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Skinned Knees and Broken Hearts	By : KioraDragon Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Avenged Sevenfold Views: 2531 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Avenged Sevenfold. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 7
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Chapter 8 : For You

Brian woke up to the sound of coughing. His brows drew down in concern as he looked over at the four-year-old on the other side of his bed. He heard Zacky cough again and watched as the boy clutched Syn for comfort.

“Zack?” His voice was slightly scratchy and dry from sleep. Brian rolled over and put a hand on the boy’s back. He gasped at the heat coming through the material of Zacky’s pajamas. He winced as the four year old coughed again and then sniffed. Brian sat up in bed, turned on a lamp and pulled the covers off himself and the little boy next to him. He sucked in his breath as he saw the boy’s small body covered in sweat.

“Zacky,” Brian called the boy’s name again as he turned the four year old over. Just as he noticed that the boy was still asleep; Zacky had a coughing fit so strong that it woke him.

Brian watched as the glazed green eyes welled up with tears.

“Hurts…” Zacky whined and pulled Syn closer as another coughing fit wracked the four-year-old’s body.

Brian pressed his wrist to the four year old’s head, remembering that his mother had done that to him when he got sick. He pulled his hand back as Zacky’s skin had all but burnt his own. Zacky whimpered in pain just before he coughed again.

Brian bolted out of bed. He snatched his cell phone off of the side table and dialed a number he knew by heart, too rushed and slightly frantic to deal with the speed dial or look through his contacts. He rushed over to the hall closet, flinging the door open as he hit the send button on his phone. His other hand was digging in shallow boxes and knocking bottles over in its quest to find a thermometer.

“Come on, come on, pick up the phone,” he muttered to himself as he listened to the annoying ringing coming out of his phone.

“Hello?” came the sleepy question through his ear piece.

“Dad, give the phone to mom,” Brian said hurriedly as he rushed back to his bedroom and Zacky.

“Brian?” his father asked, sounding more alert. “What’s wrong?” Brian almost missed the question seeing as he was having a battle with the coughing four-year-old on getting the thermometer under Zacky’s tongue.

“Dad, please just give mom the phone!” Brian said, letting his voice show his panic as he finally won the ‘thermometer battle’ and was watching the numbers on the digital read out climb.

“Brian, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” came his mother’s worried voice.

“Mom, I’ll explain everything later, just tell me what to do if a four-year-old has a fever of…” he trailed off waiting for the digital thermometer to beep. He was pulling off Zacky’s sweat soaked pajamas and petting the boy’s wet hair. He looked around for the towel he had used for after Zacky’s bath that night; the phone was clutched between his ear and shoulder as he picked the towel up and wiped it over Zacky’s body.

The thermometer beeped and Brian took it from Zacky’s mouth; the four-year-old glad to be rid of the foreign object.

“Holy Shit…” Brian swore as he read the numbers.

“Mom, he’s got a fever of 103.7, what do I do?” He asked, trying to control his panic.

“Brian, you’re going to have to run the shower. Put the water a few degrees below room temp. The child will scream at the temperature change. Ignore it; you have to bring the fever down. I’ll be over there as soon as I get dressed.” Her voice was calm and even, exactly what Brian needed to hear right now.

“Thanks mom.” He whispered and hung up, closing his phone and picking Zacky up. He carried the four-year-old into his en suite bathroom and turned on the water faucet halfway.

Zacky was whimpering and squirming in his arms as Brian paced the short distance to the tub. He bounced the four year old gently in his arms as he waited for the water.

As soon as the water was about room temp, Brian stepped in to the tub, holding Zacky. He closed the curtain and pulled the lever for the shower to run.

As his mother had said; as soon as the water hit, Zacky was screaming in his arms.

“No!” Zacky cried, squirming and pushing at Brian with his arms. He was kicking his legs and sobbing as the cold water seeped in to his sweat soaked hair and drenched his body. He tried to burrow deeper into the older man’s warmer body but found no solace. His loud cries quieted down eventually to whimpers and sobs.

Brian had been biting his lip the entire time he held Zack under the spray of water. The little boy’s screams had almost been his undoing, but he remembered what his mother had told him and he knew he had to bring Zack’s fever down.

It wasn’t much longer that Zacky had started to shiver in his arms. Brian turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. He grabbed a towel off the rack and dried the four year old, then sat him down on the counter.

Brian grimaced at the wet and clinging pajama pants he was wearing. He grabbed another towel for himself and quickly dried his hair and chest. He pulled off his sodden pants and boxers and wrapped the towel around his waist.

He picked Zacky back up and placed him on the bed. He searched through Zacky’s clothes and sighed; they were all too heavy of a material and would surely bring the boy’s fever back up.

Brian ran his eyes over the room, his gaze falling on one of his sleeveless shirts hanging out of his hamper. “I’ll be right back,” he told the shivering four year old. He went into the spare bedroom; the one that had all of 26 year old Zacky’s stuff in it. He dug through a suitcase and pulled out one of Zacky’s wife beaters.

As soon as Brian had the four year old dressed, his door bell rang. Brian picked Zacky up and balanced the boy on his hip.

When he opened the door, both his parents stood there; his father looking slightly more shocked and confused than his mother. Brain stepped aside and let his parents in. His mother pressed children’s cough and fever medicine into his hand and cooed at Zacky. She lifted her wrist to press it against the four year old’s forehead.

Zacky leaned back and turned his head into Brian’s neck.

His mother looked at Zacky in concern and then at Brian. “He doesn’t like to be touched by other people.” He shrugged and with one shoulder led his parents into the kitchen. Brian put the kettle on for coffee and took down 3 mugs, sugar, and the instant coffee. He wasn’t really in the mood to use the coffee maker.

He sat down at the table facing his parents. He sat Zacky in his lap and the boy proceeded to snuggle in to him. Brian Sr. was the first to break the silence, “So how long were you going to hide our grandson from us?”

Brian’s eyes widened, that was not quite the question he had expected. “Uh…” Words seemed to fail him; he was so shocked at the disappointment showing clearly on his father’s features. He shook his head, “No, Dad, he’s not mine.”

“Oh…” His parents shared a look, confusion and disappointment at not being grandparents clearly etched across their faces. “If he’s not yours, then whose is he? And where did you get him?” asked his father.

Brian took a deep breath and looked down at the boy in his arms. “His name is Zackary Baker,” Brian answered simply.

“So Vengeance has a baby?” asked his father, his mother piped up before Brian could answer.

“He does look an awful lot like Zack.” Her eyes studied the four year old’s features.

“No.” He corrected. “This is Zacky, not his son.” Brian bit the inside of his lip and waited for the information to sink in.

“Sweetheart, Zacky is 26, not 4.” Brian literally bit his tongue at the patronizing words from his mother. He shook his head as his mother told him that it wasn’t possibly that Zack was four and so on. His father joined in at some point, Brian wasn’t entirely sure when, but he had tuned them out.

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell anyone else,” Brian sighed, he felt incredibly tired right then and told his parents so. His parents stopped trying to convince him that the child in his lap was not Zacky.

Brian, seeing his chance, in finally being able to explain that: no, he was not crazy and yes, the little boy really was Zacky.

It took 3 cups of coffee for him to get the entire explanation out. Zacky had wiggled and squirmed his way around Brian’s lap until he had eventually wound up with his head nuzzled into the guitarist’s neck and his body being supported by the older man’s arms. Zacky had woken up a few minutes later, coughing. Brian felt his forehead and once again the boy’s fever was rising.

Brian measured out the medicine, while his mother filled a bowl with some ice and water then went to get a face cloth. As he poured out the cough medicine, he winced at the red syrup, memories of the horrible taste it had resurfaced. He held the small cup up to Zacky’s mouth, but the four-year-old would have none of it.

Zacky pushed Brian’s hand away with his two. “No…” he whined, and then had a coughing fit.

“Come on Zacky, please?” Brian begged. “It’ll make you feel better.” He held the cup up to Zacky’s lips after pulling the boy’s hands away from his own.

“No…” Zacky turned his head away and once again started to talk without moving his lips.

Brian sighed, “Please Zack, for me?”

The four-year-old blinked at him, he sniffed which caused yet another coughing fit. Zacky looked up at Brian and whispered, “For you.”

Brian took a breath of relief and smiled down at the boy. He brought the little cup up to Zacky’s lips for a third time. He watched as Zacky swallowed the cough syrup and then scrunched up his face from the taste.

Brian thanked his mom as she handed him the bowl of ice water and the face cloth. He dunked the cloth in the water and then rung it out, he wiped it over Zacky’s face and neck. He smiled when the little boy sighed contentedly in his arms.

Brian and his parents talked for a little while longer, he would soak the cloth in the cold water every time it would get warm and run it over Zacky’s head and neck.

His mother gave him some tips about how to take care of Zacky with or without the coughing and fever.

It wasn’t too long after that his parents left. Brian loved his parents, honestly. But at 4:52 in the morning with a sick, cranky, and fussy Zacky; he couldn’t help the small happy dance he did inside his head when they walked out the door.

Brian carried the sleepy Zacky up the stairs and in to his bedroom. He laid Zacky down and pulled just the sheet over the boy. He once again soaked the face cloth in the cold water, rung it out, and then placed it on Zacky’s head.

The four-year-old murmured softly as he fell asleep. Brian stayed up till 5:30 AM watching over the boy.

---

Jimmy and Johnny showed up at Brian’s the next day bright and early at the crack of… quarter to 2PM.

Brian and Zacky had been curled up on the couch with blankets, pillows, cough syrup, and tissues. They were watching cartoon and animated movies.

“What’s wrong with the Zackster?” Jimmy asked, looking pointedly at the tissues and cough medicine that littered Brian’s coffee table.

“I’m sick,” Zacky pouted and snuggled Syn closer.

Upon closer inspection the black furry blanket lying at the end of Brian’s feet was breathing. Icky raised his head at the sound of hearing Zacky say ‘ick’. He put his head back down on Brian’s leg when he realized his daddy hadn’t called him.

Johnny walked over to the couch and placed the bag he had been holding in front of Zacky. He shrugged when Brian raised a brow at him. “We were at the bookstore yesterday and thought Z might have gotten tired of the other books.”

Brian’s other brow rose to meet its twin. “You two jokers at a book store? What were you looking for? This year’s gay Karma Sutra?”

Jimmy stuck his tongue out at the guitarist while Johnny’s cheeks turned an interesting shade of red.

“At least we’re getting some,” Jimmy defended and pulled the short blond to his chest.

Brian rolled his eyes. “If it’s escaped your notice, I have a four year old in my bed every night. Not exactly conducive to getting laid.”

Jimmy smirked. “Yeah. Too bad said four year old isn’t twenty six again. Then you might get some action,” He winked and pushed his lover out Brian’s front door.

“What the hell is that suppose to mean!?!” Brian yelled just before Jimmy closed the door behind himself. Brian scowled at the door and then looked down at a very confused Zacky. He shrugged at the four year old and the boy shrugged back at him.

They watched movies for the rest of the day, only getting up when absolutely necessary. Zacky took his cough and fever medicine every four to six hours. He would always repeat those two words before he took it. ‘For You.’

When dinner time rolled around ‘Grilled cheese!’ had been yelled before Brian could even finish his question of ‘What would you like for dinner?’

Brian sighed and shook his head. “You are addicted. How about chicken noodle soup?”

Zacky pouted at Brian’s suggestion. He sighed when he looked up at the older man and realized that it wasn’t a suggestion at all. “I guess,” Zacky shrugged and pulled Syn into a hug as he burrowed down into the cushions and blankets on the couch.

Brian rolled his eyes at the four year old’s melodrama and went into the kitchen. He took out a can of soup and poured it into a pan. He turned on the range and waited for the soup to heat up.

Standing there with a spoon in his hand, Brian contemplated why Jimmy had said what he had. Usually there wasn’t any reason to search for a meaning in what ever the drummer said; and yet, Brian felt the need to analyze Jimmy‘s words. He was still thinking about it when he put Zacky to sleep that night.

He had read the first two pages of one of Zacky’s new books before Zacky asked for his song. By the end of the song Zacky was almost asleep. Brian kissed the boy’s forehead and turned out the lamp. “Good night Z, sweet dreams,” he whispered and brushed the fringe off of the four year old’s forehead, discreetly checking the boy’s fever.

“’Night Bri,” Zacky murmured sleepily, “Love you…” He trailed off and his breathing became deep and even.

Brian stared at the child for a few minutes, why had those two words frozen his limbs? Surely it shouldn’t affect him so. Zacky was four; he had attached himself to Brian; for who knows what reason. Of course the boy would say that he loved him… Right? The guitarist was losing this mental battle.

He turned and walked out of his bedroom leaving the door open a bit and the hall light on. He went down stairs and grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniel’s out of the liquor cabinet. He looked at one of his shot glass briefly before saying, “Fuck it.” He unscrewed the cap on the bottle as he sat down on the couch.

He took a few gulps of the alcohol; it burned so good on the way down. He let out a shuddering breath and closed his eyes. Bright green eyes, glazed over with love and lust stared at him as those two words reverberated in his mind. The thing was, it didn’t sound like four year old Zacky. It sounded like twenty six year old Zacky saying them.

Brian opened his eyes and shook his head. Stupid Jimmy, why did he have to say that? Now he was hearing and seeing things.

Chapter 8 END
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Skinned Knees and Broken Hearts