Musicians/Music Groups Fan Fiction >> Avenged Sevenfold
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I lay with my head buried in the pillows, a small smile on my face. A content sigh escapes my lips.
I watch in admiration as his fingers slide along the fret board of his black and white Schecter. I
roll onto my side and snuggle into the over-sized hoodie with the band's macabre mascot printed on
the front and call out his name softly.
"Yeah?" He raises his head for just a moment, and I take the time to look over his face. From his
dark brown, messy hair, to his brown, puppy-dog eyes, to the perfect shape of his lips that are
curved into a smirk that I know is because I'm ogling him.
I finally meet his smoldering gaze. "Play me something pretty," I request in a mumble.
"Iuno. Something pretty," I emphasize the word more, as if it'll convey my point. He chuckles and
looks back down at the guitar. He positions his fingers on the frets and begins to strum. A
melodic tune streams from the amplifier and my already-present smile widens. Even though he asks,
"Like what?", he always knows exactly what to play for me. It's never any of their songs. It's
always something he makes up on the spot. Something original. Something just for me. Some times,
he plays one specific song that's mine. It doesn't have a name, and to be completely honest with
you, I like it better that way. I know the melody by heart and hum it to myself whenever we're
apart, which is getting increasingly more frequent. It's the times like this that matter most to
me. When he's here, with me. I listen to the song for a moment before realizing that this one is
new and settling in to listen to the tune in it's entirety. The soft, flowing music sounding
throughout the room slowly starts to lull me away from Brian.
"Hey now," he whispers and stops playing.
"Hrmmph," I grumble. "I was enjoying that."
"Not if you're gonna fall asleep on me," he chides, sitting the guitar to the side. "C'mere." He
beckons me with his index finger. I roll my eyes and crawl from the bed to saunter across the room
to him, smiling all the way. He takes my hand and tugs my arm I'm sitting on his lap, straddling
"Yeah?" I mock his usual response, even raising my eyebrows as he does.
"I don't want you to be asleep while I'm here. Kind of defeats the purpose, dud'n it?" He laughs.
"It's not my fault your stupendous guitar-playing skills put me to sleep," I scoff. "Plus, it's
He barks a laugh. "Aww, wittle Unity Kincaid. Geddin' sweepy." I roll my eyes and punch his
shoulder. He always teases me about being nearly ten years younger than him, as well as being named
after a comic book character who slept through a number of decades due to the lack of the Sandman.
He smiles sweetly and wraps his arms around my waist, placing kisses along my jaw. I can't help but
think how much I hate that we have to do this. That we have to wait until the weekends when they
aren't recording to be together. The age difference isn't the only reason.
There's also Michelle. His girlfriend.
I can't stand that I'm the proverbial "other woman," but on the other hand, I can't help how I feel.
Falling for him was the last thing I wanted to do, because I knew when we met that he had Michelle.
She's exactly why I value my time with him so much. Because I know that some day, when push comes
to shove, he won't be choosing me in the end. There's no two ways about it. He loves her. And
while I know there are feelings for me there, I can't imagine that they're anywhere nearly as strong
as the feelings for her. I guess part of me is okay with that. When he makes that choice, if it's
what he really wants, I'll be happy for him. If I can't have him, I want him happy. That's all I
really care about.
I focus my eyes onto his and smile. "I'm here," I assure him.
"You looked miles away," he says.
I shake my head. "Nope. I'm right here, with you. Always." I lean down and capture his lips with
my own, threading my fingers into his hair. He tightens his hold on me and stands from the chair,
picking me up and carrying me back to the bed. He lays me down gently, then climbs in next to me.
I roll so I'm facing him and bury my face in his t-shirt, breathing in his scent. I crane my neck
up to reach his lips when his phone rings loudly. I know it's her. I close my eyes and try to
prevent the hurt look from crossing my face.
He sighs in annoyance and digs the phone from the pocket of his jeans. He looks rather disdainfully
at the screen before silencing the ringer and tossing it aside. "Not tonight," he whispers, leaning
down to me. "Just me and you," he says.
I smile, nodding. "Me and you." I like the sound of that. He lays down and I scoot closer,
resting my head on his shoulder. He wraps his left arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer yet.
"Brian?" I mutter after a few minutes.
"Sing me something pretty."
"Like what?" he asks, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
"Iuno. Something pretty."
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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.