New Kid

Conflict

        A couple of weeks after Brian joined the band, the original four of us sat in the recording studio, eager to get going, as we had just been accepted to a record label. Matt, Jimmy and Justin were busy setting up Jimmy's drum set, occasionally hitting each other over the head with cymbals and laughing. I heard the door open off to my right, and my demeanor immediately shifted to defensive; there was no doubt at who had just walked into the room. The smell of cigarette smoke and stale beer flooded the room, but the other guys didn't seem to be bothered by it. I, however, was completely revolted by it.
        "Hey, Baker." Brian called as he stalked over to me, his hands in his pockets and a wide grin on his face. I blushed deeply, but continued to ignore him as I tuned my guitar, trying to find the right setting for the beginning riff of Lips of Deceit. He seemed to notice that I was blatantly ignoring him, because he then shoved my shoulder, causing me to over-correct and snap a guitar string. "I said hey. Are you deaf?" He growled, and I sighed deeply before finally raising my gaze to look up at him.
        "What, Brian?" I whined quietly, and his grin only continued to grow in width as he heard my desperate voice, almost like I was pleading with him to leave me alone for once.
        "You still working on that shitty solo?" He smirked, and I looked down at my broken guitar string, trying with all my might to keep from decking him in the face. "Eh, it doesn't matter. Anyways, I'm only here for the decent solo on To End The Rapture, so I won't be here for long. Lucky you, huh? You don't have to listen to-"
        "Brian." Jimmy snapped, causing the brown-eyed guitarist to flinch a little. "Leave him alone. Zack, you've got an extra pair of strings over here, you need 'em?" He asked, and I nodded shyly, averting my gaze from the undeniably gorgeous man that stood in front of me with a menacing smirk. He seemed to soften a bit, maybe realizing how rude he was being, because as he brushed past me, he gave me a couple of gentle pats on the shoulder. I tensed up at the warm feeling that lingered from his huge hand, then relaxed as Jimmy tossed me the extra package of guitar strings. I gave him a thank-you look, and he nodded before returning to his drum set.

        We recorded all day, and I completely nailed the riff in the beginning of Lips of Deceit; after all, I had been practicing it for about two months. When it had come time for Brian to record his solo for To End The Rapture, he winked at me from the isolation room, then began shredding, his fingers moving like lightning. To be honest, it was kind of hot. Seeing the way his fingers moved and bent as he went up and down the fret board, watching him as he bit his lip and then grinned when he hit the note perfectly.. Why can't I play guitar like that? I asked myself as he received high fives from the rest of the guys when he came out of the isolation room.
        "What, no high-five?" He taunted as he held his hand up in front of me. I simply looked down at my feet as a lump formed in my throat. I couldn't touch him, even if it was only for a second. Despite how horrible he may have been to me, there was no denying the fact that he was hot as fuck, and I wouldn't have minded having my first guy-on-guy relationship with him. That is, IF he wasn't such an asshole to me.
        "No, no high-five.. I know you're gonna purposely miss and smack me in the face.." I grumbled, and he raised his eyebrows in shock. After a minute, I finally gave him a high five, but as I had stated, he made me miss and he smacked the palm of his hand into my face. "God, fuck you, Brian! You're such a fucking dick!" I yelled, tears in my eyes as I grabbed my guitar and stomped out of the studio. I ignored the calls from everyone for me to come back as I forced my legs to go faster, trying to get home as soon as possible. I don't know what I possibly did to deserve this kind of treatment, but apparently I did something..
        I wipe my tears as I walked in the front door of my house, and I was immediately met with dirty stares from my parents. They glared at the guitar in my hands before my father got up, stomping over to me. I shrunk backwards, feeling more afraid of him than I usually was.
        "We didn't give you permission to go to that Sanders kid's house, did we?" My father growled, and I quickly shook my head, biting the inside of my lip as I feared what would come next. "So, you thought it would be okay to go anyways?" He asked, and I looked down at my feet. Suddenly, my guitar was ripped from my hands, but he set it down gently; apparently, he didn't want to waste his money. He shoved me against the wall, making my head slam backwards against the brick wall.
        "Get off of me!" I cried as he threw me against the wall again. Suddenly, there was contact with my eye, and I felt a sharp pain rocket through my entire head as I realized my father had just punched me in the eye.
        "Go to bed, I don't want to see you for the rest of the night. You're not getting dinner, either." He snapped, and I quickly snatched my guitar from the wall before tearing up the staircase, literally throwing myself onto my bed after I slammed and locked the door behind me. I tried to keep my sobs as quiet as possible by hiding my face in my pillow, but they were still somewhat audible. I heard my father downstairs, yelling things about how I was worthless, but I didn't care anymore. I just wanted to be out of that fucking house.. Maybe, I thought. When our album takes off, maybe I can move out and get my own place.. That was a comforting thought.
        I began to let my thoughts wander into strange places, and before I knew it, I had began to think about Brian. I wondered if there was a reason he was so mean to me and nobody else, or if he just felt like I deserved it. Maybe he's abused like I am.. I thought with a grimace, images of him getting slapped flooding into my mind. I actually felt bad for him. What exactly was going on in his life that made him feel the need to be such an ass to me?
        I could always ask him if everything's okay. He doesn't even really have to open up to me, I think just knowing someone is there to listen would help, even if it's only a little bit.. I thought as I closed my eyes, giving an exhausted sigh into the fabric of my comforter that I had pulled up over my freezing body. I just really wish he wouldn't be so mean to me. I mean, all the shoving and the hitting and stuff, it really fucks me up.. I think if he knew about what was happening here, he wouldn't do that to me.
        Then again, he could do it worse, just to be an ass. That seems like the kind of thing he might do. I thought, giving a physical frown and a loud sigh before I nuzzled a bit deeper into my pillow, beginning to doze off. It was only about 7 at night, but I was so emotionally and physically exhausted, I ended up falling asleep right then.