Eyes Like Yours

Disclaimer: Bah, I don't own them, nor will I ever. But a girl can dream, can't she?

Author's Note: Tscha, well, this is my first attempt at a Freddy/Zack thing, so be brutally honest yet gentle when reviewing, please? Bear in mind that I am in fact,THIRTEEN YEARS OLD, and wrote this one insomnia-filled night while high onmy ADHD medsand Pixie Stick-laced Pepsi. The idea struck me when I realized that Kevin Clark had DARK eyes, despite all of your 'pale blue eyes' stories about him. Psh, y'all make him out to be some sort of Muggle Draco ... not that I mind, because Harry Potter does rule my life, and is in fact ruining my grades. But oh well. If all goes well, you can expect much more from me and my angsty, twisted mind. That's right, I write slash. I read slash. I am a slash fan. And I like me that way. So now that we have that cleared up, I can go on to laugh at your homophobia. BWAHAHAHA! On with the one-shot!

Oh, yes, and this is dedicated to m'friend and fellow slash addict Nix. Because she's kickass like that, yo. WORSHIP THE GROUND SHE WALKS ON BEFORE SHE TRODS OVER YOUR UNWORTHY HEADS.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Hazel. They were hazel. And not just plain old hazel, either. Flecks of green and gold added to their dizzying depth, and seemed to draw the breath out of my lungs. But the light-headed feeling they gave me was oddly pleasant. The rest of the world melted away, and it took every ounce of my self-control to refrain myself from reaching out and … ooh … letting myself go. Acting on impulse. Doing something in sheer bliss, only to find myself greatly regretting it later. Those eyes held my own dark, mesmerized gaze effortlessly for hours and hours, it seemed. I was surely going faint or float away soon. Was I high? Is this enjoyable buzz the result of too much alcohol? Or was this natural magic that was pulling me out of the real world? Suddenly, something soft and silky, like a pillow, most likely, hit me square in the face. I could barely feel it, seeing as how I was still stuck in my subconscious mind, wondering who the hell could be born with such breath-taking eyes and how the hell I managed to get this close to this boy.

Yes, boy. I knew from the start that it was a male. There was nothing feminine about those eyes. From the moment I first got a good look at them—which must have been years and years ago, on my first day of the first grade at Horace Green Prep—I knew that such eyes were quite hard to come by. And it wasn't 'till the sixth grade—a year after Dewey Finn came in and out of our lives and changed our whole career path—that I realized that I wasn't exactly like other boys. Once seventh grade rolled around, girls no longer had cooties, and it was like everyone's eyes were opened. If you were anyone, you had a girlfriend to fool around with and pass dirty notes to. Except for me, of course. Sure, I've had plenty of proposals to be the one they called late at night to sneak them out of their houses and take them out on moonlit strolls, and play them sweet little made-up songs on my guitar. But of course, they had all been turned down. Being a quiet, reserved kid, no one had any idea that it was because I didn't feel that way about them. They all simply thought me to be too young and juvenile and immature to be interesting in girls yet. The thing was, however, I was just too confused about why I had taken a sudden interest in boys.

Not just any boys, either. A certain one rebellious blond by the name of Freddy Jones. Now, there were more reasons than I can count why that was so wrong. For example, he was just about the most sought after guy at school by every female with eyes and half a brain. Giving me less of a chance with him than the drumsticks in his back pocket … oh, how I envy those drumsticks … but anyway. Also, he would probably punch my lights out if I even came close enough to smell his cologne (which I knew for a fact was always brand name). And last but not least, ever since he was appointed to be the drummer for School of Rock, he had turned into my best friend. Despite our differences, we always managed to be thicker than thieves.

Of course, I couldn't tell him that. I could tell him anything and everything else about my life, other than the fact that I was gay. Since I had found this out when I was twelve, and I am now sixteen, this means I have been keeping the biggest secret of my life from Freddy for four long, miserable years. How I wished to spill my heart out, run my fingers through his hair, whisper in his ear how much I've needed him. Needed him like oxygen. But he'd never know. Never.

"Um … Zack?"

A gentle nudge in the side brought me back to the harsh reality. I blinked rapidly, gulped loudly, and made myself aware of my surroundings. A dimly lit, fairly large, luxurious hotel room. By the looks of the picture window the replaced the wall, we were quite a ways up from the ground. We were in the heart of a downtown area; I wasn't exactly too sure which city, though. I couldn't see the starts or moon, but instead, neon signs lit up the night. Beige and off-white furnishings. Neutral, striped wallpaper. Everything smelled of cigarette smoke, alcohol, and peach bubble gum. The room would have been quite comfortable if it weren't completely and utterly trashed. Who knew such a small group of kids could do so much damage? I shifted slightly in my seat, and came to the conclusion that I was seated cross-legged on Egyptian cotton sheets with the velvety, plush pillow clutched in my hands.

My brain finally registered the people around me, all silent. Lawrence. Tomika. Katie. And a few more of my classmates-turned-band mates behind me. I blinked once more, opening my mouth to speak, and then clamping it back shut. "Hmm?" I managed, risking a look around at their puzzled looks, and then back at Freddy.

He was stretched out languidly on the other end of the bed, eyebrow quirked in a WTF! expression that I always found to be his more adorable ones. He licked his lips to speak. I tightened the grip on the pillow until I felt my knuckles go white. "Dude, you okay?" He asked cautiously.

I merely nodded, quite aware that my ears and cheeks were burning up. I had been caught off guard again by those eyes. It was hard not to stare and even harder to finally look away. I tossed my head, effectively clearing my view of my long, choppy brown bangs. "Uh … er, yeah. I'm g-good." I nodded quickly. "Just kind of … dizzy." I mumbled, pushing the pillow away. "What's everyone looking at?" I inquired as casually as I could.'

"Well … you." Martha interjected. "You were staring off into space, but at Freddy. And kind of drooling. And you looked kind of glazed over. Are you sure you're feeling okay? Maybe you had too much to drink." She frowned and reached forward to feel my forehead, but I swatted her hand away.

"I'm fine, I told you!" I whined, willing the deep blush to fade away. "I just need some air." I said, looking down and jumping off the bed. They still remained silent. I grabbed a sweater off the carpeted floor, slipped it on, and pulled the hood up and over my face. "Going for a walk." I announced quickly.

Summer sighed dramatically. "You can't just weasel yourself out of the game! You were just about to be truth-or-dared, Mooneyham!" She pouted. God, for a band manager with the IQ of a billion, she could be so damn immature at times. But then again, maybe the fizzy drink in her hand had something to do with it.

"Shut up, Summer." I heard Freddy hiss. Thank God I was already half way out the door—they would surely have seen me blush twice as red. "Let him go. He'll be back soon, he's just not feeling up for it."

I smiled secretly, slamming the door shut and hurrying my way down the hall. I finally reached the end and jumped into the first open elevator, keeping my gaze down at my scuffed running shoes. Thankfully, I had gotten an elevator by myself, with only the faint beeps of the buttons as it plummeted towards the ground at a controlled speed to keep me company. I sighed to myself, shoving my hands in the front pockets of the sweater. I wondered why I had brought it out with me; it was a warm summer night and I had no need. A sudden realization hit me, and I decided against returning it or taking it off. It wasn't my sweater after all; judging by the half-empty packet of cigarettes, lighter, and condom wrappers in the pockets, I knew it was Freddy's. It smelled of him as well, like musky sweat and cologne, and I had to stop myself from snuggling into it. It was loose on his lean, athletic build, but much too baggy on my lithe, borderline-anorexic frame.

As the elevator hit ground floor and I stepped out into the lobby, unzipping the hoodie and briskly making my way out of the hotel before I attracted too much attention. The concierge had just noticed my departure and was calling out "Mr. Mooneyham! MR. MOONEYHAM!" at my back. I ignored him, and pushed the front doors open. The cool summer breeze blew at my hair again. Perhaps I should have gotten a hair cut? But no, the fans loved it, and it was my trademark sort of thing to have my wild hair everywhere.

I let my feet lead me wherever I felt like it, and didn't once dare to look up at the building to see if they were watching me. As always, I looked downwards, and after several minutes, I found myself no longer treading on sidewalk, but along a dirt trail into an open, grassy park. I passed several lone trees, and made my way up a steep hill. When I felt I had reached the top, I loosened my tense muscles and simply fell limp into the grass. The moon was finally visible overhead, nestled into a star-sprinkled blanket, with the city below. It was a once-in-a-lifetime view, but I couldn't totally appreciate it. No, it was lovely, yet not complete. Like the Mona Lisa painting without her mischievous smile. And I had no clue what was missing from his picture.

With a defeated sigh, I decided not to dwell on the subject. The night air had certainly helped to clear my mind, and I no longer felt so uptight and twitchy. I closed my eyes and stretched out, with my hands under my head. I focused on my deep, even breathing, and found it hard to stay awake. I couldn't just fall asleep out here; they'd send a search party out, and it would all end in an uncensored talking-to from Summer, which would be loud enough for China to hear. Just when I felt that I should head back, I heard a rustling and muffled footsteps.

My eyes flew open, and the person I least wanted and most wanted to be there at the same time was standing over me, eyebrows raised. I immediately wished I had faked sleep. "What are you doing out here?" I said in a barely audible whisper.

Freddy shrugged, and sat down next to me, offering a weak smile. "Making sure you hadn't overdosed and died."

I couldn't help but return the smile, noticing he was wearing my sweater. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine. I feel a hell of a lot better now." I said. "But I'm staying out here for a while longer." I decided. I took a deep breath. "… I wouldn't mind if you kept me company. After all, I am wearing your sweater."

He nodded. "I realized that when I put yours on."

We laughed softly together, and I suddenly didn't feel so nervous around him. Even when he was sitting so close to me, I couldn't say I was uncomfortable. The silence this time wasn't so nerve-wracking, either. I closed my eyes and inhaled.

Finally, he spoke. "So. What was that all about?"

My eyelids fluttered open, and found he was looking out and across the city below. "Um. What?" I asked.

"You know. All that in the hotel room. What the hell was up with you?" The words might have been harsh, but his tone was worried and concerned. Friendly. A tone he only saved for me and me alone.

I gulped, racking my brain. How could I respond to that? "Nothing. I just felt kind of dazed. I really must have drank too much." I shrugged.

He rolled his eyes. "Dude. You didn't drink at all."

I blinked. Wait … hadn't I? Then what WAS all that?

I thought up a quick excuse, but found that I couldn't think of anything. "Oh." Was all I could say. "Sorry."

More silence. I stared straight up at the moon, as if I could find a conversation starter up there.

Soon, my gaze drifted to Freddy. Involuntarily, of course, but I did it as discreetly as possible.

Not that it helped any, because I found him to be staring back.

I blinked. So did he. After a few moments of silence. I gathered up the courage to speak, only to find my mouth rather dry. I fought the urge to ask, "Like what you see, Jones?", fearing the worst. Instead, I went with the safer choice. "Freddy?" I whispered hoarsely.

He seemed to snap back into reality then. Just like I did. I felt the blush creep back up into my pale face again. "Oh, er, yeah, Zack?"

"… What are YOU staring at?"

He took his time to answer this one. Though his expression didn't show it, I could tell from his eyes that I had flustered him. "… you."

My eyes widened a little. "Me? … okay …"

Freddy closed his eyes and shook his head. "Forget it. Whatever." He mumbled, and surprised me by laying himself down on his stomach next to me. I fought the urge to inch closer, or away. I simply stayed put, though my insides were writhing as I thought to myself that this was the closest we could ever be to being … well, together.

I couldn't let more silence take over. "Well, okay. Maybe I was just … being really stupid and high off whatever the hell you guys were smoking. I don't know."

He paused. I was going to shake him unconscious if he didn't speak, but when he did, it came as quite a shock to me. "Sure." He said, unconvinced. Only seconds later, I was pleasantly shocked to find that he had swiftly lifted himself up, straddled me in a lighting-quick motion, and was inches from my own face. I had the breath knocked out of me as I came up close to those eyes once more. "Now," Freddy began, pinning my arms down by the elbows as he shifted so he was seated just below my bellybutton.

Damnit.

My breath came back, quickened, and my eyes were wide with alarm and panic. "…Wha?" I stammered.

"Tell my why you were REALLY staring." His brow was furrowed expectantly, and he meant business. But what was I going to say? "Well, Freddy, since I was twelve, I have been madly in love with you and wish every day that I could get you alone long enough to make sweet love to you."? And him being on top of me didn't help the situation.

"I—I told you already!" I insisted, wiggling out of his grip. But alas, he was always the stronger one, and held down firmly.

"Dude, just say it. It's like you're hiding something from me. I don't like it. So you might as well just tell me, because I assure you, I'll be bitter as hell towards you after this if you don't explain." His eyes flashed darkly for a moment, and then suddenly softened, as did his grip on my arms. Freddy looked away briefly. "Sorry, Zack. It's just that … well, lately, it's been like we don't talk anymore. You get all quiet and freaky on me, and I'm worried. Are you sick? Is that it? Does it have to do with the band?" He asked quickly, genuinely concerned. I nearly melted.

Shaking my head, I smiled. "No, I'm fine. Totally fine. Never been better." I announced, which was the half-truth, anyway. Part of me wished that we could stay this way forever, and the other part wanted him to get off of me before a certain body part involuntarily made itself known. I gulped, the smile pasted on.

He persisted. "Honestly. I'm feeling in the dark here." He confessed, letting go of my wrists altogether and resting his hands on his thighs. He still hadn't bothered to get off me. I reached back and pushed myself up, leaning back on my elbows.

"Trust me," I sighed. "You don't want to know. It's—it's something that I'd rather not say yet. The press would have a field day if this leaks out, and rumors will spread. Rumors you'd rather die than hear about yourself, dude. Just being associated with me in any way will label you for life. But I'm not sick, and it's nothing to do with the band, and I swear to you that I will explain everything when I'm ready." I assured him. And if that wasn't enough to imply that I was gay, I didn't know what was.

Then again, Freddy wasn't always the brightest crayon in the box.

He fixed me with that stare again, and was probably not aware he was leaning down again, closer than I would have liked him to be then. "Please." He pleaded.

Before I had time to consider what had possessed me to do this, I found myself pressing my lips against his. He was probably too in shock to react, which bought me enough time to push myself up into a sitting position. My hand reached out to the back of his neck and pulled him closer, quite gently. He didn't resist, and the kiss deepened. He could sense my hunger and need for this and he only replied with a sharp intake of breath as my other hand landed on his thigh. Freddy opened his mouth ever so slightly, and I took advantage of that. How I became seemingly so skilled at this, I do not know. But I made every move like a professional, being as gentle as I could the entire time.

It was only when I felt his own hand creeping up into my mess of chocolate brown hair that I panicked and broke the kiss. He looked as though I had revealed I was a woman, but there was no trace of disgust on his face. That usually would have been enough for me to stay, but I wasn't sure how he would react after that. With Freddy, there was no way of being sure about anything. I whimpered and used all my might to push him off me, covering my mouth with a hand as I rose to my feet quickly and took off, heading nowhere in particular. I ended up a few feet into the forest before I tripped over a bunch of tree roots and landed face first into the dirt. My hands stung, and so did my knees as I found that my jeans had ripped. And I was also pretty sure that I had scratched up my face pretty badly, but merely flipped myself over and groaned.

Tears welled up in my eyes. What had I done? My vision blurred as I gazed up at the moon between the trees, and a familiar figure blocked my view. He moved slowly, like a shadow, and was on his knees next to me within seconds. I hadn't even heard him running towards me. I sniffed resentfully, almost, and turned my head the other way.

It was a while before he spoke. With every second that ticked by, I felt like a part of me had died.

"So." He breathed.

I sniffed again and bit my lip.

"… Wow. That was …"

Shocking? Disgraceful? Worthy of ending our friendship forever?

"… Amazing."

Wait. WHAT? Curiosity got to the best of me and I slowly turned my head to face him. He looked sincere. He never looked sincere. Ever. I remained silent, wishing he would go on.

"Zack, I—I—am …" He licked his lips and continued. "… I think I … well … liked it."

I raised my eyebrows. "… you did?"

"Hell yes!" He breathed. "I just … never thought … you, of ALL people …"

I laughed bitterly. "You have no idea."

Freddy hunched down and took a deep breath. "How long, Zack?"

"What do you mean, how long?"

"How long have you wanted to do that?"

I nudged him. "How do you know that wasn't just something I felt like doing then?"

"Listen, I'm not entirely stupid." He rolled his eyes. "I've had more kisses than hairs on my sexy little head, dude. I know a thing or two about them by now, and I could tell that you put a lot of time and consideration into that one. Now, be a good little boy and tell me how long, hmm?"

I closed my eyes. I had made it this far without rejection, and I might as well press on. In barely a whisper, I responded. "Seventh grade."

Even in the darkest of silences, I knew I had shocked him fairly. "… Are you freakin' serious? That's, like … four years!"

I nodded.

"Well, why the hell didn't you make a move?"

That surprised ME. I opened my eyes and glared. "Think about it, Jones. We were thirteen. You had a different girlfriend every other week, and probably more action than all of our teachers combined. If I had just pulled you into the Janitor's closet and made out with you, would we still be friends today?"

"I … guess not."

"Exactly." I muttered, sitting up to check on my bloody knees. "You'd be the first to point me out as a fag to the rest of the school, I'd more likely commit suicide than keep going with the band, and you'd probably be out at the bar right now, trying to drink away your problems, like the fifteen thousand girls you knocked up who are all hunting you down, asking for your money to raise all their Freddy Jrs." I said matter-of-factly, frowning as I brushed leaves and dirt from my cuts and scratches.

He was silent for the longest time. "Ouch. Thanks. Way to hurt a guy, Zack."

"Sorry." I yawned.

Brushing sticks and pine needles off my back, he spoke again. "Now what?"

"What do you mean, now what?"

"What I mean is, now what about us? Don't expect me to forget this happened, because that's something I just can't do." He shrugged. "And I know you're probably going to get all weird around me."

I bit my bottom lip, trying to articulate myself. "Well, it's simple really." I announced, blinking the tears away. "I just made an fool out of myself. Even if you did like it in the least bit, no one is going to approve, and when the media confronts you, you'll deny it all, and insist that you are nothing more to me than a friend. Now, seeing as how I can't turn back time and run off before that little kiss happened, it'll kill me to hear that from you. So my plan of action is to probably dig a hole, throw myself in it, and die. Preferably sometime soon, before the others find out, the band breaks up, and you move away and pursue your career with another band, giving you plenty of time to forget about little Zack Mooneyham, that one gay kid who was in and out of your life in a flash before he had any time to tell you how long and how much he's been in love with you, and how this feeling will never change, and no amount of therapy or other guys in his life will change that." Tears were streaming down my cheeks, but I couldn't stop now. "Because he always suspected that Freddy Jones was more than just the bad boy of the school, ever since day one. He knew that there was something special about him, and being in School of Rock changed his life forever, and if he died now, he'd die with a smile on his face, knowing that at least the one man he ever truly might have loved finally knew how he felt, and was his best friend for at least a few years. And those were probably the best years of his life."

I could taste blood from my lip. I had bit down on it too hard, but I felt no pain. It was just me and those hazel eyes of his again. My eyes shut themselves tightly, stinging from the salty tears, and I let out a half sob, half sigh. I had never heard him so quiet in my whole life. It was fairly upsetting and frightening to be quite honest. I was about to go on, and let my mouth run off again, perhaps to tell him to just forget about me, and to tell the others I had run away and fallen off a bridge when I was silenced by his lips. "I knew you were gay, Zack." He whispered between fervent, passionate kisses. It wasn't quite what I wanted to hear, but it was much better than 'We need to talk.' "Since probably the eight grade, when I noticed that you started looking at me funny." Freddy chuckled. "But yet," He moved his lips from my mouth to my cheek, chin, then nipped along my jaw line. "I've still been your friend," His hand rested on my stomach, and inched its way up my shirt, towards my chest. "And every day since then, I've told myself," He moved onto my neck and collarbone. I bit down even harder on my lip. "That if you ever once made a move on me," Freddy licked my earlobe, causing a shiver despite the warm weather. "I'd have to stop being your friend."

Finally, he pulled away and sat back up. His lips were swollen from kissing, and he pouted rather childishly. I slowly pushed my shirt back down, with and sat up as well, red faced and more ashamed than ever as I shrugged him off. "… Thought as much. I'm not going to ask you to be my friend if you feel that way, Freddy. I just … God, I'm stupid."

He gently reached out and turned my head to face him. I wished desperately that he would close his eyes. I couldn't help but stare more openly and freely now. "Yeah. You are stupid. And I'm not going to ask you to be MY friend either." I opened my mouth to protest, but the look in his eyes suggested that I should just shut up and let him finish. "I don't want you as a friend of mine any longer, Zack." Freddy let go of me, but leaned closer still, so that our foreheads and noses were touching. "I don't know what I want from you now. This is … a big deal, and I know it took a lot of guts to tell me this. So … I want to … well, maybe we could try this, see if it'll work out between us, you know?"

My eyes must have been as wide as dinner plates then. "But you're my best friend! And you're straight! You always have and always will love girls, and only girls! Freddy, you can get any woman you want, why would you want me? I'm just a hopeless fag, you don't want to do this to yourself! Please, Freddy, take that back! God, I hate you!" I wanted to yell at him, cuss him out for all of this, but before I could get a word in, his lips were on mine once more, and I fell back onto the ground again. I didn't object, and let him explore. Now, though I hadn't had much experience in the romance department, I could sense HIS growing need. It was all I could do to just sit back and give him all of me. I was his for the taking, as I always have been, and always will be. If I ever had my memory totally erased this would be the only thing strong enough to survive; the feeling of his breath in my ear, his skin on my skin, his voice soft and sweet. This was a side of Freddy that only I knew, and it was crucial to my being that it was only our little secret. Of course, I loved him with all my heart and soul, and wanted nothing more than to exclaim to the world that I was deeply, hopelessly, helplessly, undeniably devoted to him. But the world would just have to wait. After all, everything did seem to melt away whenever I fell headfirst into those hazel eyes.