MiMiC (MxM)

Double

(Splitting this into two kinda)

"You were in the wrong fucking spot, you idiot!" Mr. Canzoni yelled in Teller's face the second the door to their hotel sweet was closed. He hadn't told him what had actually happened, but he didn't really need to, either. He messed up, and the only time he ever messed up during practices was when he got distracted suddenly. 

The only way he could have gotten distracted during the performance, was if someone had found him. 

It wasn't like he'd given me detailed directions to which set of curtains I had to stand between. 

The first hit was barely felt as Teller stared down at his scuffed shoes. Honestly, Mr. Canzoni wasn't very strong. That, or he'd just gotten so used to his punches that they didn't really hurt much anymore. The rest of the band seemed like they wanted a go at him, too, just for the fun of it, but Mr. Canzoni had told them before they got up to the room that Teller was strictly his. They couldn't have bruised knuckles before their next performance. 

Counting himself lucky that he was only going to have to deal with one person, Teller let himself be pulled into the back bedroom. The hits to his shoulders and legs, neither of which were needed to sing, came swiftly after the door was closed. Teller found himself leaning back against it so that he didn't have to support his weight from the kicks. Mr. Canzoni wasn't great at punching, but his legs did pack a decent amount of force behind them. 

Not ten minutes later he was beginning to feel himself drop, no longer able to stand, when Mr. Canzoni's phone began to ring. He backed off just in time for Teller to sag down to the floor. He didn't bother looking up and just focused on catching his breath as he heard his manager grumble about some wrong number and end the call without picking it up. 

He was just lifting his leg, huffing like he'd actually been the one taking the beating and wasn't just terribly out of shape, when his phone began to ring again. Stomping his foot down on the carpet, he grabbed the device and canceled the call again, only for his text message notification to chime a few moments later. 

"What the hell?" He rasped, drawing Teller's curiosity, even though it hurt to lift his head. 

Mr. Canzoni was sneering down at the phone and him, then suddenly threw it, hitting Teller in the forehead before he could reach his hands up to block. 

"You better get yourself cleaned up and get your ass down to the lobby in five minutes or I'll skin you for this mess up! Those assholes that found out who you are just texted me a threat to reveal you if you didn't meet  them right away. If that happens, you can kiss the money keeping your granny alive goodbye, do you hear me you little shit!" 

Mr. Canzoni yanked him up by his shirt and shoved the door open, then threw him into the bathroom next door. "Five minutes!" He yelled one more time, then added. "And you better hide your little bruises or you're going to get it much worse than I already owe you when you get back!" 

Before Teller could think about any kind of response, Mr. Canzoni slammed the bathroom door shut. "What... just happened?" He whispered to himself as he grabbed onto the edge of the sink and used it to help him pull himself up. 

When his eyes rose to look at his reflection in the mirror, he winced. He had a mark that was bleeding slightly from where the phone had hit him on his forehead, but what he definitely would need to hide were the bruises starting to show on his shoulders and collarbone area. 

Do I even have something to hide that area? He wondered as he hurried to scrub his face off, then put a small band-aid on his forehead. It would bring attention to the injury, but it would also hide what it really was. He could just say that he bumped his head.