UNMISTAKABLY.CONSUMED.NOW. - [un_love_you] - "Beautiful Freak" - [SynysterxZacky]

un_love_you

[11. Thought I Needed This]-Syn/Zacky

"Beautiful Freak"

Sometimes it was the little things. Too often, Zack realized he'd over looked something important, something fundamental in his day to day processing. A word he didn't say, changing the entire meaning of his sentence; a motion he doesn't make, because he's thought past it already. An item, put down in a certain place, for no reason apparent to others--with all the importance of warfare to him.

But that was life. he had learned to deal, supplementing good-natured acceptance for the steps others missed when following his logic.

So, when Brian needed a place to crash until he could get a new apartment, Zack said yes immediately. His mind did the fastest and roughest of calculations; enough room, enough food, enough gasoline to help transport furniture in the back of his truck.

It wasn't until Brian was actually settled and living with him--two months later-- that Zack realized he'd missed something.

Putting his friend to bunk in the spare bedroom--studio--hadn't seemed like a bad idea at the time. Brian would have his own room, an extra half-bath and plenty of space. They wouldn't be stepping on each others toes, or making too much noise to disturb one another. Seemingly, it was for the best.

But it was always the little things.

Where his guitar stand had been standing at a particular angle to the the window, it had been moved. Where his computer chair was pushed in, it now stood away from its accompanying desk, clothing--clean and dirty--thrown over both. His book case had been fiddled with, probably without intention. Brian had a bad habit of picking up a book, studying the dust jacket and putting it back down in some other place.

It's really not such a big deal.

His toothbrush put up one shelf too high in the bathroom cabinet. The toothpaste squeezed from the middle and not the end. Dishes left in the sink, unwashed; week old pizza hiding in carry-out containers at the back of the fridge. The faucet running while Brian used the bathroom--a total waste--to disguise the noises his body made.

It's not such a problem, honestly...

When Brian went out, Zack spent most of the afternoon cleaning up their--oh, let's be honest, Brian's--mess. He did six loads of laundry, most of it darks; he scrubbed the kitchen from cabinets to cornels and thoroughly dusted, swept, mopped and rearranged everywhere else.

He was resting on the couch, having showered and dressed comfortably for a night of relaxation. The door swung open on hinges that didn't squeak and Brian stumbled in, his steps swaying. A tad drunk, judging by the red-rimmed rings around his eyes; maybe a touch stoned, noting his smell.

"Zaa-kay!" The entire hard syllable of his name went missing when his friend was tipsy; a sure sign. Zack raised an eyebrow, but Brian smiled widely, his hips swinging side to side as he closed the door. He approached the dining room table, his confident strut faltering as the world--undoubtedly--tipped beneath him. He threw out a hand to grab the nearest steady object...

...and inadvertently toppled the vase of sunflowers on the dining table, sending the glassware and its floral inhabitants plumetting to the tile floor in a ringing crash and the burst of a small tidal wave rushing under the table.

Brian made a sound somewhere between a drunken giggle and an exhausted snort.

Zack was on his feet in a moment, absolutely fucking livid as he stood toe to toe with his friend. "The fuck, Bri? Do you have to come in and fuck everything up? When I just cleaned! You fucking asshole!" He shoved at the other's chest, uncaring that Brian swayed unsteadily on his feet, his eyes rolling for a moment.

"Npmhg! S'justa vase, Zaaa-key..."

"No, no it's not just a vase!" His fists clenched at his sides and he had to resist the urge to punch that stupid, easy-going smile off Brian's face. "It's not just about the vase! It's about the clothes everywhere and the guitar stand being moved! You can't squeeze toothpaste right and you waste enough fucking water to drain the Atlantic!" He slapped his hand down on the nearest chair roughly.

Brian's smile was starting to wither a little. "Is'tha all then?"

"No!" Zack stared at his friend for a tense second, trying to find the words to explain why the fuck some things were just to be left alone, but they wouldn't come. He settled for the next best choice.

"You never do the fucking dishes! You moved my toothbrush!" His voice went up a half-octave and hissed another curse under his breath, cutting a glare at his friend.

Brian's smile was gone completely, and he just stood, swaying a little on his feet. "I see." He sounded sober then, but he ducked his head for a moment, his hair falling forward to make Zack's questing gaze impossible. "I'mma fuckkup that way, Sor'ry."

Reflex made Zack want to dispute the words immediately; he tried to rein in his temper. Brian wasn't smiling; Brian wasn't looking at him. Brian was drunk. Shit.

He should have been more careful about his words.

"Look, it's fine." Zack breathed, trying to soften the tone with a forced smile. "We just need to set down some ground rul--"

Brian turned away unsteadily, heading back down the entry hall to the door on legs that seemed like they might fail to hold him at any moment.

"Where are you going?"

"Te'Matt's." Hinges that didn't creak--because it was compulsive to keep them well-oiled--turned easily on their pins as Brian opened the door again. "I'mma get out of your hair." His words weren't slurring as much. Zack wondered if maybe Brian wasn't as drunk as he pretended--but that only made him twice as guilty, then.

"How will you get there?"

"Walk."

"No," Zack protested quietly, "come back to the couch. We'll talk."

"Naw, I'm good'thanks." Brian slipped out the door and closed it behind him. No goodbye, no second apology. Just the whishk of the door slipping perfectly into its frame with a little snick sound that--despite its near-inaudibility--made Zack wince.

How long he stood there by himself, in dead silence, he didn't know. He only knew that his mind was making the guesswork to figure how long it would take Brian to walk to M's. But that was work for the mind and not the body. In his cognitive absence he crossed his arms over his chest and stared off at nothing.

When he came to again, he was leaning heavily against a high-backed chair, tears burning in his eyes. His gaze roved the livingscape around him, taking it in slowly.

Not a thing out of place; not a cushion rumpled; no pile of dvds littering the coffee table. No magazines opened to random gossip pages; no half-eaten cartons of General Tao's best chicken.

And no sound of the television buzzing in the background, tuned to the game show network. No agitating deep-throated snores coming from the studio office. No discarded items of clothes in the hallway, smelling of cigarettes, liquor and sweat.

None of that. Because everything was perfectly lined up, arranged; untouchable.

Like no one lives here.

For some reason, that tugged a groan of remorse from Zack's lips. He toed the shattered vase at his feet, studying the dark upturned faces of the sunflowers unkindly.

Not a thing out of place but for that shattered vase.

No sign of Brian, except for the mess he left behind.

Zack punched the back of the chair.

Sometimes it was the little things.




Author's Note: Jeebus, I almost fell asleep like... six times writing this. Eck, I hate sad stories and angsty ones. But the clash of personalities is a big part of Brian and Zack so... *shrug*. Also, as a note--you'll probably catch me switching between calling them by their stage names (Syn/Zacky) and their real names (Brian/Zack). That's because I regard it as a mindset change. When they're on tour or with the band, they're a bit different so... yeah.