I Still Need You (A BMTH, BFMV, etc. fanfic)

DArkSide

Dad was screaming his heart out, and I sat, contentedly watching while swinging from an egg chair right beside Uncle Jordan.

The other members had done their parts and gone home for the day, but Uncle Jordan stayed late since he had to help with production.

Dad switched to singing, doing the opening lines.

"Sinking...under...think my angel's fallen," he said, gaining volume, "Safe place, plundered, bastards kicked the doors in."

I mouthed along to the words as he continued, "Picked the stitches now I can't stop bleeding...three in the morning I ain't slept all weekend...six feet in the dirt, still breathing, don't give a fuck if my heart stops beating!"

He looked at Jordan. "Good for tonight?"

"Definitely," Uncle Jordan agreed with a yawn, "I should get home."

"And you, love, should get to bed." Dad commanded, pointing at me.

"Alright." I stood up and kissed Uncle Jordan on the cheek, "G'night, Uncle Jordan."

I hugged Dad as well, "G'night, Dad."

"'Night, love. Sleep well."

"'Bye, Haze, I'll see you tomorrow, most likely." Uncle Jordan said, and I waved as I left the room, going up the stairs two at a time until I could collapse on my bed.

I snuggled under my covers, content until I heard Dad come upstairs a few minutes later.

"Baby, is that you?" Alissa called, "Can we talk?"

I heard Dad go into their room, only a thin wall away from mine, despite the massive house.

"Of course, love. What's on your mind?" I heard Dad ask.

"It's...it's about Hazel."

I immediately sat up, scooching close to the shared wall and keeping myself wrapped tightly in my blanket as I pressed my ear to the wall.

"What about her?" Dad sounded concerned, and I heard the mattress squeak as he sat. "Is she okay?"

"I just don't think that you...and all your bandmates...I don't think they're the best...well, influence." Alissa finished.

Dad's laugh was confused. "What do you mean, love?"

"I just mean that a young girl should not be spending all of her time with a group of thirty-plus year old men who scream for a living." Alissa said, "Don't get me wrong, I adore you and I support the band through anything. I'm just worried about her."

Bullshit. I rolled my eyes. Though I was starting to panic a little. What was she getting at?

Alissa continued before Dad could respond, "You remember that boarding school I showed you? The one in London?"

I sucked in a breath. She wouldn't...

Fortunately for me, Dad straight up laughed again. "Alissa, honey, she's been with me and the boys since before she could walk. We're her family. It would tear her apart to have to go to a boarding school and stay away."

"She'd live."

Dad sighed. "I'm not sending her away. I love her too much to not see her every day, either. And I think she feels the same about me." There was a silence.

Then Alissa mumbled, "Good night, Oli."

He let out another breath, "Good night, Alissa."

I heard them share a kiss, and then it was quiet.

I curled up even tighter, to the point where it was almost suffocating. In a way, that was better.

Dad was right. I would never go to a boarding school, especially not one three hours away from the only people in my life I loved. It was bad enough being separated from Jax. I couldn't bear having no one. 

I woke the next morning with dread in the pit of my stomach. It was one of those "I don't want to face the world" kind of days. 

But I didn't have a choice, so I got up, getting ready for the same old school grind.

As it turned out, the world didn't want me to face it either.

The day went fine, I doodled all over many of the papers I definitely wasn't supposed to, wrote a random poem for my English class, did some math problems most definitely incorrectly, hid from gym class, and packed up to head home, hoping Uncle Jordan would be there.

The door slammed behind me, and I walked across the asphalt towards the side of the school to start heading home.

Then an expensive-looking sneaker came out from around the corner and tripped me before I could even comprehend the thought of stopping. 

I gasped in pain and surprise as I hit the sidewalk, making my palms and knees bleed as I hit the concrete.

I looked up into the face of a girl who sort of reminded me of the one from the tour, but...the pop version instead of metal.

Her brown hair fell to her waist in perfect waves, her face was covered by makeup, and her body was "perfect."

So, it surprised no one when several guys melted out of the shadows around me. Members of the football team, I was pretty sure, in classic cliché fashion.

"What's up, emo?" The girl beamed, "Long time no see."

I cursed. Now I remembered her. She was one of my newer bullies, transferring here fast and rising in fame even faster. 

"Well, it was good while it lasted." I muttered, "Fuck off."

"Aw, c'mon, you missed me just a little, didn't you?" She giggled, and as I tried to get up, one of the guys grabbed the back of my shirt and the other ripped my bag off of my shoulders, tossing it to the girl.

"Leave me alone!" I yelled, kicking at the guy but missing by an embarrassing amount.

The girl ignored me, digging through my bag.

Rage filled me. If she destroyed another sketchbook, I was going to lose it.

Why was I just letting this happen? 

"I'm gonna tell someone!" I yelled. Wow, thanks brain. That'll scare her.

The girl looked up. Then threw back her head and laughed. "Who're you gonna tell? Your daddy? And he's gonna tell the big bad principal?" She yawned, "I'm terrified." She carelessly dropped my bag and stalked over to me, showing me far more of her perfect teeth than I was comfortable with.

"Besides," she whispered, "If you even think about snitching, me and the boys will personally make sure that your life is a perfect, living hell from here on out. So if you do get the guts to rat us out, I'd suggest suicide quickly after. Or just skip the middle step, I don't really care."

She giggled and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "I'm sick of this shit. Let's go find something more worth looking at. Like the dump." 

The guys both laughed, and one landed a kick to the backs of my knees, leaving the concrete to catch me again as they walked away, kicking my backpack hard into the wall in the process.

I clenched my fists in pain, and tears leaked down my cheeks. Who was I to think I could stand up to people like that? They always won. No amount of someone knowing was going to change that.

I wiped my eyes and grabbed my bag, trying not to sob as blood smeared all over my hands and jeans.

I threw open the door, kicked off my shoes, and ran up to my room as fast as I could, thankfully not running into anyone on the way.

I locked the door and cried.

And cried, and cried, and cried.

This was it.

Footsteps padded into the bathroom, remerging with something tucked under a shirt.

The lock of a bedroom door clicked shut.

Light glinted off of a sharp edge.

And red began to stain the floor.