Synacky~Fallen Star

Fallen Star.

Warnings: This story contains violence and suggestions of violence and mental breakdowns. Please read on your own risk!

This is the contest price for Chrisii . May you enjoy this, honey, for all that it's worth.

Should've never gone to Hollywood ~ System Of A Down

He fell backwards against the wall. His big terrified eyes spoke of pure pain and panic, as the club owner came closer and closer to him.

"You're such a lazy ass, Brian. I don't think you're worth anything for me anymore. You're so ugly and pathetic, I'm getting sick of you.

And because of that, I'm gonna make it a little more difficult to stay here in La-La Land." A ugly cackling laughter erupted the space. Brian,
whom were sitting against the wall swallowed sharply, the pain in his head making him all dizzy.

"You know, life ain't gonna be very easy for a ugly man!"

The last thing you could hear was a high pitched scream, and a knife that cuts skin.

~~

At least he have his hoodie. Brian clenches his bruised fists in a tight grip around his hood.
The tears and blood that fleets down his face makes his long hair a complete mess.
He hiccups quietly as he cries, still walking restlessly around the street. It's pretty late.
The clock is around 11 pm. No one's gonna help him now. He got nothing left.
He's broke to the bone, and his pride.. it's eating him alive.
It all had started out so well.

Everything had floated easy for the pretty dark haired man, with wide beautiful brown eyes,
a slight button up nose and high elegant cheekbones. He was quite muscular too,
but he wasn't into modelling our such things.
He was a musician by heart.
Since he grew up in Huntington Beach, he had to try his luck in good ol' Hollywood.
All this brought him to an old famous pub scene called the Burbon Room.
He'd heard that's where all the famous musicians made their first album.

The success was a fact. He got well known, and the money came in. Not that it mattered..

They were so happy to have him at first. Promising him everything and every contract he'd ever imagined.
Then, one night, his manager had stepped into his room, tearing the contract apart and told him that he owed 100 thousand dollars.
"You're not good enough anymore, Haner. We've found a new star to take your place.
And oh, you owe me money for all the work I've done for you. You can pack your stuff and get out of here now. Bye, Bye."

So there he stood, trapped, betrayed and humiliated with a debt to pay.
Restlessly, he'd asked for jobs to pay the rent for his lousy apartment, but it didn't pay off.

One day, when he had received another rejection on a job offer, he stood smoking outside a strip club.

"You're way to handsome a man to have such dark rings under your eyes." A smart, slick voice had called.
The man was sharp, dressed in a tight suit with needle stripes. A sly grin played on his lips.

"You don't have a job do you?"

"No." Brian croaked, not looking back at him.

"Hmm.. Can you dance?"

"I got rhythm. I'm a musician."

"Great. You start tonight."

From there it went to hell..

There he stood, with a bruised face, that would never be the same again. No one was gonna look at him twice now!
The strip club owner had made sure of that one..