welcome-to-the-undead

[welcome-to-the-undead]

I. LOVE. YOUR. FIC.

Oh, thanks. I completely forgot that I never posted the end to it... I guess I should do that at some point. Haha.

[welcome-to-the-undead]

The Departure [Chapter 3] [Both<3]

A/N: Well after eight months, you'd think I'd forgotten about this. And I did. But a sudden anon came and reminded me to post, so I shall post! I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting for eight months!

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.:Deuce's POV:. Where am I? What happened? Why do I hurt so much? I can't remember what happened after the group of guys came and attacked me... Am I dead? Am I going to Heaven or Hell? What's going on? Deuce was met with a sharp, bright light once he opened his eyes, causing him to squint as his eyes adjusted. At the faint beeping of the monitors around him, and the hustling that he heard right outside the door, he knew he was somehow in a hospital. How he got there, he didn't know. Shifting his head ever-so-slightly to the left, he gazed out the window. Though it was still dark outside, he could see pinks and oranges in the background, and could tell that the sun was going to be up soon.  The sounds of light snoring brought him back to attention. Who the hell...? After turning his head again, what he saw made him smile and frown at the same time. "Charlie..." Then a surge of anger went through him, and after shifting slowly so that he was sitting up, he used his good arm, pounded Charlie in the head, and yelled "Jordon fucking Terrell wake your ass up!" Deuce smirked, satisfied, when Charlie gasped, looking around to see what had happened. "Welcome back to Earth, asshole." "You're okay!" was all Charlie said. He didn't even say anything about Deuce pounding his head in; after all, he probably deserved it. "Of course I'm okay," Deuce spat. "I just punched you, didn't I?" Though Deuce was more than happy to see Charlie, he was still pissed that he was thrown out of Hollywood Undead. Charlie sighed. He knew why Deuce was peeved. "I guess you did..." With the way Deuce was acting right now, he wasn't going to be able to get a word in. "Look, Deuce, I'm-" "What? Sorry? How the fuck do you apologize for something like that? 'Hey Deuce, I'm sorry I was an asshole and voted you out of Hollywood Undead and basically kicked you out of my life.'" Deuce's unmasked face was laced with irritation. "Okay, so I deserved that..." Charlie sighed, and Deuce felt a little bad for snapping like that. "But really Deuce... I am sorry..." "Why did you vote me out then?" Deuce asked, his face stony and emotionless. "Answer me that." Charlie shook his head. "I don't know, Deuce. None of us do. But none of us are happy... We're all upset because of what we did, and-" "You're all upset? How the fuck do you think I feel? Did you once think about how much you'd hurt me before you did this?" Deuce turned his head so that he was stearing out the window. I missed you guys... I really did... But I want you to know... I really was hurt... He turned around to face Charlie again, his heart snapping when he saw the look on his friend's face. "You don't need to forgive me, Deuce... I just wanted you to know how sorry we are..." The other man stood, running his fingers through Deuce's hair once before walking over to the door. "Don't go," Deuce squeaked before he could stop himself. He felt a blush creep on his face, and he looked down, desperate to hide it. Charlie, however, seemed confused. "I don't understand, Deuce. Do you want me to leave or to stay?" With a chuckle, he added "I can't do both." The vocalist was sure that his face was as red as a cherry by now. "I, uhm... You can d-do whatever you want..." he mumbled. Great Deuce. You sound like a moron. He shifted his gaze to Charlie, thinking that the taller man would be angered, but instead, he only seemed amused. "I-I'd like you to stay... Y'know, just so I'm not alone..." "All you had to do was ask," Charlie said simply, and he sat down in the chair he had left just moments ago. "Thanks Charlie. It means a lot." .:Charlie's POV:. Deuce is acting like a hormonal lady... First he yells at me and shit, and now he's all soft and asking me to stick around. I mean seriously, what does he want? Sure, it's kinda cute, but I'm getting rather confused! "Deuce?" Charlie started. "If you're mad at me, why do you want me to stay?" "Because, I said that even though you betrayed me, I'd never betray you." Deuce's cheeks were puffed out in slight annoyance. "Besides, I said I don't want to be alone, and maybe you can convince these hospital quacks to let me out." Charlie chuckled. There's the Deuce I know. "Other than the broken arm, I don't see why they should need to keep you in here. I'm pretty sure you've had worse wounds than that. When a doctor comes back in, I'll ask if you can be released." "Thanks dude." Deuce sighed contently and rested his head against the wall. The unmasked rapper just nodded, staring at Deuce's form. Slowly, his mind started to drift. God, he's... beautiful... His hair, his eyes, everything about him... "Jordon!" The voice snapped Charlie out of his thoughts. "Wha?" Deuce chuckled. "Welcome back. I asked why you were staring at me... You looked mezmerised or something." "I wasn't staring at you," Charlie defended. "I was staring in that general direction." "Oh." The vocalist's voice seemed disappointed, which was much to Charlie's surprise. "Anyway, go find a doctor. I'm sick of waiting." "All right, all right, keep your pants on." "But I'm not wearing any-" At that, Charlie shot up and headed out the door to locate the nearest doctor. ~.~.~.~.~.~ "Feels good to be free!" Deuce squeaked, walking out of the hospital in the clothes he was wearing last night. "Dude," Charlie chuckled. "You were in there for one night. I don't think you know what it feels like to be locked up in a hospital for any extended period of time." Deuce stuck his tongue out at his somewhat-shorter counterpart. "One night is bad enough, especially since I don't remember a lot of what happened. I remember getting the shit beat out of me, and then you showing up, and then waking in the hospital the next morning only to beat the shit out of you." "I don't know what happened after... yeah... otherwise I'd tell you." But Charlie looked up at Deuce and smiled. "But I'm glad we're talking again." .:Deuce's POV:. There's that smile again... It seems as though no matter how hard I try, I can never win when he smiles at me. He's just... breathtaking, I guess I could say, but I could never say anything. He's straight, and I'm not. He's got a girlfriend, and I think he even has a baby... How could I possibly fall in love with a straight man?

[welcome-to-the-undead]

Pleeeeeaaaaaaassssse update soon! I really love this fic

Oh wow; it's been quite some time! I do have the rest of the fic ready to go, so give me five minutes and I'll put the next chapter up.

[welcome-to-the-undead]

Hi. I like your fic. But its been 2 months since you updated so do you still exist? Or are you done with this?

I've been waiting for my flash drive to be returned so I can update, but I have the story finished, and I am still alive and well. :)

I will update ASAP

[welcome-to-the-undead]

The Departure [Chapter 2] [Charlie Scene]

A/N: Well, here's chapter two! Dunno who's actually looking forward to it, but oh well!

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.:Charlie Scene's POV:. "How... how could you guys do this to me?" Deuce's voice sounded genuinely hurt. "I thought I was your friend. A part of your crew! Remember, you told me that!" But, like he was asked, the former vocalist turned around and walked out, what looked like a tear forming in his eyes... "Just remember; you may have betrayed me, but I'll never betray you..." And then, he was gone... I haven't seen Deuce since we asked him to leave... and to be honest, I'm not surprised... He must feel so betrayed right now... I don't even have the heart to tell him that he's been replaced already... But, the vote was made... Though none of us wanted to see him go, Danny needed our help... At least Deuce will still make some money off of Desperate Measures and Swan Songs... Charlie Scene tapped his fingers on the glass table in front of him, the drumming creating a smooth, yet jumpy beat. Tap, tap, tappity tappity tap. Tap, tap, tappity tappity tap. The rhythm looped several times before he stopped abruptly, a glare from Da Kurlzz sending chills up his spine. "Sorry..." he muttered before he stared out the window of the studio. All of the remaining members of Hollywood Undead were silent; since Deuce's departure, none of them had gained the motivation to write a song, let alone have some fun. Deuce was always the one to get the joking air going, but now... he wasn't even here. Unconsciously, Charlie began tapping his foot to the same rhythm he was tapping with his fingers moments ago. "Oh my god Charlie," Da Kurlzz finally snapped. "Will you find something to do? You're bound to drive us all mad!" The rapper just shrugged, leaning back in his seat. "I guess I'm just bored... Since..." "Look, Charlie, I know you're upset because Deuce is gone," Da Kurlzz started. "We all are. If you want to put your mind at rest, go look for him, and tell him that it was nothing personal, that it was just work. He'll understand." "It's not that simple." Charlie shook his head and sighed, standing up. "He'll never forgive us... You didn't see the look in his eyes before he left... He was so hurt." Da Kurlzz shared Charlie's sigh. "I know. But you need to do something other than drive the rest of us mad. Maybe making yourself busy will help you take your mind off of what just happened. I can tell right now that we're not going to get anything done song-wise. Might as well go take a small break." Charlie just nodded. "All right..." He removed his mask; a simple black bandana with his name on it, placing it on the glass table before walking out the door, Deuce still clearly on his mind... ~.~.~.~.~.~ The depressed rapper hadn't gone too far from their cozy little LA studio; it was getting dark, and the last thing Charlie wanted to do was get in a scuffle with the rougher characters. Instead, he chose to go to his home, where he laid on the couch, staring intensely at the ceiling. Try as he might, he couldn't get the former vocalist out of his head, and images of his look of betrayal filled his mind, causing Charlie to cry out in frustration. I wish I'd never voted him out! I wish none of this ever happened! I need Deuce back, or I'm going to go completely mad! A sharp knock on the door caused Charlie to jump, and it was followed by a deep, muffled voice. "Charlie?" He breathed a sigh of relief. It was just Funny Man. "Come in, dude," was all Charlie muttered before he shifted so that he was facing the inside of the couch. "You're sulking," Funny Man pointed out. "So?" "You never sulk. You bitch, piss, and moan, but you never sulk." Charlie sighed. "I guess I finally found something to sulk about..." "You're talking about Deuce, aren't you?" When Charlie nodded against the fabric of the couch, Funny Man took a seat on the coffee table and sighed. "You can't let it get to you like this, Scene. I know it'll take a lot of guts, but you need to talk to him. Deuce has been your best friend for five years. If you talk to him, he'll understand why." Charlie didn't seem convinced. "But I booted him, dude. Can't you see? This has probably hurt him more than anything, and-" The rapper was cut off from a familiar bleet from his phone. "Deuce?" He flipped it open to answer it, and was surprised it was a text. But his face quickly melted into an expression of horror when he read the small print on the screen. "Charlie?" Funny Man's voice was laced uncharacteristically with concern. "Charlie, what's wrong, dude?" Funny Man's eyes widened when Charlie shoved his phone in his face, showing him the two small, yet haunting, words. "Help me." ~.~.~.~.~.~ Charlie's pace was quicker than average as he soared through the roads of LA. "We have to find him!" he shouted to Funny Man, who was running beside him. The tall man just nodded, at a loss for words. "Okay, call Da Kurlzz and J3T, maybe have them find J-Dog, and we can all-" Funny Man stopped as Charlie was cut off, and saw that, even in the dark, the other man tripped. "Charlie, you all right?" "Yeah I'm fine... My fucking foot caught on something..." Grumbling, Charlie opened his phone to identify the object, and he gasped. "Dude, it's Deuce! I tripped over Deuce!" The low-pitched man let out a gasp matching that of Charlie. "All right, check for a pulse, and I'll call for an ambulance." Charlie nodded frantically, using his phone for light as he put two fingers on Deuce's neck. Finally, he managed to find a pulse. It was weak, but it was there. "He's got a pulse, and he's still breathing... But I smell so much blood..." The rapper was panicking in his mind, but he didn't let it show. "Deuce... I'm here... I'm sorry..." he whispered. He felt Deuce's neck shift ever-so-slightly under his light touch. "C-Charlie?" came the raspy voice of the vocalist. "Shh... Deuce, I'm here... Don't worry..." An awkward smile flitted across Deuce's face. "You came... you're here..." he mumbled before he lost consciousness once again. Charlie teared up. Did he honestly think I wasn't going to show up? "Of course I'm here..." he whispered back, though he knew that Deuce couldn't hear him. Charlie's heart pounded, and he groaned in relief when the ambulance finally showed up... ~.~.~.~.~.~ "We're here to see Deuce," Charlie said for the third time. "What room is he in?" The receptionist sighed, but started sorting through files on her computer. "Room 218, boys," was all she said before brushing them away like flies on her keyboard. Funny Man nodded, looking at Charlie. "Let's go." The other man simply nodded, following Funny Man as they made their way through the halls. Room 216... 217... Finally, they made it to 218, but Charlie hesitated as his hand rested on the knob. "Go on Charlie... I'll be right behind you." Charlie gulped, but turned the handle and walked into the room. Deuce lay on the bed, his pale body contrasting with the bright white of the sheets. He had several bandages covering his body, and his right wrist was casted. "Fuck... Whoever did this got him good..." Taking a chair, he moved it next to Deuce's bed and began to gently stroke the former vocalist's hair. "You like him, don't you?" Charlie jumped at the question; he'd nearly forgotten that Funny Man was there. "Of course I do. He's been my best friend since before Hollywood Undead even started," Charlie spat lightly. "That's not what I meant and you know it." Funny Man crossed his arms. "You love him." "O-only as a brother, d-dude..." The low-pitched man sighed. "You don't need to hide it Charlie; I can see it in your eyes, and you're playing with his hair. We've all seen it coming; me and the boys. The only people who didn't see it was you and Deuce. We're not going to treat you differently just because you like another dude. True friends stick together, bro." Charlie sighed. "Yeah, I guess I do... But... If true friends stick together, then how did I ever let him go?" Funny Man opened his mouth, but shut it again when he realized he didn't have an answer. Instead, he just put a hand on Charlie's shoulder. "He'll forgive us, Charlie. I know he will." "I hope so, bro. I really hope so..."

[welcome-to-the-undead]

The Departure [Chapter 1] [Deuce]

A/N: SLASH TIME. Don't read if you don't like. Bottom line. :)

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:Deuce's POV:. "Deuce, we're sorry to say that you're no longer a member of Hollywood Undead." Charlie Scene's face looked grim, as if he didn't agree with this decision. "I really am sorry, but you'll have to go..." The masked rapper's eyes were locked in a corner of the room, as if he was unable to look his friend in the eye. And that's... the last time I saw them... Charlie Scene... Da Kurlzz... J-Dog... Johnny 3 Tears... Funny Man... I miss them all so much, and it's hardly been a week... Why...? Why did this have to happen? Deuce walked the streets of LA on his own, his crew no longer there to comfort him in his time of sorrow. He didn't understand; what did he do to deserve this? Was he horrible in a previous life? Did he step on the wrong nerve of one of his band members one day? Whatever it was, he couldn't do anything about it now. His time with Hollywood Undead was done, and his best memories were shoved out the window. If I only had one chance to defy them, I'd beg them to take me back... "Look!" Deuce was brought out of his dreary daze at the squeak of a little kid. "Mommy, look! It's Deuce, that singer from Hollywood Undead!" Deuce felt his heart snap, and even moreso when the kid's mother said "Now now, leave him alone. You don't need to go poking around random strangers. You don't know what they might do." The vocalist just stared at the spot where the mother and child stood moments before. I'm not a bad person... So our verses are rated with a parental advisory... The verses have nothing to do with who we really are... The maskless Deuce lowered his head, trying not to let tears well up in his eyes. Instead of staying to attract a crowd, he picked up the pace again, trying to get as far away from the main part of town as fast as he could. After all, the fewer people that recognized him, the better off... ~.~.~.~.~.~ Deuce didn't remember walking this far out of town, but it was official; even after growing up in California for as long as he had, he had no idea where he was. The streets were very dimly lit, so much he could barely see where he was going.Where the fuck did I end up?! he asked himself, narrowing his eyes so he could try and identify his surroundings, even in the dark. The vocalist pulled out his phone to call someone to pick him up, but "No Service" blinked at the top of the screen, further agitating the already irate vocalist. "This is fucking perfect!" "Lookie here, boys. The fag thinks he's tough!" The voice made Deuce freeze, and the most movement he dared was to turn his head. "Who the fuck do you think you are?!" Another voice spoke up, obviously different from the first one. "We're your worst nightmare, faggot." "Hand over all of your cash and valuables, and maybe we'll think about letting you leave here alive." "Fuck no." Deuce, however, heard the familiar click of a knife opening, and the footsteps of the group grow louder. "Just leave and I'll be no trouble." "Yeah right!" This voice was different from the first two; Deuce decided it was the last member of the group. "This is our territory faggot. You're the one who doesn't belong here." "I don't belong in a lot of places," the vocalist hissed in a low voice. "I don't need the reminder. Now leave me be!" The first of the group stepped up and grabbed Deuce's shoulder tightly. "You're not going anywhere, fag. You're not getting out of here alive." Deuce was pissed off now. "I said leave. Me. Be!" Raising his fist, he nailed the guy who was holding him where he assumed his cheek was, causing the other man to fall back. "I'm not the kind of guy you want to piss off!" The vocalist was shocked when the other two grabbed him from behind. "Neither are we, punk." And then, the fight was on... ~.~.~.~.~.~ I'm not going to make it out of here alive... Deuce dragged himself back in the direction he came from, his body bruised, bloodied, and possibly broken in some places. While he had caused the group of three to turn tail and run, he had made it out in the worst possible condition. And the worst part? He felt as though he was going in circles. Anything was possible right now. His head was spinning, his body ached, and he felt like dropping dead right where he walked. Is this... is this the end of me? Wait... those lights... I'm almost back in LA! But, just as Deuce got to the town line, and got his hopes up, his body halted, and he swayed before he collapsed onto the dirty pavement below him. I guess... I guess I will die here... No... I can't die! Not yet... Mustering all of his strength, he pulled out his phone. Maybe... Maybe he'll still help me... Deuce frantically typed in a number and a quick message, and soon after, his vision went black, though he remained conscious. Please... Let me at least... send it... After draining the last of his conscious energy, he hit the send button, the world then turning into muffled frequencies around him, and then finally, silence.