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The following is a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

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Behind Blue Eyes
By Darchangel

 

It's not a slash and the song's not mine. That's all the disclaimer you need.
/////
It was a sight to break one's heart- sunken blue eyes that had lost all their brightness and were
now glazed in fear and sadness. The ash-blond brows were turned up on the insides, making it seem
their owner was about to cry. But that'd never happened, not even once.
These eyes were set in a face that knew pain- several gashes, cuts, and bruises, old and new, were
visible. The blue eyes blinked, revealing lids discolored a garish purplish-black. Just another sign
of pain.
This heart-breaking sight wasn't limited to the face. Many bruises and gashes could be seen on the
body if one looked hard enough. Most of the time they could be covered by tattoos, makeup, or
clothing, but it seemed they were always visible in a world quick to judge.
'I feel so ashamed.' Shane turned from the mirror, embraced himself, and felt the first tear,
burning like acid, slide down his battered cheek.
It hadn't always been like this. When they'd first met, Kyle seemed like just an innocent kid,
wide-eyed, eager for any freestyle battle, ready to take a chance at the first hope of stardom. They
were the best of friends, as clich? as that sounded now.
But when stardom hit, everything changed. Shane couldn't even count on his fingers and toes how many
interviews he'd seen where the star said success hadn't gone to their head, and he *knew* they were
lying.
Success *had* gone to Kyle's head, big time. He manipulated everyone around him to do his bidding,
and Shane had it the worst. Every time he'd tried to stand up for himself, the darker man stood like
a colossus, clenched a fist, looked him straight in the eye, and always said the same thing:
"What makes you think you can just boss me around like you own me? It's not gonna work. Get this
straight: if it weren't for me, you'd still be sleeping on pizza boxes in San Francisco. *You're
nothing without me.* The group is nothing without me. I could just walk away any day with my share
of the money and leave you as poor and unwanted as when you started. So you just might wanna think
about that."
The money. That threat, that piece of blackmail Kyle always held over his head. For all intents and
purposes, Shane still owned Battle Axe Records, but didn't have the total control everyone assumed.
Just another threat forced upon him.
He often thought about what Kyle said. It was tempting to just walk straight up to the younger man
and say, "If you wanna leave the label so bad, then fine, take your money and go! I don't need
you!"
If only it were as simple as that. Kyle could easily tell people he was kicked out, the way he was
so manipulative. The press would have a field day. It could even be taken to court...Shane shuddered
at the possible outcomes like he usually did.
If Kyle walked away with the money and went to any label that wanted him, a solo career would leave
Swollen Members in the dust. Shane could be seen as a tyrant over the other Battle Axe artists, and
they wouldn't trust him anymore. On the other hand, if Kyle *wasn't* able to walk away with the
money, but was ordered back into the group...
...the abuse would be worse than ever.
Shane cursed himself for allowing himself to be trapped like this. He couldn't kick out his band
mate. For better or worse, what Kyle said was true- he was nothing without him.
Besides, he knew no one would take him seriously if he revealed the abuse he was taking. More
possible outcomes to shudder about. People could say he was making it up. People could ridicule him
for allowing himself to be threatened by a younger man.
But most of all, people would be surprised that he felt so much pain.
'That's what you get for playin' the tough guy, Bunting,' he thought. 'The moment someone sees your
vulnerable side, what they thought about you before goes right out the window.'
Shane slammed a fist against the wall. Damn it to hell what people thought of him! Couldn't anyone
see the pain he was in?
There was no love with Kyle anymore. No friendship, no brotherly love, and certainly no romantic
love.
Well, there hadn't been any romantic love in the first place. Shane considered himself lucky that
the abuse hadn't escalated to a sexual level.
'Yeah, thank God for small favors,' he sarcastically thought and forced a bitter smile.
No matter what form of mistreatment Kyle decided to use, it hurt. Threats or insults hurled at him
seemed to break the older man's heart, vise-like fingers to hold him down left a burning pain,
fingernails would scratch hard enough to bleed, open palms slapping or shoving left a sharp sting-
and of course, the fists.
Next to insults, fists seemed to be Kyle's preferred method of providing torture. He had an unfair
advantage of being younger, taller, quicker, and more built. When the punches were thrown, it was in
the best hope to just duck, though Shane ended up getting hit at least once and would later be
curled into a silent ball, holding his aching body, wondering what he'd done this time to deserve
it. The fights were even worse if Kyle had been drinking earlier.
Shane forced another smile as he acknowledged what others said about Kyle, that he was good-looking.
It was only when he drank that he turned ugly, though none of those others ever saw that. His lower
lip would sag, his eyes droop, his brows furrow; he generally obtained a darker and more hateful
expression. The only exception was if he drank before a show, then he forced on the happy face and
manipulated everyone around him like he always did. Then after the public eye turned away- watch
out.
Shane was no innocent; he usually drank before shows as well, but for a different reason. He said
the alcohol prepared him, which was a half-truth. Mostly it just killed the pain so no one out there
would see how much he was hurting.
Recently he'd been wishing for himself to be killed, along with the pain, just so he wouldn't have
to suffer anymore. It seemed like the only way out.
"I just want out," he whispered weakly, and the dam burst at that moment. Hunched over, holding his
body, leaning against the mirror, Shane cried harder than he'd ever done, maybe even since he was a
kid. His cries were those of a man who'd lost everything.
'How did I get into this? What did I do to deserve this? I don't need this pain anymore. I just want
out.'
He looked back in the mirror, seeing the face of pain that no one else had to, that had to be kept
hidden from the world. How Shane wished at that moment he could shatter the reflection before him so
he wouldn't have to see it either.
But why do that? His luck was bad enough already.
"Please God...let me out of this or kill me," he sobbed.
The man with the blue eyes of pain slumped to a heap on the floor and God did neither and he was
left with his tears and agony, now ravishing his body like never before.
==========
BEHIND BLUE EYES
(R. Daltrey, J. Entwhistle, P. Townshend)
No one knows what it's like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes
No one knows what it's like
To be hated
To be fated
To telling only lies
But my dreams
They aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free
No one knows what it's like
To feel these feelings
Like I do
And I blame you
No one bites back as hard
On their anger
None of my pain and woe
Can show through
But my dreams
They aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free
No one knows what it's like
To be mistreated
To be defeated
Behind blue eyes
And no one know how to say
They're sorry
And don't worry
I'm not telling lies
But my dreams
Are as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours only lonely
My love is vengeance
That is never free
No one know what it's like
To be the bad man
To the sad man
Behind blue eyes

 

The preceeding was a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

Please see the Terms of Service for more information.

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