved that I didn’t answer, but after all I’ve done for him he can just wait. It’s not often I’m able to get to sleep in my own bed, and if it’s really as important as he may make it seem to be, then he’d probably just drive over, break down on my door, and scream at me. He’s good at screaming; it’s kind of what he does for a living.

But until that happened, I was quite content lying in my bed, wrapped in my thick comforter, with my thick, black curtains pretty much keeping my room blanketed in darkness. Then again, maybe it was dark outside? Rolling in my bed and popping my head out of the cocoon (I was seriously wrapped from head to toe with only small openings for air) I barely acknowledged that it was definitely not dark outside. It didn’t matter how exhausted and sleepy I was- I would always be coherent enough to realize 2:53 PM would mean the sun was out and shining brightly in good ol’ California.

Unless the apocalypse was coming and I slept through it. With that thought, I rolled back into my comfortable position and pulled the “turtle” and withdrew my head back into my comfort zone of warmth and security. If I survived the apocalypse so far, what harm was there in sleeping some more?

And then there was cold. And yelling. Cold and yelling. Lots of both, actually, and when I curled into a fetal position it was to protect myself from both. Such changes weren’t easy on the brain to take in and the messages sent to my mind were harsh, and my brain was having difficulties trying to make sense of everything. Oh well, I guess the cold was my fault because I always have the air running at sixty-five degrees, my ceiling fan on high, and keep sunlight from entering the room. The yelling was also my fault for not answering the phone earlier.

“What the fuck, Abe? Why the hell are you still sleeping at this time of day?”

Ah, so he did arrive. Sometimes my friends were awfully predictable, but that was why I loved them. Well, most of them also gave amazing hugs whenever I stopped being difficult enough for them to hug me. Yeah, that had to weigh on my decision of liking them as well.

After hearing his voice I opened my brown colored eyes, looking into the surprisingly calm, if not even humored, face of one of my best friends. Granted, he was a bit blurry since my eyes were both kind of closed and hadn’t adjusted to everything, but I could still make out his imposing form.

The yelling was coming from downstairs, and not from him, which for some reason also surprised me, but it was a pleasant surprise. I missed the fact that I relaxed almost instantly, my body realizing I was in no danger so there was no need to be tense. I yawned and rubbed at my eyes with my right hand. “What time is it?” I asked, truly curious.

“It’s close to three thirty ya' lazy bum.” Oh I could hear the smirk in those words as I whipped my head towards my alarm clock and noted that it was, indeed, half past three in the afternoon. Now I could sleep in, but this was unheard of, and no one normally caught me, but I guess this is what I get for giving the man standing next to my bed a key to my house. I guess when I handed the small piece of metal to him, that if some freaky person with a gun broke into my home I could hole myself into some obscure corner and notify him so he could easily get in and take down the stranger.

Because, you know, knights in shining armor existed in today’s day and age.

Groggily I looked at him, or at least in his general direction and gave him a lazy glare. “Why're you here?”

Much to my annoyance he only chuckled and sat down on the edge of my bed, his weight making me slide ever so slightly towards him. Normally, my glares meant something. I guess when my hair’s a mess, my eyes are half-closed even in the dark, and I’m in my pajamas I’m not all that threatening. “You didn’t answer your phone when I called to ask if you wanted to meet up with the rest of us at Jimmy’s place, so I figured I’d drop in. Johnny and Brian thought it best to tag along.”

“Oh, so they’re the one’s screeching downstairs.” I vaguely caught a nod. Remember, my room was dark at that moment, so there wasn’t a lot I could see.

“I made it halfway up the stairs 'fore they started,” he said in the small lisp that he had, which brought a sleepy grin to my face. Brian and Johnny were notorious in our little group for almost never getting along. They cared for each other, of course, but clashed personality-wise like nobody’s business. Brian, the incredibly laidback individual that he is, does not get on with the surprisingly high-strung Johnny and so, more often than not, the rest of us are getting in between their little scuffles. Well, by “everyone” I do mean the more intimidating Matt and Jimmy. Zack and I generally stand off to the side and enjoy the show from there. Zack watches because, well, he gets off on that. Me? Well, I’m either too busy with something more important than the welfare of the members of the band I manage, or I’m in too comfortable of a position to get up and try to stop them.

But, I guess I had some things downstairs I didn’t want them to destroy, so I guess some sort of precautionary measures had to be taken. “Matt.” I still couldn’t see his face clearly, but I figured he cocked an eyebrow when I spoke his name. He tended to do that when I was about to talk to him, just like I did to him when he was going to talk to me. We had that kind of relationship. “Do you think you could go downstairs for me and keep the peace while I get ready? Just give me like-“

He cut me off, the bastard. “An hour?” Oh, the sarcasm was rich in that statement. I think he could tell I was going to respond in kind, because he stood up quickly (Making me bounce up a little) and headed off towards the door. “Sure, I’ll keep them away from stuff. Just make it up to me later.” Those words were the ones he tossed over his shoulder as he closed the door behind him. He was an ass at times, but it was all part of his charm. In any case, it was what attracted Val, and why I pushed for them to get together.

Eh, more on that later.

Getting up from my incredibly comfortable queen sized bed, I made my way towards the general direction I knew my conjoining bathroom was in. My hand was out so I wouldn’t walk into the door- as I couldn’t sleep if it was open- and once I made contact, I found the knob and turned it. By this time, my eyes were wide open and I was adjusted to the dark, but when my left hand flipped the switch in the bathroom my eyes screamed at me and made me want to claw at my face. Light hurts when your pupils are dilated, apparently. Go me and making scientific discoveries.

Vision adjusted and bladder relieved, I moved to the shower and turned it on scalding hot water, then turned towards the long mirror. My bathroom was… Well I guess it was nice. Managing a band of this size was great for making money, and what was better than helping my best friends achieve their dreams? Anyways, the bathroom itself followed the dark theme in my bedroom. The marble making up the counter and most of the shower was black and white, and the same marble made up the tiles of the floor. Thick, black rugs- four in total- rested on the floor: two at the two sinks, one at the shower door, and one at the actual toilet. The sinks themselves had white porcelain as the actual bowl, and silver taps. The same kind of look was used for the toilet and rest of the shower. So, basically, my bathroom was white, silver, and black. I liked it. Jimmy said it made him depressed.

Looking into the mirror, I sighed once and removed my night clothes. Yes, I said “clothes”. I am not one of those freaks that sleep almost or completely nude, thank you. Instead, I’m one of the freaks that sleeps completely clothed. I have on a night shirt- commonly just a white t-shirt- and pajama pants of different patterns. I have on underwear- boxers of varying patterns- and then socks on my feet. My hair, best characterized as “emo” even though I would contend that by saying it was “stylish” was tussled from my sleepy time.

After having stepped into the shower, I could feel the hot water create small burns on my back. Like the small idiot I am, I just stood there and let the scorching droplets pelt my back and run down my legs towards the drain. Once my back began to itch from the sheer heat, I turned to the front and waited again for it to run its course. After I was thoroughly reddened all over I started getting to work in actually washing my body, working the water and my French vanilla body wash into every crevice of my body, and basically everywhere just so I could make sure I smelled presentable. Not that I wouldn’t anyhow, mind you. Then, after using my shampoo and conditioner of similar scents, I waited a bit longer in the shower. Really, even though I was numb to the warmth of the water, I found showers to be one of the most relaxing parts of life. Many decisions I made in the past were facilitated by showers and the relaxing feeling they brought onto me.

After roughly forty five minutes of being burned, I figured it was enough. Seriously, how long was I supposed to make the others wait? Sometimes, in the past, if I waited too long in the shower then one of the guys or Val would barge into the bathroom and check the shower, just to make sure I didn’t drown while standing up. Really, I didn’t care for being barged in on, so whenever I was expecting them or knew they were at my place I kept my showers to a very clipped forty five minutes. Sometimes, if I had my own way, I would just wait until the cold water started to come out instead. How long did that take? Exactly forty six minutes.

Stepping out and grabbing the fluffy, black towel from under the sink (I always used towels twice before washing them, and this was a new one) I started to dry myself off. My raw skin was quickly becoming even worse as I rubbed it with the towel, and sometimes a small piece of black fuzz would stick to my in-the-process-of-being-dried-skin. It kind of hurt, but what in life didn’t hurt?

Once everything was as dry as I could get it, I walked into my room- yes, completely naked- and picked out my clothes from the chest of drawers that was right next to the window. I wouldn’t call myself “emo” or still being apart of the “scene” movement, but I liked my clothes relatively tight and small. I guess it was because I liked to flaunt my slim frame that came naturally and then flaunt that fact like the prick I sometimes am, but it was also because I hated having to deal with belts. They were more a hassle than anything else. Although, if the occasion called for it, I’d wear one, since looking good was a requirement when it came to hanging out with the guys I did.

My shirt was small, and by “small” I mean the bottom hem of it barely reached my waist, the sleeves went down my arms by a mere three inches, and if I so much as raised my arms up halfway at least half of my belly button would be exposed to the world. It was thin, too; black as its primary color, there was a dark purple design on it. I couldn’t personally make out what it was, but Jimmy declared upon first seeing it that it was a giant dinosaur eating Princess Peach from the Super Mario franchise. I took his word for it.

My pants were dark blue hip-huggers with relatively slim legs (Although my legs could breathe, thank you), and because of how much I wore them there was a small, natural hole on the left thigh area. The knees were thinned out from use, as well. A thin belt- that wasn’t at all needed- made up of black leather and “silver” pyramid studs encircled my waist, naturally fitting through the loops of the jeans. Black ankle socks covered my feet, and those same feet were slipped into pure black Etnies. To finish off the clothing department, I slipped on two worn strips of black leather onto my right wrist, and one onto my left.

My hair was next, as it had only been treated by the aforementioned black fluffy towel and nothing else. Slowly making my way to my bathroom (again) and looking at my reflection in the mirror (again), I stopped for a second. The reflection of a pale male, appearing around the age of twenty three, looked back at me. In truth I was twenty five, making me roughly one year younger than Matt, Brian, and Zacky, two years younger than Jimmy, and about two and a half years older than Johnny. My birthday fell on the first of April, and that always complicates ages and figuring out differences in ages. As for the rest of me, I had a face that was, oh I dunno, soft? There weren’t any hard angles, I mean. I didn’t have Brian’s freakishly prominent cheekbones of Johnny’s pointier-than-usual nose. My lips weren’t that full, although they were a light pink in color, and my somewhat small nose tilted upward just a little bit, but not even close enough to being called a “pig nose”. My chin wasn’t prominent either, come to think of it, and my face was rather round- for lack of a better term. My eyes were large, much to my chagrin, and showed the bland brown irises for what they were: brown. Just… brown! Not even a nice brown, either.

My hair, at the moment anyways, was dyed to a dark chocolate brown color. I hated my natural color, as strawberry blonde just looked weird with the group I associated myself with. Furthermore, my eyebrows were, somehow, naturally dark, and it looked better when my hair was darker. The hair on my head came down almost to my shoulders, and I was blessed with hair that was constantly straight no matter how humid it got outside. The bangs were a big jagged, I admit, with them getting longer on the sides and zigzagging across my forehead. Other than that, I didn’t have any body hair on my highly intimidating 5’7”, 126 lb. frame. No lie, I am and always have been a small guy. Just adds to my youthful charm, though. Also, since it was straight and that’s how I wanted it, I just ran my hairbrush through it a few times to make it fall, and then walked out of the bathroom, flicking off the light as I was leaving. The same for my bedroom as well, although I closed that door behind me; I hated leaving my bedroom door open at any time, whether I was in it or not.

As soon as my door was closed, and I headed for the stairs to take me down to my three close friends, the sound of bickering started anew. And to think, I had only been up for roughly an hour. This day was already starting out to be amazing.

By the way, my name is Abel Sherman, and I’m the manager of Avenged Sevenfold. And no- it’s not nearly as great as it sounds.
_

Author's Note #2: So, again I hoped you enjoyed it, and please feel free to let me know what you think!

Also, just like I said: the guy Abel ends up with (If any) is completely up to you. Of course, the public opinion (If I continue) may change over time and all, but that'll probably make great drama, as well as give me ideas! So, hit me up through whatever medium you desire and tell me. Otherwise, I'll decide for myself, and then you might not be happy. =P