Jak II, AU. Being in a rock band, you would assume you would have it good, right? Well, not many people consider the emotional faults that go with it. WARNING: ::CONTAINS HOMOSEXUAL THEMES, YAOI, SLASH AND ALL THAT GOOD STUFF! YOU NO LIKE? THE "BACK" BUTTON AWAITS!::
Vocals, Guitar: Torn
Guitar, Vocals: Sig
Bass, Vocals: Erol
Drums: Jak
Lyrics written by: Torn, Sig, Erol
The Worst Hangover Ever
He felt the suffocating darkness press in close and close, trying to wrap its icy fingers securely around his neck. Within the next five seconds, his breathing had increased dramatically to the point of passing out. His head spun in circles and his eyes couldn't focus. Whatever was moving the shower curtain aside was doing it painstakingly slow, reveling in Jak's panic. Sweat broke out on the back of his neck and his forehead.
"Please…go away…leave me alone!" he pleaded with the darkness. Something cackled evilly within in his head.
'I'll never go away, Jak. I'm a part of you. You'll never get rid of me!'
Tears sprang forth as his hair was matted down with sweat. He couldn't breathe.
Monstrous creatures danced around him, waving sporks and knives. They were all furry and had horns and big, gnashing teeth. Finally, the shower curtain was parted, revealing a purple skinned monster that looked a lot like Jak. He wore the same blue tunic, pale white pants, brown, tattered leather boots, and hair, only purple. The face was malicious, with blank black eyes that didn't shine, even in the most meager of lights. Twin black horns wound their way out of the light purple hair as electricity shot and danced across its body. Fangs and nails worse than the monsters dancing around him came exceedingly close to Jak's sweaty face. As Jak stared on in horror, the thing moved closer, tearing the plastic curtain as he went.
"Get…away…from…me!" Jak wailed, trying to scoot farther back into the tub.
Clawed, purple hands ignored the pleas and reached forward and stroked the tan face in front of him, gently, almost lovingly. Blood dripped down from miniscule cuts on his cheeks and chin from where the razor sharp nails had cut into him with little or no effort.
'Oh, but Jak, beautiful, lost Jak; I can't help but torture you. You are just so venerable and alone…' it whispered, grazing teeth against Jak's ear. The blonde winced as he felt them sever some of his skin.
He was losing it…his shirt clung tightly to his back and his body went slack and he fell into unconsciousness from the lack of air.
'Meh heh heh heh…'
Outside, the remaining band members twitched as they heard Jak's pitiful cries. They had to get in there quickly, otherwise Jak might end up killing himself with hyperventilation. Not something they wanted on their conscience. They had tried to break down the door—but now they cursed themselves for having fixed the bolts better than they were before (after Erol had been thrown through the bathroom door by Sig for a very risqué comment, the needed to get it fixed in case it happened again).
"Jak, can you hear us? Jak!" Torn pounded on the door again. The voice of his drummer was getting more panicked as time wore on.
"Dammit! If we don't get the kid out now, he's going to die!" Sig moaned into his palms. He hadn't known the blonde drummer for more than two years, but he thought of him as a little brother. Next to Vin, Sig was the father figure for the three immature brats, just out of their teen years.
"Why don't we ask Vin? Maybe he'll have an idea…" Erol scuttled off the front of the van, trying hard not to fall over as the wheels hit bumps and potholes along its perilous journey.
The blood colored-haired guitarist sighed and turned towards the door, just in time to hear it snick open. He gasped in delight and rushed towards the opening door, only to be shoved aside by his dark-skinned guitarist.
"Jak? Jak! Are you okay? Answer me, cherry!"
"Hey, guys! Vin said we should try to…oh, nevermind, then…" Erol paused upon his return and looked sheepishly at Torn, who was glaring from his spot on the floor. He ran to the door when Sig emerged carrying a shivering blonde in his arms. "Jak! God, is he okay?!" the bassist was nudged aside as Sig made his way to the couch and set his drummer down gently.
Jak's hair was matted down and plastered to his face like he had just finished a concert. The blonde-green unruly locks reached past his shoulders. He was shivering like mad, as if freezing cold (though the thermostat read 87 degrees) and he was mumbling under his breath, and mysterious scratches were spreading across his face, neck and ears.
"Oh, Jesus! Torn, go get me a wet paper towel and a dry one!" Sig ordered sternly as more and more began to appear, some deeper than others. Worry lines creased his broad forehead and Torn handed him a wet cloth. Slowly he began wiping any blood away while Erol tried to get Jak to wake up and calm down. Torn stood uncomfortably to the side, waiting for Papa Sig to give him instructions. The blood flow began to staunch under the guitarists' careful scrutiny. Jak's breathing began to slow as Erol continued to whisper gently in his ear.
"C'mon, Jak, baby. Wake up. Nothing's there. Torn and I are here, we're not going to let anything harm you. Calm down, babe, we're right here. Open your eyes. C'mon Jak…"
"Well, the bleeding stopped," Sig announced with some flourish. Jak was now sleeping somewhat peacefully in the arms of the orange-haired bassist. Torn came around behind Sig and pulled Erol into something of an awkward hug from his kneeling position on the floor. Patting his head, the redhead left a swift kiss on his lover's cheek and walked off to the front of the bus, leaving the bassist and guitarist to tend for their drummer. "Erol, go get me a blanket so we can let him sleep comfortably." Lifting Jak's head up gently, like one would a baby, he placed a fluffy white pillow from his bed a few feet above behind his head, successfully propping him up the way the blonde usually slept. Erol returned a few moments later with the black and blue blanket from Jak's bed behind the table. The man covered Jak up and slid a chair around to the small couch. He was going to sit there until the blonde awoke.
Up front, Vin was bitching and moaning to Torn about the condition of the band to play that night at the Naughty Ottsel. He was worried that Jak wouldn't be up to it, that Sig would drown his worries in alcohol like he usually did, and that Torn and Erol would try to sneak away into a broom closet before the show began, lose track of time and Neocon would be a no-show to a sold out show! Thank God that they were on an open stretch of road, because Vin was swerving every which way as he gestured wildly to Torn. The said man rolled his eyes and fidgeted with his seatbelt, wondering vaguely if it would be enough to stop him from flying forward if Vin lost complete control.
"Don't worry about it, Vin-buddy!" Torn reassured in an effort to keep their manager calm. The calloused fingers that were idly toying the ejector button of his seatbelt were getting ready to shove themselves down Vin's throat and strangle him the wrong way with a length of his guitar string. "We'll be ready. Jak's already recovering. Sig hasn't touched booze in over three days and Erol…well…we'll stay out of any broom closets. Though I can't exactly guarantee the bathrooms will remain clean…" he shouted loudly when Vin jerked the steering wheel hard to the left, nearly sending them off the road. "Wai! Vin! Watch where the hell your driving! I was kidding!" pressing the button on his seatbelt, the redhead jumped out of the passenger seat, stumbled up the steps and launched himself through the curtain separating the cab from the rest of the bus, only to skid to a stop underneath Erol's waiting chair.
The orange-haired man peered down underneath the wooden chair, looking weirdly at his lover. "Having a little bit of pre-show fun, are we?"
"Vin's gone crazy…" Torn muttered, pushing a strand of his blood-colored dreadlocks out of his face. Then he looked at where his head was, where Erol was, how Erol's legs were positioned, and damn that chair for being in the way!
"Yeah, well…he was always crazy," Erol sniggered. Reaching down between his legs, he stroked Torn's silky locks gently. He smiled when he felt Torn lay his head down and mutter: "damn senile cripples…" Vin had raised Torn since he was a little boy and lost his parents in a freak government-related accident. That was the reason why the white-haired manager was so skittish: Vin had a feeling that the government dorks who killed Torn's parents would come after Torn to finish the job. After living with the man for fourteen years or so, the nature of suspicion had rubbed off on his non-biological son. Granted, Torn had already been suspicious of people's motives, but that was nothing compared to where Vin got him.
Three years. Three long years Erol wooed Torn. It was a slow, delicate process, with Torn's issue with people and all. There had been moments when the orange-haired bassist had almost given up. Sometimes, at night, when he clutched the smaller man to his chest, Erol wondered why he had persevered. Not that he was complaining, of course.
Getting together with Torn just kind of…happened. One minute they were sitting there tuning their guitars and the next they were on the floor by Erol's amp making out. After that, the band was formed.
Continuing to stroke Torn's red hair absentmindedly, Erol cupped his chin in his other hand and stared at the peaceful form of Jak.
What was going to happen to him…to them?
Author notes: Wow, this one to an unconceivable amount of time to get out, ne? My computer crashed for about a month—maybe more—and I just got it back with all the files a couple days ago, so now I'm working on everything! How was this chapter? Gomen ne for the wait! uu; please leave a review?
