Mingled Masks
Hello everyone, I'm new to this community. I'm writing a fanfic at the moment and thought it might be a good idea to share it with you. ^_^ I hope you like it.
Title: Mingled Masks
Pairing: Brian/Stefan, Brian/other
Rating: Taste In Man
Genre: angst/comfort
Disclaimer: none of these characters are mine. I don't make any profit these stories.
Summary: Brian falls in love with a fan, but things don't really turn out the way he had intended them to. (and like all summaries, tt's better than it sounds)
A/N: The first chapter is written in first person POV, but that changes to the third person POV in the next chapter. Just so you know.
Mingled Masks - 1
It was on the night of one of the crew’s birthday that I first saw him. We were performing in Manchester, the crowd loved us, he as well. He stood right in front of me, his eyes hypnotised me. I dared not to show anything, flirted with Stef to reassure myself. No one needed to know, I did not need to know yet.
His hair, it flew all around him as he jumped up and down on our music, his eyes never leaving mine. I tried to avoid him, smoked another cigarette, looked others in the eye. I heard them sighing, screaming and saw them grinning. I heard my own voice, Stef’s bass, Steve’s drums. I let myself be swept away by our music. Fans reached out their hands once I got closer, trying to touch me, my arm, my chest… my crotch. I loved the attention, but his eyes transfixed mine and I averted mine once more.
They clapped and cheered once our show was over. We bowed, I looked at him one more time. I felt the electricity. He smiled, at me. I wanted it to go by unnoticed, then decided to smile anyway, give up my pride, long for a fan. He had just turned his head away from me, missing what so many desired. It hurt, an ache in my chest. It made me willing to cry. The famous Brian Molko, insensible to anything, cold as a rock.
“What is it?” Stef asked. I ignored him, walked rapidly to our dress room, locked my band members out. They banged on the door, asking to be let in. I sighed, my mind was a blur. His eyes, his hands, wanting to hold me. If I had jumped, he’d have held me secure, making sure I wouldn’t fall. I turned the key, let them in. There was a tear running down my cheek. It was Stef who came closer, touched my cheek with his hand, rubbed the tear away. He didn’t ask. I wouldn’t have answered if he did.
I sat down on my chair, looking at myself in the mirror. He stood behind me, Stef, caring about me, not knowing what to do. Then he did as he always would, go to the kitchen, asked for a hot chocolate and offered it to me. I refused to drink it. He placed it on the table. I’d drink it anyway. It were these little things that I appreciated more than anything. He was there for me, when sparkling eyes scared me beyond myself.
I sipped, then quickly put the mug back. Too hot. I drowned in my thoughts, in his eyes. Was he real, a dream? I couldn’t let go. I closed my eyes, reliving the concert, seeing him up close. I shook, pressed my hands against my eyes. Not now, not here. I felt Stef’s arms around me, picking me up, rocking me as my head rested on his shoulder.
At night, the blur became a known face with grey eyes, his lips yearning to touch mine. He was the one who teased me. I’d run after him, using all the energy I had left in my body, never enough. He’d disappear from my sight, leaving me behind. Just like tonight. He hadn’t been there when the fans asked for autographs afterwards. His smile, it’s something I couldn’t have. At dawn, I’d wake up, remembering the unfelt touches. There was an empty feeling inside that didn’t ebb away like all the rest. It was an emptiness that alcohol could not make me forget.
There was a party that night, celebrating this particular birthday. I couldn’t be less interested. The cake had no taste, the champagne bubbles were dull. Said I wanted to go back to the hotel room. I wanted to be in my bed, press my face in the pillow, fall asleep and dream. Stef left the party with me, accompanied me to my room, asked if he wanted me to join him. I said yes. I wanted arms around me. His. I didn’t know who I meant. Someone who made me feel safe.
He tormented me at night, made me be able to go through the day. Another concert, he was nowhere to be seen. Three more to go in England, three more chances. If he was a loyal fan, he’d come to the London gig. He’d be in the front row, he had to be. I missed his smile that evening, the crowd seemed boring without him. I played as I usually did. Play the songs, say a few words here and there, stay close to Stef. That’s what they wanted. It was what I wanted.
TBC
Title: Mingled Masks
Pairing: Brian/Stefan, Brian/other
Rating: Taste In Man
Genre: angst/comfort
Disclaimer: none of these characters are mine. I don't make any profit these stories.
Summary: Brian falls in love with a fan, but things don't really turn out the way he had intended them to. (and like all summaries, tt's better than it sounds)
A/N: The first chapter is written in first person POV, but that changes to the third person POV in the next chapter. Just so you know.
Mingled Masks - 1
It was on the night of one of the crew’s birthday that I first saw him. We were performing in Manchester, the crowd loved us, he as well. He stood right in front of me, his eyes hypnotised me. I dared not to show anything, flirted with Stef to reassure myself. No one needed to know, I did not need to know yet.
His hair, it flew all around him as he jumped up and down on our music, his eyes never leaving mine. I tried to avoid him, smoked another cigarette, looked others in the eye. I heard them sighing, screaming and saw them grinning. I heard my own voice, Stef’s bass, Steve’s drums. I let myself be swept away by our music. Fans reached out their hands once I got closer, trying to touch me, my arm, my chest… my crotch. I loved the attention, but his eyes transfixed mine and I averted mine once more.
They clapped and cheered once our show was over. We bowed, I looked at him one more time. I felt the electricity. He smiled, at me. I wanted it to go by unnoticed, then decided to smile anyway, give up my pride, long for a fan. He had just turned his head away from me, missing what so many desired. It hurt, an ache in my chest. It made me willing to cry. The famous Brian Molko, insensible to anything, cold as a rock.
“What is it?” Stef asked. I ignored him, walked rapidly to our dress room, locked my band members out. They banged on the door, asking to be let in. I sighed, my mind was a blur. His eyes, his hands, wanting to hold me. If I had jumped, he’d have held me secure, making sure I wouldn’t fall. I turned the key, let them in. There was a tear running down my cheek. It was Stef who came closer, touched my cheek with his hand, rubbed the tear away. He didn’t ask. I wouldn’t have answered if he did.
I sat down on my chair, looking at myself in the mirror. He stood behind me, Stef, caring about me, not knowing what to do. Then he did as he always would, go to the kitchen, asked for a hot chocolate and offered it to me. I refused to drink it. He placed it on the table. I’d drink it anyway. It were these little things that I appreciated more than anything. He was there for me, when sparkling eyes scared me beyond myself.
I sipped, then quickly put the mug back. Too hot. I drowned in my thoughts, in his eyes. Was he real, a dream? I couldn’t let go. I closed my eyes, reliving the concert, seeing him up close. I shook, pressed my hands against my eyes. Not now, not here. I felt Stef’s arms around me, picking me up, rocking me as my head rested on his shoulder.
At night, the blur became a known face with grey eyes, his lips yearning to touch mine. He was the one who teased me. I’d run after him, using all the energy I had left in my body, never enough. He’d disappear from my sight, leaving me behind. Just like tonight. He hadn’t been there when the fans asked for autographs afterwards. His smile, it’s something I couldn’t have. At dawn, I’d wake up, remembering the unfelt touches. There was an empty feeling inside that didn’t ebb away like all the rest. It was an emptiness that alcohol could not make me forget.
There was a party that night, celebrating this particular birthday. I couldn’t be less interested. The cake had no taste, the champagne bubbles were dull. Said I wanted to go back to the hotel room. I wanted to be in my bed, press my face in the pillow, fall asleep and dream. Stef left the party with me, accompanied me to my room, asked if he wanted me to join him. I said yes. I wanted arms around me. His. I didn’t know who I meant. Someone who made me feel safe.
He tormented me at night, made me be able to go through the day. Another concert, he was nowhere to be seen. Three more to go in England, three more chances. If he was a loyal fan, he’d come to the London gig. He’d be in the front row, he had to be. I missed his smile that evening, the crowd seemed boring without him. I played as I usually did. Play the songs, say a few words here and there, stay close to Stef. That’s what they wanted. It was what I wanted.
TBC