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My default icon for the LJ.
My default icon for the LJ.
Okay, I totally have been so inactive, but I got caught up in LJ stuff. Meaning, I neglected my first child called Gaia.
Anyways, I've got two stories to give this journal. I wrote them up a few days ago and I think things went rather swell.
And OMG, somebody who likes Stones slash other then me? Maybe things are looking up for me. I need to yank off some of my stories form LJ to put them here; it would save some time in going to look for them and getting confused.I've written, like, 2 new John/Mick fics and I need to get them up (but I'm such a lazy b*****d).
Als, that 'time of the month' has been going on for 1 MONTH AND A WEEK. My life sucks so bad. And, it's heavy. Makes me feel like I'm vomiting down there; not the greatest thing in the world.
And there is this stupid fly that won't leave my hair alone. God, I hate those dicks.
Title: I Don't Want To Believe You
Pairing: Keith/Mick and other implied pairings
Rating: Uh, R
Disclaimer: I don't own the Stones etc, etc, etc and so forth.
--
He stared bleakly at the wall. The blankly stared back.
Mick was perched on the floor, a pile of pillows surrounding him like servants. He said nothing while his back was pressed against the bed frame. The bed was a cross between a battle field and just plain lazy keeping. There was light noise faintly in the background; perhaps some music Mick never bothered to turn off.
He was in a different hotel room. Another different hotel, a different city. But it was all the same. The motions of forwarding to a new place, new faces to see, different women to spot (but the same names to him; they were like the last group of girls.) Just the same routine in his daily life. He’d done a it a million times before, and he’ll do it just another million times again.
Girls came in by the loads (every so often, a few boys would be in that load). They really were like leeches. Their fingers were like suckers; trying to hook onto him and pull in anything of him they could get.
It was a sad sight; became pathetic. These girls, betting everything they have for a small touch or even a glimpse. How they cried those tears of desperation to get past all his security. To find a an emotionless embrace with him. They lusted for him, then left him since they found their goal.
Mick tilted his head downwards to his groin. Slowly, he pressed a hand to it. He felt his hair graze his neck and fall forwards into his face. His bangs obscured a part of his eyes.
How long? How long had it been since he’d felt more then just meaningless sex and lust? How many times did he wake up to a different face and a name? How many girls (and guys) had he used to get that bodily pleasure from without even caring? How many times had he tried to fill that void in his heart with temporary warmth?
He’d felt love, but woke up with a sour reality that acknowledged there wasn’t any truth in it. Mick couldn’t figure out why he’d felt so lonely that he had to have a pretty face with him. Perhaps it was the wrong way to go.
He could have a wank, but then settle for the bitter, empty feeling of fulfilling a fantasy that wasn’t real.
He felt for very few things; but it was something that was forbidden and out of reach. When Mick figured out that he couldn’t reach it, he just gave up on it and settled for a strung together illusion of having it.
He found a comforting ally in that mistress called cocaine. At least she understood that he needed an escape and never told him ‘no’. She numbed his mind and pulled him away from this worldly trouble and took him to a far off place. At least she understood.
His mind skimmed over his past actions. How long would it be till he stopped using people? How long would it be until this coaught up to him? So far nothing had happened, but he wasn’t sure if karma was taking her sweet time with it.
How long would he continue to drain out people? Two people had nearly committed suicide because of him (Marianne and Chrissie became fallen angels because of him) and the other had died. Not to mention those countless people that were hocked to drugs because of the lifestyle that floated around the band. It was the essence of their environment; the decadent lifestyle that most -- if not all -- fell victim to and spiral into something to which they couldn’t recover from. It made his mind retract to Keith.
That’s right. Keith was hooked. Mick never spoke (nor wanted to admit)about it. He never thought that only many years ago that this would become something much bigger. Certainly four years ago, Mick would have never thought Keith could have been dying from that smack he was so fond of. Now, Mick was concerned. Keith was deteriorating from this habit of his; he was becoming a shell of his former self.
He wished to see those earlier days. Those days of sunny afternoons of just lounging with Keith; just him and Keith together, no one else. But like always, good things become spoiled.
Anita happened.
He thought she was bad news; an end type of game. Perhaps he was exaggerating. He knew he got a bad feeling from her; but the others just thought he was jealous of her for whatever reason. In a way, he was. How she garnered Keith’s attention away and Brian’s. She drove Brian to a state a paranoia and to a state of unreachable haze; just used him.
Anita aided Keith in his drug use. For a time, she was a more serious addict then Keith was. She stood up to Mick whenever he wanted to get her away. Mick never argued with her, afraid that he would do something that he would regret. He did wish he could capture Keith’s attention like she did. To go back to Edith Grove, but those days were just the papers of yesterday.
Mick slowly stood on his feet, a silent gesture of defeat.
A shadow slowly eased onto the wall and Mick knew it wasn’t his. H e didn’t even turn around to see who it was.
“Go away. I don’t want room service now.”
“I ain’t room service Mick.”
Mick didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. He knew it was Keith who was looming in the doorway. He then slowly rotated his body to look at the physical aspects of Keith.
He did have shorter hair, but didn’t stop it from sticking out at some angles. It was still a greasy look. He was thin. Very.
“Charlie’s got something’ good going. Was wondering if y’ wanted to come down and jam.”
Mick gazed at Keith but didn’t answer. Keith’s eyes bore into him; a glazed look was firmly over Keith’s brown eyes.
“Better yet, just go fish out your bed friends and spend time with them,” he said with a light sneer.
“What do you mean?” Mick asked with suspicion.
Keith Raised his head and slowly strode over to Mick. Mick was face to face with Keith. There were the same size, so there was no way to stare the other down. Blue eyes were locked with smoky brown.
“Your little ******** buddies too important to come down Mick?”
“No.” Mick wasn’t wavering. He wouldn’t let Keith get to him.
“Or was it you were waiting for me to come up here? Want to get off from me, don’t you?”
Mick was bewildered. Why-- where did this come from? Mick looked at Keith, a confused expression on his immaculate face.
“No. What the hell gave you that reasoning?”
“Anita; she told me.” Keith stared straight ahead into Mick’s eyes.
Mick eyes narrowed slightly. It would have been a matter of time before Keith would have found out. Whether through Anita, or someone else, he would have. So why was he surprised to even hear it from Keith’s mouth?
“Besides, why do you even care? Not like I’ll remember anyways.” Keith simply shrugged his shoulders.
Mick’s eyes flicked towards Keith’s arms. Gently, he seized Keith’s arm and brought it upwards. Keith’s eyes followed Mick’s movements and watched as Mick peeled his sleeve upwards. Mick nearly flinched when he saw Keith’s arm.
Purple, discolored spots were scattered along his arm. The rotting flesh was punctuated by small pinpoint circles and discolored petals. They ran wild over his arms.
Mick’s eyes stayed on those spots.
“Why?”
“Don’t act like you’re a ******** saint Mick.”
Keith jerked his arm away. “Besides, you’ll just use me to get what you want. You’re like that with everyone; isn’t that right?”
Mick flicked his eyes back to Keith’s face. No Keith, I wouldn’t.” Mick placed his hands on Keith’s forearms.
“Yes, you would,” Keith said, his tone becoming slightly harsh.
“I wouldn’t. I…” Mick cut himself off.
“You’d what Mick? Just say it.”
Should he say it? Should he tell Keith that he’d been lusting after him and loved him? What would Keith say if Mick told him that he’s been this way for over ten years? Would this completely destroy this type of relationship with Keith? Well, it wouldn’t do anymore damage then has already happened. Or what was left of what they had.
“I… love you. I couldn’t do that to you.”
Keith’s eyes were unreadable.
“No you don’t.” Keith’s voice was simple.
Mick’s heart nearly shattered in his chest.
“I do,” Mick pleaded.
Keith turned his head away. “You expect me to believe that? All these years and you’ve said nothing about it.”
“I couldn’t. Too afraid of you running off. I thought it would’ve driven you away.”
Keith remained silent. Then he gathered his nerves up, but still didn’t look at Mick.
“Then it was a good thing you didn’t.”
Mick’s grip tightened. “Why?”
“Because it would’ve been much harder when you would’ve left me for someone new.”
“I could never do th--”
“Yes you would,” Keith said sharply. “You would’ve grown tired. You always grow tired of who you’re with. It doesn’t matter who, you always drift.”
Mick slowly slackened his grip.
“How many people have you told that to Mick?” Mick didn’t answer.
Keith finally had the courage to turn his head back to face Mick’s. “That’s right; you can’t say it.”
Mick sighed and let his arms fall back to his sides. He looked at Keith through sad eyes. He wished Keith could accept it.
Keith watched, a morbid feeling in his heart. “You should have told me a long time ago. It would have made things easier on you. And me also. I could’ve found a way to help you.; possibly to even love you back.”
Mick’s eyes slightly widened.
Keith let out a bitter chuckle. “What am I even saying? I’m so ******** confused. And I thought that I was alone in this. Alone in loving you. Just you.”
Keith slowly placed his fingers under Mick’s chin. His eyes became soft. “I could have, but it’s not likely that you’ve stayed with me.”
“I would Keith. You were the one I couldn’t leave. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t escape you.”
Keith let his hand drop. He slowly stepped back. “Yeah. I could believe that; maybe one day, I will. But not right now.”
Keith turned and walked away slowly. His head was filled with so many questions and desires. He just couldn’t deal with any of this now. Not while his head was filled with other substances, prohibiting him to think about this. His mind was reeling. He needed time, and only time.
“Mick,” Mick raised his head. “Take a look into that mirror. Ask yourself ‘what do I see?’ and ask yourself whether you like it or not.”
Keith didn’t wait for an answer, nor did he turn around. He didn’t want to show off his new found emotions that he knew were playing in his eyes.
“Ask yourself ‘am I happy?’. Are you proud of what you are?”
Keith was gone. Something cold stretched out in his stomach. Keith didn’t want to turn around; to see the emotion on Mick’s face. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep it out of his mind.
He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to see it. But, he looked. He already knew what was there. Those eyes that gazed back at him. Mocking him. Sensing those empty depths.
But he couldn’t look away; he couldn’t help but look.
He saw. Saw what it was. He wanted to cry; to just fade away.
He saw a boy. A boy of who he was no longer as. A boy that grew into a man. A see through man with nothing.
He couldn’t recognize it. Not anymore. That smile on it’s face. Empty blue depths gazed, glazed with its drug of choice.
He hated it.
Hated it all.
Hated himself.
--
WOOT! Angst Queen!
Plus, I'll get that other story posted in another entry.
Current music is nothing. The TV is on. (I'm waiting for "Let It Loose" by The Stones to load).
