Testament began coming into its own on The New Order, elevating the primordial thrash of their debut with greater instrumental prowess and sharper writing. Tracks like “A Day of Reckoning” found Alex Skolnick and Eric Peterson more effectively integrating their distinct writing and playing styles into something cohesive, while Chuck Billy similarly homed in on his approach to vocals. The song was still very much thrash but sounded much more focused and stood in contrast to the overall vibe of aimless flailing that marked most late ‘80s thrash, even though Alex Perialis’ production had the same tinny and low-rent quality. This was a big step up for Testament and rightly positioned them at the upper end of the genre’s middle tier.
wrote this back in june, before I moved and when I was a complete emotional wreck, put it in my drafts and completely forgot it was there until just now.
i believe i titled this “jaded”. i literally cannot do this “dysfunctional girl” character and “toxic relationship” trope (i’m not that kind of girl and i love my boys too much to depict them in an abusive manner), both of which are a dime a dozen in the fic world, but i did what i could with what i know in the world of unreciprocated feelings, though.
The day crawled by after that. I spent most of it with a vacant expression on my face, a pounding in my head, and this deep ache in my heart that never went away for a second. I knew that I probably should have cried it all out, but I needed to find the right moment for it.
“We’re just friends. I thought you knew that.”
I replayed that same sentence over and over in my head until it was nothing but a noise, how it was as if Chuck had taken a dagger in his hands and slid it deep into my heart until I laid on the floor in my own blood.
It was nightfall when the clouds gathered on the horizon. I tried to distract myself with some light reading from the book that Alex had given me, but it was completely futile. Every so often, I glanced out the window to behold the gathering clouds over the ocean to behold the sunset; I thought of going outside for an evening walk, but I could hardly gather the strength to do it. But I needed to move around regardless of the ache and pain in my body.
I was a girl with hobbies: I needed to get back to them so I wouldn’t have to ruminate over it anymore. Nothing more than a noise gutted me.
I thought of calling up Eric just to have someone to talk to before I made dinner, some banh mí which I had made for the guys the first night I had met them. At one point, I lifted my head and gazed up at the dream catcher on my wall, the same that Chuck had given me.
Someone take these dreams away, that point me to another day. Oh, the fact I bonded with Lou over that song.
I needed to live. I hoped that things wouldn’t be awkward at rehearsals from thence forth, and that was all I had at that moment: pure unadulterated hope. I sighed through my nose and tucked the bookmark in between the pages, and I padded into the kitchen with the pink and orange light from outside as well as the glow of the lamp at my back. The slicing of carrots and cucumbers helped me move my mind off it. The scent of fresh ginger could ease the nausea in my stomach. The feeling that I was going to be eating some sweet and sour pork.
All of it homemade, all of it to help me feel better.
But even after dinner, and after I returned to the book to finish out my night, something still nagged at me. I still needed something for myself.
The words on the pages seemed to blur into themselves. The cream color of the paper comforted me like Alex’s lanky sinewy arms, as if he was rocking me to sleep. I needed him to hold me. In fact, I pictured the chair to be him holding me: holding me and loving me, everything I needed at that moment…
At one point, I was jarred awake by a low knocking sound on my door panel. My eyes fluttered open and I glanced about the room. It was dark outside, and I could hear the rain pattering on the gutters. A wave of cold swept over me: the furnace had switched off, plus it was raining on top of that.
I turned my attention over to the door. I could only hope that it was Chuck outside of there willing to profess his love to me after everything. I unlocked it and opened it to reveal him there on my front step, long dark curls matted to his forehead and his shoulders, eyes squinted from the rain or from weeping, and his jacket absolutely drenched.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” I confessed to him.
“I wasn’t, either,” he confessed in a hoarse voice, more hoarse than after the first time he belted out “Over the Wall” for me. “Is it okay if I come in?”
“Uh…” I glanced down at his big black motorcycle boots, completely soaked from walking about in the rain for who knows how long. “Yeah. Just… you know, take your boots off. I mopped in here yesterday, remember?”
“How could I forget,” he declared: he slipped off the right one first and stepped inside in his sock, and then he pried off the left one and stepped inside with dry feet. He then picked up his boots and kept them there next to the door; I closed it behind him, and I made my way over to the radiator on the other side of the room to turn the heat up. I turned the dial and the heat hummed back to life. I stood up and gazed over at him as he hung up his jacket on the hook next to the door.
“Do you have any towels?” he asked me.
“Plenty,” I replied in a soft voice. “After hanging out with Anthrax in the Bahamas, I’m completely stocked up.” Indeed, he shivered, and I padded over to the hall closet for a soft clean seafoam-colored towel. I returned to him, to which he gave me a soft “thanks” before he ruffled it over his wet hair. He looked as though he fell into the bay.
I lingered back as he brought the towel down below the tip of his nose, and he gazed at me with those luminous eyes: I always thought those five men were actually mermen, and when I looked into those eyes, it seemed to confirm it for me.
“Listen,” he began, his voice down low, and then he stopped. He glanced off to the side and muttered something under his breath. I frowned at him. “Fuck…”
“Take your time,” was all I could say to him, to which he raised his eyebrows at me.
“Even after all of that, you still care about me,” he said in a soft voice. “Even after the way I treated you, you still care about me.”
“I’ve done the same with Alex,” I said. “I am always going to love him. And I am always going to love you.”
“You… confuse us,” Chuck admitted as he draped the towel over his forearm. “We need you. He needs you. And I need you. But I have to confess to you, Hannah, you scare me a bit. You scare me because… I don’t want to lose you. I know he doesn’t want to lose you, either.”
I swallowed at the sound of that. I thought my eyes were dry, but they weren’t going to be dry for very long, however, especially not after that. Gently, he folded up the towel and draped it over the top of the recliner next to me. His curls were still soaked, but tight and curly, perfect for running my fingers through: I thought about the first time I did that with Alex, and I thought about the first time I did with Chuck as well.
It was something that I missed. It was something I needed as well.
Those lanky hands reached out to my waist, and he inched closer to me. He looked as though he was about to kiss me, but he never did. I could feel it. I could sense it.
I gazed up at him: those curls resembled to a tapestry, a pair of curtains to close the window on the thing that destroyed me from before.
“Don’t lie to me,” I commanded to him.
“Why would I?” he asked me with his brow furrowed. He lifted his hands and cradled my face in them.
“I want the truth—” Before I could say his name, he went for it. Those lips, so smooth on my skin: that feeling of familiarity, of my first love and the one whom I had left behind in the past, back in Carson City. The feeling of his skin on mine was enough to send a shiver down my spine and make the tears bleed forth.
I could feel the cold metal of his turquoise ring right on my cheekbone, and more so when he ran his hand down my hair.
He let go and I gazed into those glassy eyes as a tear streaked down from my face. He brushed it away with the side of his thumb.
“Do you still wanna come see Exodus with us tomorrow?” he offered me.
“Please,” I begged. He leaned in again for another one, and yet I still couldn’t tell if it was the truth or a lie. The words were vacant but his skin told me another story.
My heart pounded in my chest, and I thought my knees were going to buckle. But I let my hands glide up into those wet curls, into the roots. His hands slithered up from under the hem of my shirt, up my back. It was happening again, and this time, I had more butterflies in my stomach.
“Don’t ever lie to me,” I whispered into his lips. The rain picked up outside, but I could feel the fire roaring up inside of me, however. Chuck kissed me with utmost fervor; his fingers unhooked my bra for me, and then they glided down my spine to the small of my back. He held me against his chest, and I could feel us backing up to the couch. I laid down on my back, and he hung right over me. I pressed my knee against his hip to steady him over me.
Gently, he took off my shirt for me: once it was over my head and face, he lifted my bra off my chest. He brought his face down to my chest, and he left gentle kisses all along my chest and up to the base of my neck. It was driving me wild. I could feel my back arching. I held onto his hair again, that time as if I was holding his reigns rather than feeling his hair at the roots. I breathed harder from the feeling.
The noise in my head had disappeared, and I had forgotten what he had said to me from before. His kisses were enough to heal me, heal everything that had happened from before. I finally felt at ease in Chuck’s arms.
I let my bra slide off my arm onto the floor so he could see every inch of my chest, my dark nipples and the shape of my breasts: his wet hair only added to the points of my nipples. He finally sat upright and stripped off his shirt for me to behold his sun-kissed body to me, but then he lost his balance. He fell onto the carpet behind him, but I followed suit.
That time, I was on top. I was on top and I was going to punish him for being such a bad boy earlier.
I straddled his hips, and I could feel his burgeoning dick inside of his snug jeans, right underneath my own pants. I inched back to reveal the crotch of his pants. With one hand, I unzipped it for him.
I could see he needed some help. I was always told that I had two hands, and I should use them both as well.
I looked up at his face, into those eyes, into the way that his hair seemed to sweep over his brow as it spanned out from underneath the crown of his head across the carpet: those luminous eyes gazed back at me, those dark lips quivering from the feeling within him. I needed to explore his body more, and I needed to explore my own as well.
But first, I needed the truth in all of its naked glory.
“Don’t lie to me,” I repeated, and that time, I made sure that the tremble in my voice was at bay. It took every ounce of my being to do just that, but I did it. I spoke with power. “Don’t you dare lie to me.”
“And again…” His voice, on the other hand, shook as if he was upon the ground during an earthquake; “…why would I do that?”
“Because you did once before,” I pointed out. “Remember?”
He paused, and his chest rose and fell in steady succession at the sound of that. He then closed his eyes, and he breathed in deep. He did remember, or so I believed, anyway.
I then reached down and gripped onto him with both hands. I fondled him down with nothing more than my fingertips, all the way down the sides of his shaft towards his body. I let them go up onto that one sliver of skin between there and his stomach: I had such a weakness for that part of a boy’s body, be it him or Alex. I was the masseuse after all: the masseuse and the baker and everything in between.
Everything in between—that was why they were so attracted to me.
A shiver shot up his spine at the feeling of my fingers there, and I knew that I had him in the palm of my hands from thence forth. I would like to see him get out of this scot-free. I moved my fingers back to the head and let them dance about the rim. I wanted to show him a trick that Alex had showed me, but then again, we didn’t have any pot on hand. I decided to go ahead with it raw, and I stuck my finger down into the hole. It was like slipping my finger into a rubber band that was a bit too small, but I slithered down in there.
I moved my finger further down inside to the point that it was up to the second digit. I moved my finger about in a circle down inside there.
“Hannah—” Chuck sputtered out; his face flushed and his back arched as well. “Hannah, please, I—” I curled my finger inside of that shaft, and he sounded as though he gagged on something. “—I need you to blow me.” He stammered out the words. I knew what he was getting at there.
I moved my finger out from the hole and shook my hand about. I flexed my finger, and I looked on at him there before me, all flustered and down on the floor. I was the one in control. He was the one who admitted that the feelings were unrequited between us, but I was the one who had the key.
I licked my lips as I locked eyes with him again. He had rolled his head about on the floor at one point, and a few locks of wet hair spread over his face. There was a part of me that wanted to dunk his head into a bucket of water to make sure his hair was always wet whenever I saw him again.
The punishment was only beginning.
I opened my mouth and brought my head down onto the head of that fat dick. My tongue curled around the length of it as if I was taking a drink. I let him rest on the pad of my tongue. I pressed one hand onto his waist to keep him pinned down to the floor. I engulfed him in my mouth.
I could feel the tip near the back of my tongue. I could also feel his fingers in my hair right then. I raised my gaze to see him reaching for the roots of my hair but I was too far down his legs for him to do anything. Without lifting my mouth from him, I inched along the side of his hip towards the side of his torso.
Very gently, he stroked his fingers through my hair at my back. I dragged my teeth along the tightening skin, and that was when he gripped onto my hair and tugged.
“Mmm—” I couldn’t talk from having my mouth full.
“Watch the teeth,” he grunted out. But I could see something in his eyes when he said that to me, though. That familiar twinkle. That familiar little curl of his lip at me.
I knew what this was about, unrequited or not.
I sank my teeth in again, and he let out a short yelp. He tugged on my hair again. Another sink of my teeth. Another tug of my hair.
I could taste him on my tongue. I decided to kick it up a notch. I lifted my head off him, and I gasped for air all the while: his dick was wet, but I knew something else was wet. I took off my pants and my underwear so I was exposed now.
“Still wanna play with me?” I asked him with a clearing of my throat.
“Please,” he begged. “Please.”
My bare ass out in the open, I climbed atop his chest: my lips and my clit were all right in his face. I was going to smother him for being such a bad boy towards me. I could feel his tongue against my lips. I could feel him holding me and tasting me as if I had just made a cake. I had made a cake, and he was licking off the frosting.
“Deeper,” I commanded. I clutched at his wet dick again, that time with one hand. His tongue slithered up under my hood. I could feel him hitting me right in the nub. I breathed harder from the feeling. I clutched at him harder all the while.
His tongue moved in so deep into me, and I wondered if he was going to choke one something. But then again, I wasn’t really thinking of anything. I wasn’t thinking of anything other than the way his tongue danced about on my clit and sent my back into a deep arch. I held onto him for dear life with only one hand.
I moved my fingers down the shaft to tickle him a bit. I could see him coming for me, all for me with nothing more than the swipe of my hand. He made a noise that sounded like an angry bird, but then he hit me on the clit just right. I let out a loud moan, the loudest one I had ever done before.
I lifted off his face and took my hand off of his dick. I climbed off of him and rested my knees onto the floor on the side of him. Both of us were breathing hard and heavy as if we had just ran a couple of miles together. I lifted my head for a look at him into his flushed face. He lifted a hand and let his fingers graze over the side of my forearm.
“You alright?” he asked me in a broken voice.
“Never better,” I confessed to him. I was going to let my lips breathe as I stood up before him. I took him by the hand and helped him up from the floor. His face was still flushed, complete with a soft sheen over his forehead. He stayed sprawled out as he crossed his legs and gazed up at me like a prince.
“Do you want me to stay or leave?” he asked me, and he cleared his throat.
I lifted my gaze to the window and the sheets of rain water streaking down on the other side.
“Stay,” I advised him, and I shivered even though the heat had been humming quietly this whole time. “It’s raining. So, stay for the night. Just this night, though.”
“Of course,” he assured me. “I’ll take the couch, though.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I pointed out to him, and he showed me a little smile.
I picked up my pants and my underwear, and I led him to my room and my daybed. I had just changed the sheets, but I needed a shower, and I knew he did as well given he had been walking through the rain prior to then. Once I was done, I let him go forth with a quick one. All the while, I sat on the edge of the bed with my hair damp and smelling of hibiscus and powder.
Eric loved that combination of smells on me, and I once again found myself hoping that things wouldn’t be awkward from that point onward.
Within time, Chuck surfaced from the bathroom, hair dripping wet again and in his underwear as well. He ruffled the towel over his hair again to better dry it off. He stood in the doorway and gazed on at me with those bright eyes again. I found myself looking at his brown skin again, at its smoothness.
“I’m sorry for using you,” he told me in a soft voice. “I really am.”
I sighed through my nose as I lowered my gaze down to his bare legs. I suddenly had a hankering for a cup of coffee, even though it was nine o’clock at night.
“Would you like some decaf while our hair’s drying off?” I offered him.
“You know what? I would love some decaf if you have any.” I stood to my feet, and he let me go into the kitchen to prepare a pot of late night coffee.
The aroma of it at that hour reminded me of the first time I got to hang out with them. Once I had the coffee maker going, I turned around to face him there in the kitchen doorway with his arms folded over his chest.
“You like a little cream in your coffee, right?” I recalled.
“Nah, that’s Eric and Zetro,” he told me. “I like mine black.”
“Red and black, put it back,” I recalled. “Leaves of four, want some more.”
“I remember that,” he said with a chuckle. “I still don’t know how you came up with that.”
“It’s a long story,” I told him with a shake of my head. “It’s what I get for hanging out with Alex, too.” I held back and gazed on at him and the thoughtful look on his face. The coffee maker quietly churned behind me, but the silence between us was enough to make me grimace.
“You know you and I are done now, right?” he pointed out to me.
“I do,” I said. “But… do you want to talk about it more, though?”
“It wouldn’t hurt,” he assured me with a shake of his head.
“It would never hurt,” I promised him, and I gestured to the kitchen table. “Have a seat.” He took to one of the chairs there and rested his hands on the crests of his knees. I needed to live, and I needed to live without the Chuck-shaped hole in my heart as well. I told him I loved him, and I wound up falling face-down ass-up as a result.
“I don’t want things to be uncomfortable between us,” I started. “I want to be able to hang out with you guys without things being awkward and everything.”
“Right, right,” he agreed with a nod of his head.
“It’s just… I can’t help myself with how I feel,” I confessed. “I mean… I don’t need a romance in my life. I need a romance right now like I need a hole in my head, if I’m honest. But…” I searched for the right words, and I nibbled on my bottom lip. He swallowed and shifted his weight on the chair. It was right then I realized that I didn’t need to say anything else. Sometimes silence needed to speak for me.
And it was right then that the coffee maker finished out, and I turned around and fetched a pair of mugs from the cupboard behind me. I poured the two of us some decaf, and I handed him the purely black one. He showed me a little smile and raised the mug to me in cheers. I poured in a bit of creamer and stirred it with a long spoon, and I took a sip.
“I will say this, though,” he started again. “I’ve always liked how mature you are. You don’t need someone else to love you, and… I like that. I need that. We need that, actually.”
“I think I went through a brief period where I struggled with that, but it was very brief,” I recalled. “Like it was well before you guys showed up. It was before Ben, actually.”
“When was it, mind me asking?”
“I think it was after my parents split,” I told him. “You know, I blamed myself for my mom leaving, because I was going off to school, but my dad assured me that that wasn’t the case. I blamed myself for him relapsing as well, but then he told me that he’s an alcoholic, so I moved out of that headspace pretty quickly.” I blew on the coffee and took another sip.
He took a sip as well, and all the while, he kept his eyes locked onto me.
“When we get up tomorrow, do you want to go and get some breakfast?” he offered me. “You know. Just you and me. I won’t wake up Alex and Eric. It’ll just be so things are still friendly between us.”
“You know I’d love that,” I promised him, and I showed him a smile as I took another sip.
#project hail mary
#the amazing digital circus
