A/N: I swear on all that holy that I am working on my other, chaptered fics. Please enjoy this OST. Warning! Character death!I own no one and am not making any money offa this, so please don't sue, I'm broke on top of everything else.
And now for something completely different. No lemons, sweet fluff, Nobody's happy feelings gonna slow me down, Like a wheel, gonna spin it, Nobody's gonna mess me round, Hey Vince, payin' my dues, Playing with the heart strings of readers, Hey Momma, look at me, I'm on my way to breaking some hearts...On the Highway to Angst...oooo the Highway to Angst.
Hate, it's such a strong emotion, stronger than all but it's weak will counterpart Love. Yet both of them swirl around me on a daily basis when I see his beautiful face and hear his honeyed drawl. I hate how me makes me feel, how he makes my body burn him with nothing so much as a simple 'Hello'. I hate that I lay awake for hours just thinking about him; wanting him like n addict needs their next fix. That's what he is, he's a drug that you don't even realize is working it's hooks into your system. My own personal addiction started back in the 90s when his brother and him done battle against Adam and I.
We were friends, more than friends really but no one ever knew. Sure everyone had their suspicions, I mean how many pictures of intimate nature can be bandied about before people start to think and wonder about what's really going on. Adam had been the first real victim to fall; the natural dark coloring ensnaring him and driving him damn near insane. At the time I was nothing more than a good friend to him and I laughed at Adam, calling weak and jeering as he became Hardy's boy toy. The break up had been messy, in fact Adam still isn't completely over Matt but now he laughs at me; mocking my dilemma and snarling 'Good Luck' at me as I leave him to go and stand on the very edge of the circle of adoring suitors that flock around the brightly burning flame of Matt Hardy; each on hoping to just get a kind word from him.
However tonight is the last time I'm going to stand on the mere edges and watch him hold court, tonight I'm going to finally claim what is mine and laugh as the others hang their heads in defeat. Like always it only takes a moment before Matt parts the crowd and pulls me to his side, his arm resting across my shoulders and drawing hisses from those nearest to him. The smug smile of satisfaction threatens to nearly break my face in two and I glance down at his outfit; groaning mentally at the tight jeans and 'vintage' shirt that he's donned. As usual we don't get a break from the crowds until nearly 4 am.
Matt's eyes are drooping and I know it won't take much to bring him back to my room, hell he often crashed with me so it wouldn't seem to out of place. He leans against me on the ride up and I loop my arm around his waist, helping to hold him upright but also pulling him close to me. He thanks me; his voice laced with fatigue as his breath fans my face and neck. The walk back to the room is pure torture but it's nothing compared to what Matt's going to go through. I have to make him see that he belongs with and to me...I will own him.
The room is dark and he stumbles as I push him through the portal; his reaction time slowed from his sleep fogged brain and resulting in him landing face first on the floor. A yelp escapes him but I don't hear it, my eyes are on my bed, on the cuffs catching the glow from the street light on their silver links. The wrist holds themselves are of the softest leather, nothing more could be used on his skin, the soft flesh should never know pain, know scars inflicted by another human out of spite or hate.
His chocolate eyes are now wide as he tries to scuttle away but my actions are faster and in no time he's cuffed and thrown on the bed. He opens his mouth to scream but I silence him easily; the large red ball of the gag that had sat next to cuffs shoved between his full lips as the strap is cruelly buckled in the inky curls. I move over to his side, 'shhh-ing' him as I crouch down and gently his face. His skin is a soft as I remember and I groan loudly; liquid heat stealing my veins as my eyes travel his body.
"Matty, my beautiful Angel. I'm convinced that you were placed here just to torment me. For so long I've wanted you, I've panted and dreamed of you being mine. But each time you either look past me or you toy with my emotions and I can't take it anymore."
My gentle caress turns into a slap and I can't stop the mildly hysterical laughter that bubbles up in my throat. It is were possible Matt's eyes grow more fearful and his efforts to get away are doubled.
"Angel, a holy being, a herald of the chosen one to usher the worthy home." My hands creep around Matt's throat, the pulse thundering under my fingers. "Yet Angels don't have pulses, they don't have desires like us dirty mortals." My fingers tighten and I feel Matt's breathing grow labored. "That can only mean that you're an impostor, a pretender to a holy spot." Tighter my fingers creep and disinterestedly I watch as the light in Matt's eyes slowly diminish. "You charlatan, you stole my best friend, twisted him into something he wasn't and once you got what you wanted you tossed him away like a rag doll."
Soon he's limp in my arms, his chest still and his warm eyes cold as they stare up at the ceiling. Gently; lovingly I prepare the body, changing him into a long white robe, a gold circlet placed on his head to keep his errant curls away from his angelic face. Lastly i close his eyes, tears creeping down my cheeks as I wait for Matt's transformation back into his true form. Before me on the bed likes my beautiful dark angel, no longer walking amongst us dirty mortals and I know that he'd approve, that he'd be smiling and thanking me for returning him home. I ask for forgiveness however for the taking of suck a pure life and I pull the trigger of the small handgun that has rested in middle of my back; the bullet goes in, slicing through my skin and muscles easily before knicking the main vein in my throat.
As the blood escapes my body I stare at the prone form awaiting the regrowth of his wings and mourning the circumstances in which it is required for Angels to die. As darkness closes in and Death stands waiting to touch my soul and relieve me of my earthly existance I curl next to my Angel, one last kiss stolen from slacks lips.