Musicians/Music Groups Fan Fiction >> Avenged Sevenfold
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I Won't See You
I know that a lot of the authors on here are just . .stopping.
Deleting their stories, or discontinuing their stories because it 'doesn't feel right' to write
about Jimmy when he's no longer on this earth.
I mean, kudos to every single person on this website, because it takes balls to throw your
creativity out in the open like that.
But, really, the boys need their fans now more than ever.
So please, don't stop writing.
These stories help people cope. I've been thanked for a story I wrote, because it made a few
people smile through their tears.
That made me smile. We need each other and each other's stories, especially if you're one to
spend all day on Fanworks.
Our baby is happy now. He's in peace. Granted he's going to turn all of us into necropheliacs,
but that's a different story for a different day.
Point here being, people on this website help other people on this website to function
Write out your pain and write out your tears, and you'll not only help yourself, but you'll help
You'll show that you're still here, always here, for our boys, through anything.
You'll show that you're as strong as the next person.
As strong as Jimmy would hope for us to be.
“What the fuck, you cock sucking son of a bitch, get off my damn shoe.”
Brian kicks his foot out as if it would throw me off balance.
I grin and take a step back, looking him up and down.
It's amazing how people change from one moment to the next.
Brian was once sun-kissed with a built figure that made you swallow.
He's still beautiful, don't get me wrong, but in a different way.
Now his skin takes on a pale, grayish color as if he's recently fallen sick and his cheeks seem more
sunken in than when he was alive. I blame the gorgeous high cheek bones.
His chocolate brown eyes, once seeming to melt, now smolder. They pull you in and cradle you fast
His body is, well, fantastic. His arms; not as strong as once upon a time, but still toned. A bit
thinner and birdlike, but thick enough that you feel you could just fall and have them catch you
I take him in, his presence, and it's as if we're still there. Still breathing. Still listening to
the rapidly beating hearts and flowing blood.
His black Nike shoes, scuffed up and dull from such harsh abuse against the gravel and pavement.
I've always loved the way his black jeans bunch up around his knees, ankles and the tips of his high
top sneakers. Dust smudges all over the black pants and I think that we really need to go shopping
His shirt is so different from his jeans. Not baggy, not one bit. Not dusty or dirty. A perfect dark
gray tank, shades darker than his skin, and yet shades lighter than his jeans.
The shirt clings to each and every muscle of his torso and when he's not looking, I love to counts
his abs. How more seem to appear when I make him laugh and then they fade away when his muscles stop
I run my eyes up Brian's face and he sits stock still, letting me burn him into memory.
His square jaw and long, almost greasy, almost feather soft brown hair. His cute button nose and
incredibly high cheek bones .His smoldering eyes, pulling me in and cradling me fast to sleep.
His arms constrict around my waist and pull me tight against him.
I wish I was as beautiful as him.
Even in life, he was more beautiful than I am. In death, well, I don't even stand a chance.
As if he can read my thoughts, his hands leave my sides and cradle my face in his hands. I tilt my
face down to kiss his palm.
He smiles, and it's heart breaking. That smile can light up the entire underworld.
He leans in and kisses me with those thin, soft lips of his. It's a gentle kiss, movie perfect. All
of his kisses are.
After his lips hesitantly pull away from mine, he presses his forehead against mine and stares into
my blue gray eyes before his lips speak those heavenly words.
“You're so beautiful, Jimmy. I love you.”
And I'm melting, all over his favorite, scruffy Nike shoes. I melt every time he speaks a word to
I've seen prettier things buried in the ground.
I mean, I'm so average. Horribly tall, maybe, but that's all that separates me from the rest of
these dead beats.
My hair, greasy, dark and shoulder length. My eyes, icy blue when I was living and a dull gray now
that I've passed. My skin, not a gray like Brian's, more of a pale, pale peach that seems to glow.
But than again, everybody's skin seems to glow around here.
I've got a bit of a stomach, and to be honest, my arms are the only toned thing about me. I'm just.
. . here.
Brian likes to joke a lot.
Always saying how somebody like him ended up with somebody like me. And how he can never get rid of
me, in life or in death. Ha. Funny, Brian.
I spin around in his arms and lean my back against his chest so I can look out at the town.
It is quite lovely. Not all bright and daisy pretty like earth. It's a bit darker, a bit duller, not
as welcoming, but it feels like home. The buildings are all dark brick reds and stone grays with
black roofing and black doors. The sky is always shimmering with storm clouds, though it never
rains. Stars fill the sky five out of seven days and nights.
The people are nice, too. Never too thoughtful, never afraid. Brave warrior like people, most of
them. It's interesting to find out how they've passed, and if you look at their skin tone, you can
normally figure it out for yourself.
Me? Natural causes. Brian? Suffocation.
I pull his arms tighter around me and slip my fingers between his, leaning my head back to rest it
on his shoulder.
Sure, it's depressing sometimes. But it's better than life ever was.
No fears. Never on your toes. Always peace and calm and love, even if it does look kind of dreary.
It's unlike anything, really. I hate to say it, but I'm glad I'm here. I mean, everybody ends up
here eventually. Why not now?
Sure, I miss my band. My family. My fans. But I've got my boyfriend and I've got my kick ass drum
kit, and I know that my band, my family, my friends, my fans. . . well, they'll all be here sooner
or later. And hell, I'm not getting any older.
Brain pulls me closer to him, and I close my eyes, blocking out the world. Only the sound of my
lover's hollow breath and the feel of his fingers playing with mine are recognizable now.
And soon, not even that is.
Before I lose consciousness, I can't help but think how excited I am to see them all again.
I'll be waiting until the end.
Crappy. It's 2 in the morning. Same time I wrote that story last night.
As I've said before, we need people to keep on writing.
Each of you have incredible talent and stopping now would add on to the loss we all feel.
Thank you for reviewing my one shot from last night.
Seeing you guys say thank you, well. . it brightened up my day.
I hope this can brighten yours up.
Rest In Great Peace, James Owen Sullivan.
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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.