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Confluence	By : malicevampire90 Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > The Academy Is... Views: 726 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of The Academy Is... I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Title: Confluence
Pairing: Andy M./William B., Andy M./Tarja (OC), Michael GC./William B.
Author: Aleksi V.
Rating: R
Disclaimer: standard
Summary: It was a one-night thing…so why do they keep crossing paths, why are they being sucked into one another’s lives…
Notes/Warnings: my version of a crack fic I guess. That’s what I get for listening to Loituma(techno)/MOAG soundtracks/Overdose nonstop. A/U, abuse, drug use, character death, sex, violence, and random hallucinations that will more than likely mean nothing. That about covers it. This will progress in four parts: Summer, Fall, Winter and Spring with four chapters each. Don’t like it, don’t read.

WINTER: Chapter 1:

He hated winter…it wasn’t because of the snow, or the cold…it was because he had nothing to do. He wasn’t allowed to leave the apartment, he wasn’t allowed to talk on the phone, and the TV was about the only thing he could watch or do without getting into trouble. William couldn’t be angry with Michael though…he was only thinking of him when he’d made these rules…to protect him from the harsh reality of the world. He was currently sitting on the windowsill, facing the cityscape lit up with lights that made it appear to be some massive carnival stretched out over a vast black blanket of nothingness.

It was times like this that he wondered what his family was up to…he’d not seen them in years because he’d made the choice to move to New York with Michael, leaving behind Chicago and everyone he’d loved. However, he’d loved Michael more…and here he was now, safe in their apartment. William toyed with the thin silver ring on his left ring finger idly…he didn’t know where Michael was or when he was coming home. He’d gotten every ounce of housework done and now there was nothing to do. He supposed he could clean the bathroom again…but he knew it would be pointless because he’d made it spotless an hour before. He’d long since learned not to question where the elder went or when he would be coming back, Michael had claimed it was none of his business what he did with his friends and William had agreed albeit reluctantly. William had no friends…he was never allowed out long enough to make any friends and if he did Michael would make him break it off with them saying that they were backstabbing…and what could William do? Michael was always right about those things.

He got up and padded over to the couch, plopping down in it rather ungracefully, curling up on his side and turning on the television to some random station selling a laundry detergent that could get out three-year-old bloodstains for all he cared. He had nothing better to do than battle boredom because if he’d still had a cell phone he’d have called Sisky or Mike back home…if he had a computer with internet he’d IM them instead…he just wanted something to do other than wait. That was all he’d been doing since November, it was now February, and he was still left at home with nothing. About mid-January he’d started to experiment with different pain medication (though he’d never tell Michael, that would earn him a beating for wasting medicine) to try to pass time. Yes, it was dangerous and unhealthy but just a few months ago he’d found the perfect concoction for fighting boredom.

The dosage was about three times what someone his size should really be taking but it worked so well. Five or six aspirin, quarter of a cup of Nyquil, and a Midol (where the Midol had come from is his guess because there were no women in the apartment surprisingly). If taken in order: one, two, three…it left William able to practically stare at the coffee table in front of him and just sit like that for hours at a time. William remembered the first time Michael had caught him like that; he was so numb that he couldn’t feel himself get backhanded for being stupid and wasting all the medicine on himself when he wasn’t in pain. That’s why he never did it often…but tonight…he felt as if he had nothing to waste, and his mentality was that if he overdosed on the pills, he deserved it and he’d finally be free of the boredom. Morbid but true. He got up off the couch after a few minutes it seemed and wondered through the kitchen to the bathroom, bothering to close the door as no one was home. He reached up over the sink and opened the cabinet taking out his prized “boredom remedy” and set them up on the vanity in order before grabbing the glass that sat by the faucet and filling it with water. He took the basic handful of aspirin and threw them back downing the entire glass of water and quickly refilling it, next he took up the cap for the cough syrup and drained it nearly gagging from the taste(he hated Nyquil’s taste with a passion) before moving to the last pill and downing the other glass of water.

He closed his eyes leaning heavily on the vanity and keeping his head bowed forward nearly against the mirror. He never took them with food…which was probably never a good idea but he didn’t eat much to begin with and if he ate anything that Michael didn’t want him to have he’d be punished for it. He could already feel the tingling sensations shoot from his stomach up through his throat and out to his arms and legs. This was by far the best feeling of doing this…if he couldn’t afford real drugs he could make the same effect with whatever he had…and as much as he hated to admit it, he liked it way to much to just stop whenever. Michael wouldn’t stop him…he liked William like this…numb to the point that no amount of abuse would faze him. William had let Michael have his way with him many times simply because he couldn’t do anything in his state and even if he was clean and sober he doubted he could overpower the other, mentally or physically. He must have lost track of the time staring down at the sink in his stupor because he only looked up when he heard familiar heavy footsteps outside the doorway to the bathroom. The evidence was everywhere and William knew it was no point to try to hide it so he wasn’t surprised when he felt the elder man pull him by his hair out of the bathroom and into the main room of the apartment.

He felt no pain whatsoever but he knew that the other was angry without feeling. Michael turned on him and gripped his face with one hand holding him out at a length away from him. Not even the sharp blow against his cheek fazed him, as he’d long since been numb; however he still falls back from the force of the other’s strike. Michael didn’t say anything, he never did…not when he was this angry and disappointed at William…all he does is pull him back up and throw him onto the couch so the younger boy’s back is to him. William knows what the punishment is…and for the first time in the five years he’s been with Michael, he feels glad that he cannot feel anything at this moment. Michael shakes his head and pulls his belt from its loops in a quick jerk, making a type of loop with the buckle and looking down at William.
“Take off your shirt.”
William can’t truly comprehend the command through his muddled mind and his boyfriend’s heavy accent. When Michael seizes the back of his neck roughly its enough to get his point across that he has commanded it clearly. William tries to take his time but he knows the inevitable consequence. Before he knows what’s happening, he hears a loud, dull smack against his back. He feels no pain but the tears still gather in his eyes and his body still recoils from the blow as he complies and fights his t-shirt off. In no time, Michael is raping his back with the belt, the sharp edges of the buckle leaving deep gashes in his pale skin. William can’t feel the pain but he realizes that he is crying. Michael gives him a few more blows, each landing on him with a dull, wet thud that either further smeared blood on his skin or sent it spattering onto some other surface near them. William didn’t even know he was bleeding until he saw thick rivulets running down over his sides and shoulders dripping off his body and onto the floor or the couch.

Michael didn’t even look at him as he left, slamming the door behind him. William stayed where he was and slowly curled up on his side being mindful of the injuries. Physically he felt nothing…emotionally he felt the pain though, he realized why he was crying, he was crying because he realized that after five years…Michael never loved him the way that William loved him.
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Confluence