Hush...

by Pomona the Dream Diva

Author's Note: Rights to 'Bent' owned by Matchbox Twenty, to 'If Walls Could Talk' by Céline Dion. 'Blue Moon' by the countless people who've done and redone it, lol. If you notice the countless hints to *other* songs, then you're either really good... or currently residing in my head. :P Points of view changing by song -- you'll figure it out, trust me. (okay for the challenged, MB20=Darren, Céline=Daniel. Haha... *grin*)

**********************

If I fall along the way
Pick me up and dust me off
And if I get too tired to make it
Be my breath so I can walk

*****

I tiredly run my hand through my sweaty hair that desperately needs a wash while strolling casually towards my hotel room. No fans in sight, it's oh so quiet. My lonely shadow is cast on the walls as well as the dirty brown carpeting. The opposite of how things were a few hours ago. Quite a gig, I can still feel a rush in my spine from all that euphoric screaming and tireless jumping. But there's also another reason for my rather anxious state of mind as I take a firm grip of the handle.

I know he's there waiting for me.

Especially now since I can hear him playing his acoustic. I have to let a silent snort escape my lips as I loosen my grip and lean closer to get a better idea of what he's strumming.

I hear him sing.

"And then there suddenly appeared before me The only one my arms will ever hold I heard somebody whisper 'please adore me' And when I looked the moon had turned to gold..."

'Blue Moon'. Another stifled snort of laughter followed by a genuine smile. You'd be surprised to hear some of the stuff he messes around with when he's not busy composing music of his own. He too can be clichéd -- as in 'Stairway to Heaven', 'One' & 'Hey Joe' just to name a few. But to get to witness his singing voice, now that's a rare treat. And I think it's one of his talents he only shares with me. Well maybe his girlfriends as well, but I guess I'll never know. I can just pretend that it's something special between him and I. His voice, you ask? It's fragile but emotionally charged, rough yet mellow. Actually it's pretty indescribable. I wouldn't do justice to it by desperately trying to find the words. So I'll just open the door and let you hear for yourselves. I get up after momentarily sliding down the door and turn the knob as subtly as possible. He's sitting on the edge of the bed of my somewhat flashy quarters, shooting his gaze up to meet mine as soon as I step inside. He knows what to expect. So do I. But I also know nothing's gonna happen in a while. We always take our time, acting like nothing's changed between us. That's why my smile is at ease when I approach him, closing the door behind me.

"Hey there Jonesy... that was beautiful." He looks at me a bit uncomfortably, his grin forced.

"You heard? That wasn't my intention, you know." I do know but his modesty is every bit worth it.

"You should sing more often, and yes, before you speak, I know I keep telling you that constantly... it's only because it's true. You're a multi-talent. What with jet-skiing and everything... you rule the school."

He laughs openly and throws his guitar pick at me, making me flinch a bit at the contact, forcing me to giggle.

"Ahhhh man... hey could you pick that up for me? I'm in some pain here."

My worry has to be visible.

"Pain? Since when? Have you been in some accident without telling me about it? Danny?"

"Nah, I just... I guess it's the stress, my shoulders are stuck and my lower back is killing me."

He looks down, shame and desire playing tag on his flustered face. Mmmm, I get it now. So this is how things are going to go down tonight. That was officially strike #1. Enough small talk already. I don't think I remember him being so hasty before, I guess he really needs it bad. But then again I'm not that reluctant either. I've missed him, it's been almost a week since our last encounter. So I hand him his plectrum, helping his guitar off him without a word spoken. He doesn't resist but I really wasn't expecting him to. I take a deep breath in encouragement before letting my hands land on his neck, sliding them down to his tense shoulders, hearing him sigh in guilty pleasure.

"Is it okay if I try and help you with that?"

*****

These walls keep a secret
That only we knew
But how long can they keep it
Cause we're two lovers who lose control
We're two shadows chasing rainbows
Behind closed windows
Behind closed doors

*****

There's that ever so familiar surge of guilt again, all over me. I can never hold it back. Sure I can be bold and I know it was my turn to make the first stand tonight, but still it catches me unaware as always. But the feel of his soft hands -- well compared to my callous ones -- on my already heated-up skin is enough to drive doubt away and replace it with blatant want. But not yet, I have to remind myself. There are still some words to be spoken, words of comfort and reaffirmation. Words between two buddies.

"Yeah sure Daz... I mean, would you?"

It's all just a game really. Our wants and needs are mutual.

"No problem, mate." He leans closer, standing behind me. "D'you want to... I mean is here okay or would you like to lie down? Cause I can do both." In spite of what he says, he's already kneading me.

"This is good." I breathe, completely under his control, disabled of intelligent conversation. He knows it.

A few moments of silence separate those two worlds that we've grown used to and draw a fine line between loyal partnership and tantalizing lust for the other. From this on I won't hear him speak my name and I neither will let his slip off my dry lips. We become strangers in the night. It's a learned routine, a conscious one. Still I'm quite aware that neither of us wants it to be this way. Regardless, nothing ever changes. Neither of us dares to acknowledge the presence of the other. We're afraid. Afraid of someone finding out. Afraid of getting too close to inevitably drift apart. Afraid of admitting our feelings, wording them instead of actions. Not really knowing what we would say. How tragically our lives would be turned around. No matter how twisted this all is, it's balanced. We daren't break it.

So how long has this been going on? For months now, every other night or so. I remember the first time so vividly. He was hanging out in my room while I was showcasing some of my newest creations to him. Lying on my bunk, laughing freely, occasionally writing something down. Being Darren. You know him. But trust me, not as well as I do. He was bending over to take a look at something on my computer screen, his hands resting on my shoulders, the slight shadow on his chin tickling my cheek. He nodded approvingly and smiled, playfully touching my nose. I chuckled 'til I saw his expression reflected on my desktop, suddenly so serious, his eyes darker than usual. Before I could respond in any way, he let his fingers dribble down to my lips and I couldn't help but instinctively let my mouth fall open and suck.

That night my best friend went down on me and after that it's been free fall. When we're alone, one simply couldn't separate us, when we're apart, we count the hours to our next rendezvous. But we act so casual. It's like we actually do live double lives. At moments like these, I don't think of him as Darren. I doubt it he thinks of me as Daniel either. It's a state of utter denial. Nothing is real except for what we're feeling inside. Right now I'm falling as his movements slowly turn from healing to seductive.

Further, further... ohhh further... keep going............

Of course I never actually voice my opinions.

*****

If I need some other love then
You give me more than I can stand
And when my smile gets old and faded
Wait around I'll smile again
Shouldn't be so complicated
Just hold me and then
Just hold me again

*****

He lets his head fall down like an obedient puppy as I let my hands wander lower and yet lower, my method varying from gentle brushes to rough squeezes. As it's been months, by now I'm an expert on what makes him tick and what relaxes him to that blissful oblivion that we share during our moments of passion, when we forget both time and place and fall into each other recklessly. When sometimes I feel like I hardly know him, this is when his whole world revolves around me and me only. All I focus on is giving him what he's yearning for. Naturally there are times when he's in hold of the reins, making every cell in my body writhe with pleasure and fulfillment. But somehow I prefer moments like these even more, when his eyelids get heavy and he proverbially melts under my fingertips, sighing in delight.

That's one thing he can't stop from happening, neither can I. But otherwise our communication is at a complete halt when we get close like this. With us, intimacy is synonymous with respectful silence. We can't phrase our emotions, it's been obvious from the very first night. I remember the scared but hopelessly longing look in his dark green eyes, the way a bead of sweat ran down his face. And the way he just sat there, didn't object in any way but didn't participate in anything either. I was okay with it. I knew we had time to grow more comfortable around each other and therefore become more affectionate as well. How did I know? All I had to do was look in his eyes. That night in his hotel room both of us somehow sensed that we had come full circle and it was time. Time for what? Just... time.

My hands find their way underneath his silky shirt and in what seems to be almost a reflex, he lifts his arms up and allows me to move it upwards and eventually pull it over his head. His skin is even more tan than usual after spending a few deserved days off in good ol' Oz. I know he was with Michelle, but it doesn't bother me. After all, we see what we're doing as forbidden anyway. Hidden from the world. I simply watch him intensely for a brief moment. The way his lithe form trembles almost unnoticeably, partly because he's shy, partly because the temperature could use turning up a few notches. He throws an anticipating, interrogating glance in my direction but never catches my eyes. I can tell what he wants. For me to envelop him, maybe press a light kiss on the back of his neck, perhaps tease him.

But I can't get myself to move. I'm taken over by images of the two of us in public, as Darren Hayes and Daniel Jones, from the highly successful group Savage Garden... holding hands, sharing an ice cream, hugging and kissing openly... things I'm fully aware will never take place. Never before have these thoughts which occupy most of my sleepless nights prevented me from physically loving him. But now...

As I feel my tear channels activating he gets up and kisses me forcefully.

*****

Two people making memories
Just too good to tell
And these arms are never empty
When we're lying where we fell
We're painting pictures, making magic
Taking chances
Making love

*****

I can see that he's close to tears, in fact I might be bold enough to say I felt it even before I turned to look at him, seemingly trapped in his own private world, painful scenarios haunting him. But I only knew one way to console him without disturbing the balance of our mutual, silent agreement. And that was to kiss him. Simply crush my lips with his so that he barely had a way out. But even if he did have that chance to exit my embrace he didn't. I keep my eyes firmly shut as I plunge my tongue in his mouth, feeling him accept it with the same familiar eagerness as so many times before. He might be on the verge of breaking down emotionally -- not to say he wasn't physically strained, our shows never fail to take their toll on him -- but he wants this just as much as I do. Needs this. We can't breathe without one another. We were robbed of that ability the moment we surrendered to it. To the concept of us.

I like to think of him as a fantasy. I've never had another male lover and to my better knowledge, neither has he, despite all the nasty rumors. When it comes to him and I, there are no gender boundaries holding us down. It's in secrecy and therefore sinful, but I can only see it as pure. Because it's honest. I know he's in love with me and that it hurts him, us bumping into each other like this. And he must sense that I cherish him more than my precious life, that I'd sell my soul in his favor.

But he'll never whisper those three words to me. And I'll never be there when he wakes up. It's almost too obvious that he wrote 'Universe' about me. Yeah and 'This Side of Me'? Well that 's a given.

He's helplessly leaning against me, clutching against me in search of comfort, trying to lose himself in me but I can sense that this time it won't be as easy. Something like this always prompts the question -- what if we were wrong all along? What if we should've left all the doors unlocked, the curtains up so that the light could shine in and reveal us to the company surrounding us? Why did we choose to separate our feelings so clearly? One moment we're best of friends, joking around, creating music, acting like professionals, the next thing we couldn't get closer, every part of me attached to his.

When he has me in his arms like this, kissing me breathless, I often feel like I need him to survive. Like I'd die without having him there. Yet it kills me to know he's in pain as I taste his tears, one by one. I have to make him feel better before I break down myself. I have to reel him in, promise not to let go. As I slide my hand through his silken strands of hair time after time, I'm filled with an almost unstoppable urge to declare my love to him, to say that I'll be there. Ready to satisfy his every need.

I whisper his name against his lips. He can't hear me but that isn't the point. The point is I can.

*****

If I couldn't sleep could you sleep
Could you paint me better off
Could you sympathize with my needs
I know you think I need a lot
I started out clean but I'm jaded
Just phoning it in
Just breaking the skin

*****

Who ever knew revelation could sting this much? I guess it has never really sunk in before. How much I truly do love him. And not even that... how much I want to tell him that. But instead I let him devour me, take over all my senses, praying for his scent, taste and mere being to fly me off to our unique altered universe. Where he is mine and I am his and no one else exists. And finally, I become numb.

Numb to everything but knowledge of one thing. I want him. Any way I can have him.

And as far as I know, this is the only way. He's never shown any will to go out in the open with this. It isn't possible, our relationships would be shattered, our careers endangered and our love laid on the line for anyone to probe and examine. Nothing would be ours anymore, and I think he embraces that. Whereas I sometimes can't. I want to be able to stand with him on that infamous mountain and look down without feeling this endless guilt, shame, without pretending he isn't a necessity for me.

But then it always hits me. Right now, as he showers me with his love, I'm not Darren. I'm his lover, the one he indulges in to get the pleasure he knows I can provide him. I feel faceless, nameless. He removes his hand from my hair and lowers it down to my neck, his fingertips gently brushing my face as he does so. Oh the rush I get... it's indescribable. And that fleeting eye contact, it means more than anything to me. Sometimes I want to hate him for being so damned irresistable. So easy to love.

As I nuzzle in his neck, basically trying to suffocate myself with everything that is him, he begins to undress me motionlessly, without missing a beat. It seems almost cruel how he doesn't need to ask, it's granted, he has eternal access and it's clear as crystal to him. His gaze seeps through my soul, his touch finds the hidden corridors of my heart where no one else has ever strolled. His smile spears me.

I just need to be near him. To feel his breath on my neck, his hair falling on my face. For the first time during the whole evening I can sense my troublesome thoughts taking a few steps back. Thank God.

He pulls back warily, letting my shirt drop to the floor in a messy heap. Our eyes lock for what feels like minutes and I can see unshed tears in the corners of his eyes. Eventually he lowers his gaze and takes my hand in his, entwining our fingers, then extending his arm as he climbs on the sheets, beckoning.

There's that ocean that swallows me up in whole every time. But I'm not afraid to drown. Plus there's no way in hell of resisting that invitation. It's a VIP pass to the essence of Daniel Jones. Pandora's box.

And it's mine. All mine. There at my unexpressed command. Like an opened book.

*****

When I'm feeling weak
You give me wings
When the fire has no heat
You light it up again
When I hear no violins
You play my every string
So stop the press
Hold the news
The secret's safe between me and you
Walls - can you keep a secret?
*****

He topples on top of me, his weight being pressed against me making me gasp for air momentarily. Something tells me he's starting to fall for me and so I Iet my guard down completely, erasing 'inhibition' off my dictionary. I can't help it, a plead in form of a simple 'please' escapes me. He looks down at me. Is that a look of relief? I swear, the beginnings of a joyous smile can be seen on his serene face. But he leans down to kiss me before it breaks loose. Now, if not before, I allow myself to lose control. Fully.

These are the moments we live for. The process of creating music, the incredibly satiated feeling of being on stage, the feel of electricity running through me every time I play my instruments... they're nothing compared to this. To be swept away by him in every aspect possible, it's heaven on earth. Sometimes I feel we've wasted so much time keeping our wants locked deep inside. What if we had faced upto it from the very beginning? Perhaps we'd actually be a couple now instead of a disarrayed mesh of despair. Ever since we met we've been lethally addicted to one another. We instantly became two pieces of a puzzle we had no idea existed. That's why the magic was always there. But after that one fateful night... our relationship has truly become dangerous to our well-beings. Look at him now.

Sure, he's planting the tiniest of kisses all over me, not going to tell you this isn't exactly what I need because it is. But it's like he's in a coma, unconscious of the universe outside that door, where most of our gang must be celebrating yet another successful show, pouring Bacardi & Coke down their throats. That's most assumably where I'd be if it wasn't for him. Drowning my worries, my overactive imagination and my constant need for something in a tall glass of Guinness. That used to be my outlet 'til I "discovered" him. You'd think I would've pushed him back, I'd never shown any interest in him before. Except for that one press comment that every weirdo out there seemed to get such a kick out of. For a valid reason.

"If we weren't already involved, yeah, I'd go for him!" What did I mean by that anyway? I mean sure it was a joke, but... and then of course he had had his moments as well -- "Was it love at first sight? It was, as trashy as it sounds." That kiss in Ipswich during Truly... so I guess there had always been sparks flying, so to speak. Oh yes, and that time I made the mistake of referring to him as "an enjoyable ride". I'm pretty sure that most of our fans wouldn't even be shocked to find out. No, sir. It pains me to think that it would never be an issue, they'd never know. Luckily with every nibble, with every stroke, he seems to be emptying me of the poisonous blur of reasonable thinking. I've no idea when he has managed to strip me but that is the cold (literally) reality. He's my source of warmth.

*****

Start bending me
It's never enough
'Til I feel all your pieces
Start bending me
Keep bending me
Until I'm completely broken in
Again
Shouldn't be so complicated
Just touch me and then
Just touch me again

*****

He has been quiet for so long. Not that he's ever that vocal, I'm the one that has trouble keeping my voice down. But still... he must have been deep in thought. Now he seems to be more than awake though, with the realization that he's hardly wearing anything. Neither am I. But for a long time he simply keeps staring at me, tracing the tips of his long, skinny fingers down my arms. And up again. Now I'm officially affirmed of the fact that there's something special about tonight. Usually things are rushed no matter how strong feelings lie beneath the surface, the charade of simply satisfying each other in a bodily manner. It happens, and then it's over and another torturous wait takes place. But this time... it's almost as if he's trying to read my mind, or at least he's interpreting it the way he finds to be suitable. Whatever this is, he's paying attention to me. Suddenly he skips me over to my side.

Accompanied with the softest of kisses, he speaks, making my heart skip a beat or two.

Daniel...

"Darren, I... how'd you like the show tonight? I'd say the crowd was really vibing out there... you?" All I can do is stare and listen to his smooth voice, which even though hardly audible, seems to be echoing off the walls in the deadly silence of my suite. Blinking my eyes I finally find my voice.

"It was amazing, as always, the adrenaline rush never ceases to amaze me... it's what I love."

He smiles with his teeth showing, yes, including those ever so adorable fangs of his, and I melt away. "I should know better." I never knew it was possible to love him even more. I should put up a shrine. I can't possibly describe what a sensation it is to listen to him whisper while his fingers caress my skin.

"How 'bout you?" I still can't speak his name, it gets stuck in my throat.

"Is it a passion?" He nods.

"But you... " He's like a deer caught in headlights, stuttering in such a uniquely jittery tone. He seems to be looking for the right words, I should know him, he never speaks his mind if he isn't 110 % sure.

I'm trapped in a kaleidoscope, with all possible shades of emerald blurring my vision. How could anyone who's ever once laid their eyes on him leave him be?

I know I'm captivated for a lifetime.

"Darren I know you're bent. And I'm the one who's breaking you. Is there... any way I can help you?"

"You can be my breath. You already are. I think... I think everything's just a whisper away."

*****

If walls could talk - oh
They would say "I want you more"
They would say "hey - never felt like this before"
And that you would always be
The one for me
If the walls had eyes - my
They would see the love inside
They would see - me
In your arms in ecstacy
And with every move they'd know
I love you so

*****

Okay enough song lyrics. Time for the unedited truth. Can we handle it? I don't know. But I'm willing to burn if it means I get to die in his arms, filled with his desire, his heartbeat being the last sound I hear.

"Let me love you." I owe it to him, the burden is too much to bear on my constantly heavy shoulders. And he simply takes my hand in his, kissing my fingertips, leading me away into his private mind. But as I approach the brink, feeling myself falling under his charms bit by bit, I abruptly break away. Michy.

"I, uhhh... I need to make a phone call. Please?" I know he doesn't understand but he lets go of me. I pick up the receiver on the nearby night table, dialling the number I know by heart. For the last time.

The answering machine picks up as I knew it would. "Michelle... it's me. Listen... we need to talk. Call me as soon as you get home. Love you, just... not enough. I'm sorry, try and forgive me. Good night."

The phone slams loudly against the drawer as Darren pulls me down unexpectedly, impossibly close to him, so I can feel his steady, warm breath on my face, his blue eyes piercing my soul. If I have one, that is. It must be tarnished. But he doesn't care. He never does. He's always been my biggest fan.

Our lips meet in a whole new understanding, a deeper meaning. And I know I made the right decision. I'm willing to make my way through fire for this, face the innumerous odds stacked against us. Just to hear him moan as I carefully tug on his earlobe with my mouth, entwine our legs with small effort, feel my way down his chest with my hands while his are grasping my newly cut sunburnt hair encouragingly.

Just to feel his lips pressed against my forehead, my nose, my chin, my Adam's apple... I swallow deeply as he reaches my collarbone, and from that downwards I can't even begin to decipher what exactly he's doing, but I know where it will all end. He'll lift me to tremendous hights and he won't let me fall, instead he'll kiss me back to life 'til I can once again make sense of the world. And this time...

He'll stay. I'll be there by his side when it's twilight time. When the first rays of the cruel, ever burning sun will hit his eyes, I'll be holding him close, tucking his raven locks behind his ears. He'll be mine. For this night, until morning is declared. I can't speak for tomorrow, or the day after that, or any time beyond. But I know that for the next 10 hours or so he won't run away. And I won't break contact. No. My love, and so much more than that. My Darren. I want him so badly that it's tearing me apart.

We've been here before, all of our clothes disheveled, our bodies molded into one, nothing between us but the meager oxygen we need to remain conscious. Total integration of two people in love. Yet it couldn't be different. He has never tasted so sweet, his smell hasn't been this intoxicating, his touch so exhilirating, the heat radiating from every corner of his perfect form so protective and enclosing. To be inside him now, wiping away those inevitable warm tears threatening to stain his angelic features, it's more than I could ever ask for. Even though I lost my faith years ago, it feels like all my prayers have been answered. If there is such a thing as deity, it's all wrapped in his existence. His out-of-this-world voice, his enthralling dark blue eyes, his pink, pouty diva lips, his big, thumping heart, his pure soul.

Never before have I realized how beautiful he is when he strives to get right into my core, attempts to join our very spirits. Innocent like a small child, but violated to no end. He knows he oozes sexuality and gathers attraction like flies buzzing around a creamy strawberry birthday cake. He says I do too, but I could never be compared to his virtues. He's chocolate, champagne, satay chicken, Coca Cola, vanilla ice cream... with that infamous cherry on top. You know what it feels like to hear him sing live, giving his all to you. Well multiply that by one million and you're here. In bed with him, feeling his hands all around you, drinking unparalleled nectar off his luscious, full lips. Letting his body drain you until you can't take it anymore and your whole being collapses as you let out one final scream of stimulation and craving. And then all you see is stars and you feel like you're floating amidst fluffy clouds on a clear blue sky.

He kisses me one last time as I withdraw myself from him but never lose touch. He's sobbing and I can only hope he's happy. I hardly ever cry but this is definitely one of those moments when it isn't a distant concept. But I settle for burying my head in his neck as his sniffles become few and far between.

"Daniel, I love you. Just stay here, I need you." And he knows as well as I do that tonight this butterfly won't leave his clutch but is going to stay safely cupped in his hands. Tomorrow? Who gives a damn.

"I love you too." Sleep peacefully, my innocent child. I believe the moon just turned to gold.

*****

Can you help me I'm bent
I'm so scared that I'll never
Get put back together
Keep breaking me in
And this is how we will end
With you and me landing
Without understanding
Hell I go there again
Can you help me I'm bent
I'm so scared that I'll never
Get put back together
Yeah, you're breaking me in
And this is how we will end
With you and me... bent

*****

~finis~