Work Text:
It was a wednesday afternoon, and all four members of Diamond Head had convened in the living room to do some songwriting.
Brian, Colin and Duncan seemed to be making good progress on their respective ideas, while Sean simply stared at the current, blank page of his notebook, devoid of inspiration or creativity. As time passed, he’d drifted further and further into the recesses of his mind, which remained empty and dark, save for the occasional fleeting word from one of the other three in the group. It wasn't until he sensed a hand on his back that he was shaken out of the almost-dreamlike state and catapulted back into the real world.
“...Anyways, what do you think?”
Sean blinked. When he looked to the side, he saw that Brian was beside him, looking at him expectantly. “Huh?”
The guitarist sneered. “Well, doll?”
“I...I don't know.” Sean mumbled. He stood up abruptly. “I think I'm done here.” he said flatly, leaving the room before any of his bandmates could respond.
(So overdramatic.)
Fucker’s got a point. The singer thought with a hollow laugh as he walked down the hallway.
(What a joke you are. It's a wonder anyone listens to the garbage you write... Except you wrote nothing because you're talentless.)
Sean clenched his fist and swallowed the lump in his throat. This wasn't the time to cry.
The sound of floorboards creaking startled the singer. He pivoted to look behind him, preparing to unleash verbal hell onto whomever thought it would be a good idea to follow him. Though, much to his relief, nobody was there. Just my imagination.
(Why worry about being followed anyways? Brian doesn't care. He’s too busy laughing at you behind your back. Because you're PATHETIC.)
On and on the voice prattled as he ascended the stairs. Sean ignored it for the most part, hoping ‘it’ would somehow “get the hint” and go away, yet knowing deep down it likely wouldn't.
When Sean had gotten to the second floor, he looked behind him one last time to be absolutely sure nobody followed him upstairs. Then, he dashed into the bathroom and locked the door.
(Why are you like this? Why? grow a pair. Quit being such a fucking baby. Shit like this is why Brian will never love you.)
Sean sighed, and went to stare in the mirror.
(Fucking hideous, that’s what you are.)
Wrenching his gaze away, he turned his attention to Brian's razor, which sat on the edge of the sink.
(Why don't you take out the blade and slit your fucking wrists.)
He grabbed the razor and began to twist the handle round and round. When the head was loose, he removed it from the handle with his free hand, before extracting the blade with skillful fingers.
As Sean swiped the blade through a small lock of hair to make sure it was sharp enough, he couldn't help but chuckle out loud at the realization that he'd self-harmed enough times to become somewhat of an expert at it.
(How fitting. It's the only thing you're good at.)
Digging the blade in a little, Sean pulled it across the pale skin of his arm, leaving a thin, stinging red trail in his wake. He paused to analyze his handiwork.
(You can do better than that, can't you?)
Biting his lip to brace himself for the pain, Sean made another pull across the same path, but with more force than before.
(Or are you so much of a fucking coward that you won't finish what you started?)
Sean's hand began to tremble. God, he wanted to prove that stupid voice wrong. Swapping the blade to his other, steadier hand, he slowly dragged the razor's edge along his skin, making sure he was digging the blade as deep as he possibly could.
It hurt. It hurt like a motherfucker. But the rush of adrenaline and endorphins he was rewarded with from seeing the blood blossom and drip down his arm made it worth it. For now, the taunting voice in his head was satisfied with what he'd done, though Sean wasn’t entirely sure how long that would last. Regardless, he continued on his self-harming warpath, making cut after cut, till his arms were absolutely shredded.
(Yes, now THAT’S good enough. Fucking finally, it’s about time you did SOMETHING well.)
Seen held onto the edge of the sink to keep his balance as he began to feel disoriented and dizzy. Blood dripped down his hands and wrists, staining white porcelain red. He briefly wondered if he'd lose enough blood to pass out, but one look at the scabs forming where there were once ruby red rivers squashed that hope.
(Maybe next time.)
“You fuckers are so bloody lazy!” suddenly came Brian’s unmistakable yell from downstairs. “Fine. If you slags won't check on him, I will!”
Shit. Fuck. Shit. A flurry of expletives looped in Sean’s mind as he heard footsteps approaching and ascending the stairs. Quickly, he fled from the bathroom and into his room, slamming the door shut.
Sean climbed into bed to hide beneath the covers, curling his body into a little ball in an effort to look like he wasn't there, or at the very least make it clear that he did not want to talk right then (or ever).
Then came several knocks on the door. “Sean?”
No. Please, no. Please, god, NO. Sean’s mind repeated over and over, as if praying that Brian would give up and go back to whatever he was doing.
Another harsher round of knocks. “Sean?”
Today just wasn't that day.
“I know you’re in there!”
Sean squeezed his eyes shut and counted to three. Fuck.
Forcing his eyes open, he finally forced out a weak, “Yeah?”
“‘s it alright if I come in?”
“Um.. Yeah, sure.” he knew Brian would come in regardless of whether he said ‘yes’ or ‘no’, so he figured it was best to go the submissive route.
The door opened, and Brian stepped in. “Hello, doll.”
“Hello, sir.” Sean mumbled back.
“How are you?”
“I’m... Fine, I guess.”
Brian cocked an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
“Of course!” Sean chirped, turning to the guitarist and giving his best fake smile.
“Then who took the blade out of my razor and why is there blood in the sink?”
Shit. Had he really made that much of a mess?
“Well, I just.... Had a nosebleed!” Sean stuttered. “Damn dry weather, y'know?”
“Oh, doll...” Brian's voice grew dangerous. “I can tell when you're lying, you know.”
“I'm.. Not?” Sean squeaked, squirming under the guitarist's scrutinizing gaze.
“Then show me your arms.”
Sean stiffened. “What!? n-no, I'm fine, really!”
Brian's eyes grew stony, and his tone changed to one that made Sean obey. “I said. Show me your arms.”
Sean pulled himself into a sitting position and slowly moved his arms out from underneath his blanket. “Yes, sir.”
“Good boy.”
The blonde sat down on the bed beside Sean and took ahold of his wrists. He gently ran his fingers along each wound, careful not to catch his nails on the scabs.
Sean shifted uncomfortably. He felt exposed. Vulnerable. It felt like Brian was carving his soul open and pulling out the insides one by one, as if Sean were a lab experiment to toy with and dissect.
(How wretched.)
(And yet, you wouldn't have it any other way.)
Suddenly met with a wave of nausea, he wrenched his wrists out of Brian's grasp.
“Tch, tch... Why do you ruin that pretty skin of yours?” he murmured, rubbing gentle circles on Sean's cheek with his thumb.
“Because... I...” Sean trailed off, fighting the urge to break down in tears.
“Because you what?”
“‘s because of this voice in my head.” Sean mumbled. Cringing inwardly at how stupidly unhinged it sounded, he added, “It tells me that y-you’ll never love me.”
Brian shook his head. “Oh, doll...” He smiled and tucked a stray lock of hair behind Sean's ear, a gesture Sean would've mistaken as affectionate if he didn't know any better. “You know I'll always find a use for you, even when nobody else will.”
Sean picked at the skin around his nails to distract from the new wave of nausea that washed over him. “But.. You...” ...Just proved that you only care about what I can do for you. That you'll just throw me away once you find someone prettier to use.
Brian's smile remained. “Hm?”
Sean shook his head. “I don't know. Nevermind. Just... don't tell them. Please?”
“Of course not.” Brian whispered, patting the boy's head one last time and standing up. “I think you need some rest.”
Sean was more than happy to bury himself deeper beneath his blanket, and drift into a thankfully dreamless sleep.
For a couple days, Brian kept his word. He didn't inform Colin and Duncan about the incident, and it never came up in conversation. They practiced. They brainstormed songs. They watched seinfeld reruns on tv well into the night.
Things were... Normal.
( Too normal.)
Sunday afternoon. Colin and Duncan were sat on the couch, eyes glued to the television so as not to miss a second of the guy on screen disseminating the week’s news and gossip. On the other end of the couch was Sean, who merely rolled his eyes at his bandmates’ dumb fascination with Augie, Augustus, or whatever his fucking name was.
There wasn’t much to do, other than sit around, draw or write songs. Sean didn't particularly feel like doing the latter two, scared of the voice coming back and making him spiral into another bout of self harming.
After a few minutes of trying (and failing) To block out the tv, the singer stood up. His bandmates didn't so much as acknowledge his departure, and for once, he was thankful for that.
He wanted to be alone.
Entering the upstairs bathroom, the singer made his way over to a corner and slumped down onto the floor, staring a hole into the wall.
Finally, some fucking quiet.
The more time passed, the more the world around him blended and blurred together in a muddled haze of dim light and shadow. One by one, his thoughts began to disappear, leaving his mind comfortably empty. For the time being, there were no voices to taunt him, no emotions to feel, and nobody to go mad trying to please.
…
Sean became vaguely aware of someone calling his name, though he couldn't pinpoint whether it was real or imagined. In any case, he didn't respond, opting to remain in the fog he'd drifted into.
It wasn't until a few minutes (perhaps hours? he wasn't really sure) That Sean came back round, to the feeling of someone shaking him frantically. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, gasping when his vision cleared up enough to discern what — Or rather, who, was in front of him. “...B-Brian?”
“Oh, finally, you're speaking.” Brian muttered. “Yes, doll?”
“Wuh... What're you doing here? I thought you were...”
“Well, the same could be asked of you, pet.” Brian chuckled. “In any case, I believe we have some... Unfinished business.”
“We.. do?” Sean laughed nervously. “What about?”
The blonde didn't answer, and only inched closer to the younger boy.
“Look, I-I'm gonna... go back downstairs. I th-think I've been up here long enough.” Sean mumbled.
He clumsily moved to stand up and walk out of the bathroom, but Brian was quick to place himself between the brunette and the door, blocking his way.
“We're not done yet.” the blonde hissed.
“Wait, wh—” Before Sean could so much as form a question, Brian lunged at him, knocking him to the floor. “Fuck!” he yelped as his head collided with the marble tile. “What are you doing?! Get OFF!”
Sean squirmed and flailed wildly in an attempt to dislodge the guitarist, though it felt like the more he struggled, the harder he was pinned to the ground.
“Don't. Move.” Brian said, before pressing a razor to Sean's neck and dragging it along his skin.
Fuck, he's... cutting me!
The singer yelled wordlessly and tried in vain to move his arms and push Brian off and away. “N-no, stop!”
“You don't want me to stop.”
“W-what!? I do!” Sean shot back.
He threw his head back and screamed as the blonde made another searing incision on the opposite side of his neck.
“Shh... It's okay.” Brian murmured, tone unsettlingly calm. He slowly rubbed the newly formed wound with his thumb, smearing blood around the area before bending down to lick it up with a low hum.
Out of panicked desperation, Sean headbutted the guitarist as hard as he humanly could in a last-ditch attempt to get him to relinquish his hold.
“FUCK!”
Now that Brian was distracted, Sean leapt towards the door and wrenched it open, scrambling to make his escape as fast as his shaking legs would take him. He'd only managed to stumble halfway through the doorway before Brian caught up to him, wrapping his hands around the brunette's neck and dragging him back in.
“Not so fast.”
“NO!” Sean screamed. He kicked and thrashed violently in an effort to get away, but his struggling only made Brian tighten his grip on the brunette's throat. The chaos around him faded into a quiet hum as it became harder and harder to breathe, and the last things he could remember before he went unconscious were the sound of glass breaking and intense, swelling pain radiating through his skull.
When Sean came to, he was lying on the bathroom floor, completely naked. He groaned. His head hurt like a bitch, despite not really remembering hitting it. It was only seconds later the brunette registered that his clothes had been taken off, and tears sprung to his eyes as the sickening realization that Brian had.. Defiled him sunk in.
“Relax. I haven't laid a finger on you yet, doll.” Brian chuckled, as if he could read the boy's mind.
The singer would've said something in response had he not been distracted by the feeling of something dripping down his forehead. He absentmindedly wiped at the area, thinking he'd just broken out into a sweat. To his horror, his hand was covered in blood when he pulled it away.
“What... What did you do to me?!” Sean screeched, glaring up at the guitarist.
“Oh, you don't remember, do you?” Brian chortled. “I didn't do anything. It was you who broke that pretty face open when you rammed your head into the mirror!”
“I.. What?”
“Yep,” Brian sniggered. “You know, if you weren't such a difficult brat, that —” He pointed at Sean's injuries “— Could have been easily avoided!”
“No... You're lying!” Sean yelled. Emboldened by a sudden wave of resentment and rage, he lunged at the guitarist. Though unfortunately for him, Brian was quick to catch him mid-charge and slam him into the wall.
“Oh, doll...” the blonde clicked his tongue. “When will you learn that you only make things worse when you fight like this?”
“I don't care, fuck you!” Sean spat.
Slap. “Try again.”
“Fuck no!”
Brian's fingers wrapped around the brunette's neck. “Fine. Just remember that I can do this for far longer than you.” when the boy tried and failed to pry his fingers from his throat, he chuckled, “What's the matter? Got something to say?”
Sean growled and began to kick and struggle as his head spun from the lack of air in his lungs. He kept his mouth clamped firmly shut, not wanting to give Brian the satisfaction of hearing him surrender, but also knowing full well Brian would continue to hurt him till he begged him to stop.
“Well?” Brian snapped, whacking the boy's face yet again. “When I ask you something, you're supposed to answer, doll.”
“I-I!” Sean coughed as Brian's grip on his neck grew tighter. “Fuck! I-I'm sorry!” he squeaked without thinking, not wanting to pass out again and allow Brian to do god knows what else to him while he was unconscious.
The guitarist smirked. “That's what I thought.”
Sean slumped to the floor the moment he was let go. He coughed a couple times, drawing his knees up to his chest and letting out a broken sob. Fresh tears spilled from his eyes and he buried his face in his hands, wishing he'd ended up killing himself the day Brian found out about his habit.
Brian knelt down and pried the brunette's hands away from his face with an unsettling smile. “Shh. Don't cry. It's okay.” he whispered, caressing Sean's cheek with his thumb.
It's not.
“I know what you want now.”
“N...” no you don't. Sean swallowed painfully, resolve crumbling at Brian’s deceptively gentle touch. “I..I—”
“Just let me take care of you, doll.”
Sean didn't reply.
“Good boy.”
Brian pressed his lips to the singer’s in a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss, unabashedly letting his hands roam Sean's naked body in a less-than-chaste manner. Sean would've melted and arched into the touch, if it weren't for the confusion and unadulterated fear broiling in the pit of his stomach, if the whole situation weren't as fucked up as it was.
Sean began to drift into a sanctuary his mind had built; a world made of tv static where nothing was happening to him and nothing was real. For a moment in time, he felt safe. Protected. Okay, even. But it was when he felt something thin and cold pressing to his neck that the singer was separated from the comforting embrace of numbness. He dared a glance down, only to find that Brian had taken the razor out once more. He broke away from the kiss with a small whimper, hoping that maybe, by some miracle, Brian would realize just what the fuck he was doing and quit playing whatever terrifying, twisted game this was.
“Shh.” Brian whispered, reclaiming the singer's mouth with his tongue, pinning him impossibly harder to the wall with his body.
Miracles aren't real, are they?
Sean saw it before he felt it; the angry red line the razor made from his neck all the way down to his chest, and the beads of blood that formed and coalesced into small rivers. The brunette screamed aloud, hands scrabbling at Brian's chest to push him off, though to no avail.
“I'm sorry! Fuck, I said I'm s-sorry!” Sean sobbed. “I'm sorry for cutting myself, an' I'm sorry for disappointing you! Just please, let me go!”
“There's no need to be sorry.” Brian cooed, making a new cut just under the boy's jaw. “Just let me take care of you.”
Next, the guitarist carved a line down the Sean's sternum with the blade, drawing a sharp yelp from the boy as he shook his head back and forth violently.
“Hush...”
Brian made another cut across the boy's tummy, sending jolts of pain up the latter's spine while a high pitched mix of “No”, “Please”, and “Stop” tumbled past his lips.
“I said, HUSH.” the blonde barked, digging the razor into Sean's bottom lip.
The singer shut his mouth then, wincing at the sting from the freshly formed cut as the taste of blood filled his mouth.
“Good boy.”
Sean bit back a screech as the guitarist made another incision, this time dangerously close to his jugular. Tears pooled at the corners of his eyes, and he started to hope that Brian would actually cut an artery and kill him. Dying would be so much better than having to experience being violated so excruciatingly, he thought.
Thankfully, Sean began to feel himself drift into the shelter of his mind once again. Everything around him faded into a fuzz of white noise, lulling him into a sense of peaceful emptiness. For now, he was nobody, feeling no pain and thinking no thoughts...
...Until he felt a slick hand wrap itself around his cock and stroke it slowly.
“Wait, n-no, don't...” Sean whined meekly, beginning to get hard despite himself. Even though the staticky fuzz hadn't completely dissipated from his vision yet, he swore he could make out the smug smirk on the guitarist's face.
“Knew that'd get your head out of the clouds.”
“Brian—”
“That's ‘sir’.”
“—I mean, s-sir... Please, just...”
“Soon, doll.” the blonde whispered.
Before Sean could protest, Brian captured his mouth in another nauseatingly sloppy kiss. His stomach twisted and turned as Brian resumed stroking his cock, and it dawned on the boy several seconds too late that his latest plea for his bandmate to stop only made it sound like he was begging for him to continue. He tried to wrench the hand around his dick away, but all that did was make Brian's ministrations faster and more persistent. He could feel that he was getting closer to a disgusting, vile climax, despite how much he opposed everything happening to him, and despite how nothing about anything being done to him felt even remotely pleasurable. It was raw, wretched, and painful.
“I can tell you're close, doll,” Brian chuckled. “But I won't let you come just yet.”
The relief that Sean felt when Brian let go of his cock was soon replaced with newfound dread as long, slender fingers circled his entrance.
“N.. Wait, at least... use something,” Sean whimpered.
“...Fine.”
The boy exhaled deeply when Brian got up and off of him to look for lube. He counted to three, before jumping to his feet and sprinting to the door. However, Brian was quick to notice, and even quicker to tackle Sean to the floor a second time, effectively knocking the wind out of the latter's lungs.
“No! Fuck no!” Sean screamed, fingernails scraping the floor noisily as Brian dragged him back into the bathroom. “Let GO of me—!”
“Oh, doll...” Brian shook his head. “How many times must I tell you... that you only make things worse when you fight?”
“I just want you to STOP!” Sean screeched. “I don't want this!” he took in a shuddery breath, closing his eyes and letting a few tears fall. “I never wanted this...”
“Silly doll,” the guitarist chuckled. “That's not true and you know it. Otherwise, you wouldn't do this to yourself to feel better.”
Sean sniffled. “But I—This...” this is different.
“Shh, shh... No more tears.” Brian murmured, carding his fingers through Sean's tousled hair. “I know how to help you now, so let me take care of you.”
Brian reached for the razor blade once again and carved wavy patterns along the nape of the boy's neck, before leaning down to lap up the blood with his tongue, pulling a strangled sob from Sean's mouth.
“Shhhhh... I've got you, doll.” Brian whispered.
Hearing the all-too familiar sound of a bottle being uncapped, Sean began to struggle again, body quivering with his effort to at least push himself up onto his elbows so he could crawl away.
“Don't.” the guitarist placed his knee firmly in the middle Sean's back, effectively immobilizing him. “There's no point in trying to fight. You know I always win.”
Sean stilled then. As much as he wished otherwise, Brian was right. There was no point wasting what little strength he had left by dragging out this horrid nightmare, he realized. And so, when Brian pressed a finger inside, the singer didn't so much as clench or tighten against the invasion.
“Good boy.” Brian slipped another finger inside. “So good for me. Aren't things better when you're good?” He curled his fingers and rubbed against Sean's prostate, causing the boy to moan out of pure reflex. “See? you're even enjoying it now.”
Only because you left me with no choice.
Two fingers soon turned to three, and all the singer could do was cry silently as Brian continued working him open. Sean let out a whimper of relief when the weight holding him in place mostly disappeared, only to once again be seized with panic as the fingers inside him withdrew and he heard the rasp of a zipper being undone. His heart thudded loudly in his ears, and something hard and much bigger pressed at his entrance, making him nauseous.
“Come on, spread your legs for me,” the blonde cooed.
Sean shakily got on his hands and knees and positioned himself accordingly. “Fine.” Just.. Get this over with. Please.
“Mm. That's a good boy.” Brian drawled, running a hand down the singer's back to squeeze the flesh of his bum. “Knew you'd come ‘round and learn your place.”
The blonde thrust into Sean carelessly moments later, forcing a choked sob from the latter's mouth, and a new wave of tears spilled from the singer's eyes as Brian began to fuck him with harsh, unforgiving movements. Sean yelled out wordlessly when Brian wrapped a hand around his cock, frantically trying to bat it away with little success.
“N.. No, please... You can't...” you can't make me enjoy this.
Brian threw his head back in pleasure as he continued fucking the singer, and his mouth curled into a cruel grin as he caught sight of their debauched reflection in the mirror on the wall beside him. “Look, doll. Look at what a pretty mess you are,” he drawled, nudging the boy's head in the direction of the mirror.
“N-no!”
“I told you to look.” Brian snarled, grabbing the singer's chin and twisting his face to his liking.
Sean's stomach lurched as he was once more faced with the sight of himself being thoroughly defiled and violated. “I don't wanna see what you're doing to me! I DON'T!” he screamed, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Aw. Being difficult again, are we? So be it.” Brian chuckled humourlessly, pressing the blade to Sean’s throat and thrusting hard enough to drive the blade deep into Sean's windpipe. Pain much worse than before wracked his body, making him dizzy and causing his vision to go pitch black in spots as he coughed and sputtered on his own blood.
Help. Sean needed help. Then, he remembered Colin and Duncan were likely still on the couch and watching TV.
Maybe they'll save me.
“Colin! Duncan! Someone, please...” the boy screamed. “Someone, help... He's—He's gonna kill me!”
“Duncan and Colin aren't here right now, doll,” Brian laughed. “Don't worry, I just told them to fuck off for a bit. Because that's what you wanted, right? for them not to know?”
“I.. That's not what I—”
“Oh, confused again?” Brian chuckled. “That's alright. Even if you don't know what you want, just remember that I always do.”
Except you never did. Sean had to wonder if Brian was intentionally being dishonest because he knew the singer was in no position to question him, or if he actually genuinely believed the things coming out of his mouth. Either option made Sean equally sick to his stomach.
Blood continued to pour from the wound on the brunette’s throat in time with the rapid beating of his heart, and Sean hoped deep down that he'd pass out, or better yet, die from the blood loss. Then, Brian’s movements slowed, and for a moment, relief washed over Sean, who thought it was finally, finally over, until he felt the razor begin to carve a sharp line down the middle of his back.
“No no no no stop, please STOP!!” Sean sobbed out frantically, back arching up reflexively as the sound of what he was sure was his skin being ripped apart by the blade reached his ears, making his stomach turn.
“Oh yes, that's fucking hot, doll. Love when you move like that,” Brian purred, and to Sean, the searing pain of the cut suddenly didn't seem so bad compared to the horrifying realization that the guitarist was actually aroused by the things he was putting him through.
He bowed his head. He felt like he was going to throw up.
“That’s right, good boy.” Brian murmured, picking up the blade and creating a new cut across the center of the boy’s back. The singer convulsed and squealed in pain as Brian licked the fresh drops of blood from the incision, making it sting even worse than it already did.
“Stop fucking squirming,” the blonde demanded. “And be grateful that I’m even doing this for you, indulging your little game.”
Sean blinked back tears. He was in disbelief at how utterly disconnected from reality and deranged Brian sounded. “W.. What game?” he finally spat. “Th-the only one playing any games here i-is you!”
Brian yanked Sean’s head up by the hair to slap him across the face. “I’d watch my mouth if I were you, doll.” he snarled. “Wouldn’t want that pretty face to be wrecked even more, now, would we?”
The singer bit his tongue, in an effort to not give Brian any more reasons to hurt him, though his lack of response simply earned him another stinging smack to the right side of his face.
“When I ask you something, you’re supposed to answer, doll.”
“S-sorry— I mean, no, sir.”
“That’s a good boy.” Brian said with a smile. He picked up the pace of his thrusts once more, until the nauseatingly familiar sound of skin hitting skin filled the room. “So tight and good for me, doll,” he murmured, relinquishing his hold on the singer's hair to grip his cock.
“No! D-don’t touch me there, please!” Sean begged.
“Shhh... We're almost done.” Brian whispered, taking the singer's earlobe between his teeth and tugging harshly as he pounded into him with a hurried urgency.
Sean stared intently at the slightly-open door in front of him, willing himself to drift away from the nightmare and into the comfort of the void. And for awhile, he was able to do just that, feeling, thinking and hearing next to nothing, even as Brian continued to violate him.
A sickeningly familiar squelching sound ripped him from his reverie what seemed like an eternity later, and tears sprung to his eyes as he felt what he knew was Brian's cum leak out of him. The cuts the guitarist had made all over his body were beginning to become caked over with ugly scabs, and it was getting harder and harder to breathe because of the drying blood that clung to his lungs. Shower, Sean thought. He needed to shower, to clean his body and mind of every last trace of Brian. With shaking hands, he tried to sit up, only to end up collapsing back onto the floor. With a tearful growl, he tried again, fingernails scraping the floor loudly as he tried his hardest to use what remained of his energy to at the very least crawl over there. Once more, he hit the floor with a painful thud, resigned tears spilling down his face, as he finally, mercifully, lost consciousness for what he sincerely hoped would be the last time.