An: Okay, this story has been on my mind for awhile.

Down in Flames

Title: Down in Flames

Summary: Trent gets an opportunity to be bigger than life itself, how will stop from going down in the flames of the hell they call "The Business".

Disclaimer: I own nothing, but my ideas!

Pairings: Begins with Trent/Gwen, a little Trent/Lindsay later on in the story.

Warnings: Mild language, Drug References, Semi-Depressing Themes, Sexual references.

fulltimereviewer: I am really taking a shine to this story. It allows me to get some of my dark writing elements out that can't go into my other Family-Dramas. Enjoy.

Chapter One: Key to Hell

The wind whipped Gwen's hair into her face, as she quote "Captured the essence of the unseen parts of the world." She loved taking pictures of the abandoned areas on the outskirts of our town. We would ride out here every Sunday morning and stay until all the church-goers return from services. When was the last time I even step foot in a church? Or even picked up a bible? Gwen and I had our own private world out there. We were so far away from town that the only person that could possibly be watching us was God. And, he was probably ashamed of what we were doing out there. Kid, you were being a saint compared to the things I'm doing now.

I rose from the rust oil drum I was sitting on. Gwen was still enthralled in taking pictures with her vintage Mir camera from the sixties. That's another thing I loved about her, she was content with what she had. She didn't have to run out and get the newest anything, she loved vintage; just like I used to. I crept up behind her, and wrapped my arms around her waist. She moaned slightly at my touch, I rubbed my fingertips against her bare skin. Goosebumps rose over the line of skin that I touched. Gwen turned around and quickly snapped a picture of me. She laughed, and told me to pose. I did. She began taking pictures, one flash after another. I wish there was only one person taking pictures of me now.

She tilted her head to the side, and walked up to me. Gwen peeled my shirt off of my body, put her black Wayfarers on my face, and ruffled my hair before licking her palm and smoothing it back. She took a step back and looked at me critically. She grabbed a cigarette out of her purse, stuck it in my mouth, and lit it. "There, you look very James Dean, Rebel Without a Cause." I smiled. Gwen loved horror movies, but then she loved anything with classic movie actors like: Audrey Hepburn, Robert Redford, Doris Day, and James Dean. James Dean was her favorite; she said swore up and down that I was a reincarnation of the cinema star. I wish I could still say that after the drugs and late nights have taken their toll on my body. She took even more photos of me in character. She directed me to laugh in some, frown in some, she even tried to get me to pose stark nude for one. But, that's where I drew the line. Don't ever let the goods be captured on film. I wish I followed that rule.

I took a drag on the cigarette, and put my shirt on. Gwen checked her watch; it was a quarter before twelve. So, we would be back in town before twelve if we left now. Gwen and I got on the restored bike, and left our private world. I had no idea that would be the last time Gwen and I acted like kids: running, taking pictures, sneaking kisses, and staring at the clouds. I rode slowly along the dirt roads, Gwen snaked her hands around my waist. I felt her breath against my neck; it was cool like her mint gum. I missed her minty and slightly smoky breath. The girls I'm surrounded with reek of bubblegum, perfume, and booze. Gwen's hands ran lower, and lower until they were in my crotch. I brought the pick to a stop, and let a potato truck turn. While we were stopped, I turned around and smiled a Gwen. She smirked and squeezed where her hands lie. I tensed up, Gwen gave a dry laugh. That was probably the best sound I ever heard; her dry cynical laugh.

The sexual tension built between us as we got closer and closer to our house. When we got to our house, we couldn't keep our hands off of each other. But, Gwen had to follow through her "Pre-Loving" routine. That's another thing I loved about Gwen she was never one for a clumsy, lust-filled romp. She loved romance, like a mushy girly-girl. That was probably the most girly thing about her. She lit all nine of her black candles in our room, changed into her favorite midnight blue lace panties, shut the blinds, and turned out the lights.

Moments like that make me wish I never changed. Those intimate purely romantic moments make me wish that I was still Trent Smith; and not Slater Smith. Gwen laid her head against my chest, and I twirled my fingers in her hair. Her thick black hair that curled when it got wet and always smelled like coffee, always. "I love you." She mumbled into my skin, her warm breath making me feel like her love surrounded me like a blanket.

"I love you too." I whispered thinking that that would be one of the last times that I would say that to her face. Gwen, I still love you. I still think of you and our daughter, our beautiful daughter every day.

She looked up at me, and began to stroke my jaw. "What's wrong baby? You seem down." I sighed and sat up in bed. She followed suit, and she clutched the bed sheets to her chest. I looked over to the guitar next to the night stand, and then I looked back over to Gwen. I couldn't just tell her that I was leaving for L.A. the day after tomorrow, and that I didn't know when or if I was ever coming back. I reached over and grabbed the guitar. Okay Trent, just tell her. No Trent, don't tell her, don't go.

"Oh, I wish there was I better way to make you understand," I began to strum at a mid-tempo making up an impromptu song," but, I got asked to be the lead in a band." Gwen smiled and started to burst with joy for me until she heard the next line. I slowed the tempo, "See baby it's my dream, but—"I couldn't tell her, at least not like this. I used to be such a romantic. I still like to think that I am; deep, deep down in my heart. I looked at Gwen's face, and caressed her jaw line. I couldn't ignore the look on her face, this warm, understanding look. I couldn't destroy that look with one of hurt.

I grabbed her shoulders, and looked deep into her eyes. "I… I… I got a call to meet with some music producers in Los Angeles," Gwen wrapped me in her warmest embrace, I gently pulled myself away from her," But, I… I…," I sighed," I don't know when I'll be coming back." I sealed my fate with that, with those twenty-three words.

Gwen pulled away from me, and clutched the white bed sheet tight enough to where I could see through it. She furrowed her brows, "You're… you're leaving?" She looked hurt, more than just hurt; she was I can't even describe how she looked to me. But, I knew I never wanted to see her like that again. Don't worry; you'll see her like that again. Perhaps, even worse when you leave her alone with a baby, and a broken-heart. She exhaled, pushed her hair back, and rubbed her temples. She looked back up at me, "You're serious aren't you?" I nodded hesitantly. Gwen then went on to ask me when I was leaving, I told her tomorrow I was leaving for Toronto, and the day after that I was leaving for L.A.

We didn't talk for the rest of the day. We didn't talk during dinner; we didn't talk when we watched our favorite movie Rebel Without a Cause. In fact, that was the movie that we saw on our first date on the drive-in theater's retro night. People in our town even said that we were a lot like Judy and Jim. We even went to bed without as much as an "I love you." to each other. We never did that. You'll never do it again either. I looked over to the clock; it was two in the morning. I looked over at Gwen, her back was turned towards me; so, I leaned to the other side. She was asleep.

I looked at her pillow. There was a huge wet spot, she cried herself to sleep. That's just the first time you'll make her do that. I squeezed my face with both of my hands and then ran them through my hair. I don't know if I can do this. Should I do this? I sighed, and laid back down. My stomach began doing flips and began tying itself in knots. I can't believe that I'm leaving my family, my hometown, the love of my life. But, it's for the best; right? I couldn't sleep for anything, so I watched the clock tick.

The ticking began to go back and forth like a metronome. I began to form a melody in my head, the harmonies and lyrics began to write themselves in my head. So, I quickly turned on the lamp on the bedside table and wrote down the notes on one page in my music journal, the lyrics on another page. My mind was starting to calm from the events of the past day or two. I tried to clear my head of everything and wrapped my arm around her waist. I inhaled and cherished the smell of coffee that lingered in her hair. I felt her cool, smooth skin. I kissed the small tattoo of a voodoo doll on the back of her neck. Before I went to sleep, I spent my time treasuring every essence that was Gwendolyn Autumn Dale.

"I love you." I whispered before going back to sleep. But, little did I know that she heard, and she responded.

"I love you too."

The four walls of the hotel room in Toronto were hauntingly lonely. There was no color to the walls; there wasn't even a cheesy watercolor picture from '94 hanging on the walls in an attempt to make the room feel homey. I lay in bed, alone. It was weird not having Gwen by my side. But, the only thing that gave me a little comfort was that she was in the same situation a hundred miles from here.

Just lying in that bed, I thought of one of my favorite songs that related to what was going on right now. "In Your Atmosphere" by John Mayer, that song is my life right now. Yeah, but you are going to L.A anyway, you didn't steer clear. I grabbed Lupe from her case, and began to play the song that was on my mind. I played it through, about three times until I noticed something different. I looked at Lupe's sound hole and I saw a small piece of paper sticking out.

Gently, I reached inside and retrieved the small piece of paper. I unfolded it; it was a note. A note from Gwen. I read the note over and over; at least sixty times. I felt warmer everytime I read it. She also included a picture of us at one of the many photo booths we've visited in our four, going on five, years of dating.

I thumbed over the picture she included. The picture was in black and white, we were both smiling in the first; making serious faces in the second, being goofy in the third, and we were kissing in the last photo. I smiled at the pictures and at the fact that Gwen drew little red hearts all over the edges and corners of the pictures. That girl loved you so much. Why couldn't I just love her back then?

I clutched the photo close to my chest and thought about Gwen and me. We went through so much together. We can bear this. Love conquers all, right? Wrong.

An: I hope you enjoyed.

Best Wishes,

fulltimereviewer