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What Becomes of the Broken Hearted	By : LindaG Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Savage Garden Views: 1097 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Savage Garden. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-What Becomes of the Broken Hearted
- 1
Disclaimer: I don’t know anyone associated with Savage Garden. This is FICTION. No harm intended.
Category: Hurt/Comfort
Rating: NC-17
Dedicated to Judy for the inspiration that brought this snippet to an ending.

What Becomes of the Broken Hearted

“Thank you! You’re beautiful! I love you people!” Darren basked in the applause, screams and whistles. Let the emotion continue to wash over him for a bit longer. Then he motioned to Lee, Andrew, Jerhon, Angie, Tina, and Katherine and they joined
him up front for the final bow.

Soon they were moving off stage, and Darren’s smile faded quickly. It was the “official” anniversary… one year since the demise of Savage Garden.

Darren deeply regretted some of the things he’d said, even though he would never admit it to the public.

But he had been, and was still, so hurt by Daniel’s decision to work behind the scenes… And what was worse, he was doing well… very well. That left no possibility of him ever *wanting* to come back. Why should he?

“Darren, time for autographs,” Sharon spoke up.

He really didn’t feel like doing autographs. A year, and they still asked if he’d ever get back with Daniel.

Hell, he’d jump at the chance… but Daniel had never given him any indication that *he* would like to.

Not since he’d tried to convince Daniel to stay, for more than the music…

‘I never should have told him I loved him… but I couldn’t help myself…. He’d responded on stage… or maybe I misread him… well, that much is obvious, because he’s not here now…. A year, and I still can’t forget him.’

“Earth to Darren. Autographs?”

“Do I have to? I’m really tired tonight.”

“Yes, Darren, you have to. Remember, these donations are going to help Julie Rhyder. The young fanclub member who needs the kidney transplant.”

He sighed deeply. He *had* forgotten, much to his dismay, between the concert and constantly wondering why Daniel hadn’t answered. “Okay.”

He put on his public smile as they entered a small room between the theater venue and the sales room. But his smile went from forced to real when he saw all the fans there. There were hundreds, and they had all donated at least ten pounds to get an
autograph. Thoughts of Daniel SavaSavage Garden were soon pushed to the back of his mind as Sharon steered him to the table they had set up and the first fan approached.

Compliments and well wishes warmed him as he signed tourbooks, CDs, and shirts. Three hours and several hand massages later, Darren was guided toward the limo that would take him to his hotel room. A few die-hard fans called to him, and he smiled tiredly.

It was cool and damp, and he pulled away from Sharon to go to the three girls waiting at the barricade.

“Thank you, Darren,” they replied as he quietly signed their tourbooks.

Then Sharon was at his side again, taking his arm and urging him toward the limo.

“Hasn’t there been *any* word from Daniel?”

“No, Darren. I’m sorry.”

“You *have* been sending my messages, haven’t you?” He pleaded, studying Sharon’s expression. “You didn’t forget, did you?”

“Yes, Darren. I know how much it means to you.”

“It’s just… Leo had a habit of ‘forgetting’, and then telling me it was for my own good.” Darren turned his gaze out the window and
watched the streetlights go by. He didn’t see Sharon flinch. “You’re wrong if you think I can go on forever with no contact. I can’t. Even hate would be closure. I need something, anything. I don’t understand why he hasn’t responded in some way.”

“Perhaps silence *is* his answer,” Sharon pointed out.

Darren turned his gaze toward his assistant, his eyes searching her face, trying to find the answers he needed. Thought back to the Affa tour. Daniel’s quiet distance away from the concert venues. His… coldness? when they performed. “Perhaps,” he replied quietly as a tear spilled down his cheek.

Finally they arrived at the hotel and went up to the floor the band was booked on. Sharon stopped outside his room.

“You’ve got an interview at ten, so I’ve left word for a wakeup call at eight. After the interview, we’ll be hitting the gym.”

Darren nodded ambiguously and let himself into his room. He didn’t bother with the light, preferring the soft illumination of the nearly full moon that shone from outside the window. The carpeted floor cushioned his tired feet as he moved across it to drop heavily onto the bed. For long moments he stared at the phone beside the bed, blinking rapidly, trying to keep the tears from falling.

He picked up the phone, pressing for the operator.

“Yes, erm… I need to make an overseas call, please… number? 61-5572-0369… no… I’ll hold, thank you.”

Darren took a deep breath, hoping to calm his racing heart. He listened to the clicks, connecting him across the distance. Then heard the ringing. The sound fainter… dim… as weak as their friendship had become. The ringing stopped, and he held his breath.

“Sorry, mate. I’m not home—”

Answering machine. The tears he’d held began falling as he closed his eyes, drinking in the sound of Daniel’s low voice. A beep and he took a deep breath, trying to fill his lungs quickly.

“Hey, Jonesy…” his voice was subdued and harsh. “Umm… wh-why haven’t you answered? Do you—don’t you—damn it, Daniel… we need… *I* need to talk to you… please… I—I’m at the Raddisson in London… could you—” His voice broke then and he choked on a sob before he managed to hang up.

Months had gone by since that impassioned plea with no response. Darren hadn’t even gone home for Christmas. The first time in his thirty years that he hadn’t. Sure, he’d told everyone during the Capital Christmas interview that it was because he was tired of
traveling, but nothing would have kept him from Australia if Daniel had wanted him there.

Darren wiped his face with his hand. He was supposed to be finishing up the songs for his next album; they were supposed to start production next week, but his heart wasn’t in it any more. He just didn’t care.

He sat in a dark booth, finishing his third beer. Or was it his fourth? He’d lost count. Disgusting stuff, but they wouldn’t think to look for him here if he didn’t make it home. After all, he had an ‘image’ to uphold. That commercial exterior that had nothing to do with his heart and soul, but was strictly geared toward making someone else rich.

He turned dispassionate eyes towards the dance floor. Watched the bodies gyrate and sway to the throbbing beat that pulsed through his spine.

Tilting the glass, he drained the last of his drink, then stood up, swaying slightly, and moved to the dance floor. The music called him. Courted him. Caressed him. Not like a lover. More like a prostitute, but he didn’t care. He needed to be wanted, touched, in some way, however tenuous or fleeting the fantasy was.

He closed his eyes and began to dance. Sinuous movements to the pounding beat. It swallowed him whoand and he didn’t care. Nothing mattered except the aching emptiness and the need to fill it or cut it out.

He was even wearing leather tonight. It had been so long… so long. He’d forgotten how good it felt against his skin. A black silk shirt, half open, completed his ensemble.

His skin wasn’t so pale anymore. Not so innocent seeming, but black was still his friend--when he was wearing it around his body and not his mind.

The lights began blinking, flashing. Movement looking and feeling surreal as he began to sweat from the exertions heced ced upon himself.

He opened and closed his eyes rapidly as the floor seemed to shift under him. The next thing he knew, everything shifted suddenly. overoverhead lights began to spin. Before Darren understood what was happening, strong arms caught him. Steadied him.

“Whoa… are you okay?”

Through the haze in his mind, Darren thought he recognized the voice. He choked ashtnehtness gripped his chest. A cold shiver ran through him.

‘That voice…’

He looked up and back as the strong arms helped him back on his feet. His heart stopped. ‘Green eyes.’

He tried desperately to focus through the alcohol-induced miasma, tilted his head as he looked. Dark hair. Brown. Combed back. Not Daniel, then.

“You okay?” The man asked again, one eyebrow raised in question.

‘But he sounds like Daniel… doesn’t he?’

Could the drink that was affecting his posture be affecting his hearing as well?

“I suppose so,” He mumbled to himself.

“I’m sorry?”

Darren looked up again. A small smile played at the corner of the man’s lips.

“I-uh… yeah… I think so… uh… Thanks… sorry.”

“That’s okay. No problem.”

Darren started. He’d expected the man to say ‘No worries.’ Could have sworn he was going to.

“That’s it,” he told himself. “You’ve had enough.” He blinked several times, glad that the strobes had stopped their confusing dance, and slowly lurched toward the door.

“You aren’t driving, are you?”

He stopped and looked up at the man beside him. He was just about Daniel’s height. After a bit more owlish blinking, he processed the question.

“No… no, I’m not…”

“How are you getting home? Live nearby?”

“Uh… um… yeah…”

“Mind if I walk with you? Just in case you take another nose dive?”

Darren stumbled again, leaning heavily on him and once again strong arms enveloped him. They guided him outside. He inhaled the night air deeply, then groaned and pressed a hand to his pounding head.

“Which way?”

“Wh-what?”

“Your house. Which way?”

Darren closed his eyes for a few moments, until his brain stopped spinning, then pointed to the left.

“That way… about a mile and a half.”

He tried to process the information his muddled senses were giving him. The man smelled faintly of cigarettes. Just like Daniel. He was Daniel’s height. He had green eyes like Daniel. He sounded like Daniel. But he didn’t look like Daniel.

He still needed to fill the hole that had grownil iil it nearly consumed him and his soul. This man seemed to care. Would he stay the night? Did he dare ask?

By the time they reached his house, he could barely stand on his feet. He reached out to the doorknob. It was locked. He stared at it numbly.

“Keys?” the man beside him asked.

He fumbled with his pockets. The man chuckled and his hands searched Darren’s pockets until they found his keys.

Soon the door was unlocked, and the man helped him inside.

Darren looked up at him. Darren wasn’t really horny. He wasn’t sure what he was. But he needed somebody to hold him. Just for the night. Impulsively he captured the man’s lips, his hands fisting the jacket the man wore. He closed his eyes. He knew it was wrong, but he imagined this man as Daniel.

In that club, anyone he met should be open to his advances. He hoped that was the case.

He whimpered when the man’s hands came up to his face, the fingers curling behind his head as the man deepened the kiss. Suddenly tongues were clashing, tasting, questing.

Darren groaned.

“Stay with me… please…” he begged breathlessly as their lips parted.

The man placed small kisses all over Darren’s face, his groin thrusting against Darren’s, his arousal noticeable even through the drunken haze that still held his mind hostage.

“Upstairs…” he begged, more than directed.

He stumbled as the man pulled him forward and up the stairs.

In the bedroom, the man began tearing at Darren’s clothes. A faint voice in the back of his mind told him he should be afraid, but he shunted it away. He needed this. However it came. Even if it meant physical pain, anything was better than the pain that was gnawing at his soul. Wasn’t it?

The next thing Darren knew, he was being forced to his knees.

“Suck me!” The man demanded harshly.

Darren realized the man’s hard cock was inches from his face. He placed his hands on the man’s hips and rubbed his lips over the weeping cock. The man groaned and twisted his fingers into Darren’s hair. He’d been letting it grow again. The mild discomfort helped. Felt like penance for everything he’d said since their separation.

He caressed the man’s thighs as he licked up and down the pulsing hardness in front of him. He took it into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the tip as he did so.

“Oh… you feel so good…”

Darren worked the cock. Sucking his cheeks in hard, he pressed his tongue against the shaft as his head bobbed. His hands on the man’s hips balanced him as much as held the man somewhat steady.

Even drunk, he was apparently good at his task, because soon the man’s hips were thrusting, the hard cock fucking his mouth, and shortly after the creamy cum was shooting down his throat.

He tried to swallow it all, but his reflexes weren’t fast enough and some ended up running down the corners of his mouth.

The man grunted, pulled his softening cock from Darrenouthouth and pushed him roughly to the side. The singer fell on the carpet with a slight groan.

“You’re pretty good.” The man commented as he pulled his pants up and started to leave.

“Wait!” Darren pleaded. “Please… don’t leave me alone… please…”

The man snorted derisively. “Why? You’re pathetic.”

Darren cringed. The man still sounded so much like Daniel. But Daniel had never been so harsh, even though he’d given Daniel plenty of reason to be over the last year or so.

He scrambled to his hands and knees. His vision was now impaired by tear filled eyes as well as the alcohol that held onto him with a tenacious grip.

“Please…” he held his hand out, beseeching the man.

“You’ll let me do what I want?”

Darren lowered his head submissively. “Yes.”

“Even if it hurts?”

Darren nodded. “Please… even pain is preferable to loneliness…”

“Even drunk you –”

Unhappily the singer wondered what the man had been going to say.

“Touch yourself! I want to watch.”

Darren trembled, but did as ordered. He closed his eyes, once again seeing Daniel, the man he could never have. The fingers of his right hand ghosted over his nipples. Even beer couldn’t dull their sensitivity. The electricity shot straight to his cock, already aroused from their earlier activities. He used his left hand to fondle his balls, gently rolling them in his hand.

He heard the man behind him suck in his breath yet couldn’t find the strength to smile. He heard the man’s zipper again and the jangle of pocket change as his pants fell to the floor. An odd sound followed. He couldn’t p the the sound, didn’t know what to expect. He jumped when leather touched his shoulder.

“Keep your eyes closed,” the man hissed.

Darren nodded as sweat broke out on his brow.

“Please…” he implored. “Punish me… I deserve it…”

“Move your hand down and don’t you dare come.”

Darren steadied himself with the hand that had been fondling his balls as his right hand slowly caressed his still hardening cock.

*CRACK*

“Ahhh…” Darren yelped as his body jolted from the sting of the belt. It had curved over his shoulder, licking his nipple and the right side of his body. A tear fell from closed eyes.

“Please… beat me… hurt… me…”

*CRACK*

“Ow!”

“I told you, don’t you dare come!”

Darren’s hand jerked away from his penis. It throbbed with the energy from the lash of the belt. He could still feel the sting.

The belt landed one more time, on his back, and a needy moan escaped his lips.

“Now, suppose you tell me why you want me to hurt you?”

Darren tilted his head. There had been a tone to the man’s voice. It was hard to pin down. Anger? Pain? Yes. Pain. Why?

“Tell me!” The man ordered, angry again, but the belt didn’t strike Darren.

“I hurt someone… someone who hurt me… but I—I hurt him worse…”

“Him?”

Darren nodded. “Yes.” His voice was barely a whisper.

“H—How?”

“I loved him. But he didn’t love me… so I blamed him for everything. The breakup of our band. The disruption of my life. Everything… Now HIT ME! Please…”

Darren heard the swish of the belt on the carpet, the faint sound in the air, but it didn’t caress his skin the way he needed so badly.

“Please… I need you… please stay… hurt me…”

“I—I can’t, Dazza. I can’t.”

Darren looked up, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Danny?” He thought and spoke skeptically.

“Yeah, Darren. It’s me.”

Darren watched as Daniel peeled theatrical layers of makeup from his cheeks and chin. He looked obviously at Daniel’s hair, waiting.

“I dyed it, Darren,” he shrugged. “Just not black.”

Darren stood on shaky feet. His cock felt even harder now.

“Danny?”

Daniel dropped the belt. Uncertainty filled his green eyes. “I was angry. I’m sorry. I—I can’t hit you again.”

The singer stepped up to his old partner, who cringed noticeably.

“I’m not mad. I’m not going to hurt you any more.” He said softly, gently running the back of his hand over one of the younger man’s cheeks.

“What are you doing here? What were you doing *there*? Why didn’t you return my letters? My calls?” He stopped when he saw the anxiousness on the taller man’s face.

Daniel swallowed nervously. “Do—do you mind if we sit down?”

Darren smiled kindly. “All I have in here is the bed.”

The guitarist blushed and nodded. Darren turned and climbed onto the bed. He didn’t throw back the sheets. Wouldn’t demand anything more from Daniel than what he w off offer on his own. The singer kept his smile welcoming as the tall man carefully climbed on beside him, his shirt covering his chest.

“I never got your letters…”

Darren realized Sharon had been lying, too. Just like Leonie. ‘Why does everyone need to control me? Damn them! I may be a Diva, but I’m a big boy. I know what I want.’

Suddenly he didn’t want to discuss the past. It could only bring up old hurt. He repeated his earlier questions.

“—erm, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you, too. The hotel told me they weren’t allowed to put calls through to you. When I finally got through to Leonie, she said there was no way she’d let me talk to you.” Daniel studied his hands. “So I finally decided to come
looking for you. But I didn’t want to be recognized. I didn’t know what Leo would do if she knew I was here looking for you. So I dyed my hair and found a makeup shop in Santa Monica that would help with a disguise.”

Darren nodded silently.

“It was luck, really. I had pretty much given up hope. I’d been to so many clubs.”

“Why, Daniel? What are you doing here?”

“I told you. I wanted to talk. I’ve had a long time to think.”

“Your company is doing well. Very well. Aren’t you worried about it?”

Daniel shook his head slightly. “I’ve got a couple of good partners. They can handle it as long as I need to take. These last months I’ve nearly gone crazy, trying to reach you after that call. I finally decided I had to come here. But I didn’t have your address.”

“So,” Darren said with a sigh, after a moment’s silence. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I—I—”

Darren smiled. The only time he ever saw Daniel like this was when emotions were involved. Anything else he could handle easily.

“I still love you, Danny,” he offered.

The bowed head came up and their gazes locked.

“I think… I think I love you, too.”

Darren’s smile widened a bit and he leaned slowly in toward the guitarist. Daniel’s breath seemed to come heavier, but he didn’t pull away. As Darren came closer, Daniel’s head tilted slightly and as their lips touched again, the green eyes were shuttered. The singer’s tongue brushed lightly against the younger man’s lips and they parted, allowing his to enter and explore.

This time the kiss was shy, tender. An extreme contrast to the heated kiss that had plundered his mouth earlier. Daniel’s breathing became more ragged as the kiss deepened and Darren finally decided to pull the younger man to him.

Daniel whimpered and fell against Darren, his arms wrapping around the older man as if to pull them closer still. When they finally broke the kiss, Daniel clung to him as if he might disappear.

“I always envied you your ease with your sexuality,” Daniel began after another moment of silence. “I was afraid of my feelings. What I felt…”

Darren nodded, even though Daniel couldn’t see the action. He held the slim body in a protective embrace and began to run his fingers through the soft locks of hair.

“I wanted to tell you… at the end of the Affa tour. But Leonie threatened me if I did. She said it was *my* choice to leave, and *you* needed to be able to move on and forget me. Then all the bitter interviews… Heart Attack… All my letters came back. Your cell and house phone were call forwarded to Leonie…”

“What?” Darren sat up suddenly.

Daniel sat up then, too. “You didn’t know?”

“God damn it! Wait till I see her again. How *dare* she!” Darren was livid.

One look at Daniel’s worried gaze and Darren pushed all thoughts of the traitorous Leonie from his mind.

“Let’s not worry about that, though, okay? I am *very* grateful you came, Danny.”

Darren pulled the younger man to him again, hissing slightly as Daniel’s shirt brushed up against his reddened nipple.

“I’m sorry.” Daniel apologized.

“Don’t be. I enjoyed it. Even though at the time I wanted it for a different reason. Shot straight to my donger, I’ll tell you that.”

They both chuckled at that, though Daniel from nervousness more than humor.

He looked up from Darren’s nipple to his eyes, an unvoiced question in his hopeful gaze.

“You don’t have to, Danny.”

“I want to.”

His voice was thick with desire and Darren’s eyes darkened as he whimpered his longing.

Daniel pushed him back carefully. The tenderness a distinct contrast from the part he’d tried to portray earlier. Darren watched, wide eyed, as el lel leaned down and slowly touched the tip of his tongue to Darren’s hardened nub.

Fire burned down Darren’s chest to pool in the center of his groin, reawakening his nearly limp cock and he arched his back.

“Oh, Danny,” he murmured.

As Daniel grew more at ease with what he was doing, he moved his attentions to Darren’s other nipple. Darren began to writhe. He brought his hands to Daniel’s head, twisting his fingers into the dark locks, but reminded himself not to force Daniel where he needed him. He thrust his hips. Begging silently.

Long fingers slowly wrapped around his arousal. They began to move up and down at a steady pace. Working him gently, squeezing firmly. He pleaded, begged, asked for more. Constantly telling Daniel how wonderful he was.

Daniel’s lips kissed up his throat, his tongue ran lightly over Darren’s jaw. He nipped at Darren’s pulse and the singer groaned deeply.

Daniel sucked on the lobe of Darren’s ear as his hand continued to tease Darren’s throbbing cock. The prone man had released his hold on Daniel’s hair as the younger man’s mouth moved up. He fisted the sheets instead and tried not to scream at the wonderful torture. Daniel’s lips left a burning trail in their wake; his fingers did the same around his shaft. He was certain he’d go crazy or burst if he didn’t get release soon. He growled his frustration.

“Danny, please… please… I can’t take… much more…” he pleaded.

Daniel squeezed his cock in response, moving his mouth back to the singer’s. His hand sped up slightly, and as Daniel’s tongue wrestled with his, Darren finally felt the sweet rush of release. He keened into Daniel’s mouth as his hips thrust once, twice, then his
back arched. He shuddered as Daniel’s hand slowly ceased caressing his rapidly softening cock.

“Darren, what—?”

Darren opened blurry eyes as Daniel’s thumb brushed his cheek and he realized he’d begun to cry.

He pulled Daniel to him, crushing his lips in a heated kiss. He broke it quickly though.

“I’m okay, Danny. It was more than I’d ever hoped to have with you.”

“I thought… maybe…”

“What?” he asked softly, encouragingly.

“Maybe you were disappointed that I didn’t… you know.” The guitarist shrugged a shoulder.

Darren smiled, and hugged Daniel again. “Never,” he shook his head slightly, his voice still husky. “We don’t have to do it all tonight. We’ll have other nights, won’t we?” He couldn’t keep the anticipation from his voice.

Daniel smiled then. Hesitantly at first, but it widened quickly. “If you’ll have me.”

Darren laughed and kissed Daniel again. “Just try and get away.”

The End.
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What Becomes of the Broken Hearted