Title: 'Without You.'
Rating: pg: 13 i guess.....slight indication of suicide/alcohol/death/sex
Pairing: Brian Molko/Ville Valo
Summary: Reflections of a lost love. (Brian's thoughts while drunk. )
Author's Notes: short story.
Days melt together in a blur….practice after practice, gig after gig….every single song now sounds the same, every city is a shadow of what it used to be….ever single fan’s got the same void look upon their face.
Nights are now lonely for I shun the world come midnight and lock myself up in my elaborate hotel room, nothing to keep me company save a bottle of whiskey and a single custom made razor that bares a tiny heart in the middle….my salvation.
I remember him.
Another drink to drown the thoughts away but whoever said that we can drown our sorrows was a fucking moron….for sorrows float…..they float.
My sweet prince.
The razor now touches the softness of my arm and I have become used to the cuts and need them to decorate the length of both my arms with long, thin roads of red leading me every night towards infinity. They are my map….. I am lost.
Now…..I have nothing left……
For without you….I am nothing……
And I still remember………
Night came and embraced the room, touching everything in thick, liquid darkness….and he lay upon fine satin sheets yet dreams would not come to him….the clock ticked insanely, torturing him with idle fascination.
And he lay still.
From worlds away I watched my drunken Valo breath and I could see a fine sheen of perspiration upon his ash-white face….he looked like a phantom, like the ghosts who came to him after the whole world had gone to sleep and teased and taunted him with pretty words that he could not understand.
Silently he sighed and I felt it chill the very marrow of my bones while his hearts beat quickened in a melody I had not heard since I was born.
With steps as soft as butterflies….I pretended to walk upon egg shells and he withered and arched upon blood red sheets and cried out even before I reached the bed and touched him.
Like the wind…..like the stars…. elusive and divine.
‘Angel of mine…..’
His words were like the sweetest of wines, filling me up, making me feel giddy and melancholy all at the same time.
With ice cold fingers I felt his body as he looked at me with pale green orbs diluted madly with lust.
I was his drug.
Then I kissed his lips and they were as soft as velvet and tasted like the tears now falling from his eyes and I asked him why he was crying and he said it was because I was divine.
From fire, from ice, fingers and lips met then parted in perfect unison. Soft sweet noises he would let flutter from his lips while he would bare his throat to me allowing me to bruise the delicate skin with my mouth.
His hair matched the color of the midnight sky as if some magical night-King had blessed him with the melancholy, morbid color.
I would run my fingers through his thick, silken locks and let them slither in between like inky water serpents while he begged me never to leave, for if I did his heart would surly break then I would smile and tell him that I never would.
I would nestle snuggly around him and we would lie like two babes in a womb so close that sometimes I would think that I could crawl into his flesh with the greatest of ease. I would hold him in my embrace and pray for dreams to come to him and gently sweep him into a delicate slumber and he would just laugh and tell me that I was radical.
‘But night time is meant for dreaming….’ I would softly say as he turned to face me and cupped my face into his beautiful hands.
‘Night time is meant for us my angel……for you and for me…..the world is playing dead now but we….we are alive!’
Slowly he’d slither atop of me, bare bodies melting together while he looked into my eyes and ice blue and summer green would entwine in a candy-cane of color.
‘I want to taste you…..’ His voice was a symphony, an unspeakable harmony that would surly make the angels weep for they could never be so divine.
His fingertips trickled over my face, down my neck then over the smoothness of my chest and belly outlining each and every slope and hollow.
Then he stole my hand in his and lifted it to his lips, tongue darting out ever so gently, and tracing over the ball of my fingertip before slipping it into his mouth and suckling on it while I gasped in exhilaration.
‘Valo….’ I uttered, watching him as he sucked my index finger with the intensity of sucking upon ones cock.
He was to drive me mad.
Fingers moist with spit, he gently slid them out of his warm mouth and looked at me like some fallen angel.
‘I love you Brian……’ he would whisper in his deep, melancholy tone and all I could do was throw my arms around his neck and whisper to him over and over again that he was everything I ever wanted.
He was the one that begged me not to ever leave him….yet he went and up and died on me…..two years come this November.
‘Why….why did you go Valo?’ I asked into the night but the only reply I got was the soft sigh of my candle-lit room who had seen and heard too much.
I didn’t notice the tears falling down my face like rain, I didn’t notice that the razor was pressing a little too hard upon my wrist for all the red blood running was so damn pretty…..and I watched in drunken awe as it cascaded over my arm and down the inside of my palm branching out in a million directions before it fell like crimson pearls upon the expensive Oriental rug.