AN! Instead of doing homework I wrote this and uploaded it for all to read! This is a fic based off of the song Sic Gloria Transit...Glory Fades by Brand New. If you know the song, tell me if I did it justice and if you don't know the song, look it up and listen to it. As with all my stories, if you laugh, cry, smile or make any involuntary bowel movements, I have done my job. Cheers!
DS! I don't own the song, the people or a few quotes out of the song that I threw in here. If I owned any of them, would I be writing out this disclaimer?
This Is the Art of Growing Up
And it's a shame that both were drunk. It might have looked beautiful. They might have loved each other afterwards. Anything could have happened.
He doesn't know how they got there, Vince on top of him, breath slightly harsh with glazed over, lust-filled eyes. The complete contradiction to him, with him gasping for air and eyes filled with uncertainty. They were opposites as close as two can get. He wasn't prepared for this despite what his friends told him. No one could have prepared him this. He knows where they are. But that brings little comfort to him. The lights are out, and he's thankful. He couldn't stand the idea of Vince seeing him so venerable and so scared.
He remembers trudging towards and up the stairs, blissfully unaware that he was being followed. So it wasn't fair how as soon as he walked into the room Vince pressed him to the wall and forced his body upon Howard's. Vince was the vanguard; he led the way. Howard was the victim lying motionless. From the wall to the bed, it turned into borderline rape. The fine line being that some small part of him wanted this.
He remembered the way his knees buckled as they hit the edge of the bed. How Vince pushed him down and clamored on top of him again. It felt like Vince was trying to fuse their bodies together and maybe he was…at least for the moment. His breath was quiet as he pushed himself down onto him the only sound emitted from him was a small moan.
Vince was an angel, an angel that knew exactly what to do with his body. He was the lamb.
Howard was a man, a man that was stupid, and unknowing. He was the slaughter.
He wanted to tell Vince everything at that moment. His love for him, his fears, his insecurities, his everything but he held his tongue. He knew it wasn't allowed. He knew what Vince wanted, and what he was looking for wasn't a connection. He was looking for sex, pure, simple, carnal sex. But knowing this didn't stop him from wishing that he could just hold him. He knew by the morning Vince wouldn't remember and he wouldn't second-guess himself if he did. Howard knew that he didn't matter to Vince; he would just become another notch in the former's belt and left out to dry alone. It's how they worked. Always.
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