Dry Your Tears -2-

"I love you, Jimmy."

The declaration was sudden, certain, and it caused Jimmy's heart to swell with affection. He slanted a gentle glance at the rhythm guitarist beside him, at his upturned lips and the tattoo-littered forearms that were folded over a wooden counter.

Zacky was beautiful, even with the hazy glimmer of intoxication in his eyes.

"Love you, too, Zee," Jimmy said, and it was more true than either of them wanted to believe. "Now why don't you slow down on the drinks a little, dude." He shook his head, a tiny smile playing over his mouth despite the concern that unfurled in his chest. "I know that you're happier now than you have been for weeks with all this alcohol in your system, but you'll have a hangover if you don't quit soon."

Zacky's irises glittered, and he looked up at Jimmy with an expression that was vaguely colder. It was true that Matt's idea to visit a bar that night had allowed him to forget the weight of depression pressing in on his mind, and yet he continued to hide within himself and not open up as completely as he usually did around his band mates.

"Jimmy," he said sternly, slowly. Fortitude glimmered in his gaze. "I love you."

Jimmy watched with a frown as the rhythm sipped from his Jack Daniels again, his heartbeat echoing viciously in his temples. The sound of those three beautiful words falling from Zacky's mouth caused his chest to tighten; he knew, however, that they were a product of slight drunkenness and nothing more.

An actual declaration of love sounded far too good to be true.

"And I love you, dude," Jimmy said, choking on the falseness of the laughter in his throat.

A shadow crept suddenly over Zacky's expression. In the darkness of Priscilla's bar, with the lack of his friends' boisterous presences lingering around them (the other four were off among themselves, dancing and drinking and littered in tiny pockets around the smoke-clouded room), he seemed smaller and yet somehow more solitary than Jimmy was used to.

"You don't get it." He tipped his head down, his posture that of a man who was defeated. When he looked back up, the glitter of tears was startlingly bright against his lashes. "You really don't."

Jimmy blinked. His chest ached with the need to grab the rhythm, to bundle him against a strong chest and hold him until the sun burnt out. Instead, he attempted to work a sentence through the painful lump in his throat.

"Zacky, I don't - "

"Sh. Just shut up," Zacky interrupted. His voice was worn and ragged, cut into needle-edged sharpness by the waver of tears. "Don't you get it, Jimmy? I'm in love with you. I have been for almost ten years, you fucking idiot. I see you every-goddamned-day, with your huge smile and your laugh and those bluer-than-anything-I've-ever-seen eyes… And my heart breaks a little more every fucking time you look at me, because I want so badly to believe that I see my love returned in those blueblue eyes but I don't. It's all just one big fucking lie I've dragged myself into 'cause I wanna feel better about loving someone who will never feel the same. But I love you, Jimmy. I do."

Zacky was crying then, really sobbing, and the wet noises caused fingers to dig into Jimmy's heart and twist so brutally that he couldn't breathe through the pain. He curled his hand around Zacky's trembling shoulder, shaking the rhythm even as his eyes filled and his heartbeat pounded through his skull like thunder.

"Zacky. Zacky," he said firmly. He caught the younger's chin between a thumb and two fingers, forcing Zacky to look up at him. His cheekbones were bright with the glisten of tear tracks; he looked lost, defeated, broken. "Zacky. Stop. Don't you even think that kind of stuff right now, okay? You're drunk and you've been so weirdly depressed for a while and I think you're falling into something that you won't wanna get tangled up with in the end."

There was a pause as Zacky attempted to suppress his sniffles. His lower lip trembled profusely.

"Let me take you back to the tour bus, all right?" Jimmy cooed, softer now, and felt the urge to kiss those supple pink lips rush through him. "I'll make you some coffee, you can get your pajamas, and then we'll sit down and talk. Okay?"

It was obvious in the gleam of Zacky's irises that he longed to protest. He had been so quiet and so unsure for so long, so scared of speaking out, and now he wanted nothing more than to smack some sense into Jimmy. Instead, he dropped his gaze and nodded.

"O - okay," he murmured shakily.

Jimmy wrapped an arm around the rhythm's waist, feeling plush skin and bone through Zacky's Night of the Living Dead shirt. He helped him from his stool and toward the door, mindful of the tables surrounding them.

As he opened the door and ushered Zacky into the chilled night air, Jimmy's chest ached with the need to scream. His heart urged him to talk sense into the younger man and wait until he was sober to believe him, but his mind reeled with emotion from Zacky's declarations.

He wanted so badly to accept everything, every compliment and vivid swear and loud, futile promise of love. But he couldn't, 'cause it was Zacky, and he would never take advantage of his green-eyed angel by forcing him to trust his own drunken words.

They reached the tour bus on foot twenty minutes later, and Zacky was shivering from a combination of sniffles, lingering tears, and cold.

Jimmy wrapped him into an embrace, rubbing over arms that were corded with smooth muscle and breathing gently against his neck. It wasn't a sexual or even a romantic gesture, just an attempt at keeping the rhythm warm.

Jimmy hated to see his Zacky in pain, and this had his heart breakbreakbreaking in its prison.

Once they were inside, Zacky shook him off and looked up at the drummer with shimmering emerald eyes.

"Can I have that coffee now…?" he asked, softer and more eloquent than Jimmy was expecting after his tirade in the depths of Priscilla's Bar. "I'm cold."

Jimmy nodded and turned toward the game room's coffee maker with a sigh. He could hear the rustle and shift of Zacky pulling the previous night's pajamas from his bunk; it was a common occurrence to re-wear nightclothes on the tour bus, because Laundromat visits were few and far between.

"We'll talk once you're dressed," he called softly over his shoulder.

"Okay," Zacky murmured, the tremble of uncertainty in his lisped voice. "I'll, um… Okay."

I can't believe I'm doing this, Jimmy thought, once silence fell. I'm an idiot for making him believe he loves me.

He knew in the back of his mind that he hadn't done a single thing to make Zacky fall for him, and yet it hurt to think that the rhythm's affections were far from real. There was no way that he could actually be in love with Jimmy; the words of adoration were a product of mild depression, alcohol, and sleep deprivation. Nothing more (even if the realization caused his corneas to burn with unshed tears).

Jimmy turned minutes later, and his throat clenched at the sight of Zacky already poised on the couch. He handed a cup of sugared-and-creamed coffee to him, and the rhythm took it with a smile before sipping gratefully.

"Thank you," he said gently. It was obvious that the drunkenness (which had admittedly been slight to begin with) was fading fast from his system. Under the influence of coffee, warmth, silence, and "home," he was returning quickly to a state of right-mindedness.

Jimmy's heart sped up. He knew what was coming: the truth; the sadness; the humiliation.

"So," Zacky murmured after a beat of silence, his cheeks flushed from the heat of the coffee in his hands, "do you still want to talk about what happened back there…?"

Jimmy dropped his gaze to the carpet. His heart felt swollen, overstuffed with the plethora of emotions that he had experienced in the past hour; adoration, shock, depression, frustration, pain, mortification… He sighed.

"I do, yeah. But I already know what you're going to say."

Zacky blinked. "You do?"

"Mhm," Jimmy hummed, and forced a wry smile over his mouth that threatened to crumble beneath Zacky's gaze. "You're going to tell me that it was all a drunken mistake, that you were in the heat of the moment, that everything you said was just a lie. You'll say, 'go to bed and forget this ever happened.' Right? Right?"

Several minutes passed. Once Zacky's coffee mug was drained, his cheekbones glimmering a tender rosy hue, he folded his hands in his lap and looked levelly at Jimmy.

"Why do you think so?" he asked.

It took Jimmy a moment to respond; he was immersed in those shimmering emerald pools trained on his face, which proved to be stunningly gorgeous even when rimmed in scarlet from shedding tears.

"Because I… I…" He inhaled a long, deep breath that nearly burst his lungs, then released it in an outcry of, "Because it sounds too good to be true."

Zacky blinked. Slowly, he placed his mug on the carpet and leaned back to watch Jimmy. Full sobriety had returned to his irises, and the glow of crimson against his cheekbones was mesmerizing.

"So it's a good thing that I confessed my love to you?"

Jimmy tipped his head down. "To me, yes. To you, not so much."

The tilt of Jimmy's face toward the couch prevented him from seeing Zacky's expression, and yet the rhythm's voice sounded softer and much more determined as he said, "Why isn't it good for me? Why isn't it good to get all that stuff off my chest after so many years, Jimmy? It felt amazing."

Jimmy rubbed his eyes, simply cradling his head in his hands when he realized that looking into those fierce green orbs would be the undoing of his sanity.

"You were drunk, Zacky," he pointed out, "Not in your right mind. What you said was all exaggerated and blown out of proportion and maybe not true at all and I won't be able to take seeing you in pain when you realize in the end that what you said was just lies after all."

"I wouldn't lie to you. Ever," Zacky said darkly. "And just because I was drunk doesn't mean a damn thing, James. I mean, hell - I was barely even tipsy! Every single word, every admittance, every confession back there at the bar was true. The exclamations, the questions. All of that came from my heart, not from some drunken little worm in the back of my head that was feeding you lies."

Zacky's voice was quiet, but severely stern. Without looking up, Jimmy knew that the rhythm's expression was drawn into edges and lines and cold, sharp angles that completely contradicted the supple curve of his mouth.

His mind raced at a-mile-a-minute with the news. What if Zacky really did love him? What if he spent all those years hiding inside himself, admiring Zacky, crying over him, dreaming about him, wishing for him, for no reason? What if the opportunity to take the rhythm into his arms and never let go had been open to him the entire time?

Slowly, unsurely, Jimmy lifted his gaze from the couch.

Zacky watched him steadily from the other end of the furniture, sitting cross-legged with his hands in his lap. His loose black sweatpants and Vengeance University shirt caused him to look decades younger, more fragile and broken than Jimmy had ever imagined him to be.

Jimmy bit his lip. "So you're not - it's… I'm not crazy?"

Zacky's expression opened into a smile for the first since time they arrived at the tour bus. The sight was heartbreaking; silken pink lips stretched over impeccable teeth, accented by the glimmer of snakebites that somehow made him look even more innocent.

"No. Well - maybe a little," he chuckled. "But not like that."

"Zacky, I… You have no idea," Jimmy said softly, breathlessly. His heart raced at inexplicable speeds in its prison; emotion coursed throughout his veins. "You come to me all of a sudden after being so sad and so closed off for all that time and I was so worried, and you tell me you're in love with me and… Oh God, Zacky, you've no. idea."

Zacky dropped his cheek into his hand. He was obviously nervous over the solemnity of his own admittance, and yet a smile ghosted over those plush pink lips.

"Then explain it to me," he prompted sweetly, "Give me an idea. And by the way; you were the reason I was withdrawn, Jim. You and your gorgeous face and your laugh and your blueblue eyes. It broke my heart 'cause I thought I'd never have you."

Jimmy watched him for a moment. It was silent for at least two full minutes as he contemplated how to explain himself, whether to spill his heart out or take things slowly. He chose the former, in his spastic and lovable Jimmy-fashion.

"Eleven years," he said, tongue as heavy as a lead weight, "It's been eleven fucking years, and I haven't said a single thing. As soon as you joined the band, I knew that you were the one I had to be with. I just knew. But you seemed so out-of-reach, so perfect, so straight - "

"I'm bi," Zacky interrupted softly, "which explains all the girls. But every one of them - meaningless. All I could think of was you when I fucked them, although I knew when I threw them out the next day that you would've stayed with me after something like that." He tilted his head, cheeks alight with color. "Sorry for the vulgarity. I didn't mean to sound like a pervert."

Jimmy bit his lip, feeling something warm and molten stir in his lower stomach.

"Hey, no," he chuckled, low and husky, "It's nothing. Hell, I've woken up to dreams of you so many times that I'm surprised you guys aren't bothered by my, ah, noises."

Zacky giggled, then turned his gaze to the couch when he noticed that Jimmy was watching him intently.

A broad smile spread over the drummer's lips at the sight of Zacky's embarrassment, and he longed to cradle that rose-tinted face in his palms and seal their lips together as sweetly and affectionately as possible. His heart pounded, not with anxiety anymore but with enthusiasm at being loved back, and he realized that he was more relaxed than he could have thought possible in that situation.

"So, um, anyway," he said with a tender smile, "It's been so long… So long that I pined after you with what I thought was no chance of ever actually having you to myself. All those girls, all the friendly banter and the teasing and the lack of romantic communication… It just slaughtered my hopes, ya know? But now… you've just… I don't even know. It's like I can feel all this shit running through my head and kind of making my heart hurt, but it feels so good to hear all this and get everything off my chest."

"I never knew you liked me back," Zacky admitted, tipping his head down as he shrugged. "Never would've guessed it, really. I just kept dreaming and hoping and wishing for something to happen…"

"And hey," Jimmy sang, placing his mug on the floor in order to open his arms toward Zacky, "it did."

Zacky gazed at the drummer's outstretched hands and smooth, corded muscles for a moment. Something unnamable shifted in his irises; a warm, simmering glow that beautifully contrasted his porcelain skin and dark lashes.

"Zacky," Jimmy prompted, in a childishly trilling voice, "I just spilled my entire heart out to you, nearly cried, practically jumped for joy, had a heart attack, and almost died like five times, and you don't even have the decency to spare me a nice cuddle?"

A flicker of amusement sparked in Zacky's eyes. Slowly, he shifted onto his hands and knees before crawling toward the drummer. His uncertainty in the affectionate banter was obvious, and yet he couldn't suppress a smile when Jimmy's biceps curled tenderly around his waist.

"Come here," Jimmy murmured. He tugged, and Zacky collapsed against him with a muffled 'uff!' The rhythm molded to his side, one hand splayed against a slender chest like he simply belonged there. And really, he did. "I'm so glad you're finally mine… You are, right?"

"Of course," Zacky said, a quiet chuckle spilling from his throat. "I always have been, Jim. You just didn't know it."

Several minutes passed. The two were content to rest in each other's embrace without a single word, and yet Jimmy found himself reluctant to fall asleep once his eyelids grew heavy. He didn't want to ruin the peace of the moment; didn't want to wake in the morning to find that all of the day's events had been nothing more than a vivid dream.

"Zee," he whispered.

Zacky's wide, glimmering green eyes blinked up at him. There was a curve to his mouth, a tilt that arched along one side of those plush lips, and the sight of that devastatingly beautiful smirk caused Jimmy's heart to flutter.

"Something wrong?" Zacky asked softly. His legs tensed where they curled beneath him, one hand pressed to the elder's chest while the other rested behind him.

Jimmy smiled. "Absolutely nothing's wrong. I just… I feel like this is all just an awesome dream or something, you know? Like I'll wake up any minute and everything will just have been a figment of my imagination."

Zacky sighed and butted his head tenderly beneath Jimmy's chin. The elder fought hard to repress a peal of laughter when he noted the cat-like affections of the rhythm, how his breath grew soft and purr-like for a moment and his forehead nuzzled into Jimmy's throat.

"It's not," Zacky said quietly, "I promise."

Jimmy was silent for a moment. Then, timidly, "You're perfect."

"Far from it."

"Lies! I've never met someone who was like you. So… so - "

"Repulsive?"

"Zacky."

"Sorry, sorry. Go on."

"Someone so gorgeous," Jimmy said with a tip of his head, peering into those haunting emerald orbs with a smile, "and so funny, and loving, and kind, and gentle, and sarcastic, and comforting, and talented, and sweet, and - and… you."

Zacky giggled, folding his hand into the front of Jimmy's Metallica tee shirt.

"I'm one-of-a-kind," he sang, "and I'm all yours."

"I couldn't ask for anything more," Jimmy said softly, huskily, and suddenly found himself dangerously close to those greener-than-green eyes and plush, parted lips. His mind reeled with inexplicable emotion; electricity coursed through his veins.

"Jim…?"

The thumpthumping of Jimmy's heart grew to a rapid beat. His bicep tightened instinctively around Zacky's waist, and he found himself yearning for the touch of the rhythm's mouth more than he ever had before. Slowly, hesitantly, he leaned in and ghosted his lips across Zacky's in the barest of kisses.

"Zacky," he whispered.

Zacky pushed himself to his knees before the elder could react, resting one hand against a broad shoulder while the other tangled in Jimmy's hair. His gaze was soft, determined, and utterly mesmerizing as he tilted his head down and allowed himself to hover for just a moment over Jimmy's greedily opened mouth.

His lips twitched into that heartbreakingly gorgeous smile, and Jimmy's breath caught for a long second.

"Kiss me."

The cling and slide of their mouths was more impeccably brilliant than Jimmy could have ever imagined it to be. Affection twined around his heart like satin ribbons, binding it forever to Zacky despite the fact that the rhythm had, unknowingly, received it long ago.

Zacky whined and pressed himself closer to Jimmy, tongue twisting with the older male's before either could react. It was hot, and flushed, and slow, and better than either of them ever expected it to be.

"Holy shit," Jimmy gasped once they parted. His mouth was red, swollen, and it tilted into a tender smirk at the sound of Zacky's frantic breath. In the prison of his ribcage, the drummer's heart raced so swiftly and so loudly that he wouldn't have been surprised if Zacky heard it.

"Hey," he said, sliding two fingers beneath the rhythm's chin when those green eyes turned toward the couch, "look at me. I wanna see that pretty face."

Zacky's irises shone as he slanted the drummer a timid look, cheekbones alight. Embarrassment and the slightest fear of rejection gleamed in his gaze, and yet his grin was broadly smug.

"You're a jerk," he murmured, but the defiance was lost on a waver of breathless pleasure as Jimmy traced over his mouth. Those long, elegant fingers skimmed over his lower lip, grazed his cheekbone, brushed a pale forehead, and paused in order to tangle into thick midnight locks.

"I know," Jimmy said with a coo, before pressing kisses over the strong slope of Zacky's nose. Against the warm porcelain flesh, he whispered, "And you're beautiful."

Zacky's face burnt a simmering red hue, and his lashes fluttered. He found his lips parting under the pressure of Jimmy's kiss against their corner; hazy, glimmering amusement sparked in the depths of his eyes when the drummer skipped over his mouth in order to kiss at his chin.

"Don't tease," he said softly.

Jimmy chuckled. "Sorry, sweetheart."

"Aww. Here we go with the pet names," Zacky cooed, laughing giddily despite his sarcasm. "It's weird how you can go from being so shy, to mean, to embarrassed, to funny, to gentlemanly, and then right back to shy. And all in the span of around five minutes. You're just so emotionally open. Another reason why I fell so hard for you…"

Jimmy was silent for a moment. He settled back against the couch, pulling Zacky once more into the warmth of his side while he stroked the rhythm's hair. Adoration bubbled warmly in his abdomen, spilling into his veins and lighting him with the heat of utter love for that gorgeous green-eyed rhythm.

"Ya know," he said once several minutes had passed in content silence, "I've been waiting for this for a long time, Vengeance."

"Same here," Zacky sang. He nuzzled his cheek into the solidity of Jimmy's pectoral, feeling the beat of a content heart against his face - a heart that he had repaired with his own gentle hands.

"I can't believe I finally have you all to myself," Jimmy laughed. "It still doesn't feel real. I guess I should be hoping that I won't wake up anytime soon."

Zacky giggled. "You won't. 'Cause if this is a dream, then I vow to never wake again."

Jimmy grinned and wrapped the rhythm closer into his embrace. He inhaled the sweet, nose-tingling scent of apples and cologne that emanated from Zacky's thick hair, combing his fingers through the locks in a lulling pattern.

"Now that I've finally caught you," he said slowly, thoughtfully, "I should show you something I've been wanting to do for a while now. You up for it?"

"Uhm. Sure," Zacky murmured, glancing at the drummer with eyes that shone like jewel.

Jimmy chuckled. "There's nothing to be scared of, I promise. You'll actually benefit from it if you're sure that you wanna be with me."

"I do," Zacky pressed. "Really. Hurry up and tell me, Jim! I'm excited now."

"I don't think I can just tell you… especially if you're looking at me like that." He shook his head, repressing a snicker at the sight of Zacky's open-mouthed and devastatingly innocent pout. "I'll have to show you, too. Just close your eyes, all right? You'll be fine. Just trust me."

Zacky nodded, eyelids creasing over as his lashes rested elegantly against pale cheekbones. His fingers curled into an instinctive fist against the drummer's chest; slowly, he drew in a breath and waited for Jimmy's "beneficial" surprise.

"Zacky…" Jimmy whispered, and then the tender pressure of his mouth settled against Zacky's forehead. "I've loved you for eleven years." His kiss shifted over the younger man's temple, down the side of his face and toward his ear. "You're beautiful," he mouthed at a rosy cheekbone, "and sweet," his lips were light and fleeting against the corner of parted lips, "and everything I've ever wanted."

There was a pause, and then his mouth pressed into the center of Zacky's strong chin. He chuckled at the sound of the rhythm's soft, yearning whine. He knew his plan was working; he was melting Zacky with the combination of kisses, sweet admittances, and a husky voice. Zacky would be little more than putty by the time he was finished.

"I watched you for so long," he now moved over the curve of the younger man's jawbone, "and dreamed about you," his lips trailed in a feather-light chain of kisses over his ear, "and wished for you." He pressed his mouth to a single, pale eyelid, lips grazing over silken midnight lashes. "Now that I finally have you with me," he kissed the tip of Zacky's nose, "I'm never letting you go. I'm yours, Zacky Baker, forever and always."

Jimmy cupped the rhythm's blushing face in his hand, grinning when those lashes fluttered open to reveal his shimmering, hazy eyes. The pupils were dilated, irises colored a slightly deeper shade of jade from the warmth of his emotions.

"So will you be mine?"

"Jimmy," Zacky whined, mouth softening into a needy pucker, "I already am."

Jimmy caught his mouth in a deep, bruising kiss. The heat of their breaths melding caused electricity to spiral into his veins, and he released a quiet moan. He could merely smirk when Zacky took the advantage of his parted lips to twine their tongues together.

Whereas their first kiss was slow and thorough, this one was built on need and passion and the greedy burn of lust. Fingers tangled into dark hair; mouths suctioned and clung; groans and high, breathless cries parted swollen lips. It was hot, flushed, and the most amazing thing Jimmy had ever experienced.

"Zee," he whispered, panting and red-faced, "do you want this?"

"More than anything," Zacky said, irises glimmering, and grinned when Jimmy's face opened into a broad smile. He pressed his hands to the drummer's chest as he rose once again to his knees, and the elder followed his lead by rising into a kneel on the long couch.

Jimmy reached for the hem of his Metallica tee shirt, shifting it along a slender torso and so hurriedly over his head that his hair buzzed with static electricity. He then slipped his hands under Zacky's Vengeance University top, pausing to glance into the younger's bright, mesmerizing eyes.

"Go ahead," Zacky murmured. He smiled and raised his arms when Jimmy was quick to comply, edging off the shirt before throwing it to the floor alongside his own. "You say I'm so beautiful, Jim, but you're fucking gorgeous…"

"Don't lie to me," Jimmy sang, carding his hands through Zacky's dark hair. "Now come on. I wouldn't want the guys to walk in on us. They'd never use the couch again."

Zacky giggled and stood, twining his fingers gently through the drummer's own. He allowed himself to be led out of the game room and toward the darkness of the curtained bunks, heartbeat pounding in his throat.

Jimmy slid open the curtain that shielded his bed. In the shadows of the unlit bunkroom, his irises appeared to glow; sharp, stormy blue accented by a tendril of gray. He attempted to convey in those eyes every ounce of affection and love he felt for Zacky, wrapping the rhythm into a single, warm embrace.

"I love you," he whispered against midnight locks.

"Love you, too," Zacky said, before hauling himself up and into Jimmy's bunk. "Come on. I've been waiting for almost ten years, James, and I'm not waiting anymore."

Jimmy could only grin as he hoisted himself in after Zacky. His heart tattooed a swift, painful rhythm into his ribcage; it wasn't a beat of anxiety or even of apprehension, but of unconditional adoration for the man with the green eyes and porcelain skin and slender hands - hands that closed around his face and pulled him in for a long, tender kiss.

Look alive, sunshine, he thought, repressing a chuckle, Eleven years later, you're finally getting what you've always wanted. Zacky's heart.