Sunrazor
The Fly
Yes, this is a new story, just because I love y'all so damn much.
Warning! Warning! Danger, Will Robinson! This is SLASH. That means two guys gettin' it on. It's mild by industry standards, but apparently some people just don't go for that sort of thing. And that's okay. Just so they know.
Everyone else, enjoy.
***********
Open
By Sunrazor
The airplane was quiet, the lights lowered so that the exhausted crew could get finally some sleep. Here and there, the glow of a reading light announced the presence of an insomniac wrapped in a blue airline blanket; most were reading. A couple of them watched the tiny TV's set into the back of the seats, the lights flickering staccato over their faces. The engines roared dully; not loud yet somehow deafening in their monotony.
Edge sat with his reading light out, staring out of the window and down at the tiny lights scattered on the black ground like stars in an inky sky.
He had been writing, phrases, scraps of what might eventually become lyrics, just anything that popped into his head. But now he was lost in his own mind, and the notebook and pen lay forgotten on his lap.
The last few days had been hell.
It was mostly because of Bono. Not that Edge blamed him.
Pulling himself up onstage, trying his best to sing well, despite the fact that he was dangerously short on sleep and his vocal cords were reduced to so much raw flesh, then flying home to be with his father for a few precious hours, then coming back and doing it all over again.
A couple of nights ago, Bono had snapped, and there had been a fight backstage. Blows were exchanged. Insults were screamed. It had ended with Bono standing red and shaking in a corner, his fists clenched and tears shining in his eyes with Adam and Larry hurling abuse and Edge standing between them all, trying to get Bono out of the room before something irreparable was damaged.
Later, at the hotel, Edge had tried to get him to talk. He had carefully and gently laid out the issues involved: That the band all needed to be on the same page emotionally, that it wasn't good to clam up about things that were bothering him, that he needed to open up and try to calm down, and most of all, that he needed to stop pushing the other guys away.
Bono had simply grunted, stalked up to his room, and locked the door.
Edge sighed. Hurricane Bono had quieted somewhat since then, but it was still obvious that not all was well. Bono had withdrawn, become distant and cold, spending much of his time in his hotel room, and had, for the most part, ignored the invitations to go out to dinner, or to clubs.
It wasn't like him at all. Edge was worried.
He turned to look across the isle, and was surprised to see that Bono was still awake.
His light was out to, and he was sitting so still that for a moment Edge had been sure that Bono was asleep, but his head was thrown back, and Edge could see his eyes open and glittering in the dimness.
Edge hesitated for a monent, then rose, slipped silently across the isle and into the empty seat next to Bono. Bono turned to look at him, his face draped in shadow. "Help you with something, Reg?"
Edge peered at him through the dim airplane light, trying to gauge Bono's mood. He didn't seem particularly upset, but there was something there all the same, under the surface.
"You okay, Bono?"
Bono sighed and looked down at his hands. "No. And you know why."
Edge laid a hand over Bono's. 'Yeah. I do. But I wish you'd talk about it."
Bono rubbed his hands down his face. "I know. It's just.... it's hard. You know that. if it was easy, I'd do it in a second." He looked away and out the window, and for a few minutes, neither of them said anything.
"I just feel so cut off from everything." Bono's voice was low, quiet. "I feel like there's this plastic bubble separating me from the rest of the world. I don't know if it's the lack of sleep, or what..."
He paused again. "I just wish I could stop this. I just wish I could quit the tour, and go home, and crawl into bed and never have to shake another hand, or pose for another photo shoot, or perform for one more bleedin' person."
Edge wrapped his hands around Bono's and squeezed. He did know how hard it was for Bono to talk. He also knew how desperately Bono needed to do so. "I just don't know how you do it," he murmered.
Bono looked back at him and smiled sadly. "Neither do I."
Edge smiled back. "We're here for you. You know that."
"I do."
"Then why won't you come to us? Why do you always push us away when you need us most?"
Bono looked down for a moment, absently brushing a stray lock of hair back behind his ear. "I'm not sure, actually." He chuckled. "Maybe I'm just a slow learner." He tried to turn away again, but Edge's hand shot forward, turning Bono's face back to his own.
"No, Bono. I'm not buying that this time."
'Edge... what..?"
Bono wasn't playing games; he really was confused, but Edge wasn't going to let him off easy this time. He could no longer afford to do so.
"No more dancing around, Bono. I need to know." Edge took a deep breath. A voice in the back of his head spoke up, wondering if he was about to push this too far, and he stomped it down fiercely. Bono needed to open up, and Edge felt sure that if he didn't now, he never would. "I need to know what you're scared of."
Bono didn't say anything for a moment, and Edge was afraid he'd lost him. Then, very quietly, "I'm afraid of frightening you all away."
Edge stared at him. He had been expecting a lot of things, but not this. "Why on earth would you be afraid of doing that?"
Bono closed his eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was trembling slightly. "I just feel everything so intensely. I'm an intense person, or so people tell me." He opened his eyes, and stared up at the ceiling. "I'm worried that if I lose control of these feelings, if I let them out at all of you, that they might push you all away.
"And I'm also afraid of being selfish. I'm afraid of making you all sick of me. I'm afraid of looking like... a whiny little pop star, I guess." He laughed ruefuly. "So when this all came crashing down on me, I closed my heart off. I suppose that, in a way, I thought that I was protecting you all from myself." He laid his head against the seat, still looking at Edge, but with his eyes now distant. "But it looks like I'm losing you all anyway." He moved forward slightly, so that he and Edge were forehead to forehead. "If that happens, I think I might die."
They stayed like that in silence, just enjoying the closeness, the contact.
After a few minutes, Edge raised his head slightly and gently brushed his lips against Bono's cheek. "Better?"
Edge could feel him smile. "Yeah, actually. Thanks for listening."
Edge grinned. "Wasn't that my whole point here?"
Bono laughed and squeezed Edge's arm. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess it was." He paused. "But I didn't tell you everything."
"Oh, no?"
"No. Edge...?" He stopped, and Edge could feel Bono's eyes boring into his.
"What is it?"
Bono closed his eyes again. "There is still something that I'm afraid of..."
He leaned forward and pressed his mouth against Edge's.
The kiss was chaste at first, barely more than that which close friends exchange, but it deepened, became more insistant. Bono's tongue danced lightly across Edge's lips, coaxing them apart. Edge moaned, his hands tangling in Bono's hair as their tongues dueled, exploring and intertwining, curving together delightfully. This is crazy, Edge thought, and then: I never want this to end.
But it did, and they broke apart, gasping. For a minute, neither moved; they stayed wrapped in each other's arms, unable to separate. Bono brushed his lips gently against Edge's ear, sucking briefly on the lobe. Edge moaned again and dug his fingers into Bono's back.
Bono pulled away and stared at Edge for a moment, then turned away to face the window. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
Edge reached for his shoulder, turning them back face to face. "Don't be."
Bono lowered his eyes, refusing to meet Edge's gaze. "No, I am. That went too far."
"Maybe you needed to go too far, tonight."
Bono said nothing.
Edge ran a hand gently down Bono's cheek. "Really. It's okay."
Bono looked up at him then, and Edge saw fear and love and a terrible hope shining in his eyes. "You're not angry, then?"
Edge laughed. "Did I try to stop you?"
He reached across and pulled the blanket out of his seat. "I think you need to get some sleep now, more than anything. We'll talk tomorrow."
Bono gently put a hand on Edge's arm. 'Could I just ask you one thing?"
"Anything."
"Could you stay with me? I mean, just until I'm asleep..."
Edge laughed again. "Sure. And you will sleep?"
"You know, somehow I think I will."
Bono curled against him, tucking his head under the guitarist's chin as Edge spread the blanket over them both. Edge yawned. He hadn't realised how tired he was.
"Bono?" he whispered.
Silence.
Edge chuckled, then yawned again.
"Goodnight, Bono."
The plane roared on, over sleeping, oblivious lands. Off in the east, the first light of dawn peeked cautiously over the horizon.
The two men slept on, knowing none of this. They slept deeply, without dreams, and without care.
There would be time for waking.
***********
------------------
"It's only after you've lost everything that you're free to do anything." - Fight Club
"Here's where it makes the most sense. You need it so you don't forget. Forget that there are places in the world that aren't made out of stone. That there's something inside that's yours, that they can't touch. That's the beauty of music. They can't take that away from you." - The Shawshank Redemption
"All God wants is a willing heart and for us to call out to him." - Bono
"Ohh!!! Egyptians!" - Me, on AOL IM
[This message has been edited by Sunrazor (edited 08-26-2001).]
[This message has been edited by Sunrazor (edited 08-26-2001).]
[This message has been edited by Sunrazor (edited 08-26-2001).]
Warning! Warning! Danger, Will Robinson! This is SLASH. That means two guys gettin' it on. It's mild by industry standards, but apparently some people just don't go for that sort of thing. And that's okay. Just so they know.
Everyone else, enjoy.
***********
Open
By Sunrazor
The airplane was quiet, the lights lowered so that the exhausted crew could get finally some sleep. Here and there, the glow of a reading light announced the presence of an insomniac wrapped in a blue airline blanket; most were reading. A couple of them watched the tiny TV's set into the back of the seats, the lights flickering staccato over their faces. The engines roared dully; not loud yet somehow deafening in their monotony.
Edge sat with his reading light out, staring out of the window and down at the tiny lights scattered on the black ground like stars in an inky sky.
He had been writing, phrases, scraps of what might eventually become lyrics, just anything that popped into his head. But now he was lost in his own mind, and the notebook and pen lay forgotten on his lap.
The last few days had been hell.
It was mostly because of Bono. Not that Edge blamed him.
Pulling himself up onstage, trying his best to sing well, despite the fact that he was dangerously short on sleep and his vocal cords were reduced to so much raw flesh, then flying home to be with his father for a few precious hours, then coming back and doing it all over again.
A couple of nights ago, Bono had snapped, and there had been a fight backstage. Blows were exchanged. Insults were screamed. It had ended with Bono standing red and shaking in a corner, his fists clenched and tears shining in his eyes with Adam and Larry hurling abuse and Edge standing between them all, trying to get Bono out of the room before something irreparable was damaged.
Later, at the hotel, Edge had tried to get him to talk. He had carefully and gently laid out the issues involved: That the band all needed to be on the same page emotionally, that it wasn't good to clam up about things that were bothering him, that he needed to open up and try to calm down, and most of all, that he needed to stop pushing the other guys away.
Bono had simply grunted, stalked up to his room, and locked the door.
Edge sighed. Hurricane Bono had quieted somewhat since then, but it was still obvious that not all was well. Bono had withdrawn, become distant and cold, spending much of his time in his hotel room, and had, for the most part, ignored the invitations to go out to dinner, or to clubs.
It wasn't like him at all. Edge was worried.
He turned to look across the isle, and was surprised to see that Bono was still awake.
His light was out to, and he was sitting so still that for a moment Edge had been sure that Bono was asleep, but his head was thrown back, and Edge could see his eyes open and glittering in the dimness.
Edge hesitated for a monent, then rose, slipped silently across the isle and into the empty seat next to Bono. Bono turned to look at him, his face draped in shadow. "Help you with something, Reg?"
Edge peered at him through the dim airplane light, trying to gauge Bono's mood. He didn't seem particularly upset, but there was something there all the same, under the surface.
"You okay, Bono?"
Bono sighed and looked down at his hands. "No. And you know why."
Edge laid a hand over Bono's. 'Yeah. I do. But I wish you'd talk about it."
Bono rubbed his hands down his face. "I know. It's just.... it's hard. You know that. if it was easy, I'd do it in a second." He looked away and out the window, and for a few minutes, neither of them said anything.
"I just feel so cut off from everything." Bono's voice was low, quiet. "I feel like there's this plastic bubble separating me from the rest of the world. I don't know if it's the lack of sleep, or what..."
He paused again. "I just wish I could stop this. I just wish I could quit the tour, and go home, and crawl into bed and never have to shake another hand, or pose for another photo shoot, or perform for one more bleedin' person."
Edge wrapped his hands around Bono's and squeezed. He did know how hard it was for Bono to talk. He also knew how desperately Bono needed to do so. "I just don't know how you do it," he murmered.
Bono looked back at him and smiled sadly. "Neither do I."
Edge smiled back. "We're here for you. You know that."
"I do."
"Then why won't you come to us? Why do you always push us away when you need us most?"
Bono looked down for a moment, absently brushing a stray lock of hair back behind his ear. "I'm not sure, actually." He chuckled. "Maybe I'm just a slow learner." He tried to turn away again, but Edge's hand shot forward, turning Bono's face back to his own.
"No, Bono. I'm not buying that this time."
'Edge... what..?"
Bono wasn't playing games; he really was confused, but Edge wasn't going to let him off easy this time. He could no longer afford to do so.
"No more dancing around, Bono. I need to know." Edge took a deep breath. A voice in the back of his head spoke up, wondering if he was about to push this too far, and he stomped it down fiercely. Bono needed to open up, and Edge felt sure that if he didn't now, he never would. "I need to know what you're scared of."
Bono didn't say anything for a moment, and Edge was afraid he'd lost him. Then, very quietly, "I'm afraid of frightening you all away."
Edge stared at him. He had been expecting a lot of things, but not this. "Why on earth would you be afraid of doing that?"
Bono closed his eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was trembling slightly. "I just feel everything so intensely. I'm an intense person, or so people tell me." He opened his eyes, and stared up at the ceiling. "I'm worried that if I lose control of these feelings, if I let them out at all of you, that they might push you all away.
"And I'm also afraid of being selfish. I'm afraid of making you all sick of me. I'm afraid of looking like... a whiny little pop star, I guess." He laughed ruefuly. "So when this all came crashing down on me, I closed my heart off. I suppose that, in a way, I thought that I was protecting you all from myself." He laid his head against the seat, still looking at Edge, but with his eyes now distant. "But it looks like I'm losing you all anyway." He moved forward slightly, so that he and Edge were forehead to forehead. "If that happens, I think I might die."
They stayed like that in silence, just enjoying the closeness, the contact.
After a few minutes, Edge raised his head slightly and gently brushed his lips against Bono's cheek. "Better?"
Edge could feel him smile. "Yeah, actually. Thanks for listening."
Edge grinned. "Wasn't that my whole point here?"
Bono laughed and squeezed Edge's arm. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess it was." He paused. "But I didn't tell you everything."
"Oh, no?"
"No. Edge...?" He stopped, and Edge could feel Bono's eyes boring into his.
"What is it?"
Bono closed his eyes again. "There is still something that I'm afraid of..."
He leaned forward and pressed his mouth against Edge's.
The kiss was chaste at first, barely more than that which close friends exchange, but it deepened, became more insistant. Bono's tongue danced lightly across Edge's lips, coaxing them apart. Edge moaned, his hands tangling in Bono's hair as their tongues dueled, exploring and intertwining, curving together delightfully. This is crazy, Edge thought, and then: I never want this to end.
But it did, and they broke apart, gasping. For a minute, neither moved; they stayed wrapped in each other's arms, unable to separate. Bono brushed his lips gently against Edge's ear, sucking briefly on the lobe. Edge moaned again and dug his fingers into Bono's back.
Bono pulled away and stared at Edge for a moment, then turned away to face the window. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
Edge reached for his shoulder, turning them back face to face. "Don't be."
Bono lowered his eyes, refusing to meet Edge's gaze. "No, I am. That went too far."
"Maybe you needed to go too far, tonight."
Bono said nothing.
Edge ran a hand gently down Bono's cheek. "Really. It's okay."
Bono looked up at him then, and Edge saw fear and love and a terrible hope shining in his eyes. "You're not angry, then?"
Edge laughed. "Did I try to stop you?"
He reached across and pulled the blanket out of his seat. "I think you need to get some sleep now, more than anything. We'll talk tomorrow."
Bono gently put a hand on Edge's arm. 'Could I just ask you one thing?"
"Anything."
"Could you stay with me? I mean, just until I'm asleep..."
Edge laughed again. "Sure. And you will sleep?"
"You know, somehow I think I will."
Bono curled against him, tucking his head under the guitarist's chin as Edge spread the blanket over them both. Edge yawned. He hadn't realised how tired he was.
"Bono?" he whispered.
Silence.
Edge chuckled, then yawned again.
"Goodnight, Bono."
The plane roared on, over sleeping, oblivious lands. Off in the east, the first light of dawn peeked cautiously over the horizon.
The two men slept on, knowing none of this. They slept deeply, without dreams, and without care.
There would be time for waking.
***********
------------------
"It's only after you've lost everything that you're free to do anything." - Fight Club
"Here's where it makes the most sense. You need it so you don't forget. Forget that there are places in the world that aren't made out of stone. That there's something inside that's yours, that they can't touch. That's the beauty of music. They can't take that away from you." - The Shawshank Redemption
"All God wants is a willing heart and for us to call out to him." - Bono
"Ohh!!! Egyptians!" - Me, on AOL IM
[This message has been edited by Sunrazor (edited 08-26-2001).]
[This message has been edited by Sunrazor (edited 08-26-2001).]
[This message has been edited by Sunrazor (edited 08-26-2001).]
