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Parabola	By : Ennead Category: +M through R > Metalocalypse > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1106 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Metalocalypse, nor do I make any money off of any of the fan works I create of its characters.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
It had been getting dark out when Nathan was roused from his unintentional nap, slumped sideways on Charles' little couch like a homeless guy on a sidewalk. He felt stupid for falling asleep there, and a little embarrassed that Charles had seen him asleep despite it not being nearly the first time it had happened. Still, there were more pressing issues at hand, such as Pickles standing before him with a dressed and reluctant-looking manager at his side, demanding that Nathan rise and accompany them to the bar. He had forgotten, in his sleepy euphoria, what he had been dreading all that day. Now it was time, and he couldn't back out without raising suspicions.
He went without a fight.
Hours into the night, Nathan was hunched over at the bar, far away from the rest of the band. He couldn't take the stress of sitting near Charles any longer, or near Pickles with his offhanded and sneaky comments. No more hints to be dropped, no more half telling him to take a chance. He couldn't handle it. It had been fucking stupid of him to come out that night anyway, knowing it would be just like this. God, what the hell had he been thinking?
His drink looked bottomless to him, and he gulped it back in a long swallow. One hand gestured for another and was quickly appeased by the bartender. More alcohol meant less thinking about what was sitting across the bar from him, that example of what he had been missing for years. Charles was probably having a great time over there, palling around and getting sloppy, which was what Nathan himself had been expected to do. He knew he was endangering his cover with the guys by sitting by himself, but he didn't care anymore. Fuck what they thought, fuck all of them if they thought any less of him for wanting his privacy. They weren't supposed to care anyway, dammit. Neither was he... but as he'd told himself a week ago and a thousand times since then, Charles wasn't part of the band. He didn't fit into that little agreement, and Nathan couldn't package his feelings for the man away behind it. Not like he hid his concerns for Toki's drinking, or Skwisgaar's loneliness, or Pickles' substance abuse and crazy brother, or Murderface's EVERYTHING. Yeah, he fucking cared, but they never had to know.
Thinking about it then, as he had been doing on and off, it seemed suddenly unfair that he should have to hide it. He could care about whoever the fuck he wanted. If he wanted to care about Charles, what the fuck was stopping him? The guys would get over it, they had a band to run and none of them would be stupid enough to break up Dethklok over something like that. Charles... couldn't be as disinterested as Nathan thought he was. Surely, like Pickles had said... surely there was a chance, right? The drink in his hand and the six others in his stomach told him yes, there had to be. There had to be a chance, so what was stopping him from taking it?
Just himself.
He took another swallow from his beer and cast a glance over his shoulder at the booth where his band was sitting. Charles was on the outside, Pickles on his left, with his back to Nathan. He was glad, because then the man wouldn't catch him staring. That would have been embarrassing. Inside that booth, Toki did notice Nathan's wayward gaze, and commented on it to Pickles.
"Nathans sure doesn't look happy. What's he doings over theres, all alones? What's wrongs wit him?"
Pickles raised an eyebrow and looked back at Nathan questioningly. Caught, the singer turned around, but not before Pickles caught the longing expression on his face. Fuck, that guy was in it so deep. There had to be something he could do to get Nathan back over to the booth, but he couldn't think of anything.
"Maybe he ams just wantings some comps-any," Skwisgaar suggested, giving Toki a knowing look. "You knows, wit a ladies. I haven't seens him with groupies in a longs time."
Charles shrugged miserably. "I'm sure Nathan can get whoever and whatever he wants at whatever time he desires it. I somehow doubt that's the problem."
"Hey," Pickles argued, slinging an arm around the manager and noting how he slumped over the table sadly. "Give tha guy some credit, awreet? He's gat more to him than that. Why don'tcha ask him whet's up? I bet yer nat even thinkin' of whatever the real prahblem is."
"It's none of my business. And I hardly think I'm incapable of understanding loneliness, so even if that is the problem, I daresay I have more experience with the subject than the lead singer of the most popular band in the world."
"Point," the drummer conceded, having another shot. God, Ofdensen could depress anybody.
"What's you lonelies for?" Toki asked, slurring a little bit on the third word. Charles wondered how much he had drunk that night, and decided he himself had consumed enough to not be in charge of that. He shook his head.
"Well, Toki, I've spent the last several years of my life taking care of you all. I don't have the luxury of company, and you may (probably not, his thoughts interjected silently) have noticed that I have never once had a visitor at Mordhaus. It comes with the job description."
A long silence fell over the table as Murderface, Toki and Skwisgaar processed this. Pickles just had yet another shot, knowing the story and not wishing to relive it too much. As someone who went to great lengths to be as happy as possible whenever he could, Charles' shut-in and repressed life made him hurt inside - especially since he did it all in the name of keeping THEM happy instead.
"But, like," Murderface began, trying to phrase a question. "Not even onsche? No ladiesch or anything? It'sch been yearsch schinsche we got famousch, you scheriouschly mean...?"
"It's the price of success, William," Charles said without any trace of satisfaction, and downed the rest of his drink. Even Murderface didn't have a comeback for that one, and stayed silent.
Skwisgaar was the next to speak, sounding a little less entitled than he normally would. "Ams you not wantings... company? Gots to get pretty bads, beings on yous own. And we am nots help you there. Always... too busy. Withs ourselves."
"I told you, though the sentiment is appreciated, I can't afford to let outsiders near the information and access I have to your security and assets. It's too dangerous. As long as I remain in this position I just can't do that."
"But yous gots to be happy!" Toki argued, looking distressed. "That's not fairs!"
"Life isn't fair," Charles shot back bitterly. He hadn't meant to, but he was drunk and angry at the world. Toki would probably understand... or forget by the time he woke up the next morning.
Pickles rubbed the bridge of his nose. This wasn't going anywhere good, he'd never seen Charles so openly unhappy before. "Whet do ya want, then? Frahm a relationship? I mean if ya could have somethin' what would it be, ideally?"
He didn't see why Pickles was asking him, since the answer seemed pointless, but Charles tried to think of a reply anyway. He began with "Well," but had to think further in order to continue. Thinking, of course, involved drinking more.
"I'd like to not have to worry about security. I don't want to have to wonder if they're with me for the money I make or the position I hold, or in order to get close to you boys for any reason. I can never be sure if someone likes me for who I am, or for the convenience being close to me would supply, so I can't ever have that. I just want to be..." he trailed off, needing the best way to phrase that.
Across the bar, Nathan was done talking to himself in his head. He had reached a conclusion, and was now struggling with a way to manifest it in real life. Slowly he finished the remainder of his beer and pushed the glass back on the bar. It may have taken him long enough to make a decision, but when he did make one he always stuck by it. He'd thought about it and thought about it, night after night, hour after hour, and there was only one thing - at that moment - that he could imagine doing to put an end to the insufferable bullshit he was experiencing.
Nathan stood up.
"I just want to be loved for the person I am, and fuck the rest," Charles was finishing as he approached, and Nathan thought that was just as well. It would have been rude to interrupt him in the middle of a sentence. He tapped the manager on his shoulder, and as Charles turned around, Nathan leaned down and pressed a very decisive kiss against the man's mouth.
The bar blurred away, leaving Charles dazed with the reality of what was happening. Was it really happening? Was he losing his fucking mind?
Then it was over, the shock ringing in his ears as Nathan walked away from the table and out of the bar altogether. Nobody said anything, though he knew the rest of the boys were looking to him for some type of explanation, and all he could do was sit there with his tingling mouth open, dumbfounded.
Had he... just...
What...
Pickles shoved him harshly. "Whet the feck are ya WAITIN' fer, Charlie? GO AFTER HIM!"
Shaking his head and not bothering to address the other stunned musicians, Charles flung himself clumsily - oh, god, he was drunk, he had forgotten - out of the booth and towards the door.
- 12
- 13
- 14
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Parabola