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[Feb. 4th, 2008|04:31 pm] |
Title: Synyster
Pairing: Synyster gates/Zacky Vengeance
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Synyster is a dead cell. He knows no emotion, no love, no fear; rage and hatred are his only friends. He's dead, but still living and breathing, and he hates it. What happens when he meets a stranger who turns his world upside down numerous times?
Disclaimer: All stories with relevance to real people are NOT coincidental, and are called fanfiction. I mean no ill will or harm toward the people involved in such stories and only end up using them as stencils for my creative outbursts. I mean no disrespect, and it's all in fun.
Synyster I
Synyster made his way downtown, heavy footsteps seeming to lull him for a little while as he tried to walk off the thought of the male he’d met. He, however, ran into a little bit of trouble as he reached near up town, his shoulder grazing some young punk, walking tall and talking even taller. Their shoulders collided, sending the kid to the ground, his bulky frame splayed out on the concrete, rubbing at his shoulder where he was sure he could feel a little more than a sting of cold.
“Hey, watch where you’re going, asshole!” the punk shouted, and in a second, Synyster had him pinned to the ground and straddled, his wound-up body aching for some kind of release. The dagger that had previously been hidden in his clothes was pressed to the guy’s neck, slipping through the flesh easily. “H-hey, man, I mean no trouble.”
“You make me sick,” he spat in a booming, acidic tone as he pushed harder into the skin, watching the eyes he was looking into bulge and begin to move around in panic. “You watch where you’re going, you pretentious fucking ass, or it may just be your last collision.”
“I-I’m sorry, man,” came the pathetic apology stuttering off his pale lips, and on second thought they were as pale as the rest of him. This guy was scared shitless, and Synyster instantly fed off that, shutting his eyes and smirking a little, thankfully all thoughts forgotten in the heat of the moment. This was why he did what he did.
“Not sorry enough,” he replied in a deadly whisper, and in one swift movement, the vocal chords were exposed, blood pouring out like a sieve onto the concrete. He kept away from it after it splashed on his hands and his face. He backed away, listening to the choking as if it were music, a domineering sneer on his face as he pocketed the blade. The sounds ceased, and the vampire lost interest, the expression on his face melting, replaced with disgust as he walked back to a small house in the suburbs, held in by a gate.
After inputting a series of numbers with lithe fingers, he entered the gate, looking up to the house. It was unremarkable; a white house with pale red trim and dark shutters that were open this time of the night, two stories moving up from the foundations, the roof moving just as any other would.
He slipped in the white door, and everything changed. A wash of dark colors, a mosaic of mahogany and black, forest greens and deep violet hit him as he entered. Painting after painting was lined up on the wall, unexceptional in the dark.
He made his way to a darkened staircase, took a deep breath and glanced down a hall to the left. “Shaddix!” he called in a booming voice down the hall, moving away from the staircase and toward the hallway.
A man about his height, a slighter but meatier build, dark hair moving both up and down from his face, hanging in bright blue eyes, glimmering with a childlike curiosity cocked his head to the side, stepping out to reveal an all-black ensemble, a nondescript t-shirt and jeans. “Yeah, Syn?”
“I need you to look someone up for me,” he growled as he walked toward the room the other vampire was popping his head out of. The blue-eyed one blinked, but allowed the darker of the two into the room, surrounded by any piece of electrical equipment you could think of, and some pieces that didn’t quite work. “All I know is his name’s Zacky, he’s about 5’8”, about 175, green eyes…”
“Whoa whoa whoa, captain, why do you wanna know so much?” Shaddix pushed, and Synyster just shot him a glare fit for an enemy, to which the computer genius recoiled slightly, cocking his head in curiosity despite himself.
“Call it an interest, now just do it!” he snapped, watching Shaddix write down the logistics before he left the room, only to be met by a broad chest hovering inches from his. He recoiled and looked up into hazel eyes that were hard as gold, peeking over a pair of aviator sunglasses. “Shadows.”
The name Shadows was attached to a mountain of a man. Thick muscles moved in ropes over his big boned frame, tattoos covering those in planes, his chest puffed out and proud, his arms and legs screaming power with every movement. His face shape was rounded, a smirking mouth that had the possibility of breaking out into a dimpled smile, seeming cute until you looked into his eyes, hard as precious metal as they looked out, over the other vampire with a skeptical eye.
“Synyster, what’s up?” asked Shadows, raising an eyebrow slightly, glancing at the blood on his face that was smeared over his high cheekbones in arcs, as though he’d touched his face numerous times. “Productive night?”
Synyster laughed hollowly and shook his head. “I guess you could call it that,” he muttered, moving to pass the larger vampire, who stopped him with a hand to his shoulder, that he threw off, and turned around in a fighting stance. “You know I hate to be touched, so why the fuck do you do it?”
“Testing boundaries,” came the easy response, and Synyster snarled, dropping his stance with a slight sigh, shaking his head and disappearing up the stairs, finding himself in his room.
He began to strip, and that was when the scars on his back came into play, a brazen reminder of torment painted white across his tanned complexion, screaming the pain he’d never show himself. They were in criss-cross patterns, weaving over his whole back, telling a secret story that no one knew. He threw his shirt across the room and stripped out of his jeans, showing more of the marks on the back of his legs, as though he’d been whipped.
The pants went where the shirt did, and with that he made his way to the bathroom, opening it and turning on the water scalding hot despite his cold body temperature. He slipped in, the steam surrounding him, and all came unraveled as he fell to the floor of the bathtub, silent rocking movements of weakness enveloping his cold exterior.
***
Zacky had gone back to the club in a daze, his hand pressing against where the other man’s lips had touched his skin. What seemed to be fun before just seemed dull and aching around him, the hard beat of the music only serving to increase the…old feeling in his body. He came back to the table that he’d left for fresh air about forty-five minutes prior.
A man with dark hair falling gracefully around his rounded face looked back at him with a curious expression, hazel eyes glinting many other colors in the strobe lights. His lips were set in a frown, somewhat full and normally smiling. His build was strong but lean, and not in the way Synyster’s was. He wasn’t bulky but he was strong, sleek.
“What’s up, Z?” the man asked, and Zacky sighed, leaning over into his friend, his head resting on the other’s shoulder, looking up with light eyes that almost seemed red from the lights around them, licking over his lips and straightening up.
“Can we go home, James? I’m not feeling this place so much anymore,” he complained, and James raised an eyebrow slightly, nodding just a bit and standing from his seat, helping his best friend up with an offering of his hand.
“You all right?” he asked in earnest as they weaved their way to the exit. When they reached the outside, Zacky’s eyes were instantly drawn to the alleyway across the street, and he nodded faintly.
“Yeah, I’m fine, just not feeling the place tonight,” he responded after a second, looking over with a smile to his confused best friend as they moved down the street, moving further and further away from the alley.
“You seem a little wobbly; you sure you didn’t drink?” James asked, and Zacky nodded vaguely as they moved from the club down to the apartment they shared more toward the thicket of the downtown area.
“Just some weird guy,” Zacky responded with a slight shrug. His best friend looked instantly interested, and he laughed a little as he dragged his eyes over to him, smiling a bit.
“Ooh, do tell,” James persisted, instantly acting like a girl who wanted to know, and Zacky laughed again, clapping his hand on the other’s shoulder as they moved closer to their flat.
“I don’t know much; just that his name’s Synyster and he’s fucking gorgeous,” he said dazedly as they reached the complex, moving upward into their dingy little apartment that they shared with another friend and roommate, Mick, who was passed out on the couch.
His red and black chunky hair was splayed over his face and slight nose, his pierced mouth slightly open as he breathed, his jaw line delicate yet masculine. Heavily made-up eyelids covered deep hazel eyes in his slumber. He had a book resting on his chest as it rose and fell, reading ‘Chemistry’ in bold letters; a college book to be sure.
The apartment was littered with mostly books and clothes, a wrapper from a fast food joint here and there, sticking out like neon around them, especially when the McDonald’s wrappers were laid to rest beside a pair of black jeans or a band t-shirt. Every kind of book was littered over the floor: Chemistry, Physics, English, Psychology, Philosophy. A copy of ‘Plato’s The Republic’ was facing straight up in the middle of the room, begging to be read.
“Let’s let the good little college boy sleep,” James teased in a whisper as they made their way to the bedroom they all shared. Once inside, they fell upon a queen bed with blue sheets and a black comforter that was too small for the bed, so the three normally ended up fighting over it in the middle of the night. James moved to lie on his stomach, looking intently at Zacky. “So, tell me, what happened?”
“Just…I was going out to get some fresh air, maybe for a smoke, when I saw a shadow in that opposite alley,” Zacky started, licking over his lips. “I followed it for God-only-knows-what-reason, and I met a guy. He was breathing kinda funny against the wall, and he kinda looked upset, so I was going to ask him what was up, and he moved away before I could. I grabbed his arm…and somehow I ended up face down against the wall. He said he didn’t like being touched and let me up, and that’s when I finally got a look at him. Man, is he a looker. Tall, built, shaggy hair, dark eyes, great fucking body, tanned…the works, ya know? I thought he was beautiful, and I don’t know, but he had me to the wall again, and he bit me…”
“He…bit you? Like, a vampire wannabe?” James interrupted, and Zacky laughed a little, shrugging as he passed his hand over the spot, which seemed to have healed over quickly and without scarring.
“Yeah, guess so,” he replied. “Anyway, you know how much I like to be bitten, and fuck was it hot, so I arched back into him, and suddenly he was back against the wall, breathing kinda funny again and asking me what I wanted. Then he told me to get out, go away. I demanded his name, and only after two or three tries did I get it out of him. Synyster.”
“What the hell kinda name is that?” James mused, kicking his feet up behind him idly as he thought it over for a second, coming up with a possible answer. “Maybe it’s a nickname or something? L.A.’s full of freaks, so it wouldn’t surprise me that much.”
“Maybe…he scared the shit out of me though; like, he was so cold,” Zacky explained with a slight shrug, sighing a little as he relaxed against the bed. His friend raised an eyebrow.
“Huh, weird,” he said with a slight tilt to his head, biting his lip as if to hide a question before just going for it anyway. “You think you’ll ever see him again?”
“Probably not. I just can’t stop thinking about him, ya know? That’s why it took me so long to come back,” Zacky explained, and James nodded as though he understood, a slight gleam in his eyes. “But now, I just kinda want to sleep.” He moved up the bed and settled up against his pillow, letting his head fall back against it with a sigh. |
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