Kiss of Death- Dave Mustaine Fanfiction

And So We Crumble

But it was just a lie, just a lie
Just a lie, just a lie
Even at this angle
And so we crumble
Still turning heads, you know where it's at
This dread still covers us
You gotta be kidding me
The grass grows over me
Your face in the glass, and it's dark now
It was just a laugh, it was just a laugh
It's whatever you say it is
Split infinite - Radiohead

Have you only been 'loving' me for sex, because that's all it seems like.  It's like I'm some sort of tedious chore that at the slightest drop of a dime I'm disposed of. I feel so unimportant. I've never felt this way around you before. Since we were sixteen you specifically went out of your way to make sure I don't feel insignificant or trivial. Despite having  much of the world around me view me like some goddess with beautiful blonde hair and light eyes I couldn't help but feel patronized.  

You just released your second album 'Peace Sells... But Who's Buy?'. Since I was now done with the production of Sid and Nancy I decided to go on tour with you. It seemed to be against your better judgement (whether that be because you were worried about my safety or you didn't want a let down around you I'll never know and quite frankly don't care). However, you eventually agreed and submitted to the idea that I wasn't going to leave you alone. This was your first big tour with your own band. I wasn't going to let you experience it by yourself. You supported me when I was just starting out. Why wouldn't the same be reciprocated for when you're trying to make it big?

Due to all the touring you and the guys were doing it became your first best selling record of the 80s, and was seen as a pioneer in thrash metal music. It received just as much critical acclaim and adoration as Ride the Lightning. That was great, however, you and I both know that that was never good enough for you. Being on par with them wasn't a good thing. To you it was just as demeaning as being called a Metallica ripoff. But despite all of this all wasn't good on tour. I knew you were on drugs, along with the others. I knew that. It was a given fact in all honesty. Hell, you guys often mixed cocaine and heroin to make Speedballs. I knew you guys were fucking your bodies up, but in all honesty I never knew how bad and how rampant it was until I witnessed your behavior on tour.

You wouldn't play unless your nerves were made dormant by the drugs, you wouldn't practice unless you had your hit, you wouldn't recline for a second with dosing yourself with shots of alcohol, hell you wouldn't even honestly talk to me unless you were doped up. Along with that all the whores and groupies that flocked to your side just waiting to get a piece of you leaving me in the sidelines out of your point of view and perspective. You wouldn't have sex with them in the hotel we shared with each other, yet. However, the fact that you'd come back 'sobered up' with makeup and the smell of cheap perfume on your body always made me heated. You'd come back maybe one or two hours before practice would begin and just go to bed and snuggle into me, believing that I was asleep and had no clue that you were out behind my back. I knew. I'm not stupid. Naive, sure, but not stupid like you were led on to believe about me. But while, you fell peacefully asleep into a deep slumber with no regrets or remorse I laid there in bed stiff and motionless. My knees were pressed up into my chest as you slept there behind me with your arm wrapped around my waist. However, despite all this I wouldn't cry. Once in a while maybe a few small crocodile tears slipped out, but I was rendering myself emotionless to your advances towards other women. I knew deep down inside that it hurt, but when you act and lie to yourself for so long you begin to believe the tale that you've spun for yourself.

When you got up you hastily showered and gave me a gentle kiss on the lips and left me alone in our hotel room. As I sat there curled up in the soft white sheets that surrounded me I couldn't help but think of your soft yet gruff and rugged lips. I remember how they tasted and how they felt on mine. However, I couldn't help, but wonder how your lips felt on that woman's skin last night. Was her sex better than mine? Was she more delectable, and much more fairer, and much more beautiful than I am? What did she have that I didn't that made worthier than me to bed you? Was I really just chopped liver? Was I that bad of a lover? Or was what I called love what you  referred to as sex? Was such an action that mealiness to you?

I thought back to that day in the forest when we were younger. We were in our own little world. We were happy, serine, and content, but now when I look at us all I see is distaste and displeasure that we feel towards each other. Were you turning into a monster , or was I? Was I so utterly blinded to the truth that I wanted to hold onto what little piece of relief and heaven that I had left? In my opinion, yes. I wanted to be loved, I wanted to be cared for, I wanted to be noticed. Back then I was, but now all I can see it that I was just a quick fantasy for you as well. We were both deluded. That love from before it was just a lie, at least I thought so at the time.

There was nowhere left to hide. This was loudest the warning bells have even been on our relationship so far, and I wasn't comfortable with it. We were trapped, and were helpless to resist. The was one of our relationship's darkest hours. This dread still covers us. There we were in this sort of limbo; this darkness that consumed us. And so it began, and so we crumble.