MIDNIGHT HAUNTING [LOGAN/HARRY]

[aub]

The problem with a dream, was that even when it was so bang out of order that it should barely be legal, it still managed to exist. It didn’t only exist though, it completely survived and took control over the person’s mind, trapping them in an inescapable nightmare that only dawn would provide relief from. Or a really scary, vivid image. Harrison Banner awoke with a start, his breath coming out in pants as his body soaked the blanket that had clearly tried to strangle him in the night. He wished he felt safer in the steady darkness of the night, that he could shrug it off as being ‘only a dream’, and start the day as if nothing mattered and it merely was just a dream. But it wasn’t. It was the very thing which had haunted him since he was eighteen years old, preying on his conscious and forcing him to have a soul. Humanity was a weakness, a weakness that Harry unfortunately possessed. Even if it was his little girl he wished he didn’t care, he wished he could get over the fact that he had killed her, he wished he could think of it.

But that was an impossible. Thinking of Dani would force him into a real life grief process. It would play with his emotions too much, emotions were something that Harrison didn’t like. If he had to have them, they had to be shallow, and rarely on display unless he chose them to be. He ran his hands through his dark hair and sighed loudly as his heartbeat began to return to its usual pace. The dreams were always the same, fragments of that night that the alcohol had previously blocked out. The brightness of the headlights, the blurred screaming of the truck driver, the mangled frame of his daughter. He usually didn’t see what happened afterwards, usually that was enough for him to wake up to. It was as if his subconscious mind was forcing him to acknowledge it whilst he fought so hard not to.

Another habit of Harry’s, after awaking from these dreams, was that he couldn’t remain alone. If he was alone, he’d give in and he’d think of her, he’d think of everything. So he usually sought out the company of somebody else, anybody but himself; whether it was for sex, a game of cards or merely just a game of guitar hero. He had to find somebody to distract him. Usually that person was Logan. Logan seemed to understand things a little bit more than most people, even if he could be a little bitch, but maybe that was because he was one of the only people Harry had opened up to. They probably slept together a little bit too much, it had occurred to Harry before that not one male member of their band was completely straight; sexuality was always something that confused Harrison. He could never see himself in a relationship with a man, or anyone for that matter since Della, but he’d just sort of fallen into sleeping with them. It was alcohol that had lead him to the experience, and he hadn’t really looked back. It wasn’t a fact he shared openly with people, he wouldn’t admit to it an interview, but there was no denying that he probably would sleep with another man soon and not think much else of it.

He pulled himself up and threw his sweat soaked tee to the floor before replacing it with a tshirt from their band merch. Some boys slept naked, Harrison preferred to sleep in a tshirt and boxers. He moved quickly, his feet bare as he departed his room, and entered the living area of their suite. Sometimes they got to stay in a nice hotel, other times it was the bus. Harrison never told anybody that the hotel was probably the nicest place he’d ever slept in all his life. You didn’t really admit those things to people. So he crossed the room quietly and paused outside of Logan’s bedroom. He didn’t even know the time, he didn’t know if Logan was in, if he had a guest; he never did in this routinely habbit. Harrison raised his fist to the door and rattled on it a few times, ”Hey, my little bitch, wake up,” he whispered through the keyhole as he awaited for his friend to answer the door, a smirk blossoming his pale face. Despite the pain he felt inside, he would never let another know of it.

[logan]

I'VE BEEN BEATEN, I'VE BEEN BRUISED

- - - - - - - - - - I'VE BEEN LEFT FOR DEAD AS WELL

This wasn't how things were supposed to happen. After two hours of amazing sex, Logan's temporary bedmate was supposed to be tired and passed out instead of cuddling into his side like a fucking leech. He supposed this was what he got for sleeping with a fan instead of some random person with no idea of who he was, though. The fan, sadly, was asking him way too many questions. It would just be harsh to throw a pillow over her face so she couldn't talk anymore, so, with great difficulty, he resisted the urge. Anyone who knew anything about him knew that he hated questions, which was why he really should think about just having multiple friends with benefits. He probably would, if having sex with the same people over and over again wasn't so boring, so repetitive. Since it was, he was stuck with groupies that wanted to know everything about him, which was, obviously, too much. He didn't want to share, no matter how great the sex had been. This girl -- whatever her name was -- didn't have anything to be proud of. She was average in bed, and so she was getting no questions answered, not even the simple ones like where he'd lived before the tour had begun, before Injected Hopeless had gotten famous. That question wasn't even that bad, but he still didn't want to answer, for fear of encouraging her. "Can we not talk?" he grumbled, falling onto the pillow beneath him and throwing an arm over his eyes. Maybe if he couldn't see her, she'd disappear.

Instead, she removed his arm from his eyes and gave what she probably thought was a seductive pout. It wasn't. "I just wanted to know some things, Logan..." She was trying to sound innocent, and that wasn't working for her, either. For fuck's sake, couldn't she just get out of his bed and leave him alone? He was bored of her already. He just needed to think of a relatively polite way to make her leave. He rolled over to make his back face her, staying silent. She heaved an irritable sigh, and he smirked smugly to himself. Good, let her get bored, he thought to himself. He should really think about who he was taking to his bed before he did it. More often than not, it ended up being a pain in his ass, and not in a good way. How hard was it for people to understand that he just wanted sex and then to be left alone? At least by the nosy people that asked too many questions. The sleepers, he could deal with. It was the super fans that wanted to know everything that he really should just prohibit himself from sleeping with.

Just then, there was a knock on the door, causing both the girl and Logan to look over to it. The blond stayed still only for a moment before pushing himself out of the bed and hunting around the room for his boxers. Sure, they'd been in a mad frenzy to get each other's clothes off, but he knew his boxers were around here somewhere. After a few moments, he found them and pulled them on. The girl looked uncertainly at the door, and started to get up to find her own clothes, but Logan had opened the door before she could. He heard her huff behind him, and he saw her draw the covers back over herself out of the corner of his eye. Oh well. Maybe she'd get miffed enough to leave without him having to throw her out. Logan directed his gaze back to the person at his door: Harry. He raised his eyebrows. "I'm not your little bitch, you whore. What did you want?" he asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame. His lips turned upwards slightly, forming a smirk as he looked at his friend. It was a little shady of him, popping up late at night like this. Oh, who was Logan kidding? They both knew precisely what Harry was doing here, even if the girl in the bed behind them was utterly oblivious. Just as well. Harry didn't want his sexual exploits with Logan to be everywhere, and Logan couldn't care less if people knew who he slept with in his spare time. Let them judge him if they liked -- he didn't care. There wasn't really much Logan did care about. The members of his band were some of the few things. He cared about them. Aside from that? There wasn't much else.

There was a noise behind him, and the blond man turned to see his company crawling out of bed with the blanket wrapped around her like a towel while she walked around the room, searching for her own clothes. Apparently, his hadn't been the only ones thrown somewhere in their mad rush. Once she found them, she walked into the bathroom off the side of the bedroom, likely to change. Good. Maybe that meant she was leaving. He needed his bedroom back anyways, if the fact that Harry was showing up at his room this early was any indication of what was to come. A short time after she'd retreated into the bathroom, the girl came back out, making a beeline for the door. "I'm just going to go," she mumbled, the corners of her eyes wet. Logan ignored them. "I'm obviously not wanted here." So she'd figured out that he'd used her. Well, good for her. "Took you long enough to notice," Logan muttered as she walked past he and Harry. She made sure to flip him off as she left the vicinity. "Such a sweet girl, don't you think?" he remarked to Harry, lifting his eyebrows jokingly. I thought she'd never leave, he thought to himself in relief. He could, however, do with some more sex. You know, to get the stress out or... something like that. Fuckever. Like he needed a valid reason.

music. goin' down - three days grace.
words. 1,000.
lyrics. the westerner - falling in reverse.
tag. harry/aubrey. :3
notes. --