Synyster sat in a lifeless heap in front of the door. He knew what was going on behind that door, but he knew he couldn't help him. He hated it, being helpless, not even being able to crack up a joke and see him smile and say that he had the worst sense of humour ever. Damn, he wanted to see that smile again, the smile of a man who didn't have a care in the world. But now that smile was gone and would probably never return. Ne would never see those dimples in those pink cheeks when the man laughs, he would never see those green eyes light up in enjoyment, he would never… never hear that joyful sound again.
The tears were streaming down the lead guitarists face. They would slide down his face and then splash down on his pants, creating small, wet spots. Those wet spots would multiply and merge till they formed one big spot. But the man didn't care, he could just change his pants later, but he could never change that man for anyone else, ever. He was his band mate, his friend, but most of all he was in love with him. He had never loved anyone as much as he loved him, he would go to the depths of the world for that man.
He didn't know how or when it started, it just did. At first he thought he was just jealous of him. Every time he saw him talking to somebody else he had this weird feeling in his chest. He put it off as being jealous of the man for being so popular and getting more attention. But the feeling soon grew to something bigger and more complicated. It was not long before he found out that it wasn't jealousy he was feeling but love. And since that day his feelings have only grown.
It was painful to watch how he got girlfriend after girlfriend, that he laughed at somebody else's jokes and that other people got more attention from him than he did. He didn't like it but he didn't do anything about it. He was too chicken to tell him how he felt about him. The man wasn't bi like him and would probably never look at him like that. He was also afraid that everybody else would look at him weirdly and leave him behind. He has some serious abandonment issues.
Of course they've shared some drunken kisses. He knew it was bad of him and that he should keep himself in, but it felt so good. Those soft lips would push against his and make them tingle. They would move their lips against each other and open their mouths to let their tongues brush against each other. He would be able to smell the sweet aroma of the man and be able to taste him. He would always taste like alcohol and cigarettes, but he liked it that way. If it weren't for those moments he would probably go insane.
Then there were the moments when they were sober and they would just act gay for fun. They would make stupid comments and fool around. The man never knew how much he meant them.
But those moments were all over now. Ever since that day everything turned around. No more laughs or useless chatter, all that was left was gloom and silence. Most of the times he would put up a mask and act happy, but he fooled nobody.
The first one to see that something was wrong was Matt. The rhythm guitarist always wore T-shirts or tank tops but all of a sudden he started wearing long-sleeved shirts, with the excuse that he was cold. Matt confronted him about that, he had his suspicions. The man just broke down and started crying on his shoulders, it seemed he couldn't keep it in anymore.
All the while the rest of the band was just silently watching, they didn't know what to do. Synyster still beats himself up for that he didn't do anything then.
After that it only got worse. The guitarist was silent, he would stare at nothing for hours and would lock himself up in his room. He never told any of them what was wrong or why he was this way, and nobody ever asked. They all supported him the best they could, but it was very difficult. One time they proposed for him to go see psychiatrist. He didn't want to and never went to one. They never forced him, that wouldn't help.
But now Synyster was sitting in front of his room, knowing what his friend was doing in there. Knowing that tomorrow he would have more cuts, more scars on his body. A couple of time he had seen them, accidentally, and every time they scared him, they made everything real. He always pretended he didn't know and that they didn't exist. But no matter how much he denied it, they were still there. Everything was so surreal.
That night Synyster fell asleep in front of the door. He was curled up in a foetus position while the tears dried on his face. Inside the room the other man also fell asleep, in the same position. In the dark they weren't visible but the new cuts were surely there. Every part of his body was filled with scars, some old and some new. The scars will always be there to remind him of what happened.
Two weeks later they found Zacky dead in his room. He had cut his wrists and bled to death. Everybody cried that day and nobody was the same anymore. Synyster swore to himself that he would kill that bitch who made his love this way. He had never told anyone that he knew what had happened and even now he won't tell them. She will be his to kill.