Demon Diary Fan Fiction ❯ Acidic ❯ Rolling in the Grave ( Chapter 7 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

A/N: So… I'm not dead. I hope that I've grown as a writer in the year or so since my last update, and that all of you will enjoy what I have to offer

Disclaimer: Roses are red, violets are blue; me no own, so you no sue!

Xxx

He tried hard to remember the past few months, but the days had tangled themselves together until he couldn't find where one ended and another began.

Life was good, he supposed. His band was flourishing, breaking their own record every week for the longest time playing Oz. An indie label was looking at them, a step up from producing their own albums. He had reached the beyond human level of rockstardom before his crowd. He knew that he could have anyone out there he wanted with no more than a glance.

He knew that the woman who had long supported him in his moments of anger, of weakness, could barely bring herself to mouth pleasantries to him. He knew his best friend escaped to a barely legal redhead most nights rather than look him in the eye.

He knew the only one he wanted was always standing behind him, playing that damn bass like it was the only thing in the world that mattered. He knew the only thing he really wanted anymore, he couldn't have.

He knew that tomorrow it would be exactly one year since Four died, and left them all behind.

xxx

It had fallen into place too quickly. In hindsight they could always say that it had been obvious.

When rehearsal was put aside, both sides cited the anniversary of a death. It seemed to them all like a grotesque coincidence, but they never…

Never thought they would meet at his grave. The sun was behind the larger-than-life figure, casting a single shadow before it that seemed to stretch on forever. A too-thin, shaking boy eyed the somber adults facing him, all of their usual levity - no matter how forced - dissipated. The shadow separated them, a yawning ravine that they dared not bridge with actions or words.

A bedraggled raven landed on the monument, its sudden audacious caw startling them all out of their daze and drawing their eyes up to the figure they had been so studiously ignoring.

While it was thought of as a grave, the monument stood over no remains. Raenef Sinclair the Fourth had been cremated. The monument itself had no plaque, no engravings, no dates, and no name. It was only cold white marble, carved in the likeness of an exquisite man who carried himself like a king and smiled like a benevolent demon.

Eclipse found his voice first, though it was rough and broken.

“Your father.” It was not a question. It was not a statement. It was a plea for denial. How he wanted to be wrong.

Raenef's voice was cool and smooth, as empty of grief as Eclipse was full.

“The one and only.”

The silence among them all was pregnant with tension. Krayon and Meruhesae had long since looked away, staggered by the realization. Eclipse and Raenef, however, remained riveted on that icy, perfect face. They both knew what was about to be said, and the anticipation stretched wire-thin and razor sharp before Raenef said it anyway.

“You loved him.” The cool, detached certainty with which it was said was worse for Eclipse than any anger could have been. Finally he tore his eyes from the stone, only to find that pale, venomous gaze meeting his squarely. The sigh that gusted from him was weary, and he felt himself falling inward, through rain, cobwebs, regret, and broken glass.

“I've never stopped.”

“More than music?” The cynicism was creeping back in, making his pale-haired tormentor just a little more human, but Eclipse was beyond solace.

“More than breathing.”

xxx

Discussion had seemed pointless. The members of Demonic who had know Sinclair as “Four” were faced with his son, with the life he had never bothered sharing with any of them. His son was faced with the man and the band his father had loved more than having a family - enough to disappear six years before with nothing more than the occasional letter to confirm his continued existence.

It became and unspoken battle between Raenef and Eclipse every time their gazes drifted together before snapping into place and crackling with electric tension. Who had more claim to the man? Whose pain was greater?

xxx

By their own standards the set was mediocre - a slapdash tune they cobbled together in a few days, distracted and weary.

The crowd didn't seem to care. They were figures now, adored not for what they could do, but for the very idea of what they were. Any other night, it would have been infuriating. Tonight, it was accepted.

When the set was over, a new band set up; one of those trendy numbers who would never make it big if only because their name was longer than any of their songs.

Eclipse pressed through the throng, shoving and elbowing his way back to the toilet. The alcove holding the restroom doors was so dark and deep that he would have missed the slim figure clad in torn leather if not for the pale hair that shone under the dim light.

A tendril of smoke curled from between his fingers, soon followed by a hazy gust from parted lips. Irritation momentarily overcame thought and tension, and Eclipse reached out and jerked the cigarette away.

“You shouldn't be smoking,” he growled, taking a drag himself before dropping it and grinding it beneath a booted toe.

When Raenef hissed (“fucker”) and reached inside his jacket for another, Eclipse grabbed his wrist, pushed the slighter figure against the poorly painted wall with no regard for delicate bones.

The muffled groan of pain was what made Eclipse snap.

xxx

Raenef reacted when the body that seemed to radiate scorching heat pressed against his, grinding the bones of his wrist against the wall.

There was nowhere to move.

The lips that met his drew blood. It filled his mouth and he swallowed it greedily. His body was swallowed in the conflagration. He could feel the bruises forming on his wrist, on his shoulder. A tongue pushed into his mouth, breaking him. The wall against him throbbed with the beat of the music, and the screams coming from the stage electrified his veins.

There was nothing gentle about it, nothing tender. It was brutal domination.

He trembled against Eclipse, swallowing moans.

When the lips finally left his, and he could breathe again, he spoke coldly. It didn't matter, he decided, if his arousal was obvious and his eyes glazed.

“I hate you more than you ever loved him.”

xxx

…Does everyone remember the evil review-eating monster? Because I'm doing this instead of my homework. ^_^ Leijahana tu'sai to all readers and reviewers!