Hollywood Undead Fic

C.6.

          Dylan's still sleeping by the time I wake. Someone knocks on the door again, and I blink a few times as I sit up. Dylan hums lightly as I do so, seeming irritated. "Sorry, Love." I mumble to him, leaning forward and grabbing the door handle. When I open it, Charlie and Matthew both climb in immediately. Matthew closes the door behind him. By now, Dylan's completely awake. "Dude, what the fuck are you guys doing?" "Danny and Johnny are arguing." Charlie mumbles, hugging his knees to his chest in the corner of my little bedroom. Matthew grabs my arm and pulls me to him. He sits me on his lap, sighing delicately and resting his chin on my shoulder. A silent understanding passes between the three men, and, in a way, I get it. I get hiding instead of facing problems. Judging by the cuts and bruises I'm noticing on the men, they had a pretty rough time last night. I really want to know what happened, but they don't look like they're in the mood to share, so I'm not going to pry. There's a dull thud from upstairs and Dylan sighs, draping his arm over his face. Matthew hugs me tighter and Charlie just glares at the ceiling. As we wait out the mini storm, no one speaks. Matthew hums an off-key and fast-paced tune, clearly trying to soothe himself.

With every shout and crash, Charlie lets out a breath, Matthew briefly tightens his grip on me, and Dylan's body tenses. We all snap to attention when we hear footsteps coming down the basement stairs, Dylan sitting up and growling slightly as Charlie shifts closer to Matthew and I. The door opens and Danny stands there, looking beyond pissed and kinda in pain. He's holding his side with one hand and the door handle with the other, blood slowly spilling past his lips. "Johnny's gone." He mumbles, leaning heavily against the doorway. "What about J?" Matthew asks concernedly. "He's, uh...He tried to stop Johnny from hitting me. Didn't work out too great for him." He says, closing his eyes. I try to move towards him, concern filling my entire being, but Matthew holds me to his chest. "What are you doing?" I whisper. He just shakes his head, burying his face in the crook of my neck. "J's still alive, though, right?" Charlie checks. Danny nods and forces himself to stand, turning and walking back upstairs. Dylan glances at us before following. Charlie goes next, and now Matthew and I are sitting alone.

Again, I try to leave the bedroom, but he clutches onto me infuriatingly. "Wha-?!" I start to snap, but Matthew cuts me off. "Just Gimme a minute. Please." I stop straining against his grip and turn to look at him. He looks tired. So I wiggle around until my chest pushes against his. Having noticed humming calms him down, I press my forehead to his and close my eyes. I hum 'London Bridge is Falling Down', though in a slower pace. He hugs me to him, copying me and humming along. I repeat the tune over and over again until he eases his grip on me, and that takes some time. I stop humming, but he doesn't let me go. He just hugs me carefully and breathes rhythmically. "Better now?" He chuckles lightly, then sniffs a bit. "Y-Yeah. Better." He mutters. I pull back and press a little kiss to his nose, making him grin at me. That goofy grin that I'm quickly coming to adore. "You wanna head upstairs?" I ask, and he nods, finally letting me go. The sudden lack of balance shocks me, and I gasp lightly as I fall back. I reach out a grab onto his shirt, pulling him down on top of me.

His hat falls onto my face and I flush, reaching up and grabbing the bill. I pull it down so it only covers my lower face, staring up at Matthew nervously. He'd only just calmed down, and I'd hate for him to be upset with me. His hands are planted on either side of my head and his shins on the bed on the sides of my hips. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall and it was stupid of me to take you down with me." I say, staring directly into his wide eyes. His magnificently long and curly hair is hanging down and framing his face, and I stare at him intensely as I wait for his response. His face slowly but surely turns red as his lips part slightly. He swallows thickly and looks up at the doorway, then quickly leans down and kisses my neck. I yelp and he smiles, climbing off of me and off of the bed. He grabs my wrist, drags me out, scoops me into his arms, and walks me upstairs. As we walk past the living room on our way to the kitchen, I see J passed out on the floor. He's propped up on the couch and his face is bruised. Dylan, who's kneeling next to him and dabbing his bloody face with a wet rag, seems concerned.