Musicians/Music Groups Fan Fiction >> Avenged Sevenfold
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“What do you say to taking chances…”
I was sitting on the built in bench that was attached to my window sill, wearing an oversized hoodie
that belonged to my best friend, and watching the rain drops monotonously trickle down the glass and
fall into the gutter. The house was relatively quiet; I could hear my younger brothers in their
bedroom playing video games, enjoying what time they had left of their Thanksgiving break before
heading back to UCLA, but it wasn't enough to overpower or drown out the sounds of The Cure coming
from my stereo.
To say that the holiday had passed without much excitement had been an understatement. My best
friend had finally come home from months of touring, and my mom thought it would be a great idea to
have him and his family over for the holiday dinner. I was thrilled to find that I'd get to spend
more than ten minutes with him or have a conversation longer than the usual ones we get while he's
in and out of time zones. While he was off being a rock star and touring the world I had
successfully made it through the business program at USC and was now in the process of opening my
own bakery. I don't remember how I had decided to become a pastry chef, but it might have been
around the time I made a chocolate cake for his birthday in high school and watched as him and the
rest of our friends devoured it in a 10 minute time frame. There were a lot of memories I liked to
keep handy for when I missed my best friend, but there was a recent one, within the last day or two
that I wished I could scrap and do over completely. Thanksgiving dinner had been the death of me.
We were all sitting around the table, my dad had already sliced into the massive bird sitting on
the center of our table, and bowls and platters were being passed left and right so that everyone
could taste a little of everything. Johnny was sitting next to me and had spooned a helping of
potatoes onto my dish before putting some in his own. I was still blown away by the incredible
amount of food he could eat without gaining much weight, it must have had something to do with being
a man and having one of those manly metabolisms. I hated him for it sometimes.
Our dinner was spent talking and playing catch up, laughing and drinking more wine that we knew
what to do with. I was currently somewhere between my fourth and fifth glass of merlot
leaning on Johnny's shoulder whispering something about going outside in his ear and watching as he
laughed, his brown eyes lighting up as his smile widened. He quickly excused himself from the table
for an after dinner cigarette and I smiled at my family as I said I was going outside to keep him
company. They didn't need to know that I was planning on indulging on the sinful act of smoking one
of his Marlboro reds.
“Dani, your mom is still one hell of a cook.” He smiled, inhaling on
the first drag of his cancer stick.
I nodded and smiled, grabbing the pack and lighter from his hands and taking one before giving it
back to him.
“She is,” I said, lighting up and inhaling. “And not to sway you or anything,
but I made dessert.”
“I had a feeling you did.” He laughed.
“Pumpkin pie and a strawberry cheesecake for my bestest friend ever!” I grinned.
“You're totally buzzed, how much wine have you had?” He laughed.
“Probably not enough to endure the conversation my mom's gonna want to have after you leave
tonight.” I stated simply, taking a long drag and blowing smoke out into the crisp air.
“The one about how I'm too blind to see how you and I were made for each other and blah
blah blah…” I carried on, waving my hand in the air for effect.
“She thinks we're made for each other?”
“She's thought that since we were about 16.”
He smiled to himself before coming to sit next to me on the bench in my backyard, wrapping
his free arm around me and pulling me flush into his side.
“What if I told you that I agree with your mom?”
I was silent for what seemed like minutes, maybe hours, but I knew it had been a mere few seconds
before I answered.
“You what?” I asked, turning to face him.
“I'm kind of, well…I have been for a while…in love with you Dani.”
“You're what!” I said, my voice a little louder that it had been moments ago.
“I love you Dani, and I have for the longest time,” He said, grabbing my hand.
“I've just been too chicken shit to tell you!”
“Johnny, I think you're the one who's had too much wine.” I said, gently taking my
hand from his.
“No, I haven't, I'm completely aware of what I'm saying!”
“We're best friends Johnny! We can't be in love!”
“Give me one good reason!” He fired back.
“Because if things go sour then I run the risk of losing you!”
“I can't take that chance Johnny,” I said, my head dropping and my black heels
becoming my main focal point. “I can't even imagine losing you.”
I looked up and the light that was in his eyes when we had been sitting inside was gone, and the
magnificent brown that I was so used to seeing was now dull, and full of sadness. I had successfully
broken my best friend's heart, and my own as I watched him nod and then get up and go
A loud sob escaped my lips as I buried myself deeper in his hoodie, pulling it around myself tighter
as if it would help hold the tears inside. I had done more damage than I thought, because in my
attempts to call and talk to Johnny all I got was his voicemail. My next attempt was to call
Valary, Matt's girlfriend and one of our mutual friends. When I called their house Matt answered and
went on and on about how torn up he was, and that he wouldn't talk to anyone. I broke down on Matt
too, and the only thing he could tell me was to keep trying to talk to him.
I was tired of getting voicemail after voicemail, and in my final attempt I grabbed my purse and car
keys, and raced down the stairs of the house and out the front door, barely acknowledging my mom in
the kitchen eating leftovers. As I started out down the street, the rain came down harder, and as I
turned down the last few streets a crack of lightening almost seemed to alert me to being in front
of Johnny's house. I quickly killed the engine and got out of the car, running up his driveway,
holding onto his car as I tried not to slip as my flip flops smacked against the pavement. The rain
was flooding through my hoodie and soaking me to the bone as I rang his doorbell and waited for him
to answer. When he didn't answer I began pounding on the door, hoping to stimulate some kind of an
answer from him.
When he swung the door back, he looked almost as terrible as I did. His white t-shirt was wrinkled
and his gym shorts hung loosely on his hips. His short brown hair was smashed down as if he had just
gotten out of bed.
His eyes softened and he grabbed my wrist and pulled me in the house, shutting the door and finally
turning to look me over. I looked like a drowned rat.
“You're out of your fucking mind.” He said, shaking his head.
“Yeah well, sometimes it pays to be a little nuts.” I said, smirking.
He didn't answer as I stepped closer and placed my hand on his cheek, carefully sliding it behind
his head to rest on the back of his neck. I leaned in, slowly closing the gap between us as I
pressed my lips to his softly. I felt his hands grip my hips and pull me closer to him, closing the
gap between us.
It was soft and sweet, and closed all doors of the argument that had occurred over the holiday. As I
pulled away for air, I kept my left hand planted on the back of his neck, while my right came up to
hold his face. Our foreheads pressed together, I smiled and placed another small kiss to his lips.
“What do you say to taking a chance on me…” I trailed off.
“Gladly,” He smiled, holding me tighter. “I love you so much Dani.”
“I know you do,” I smiled. “And I love you too Johnny, I was just too stupid to
realize it before.”
He responded with another kiss, holding me still while we explored the confines of each other's
mouths, taking a chance that neither of us imagined would ever happen.
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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.