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November 2012

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winteralesha in slashthefate

Smashed Into Pieces

Title: Smashed Into Pieces
Author: winteralesha
Pairing: Could be read as Craig/Max, if you squint
Rating: pg-13 (language and violence)
POV: 3rd
Summary: Max is drunk and lashes out at Craig.
Disclaimer: Not mine except for the plot. Titel belongs to Silverstein.



Craig was sitting on the floor playing Xbox in the back of the tour bus when the door was thrown open and someone stomped into the tiny room. Before he could even turn around to see who it was, the controller was smacked out of his hands and it crashed into a corner, broke probably.

"What the-" Craig could only register that it was Max and that a strong smell of alcohol wafted around him before he was yanked up by the collar of his shirt and a fist crashed down on his jaw out of the blue.

He was baffled and blinked through the unexpected pain. His jaw felt numb and stung at the same time. He wanted to ask what the hell was going on because the icy glint in Max's eyes told him that this was way too serious but he couldn't even open his mouth before Max lifted his fist again. This time, Craig reacted quickly and pulled Max's other hand off his shirt so he could duck. Max's fist crashed into the wall behind him.

"Max! Stop!" Craig yelled, hoping that his friend would come to his senses but he was in a blind rage. He grabbed him by the shoulders with an iron grip and kneed him in the gut. The blow drove all the air out of Craig's lungs and he fell down inevitably, curled up and clutched his aching stomach, gasping for air, wondering what has gotten into his friend. He couldn't remember having done anything that could've enraged him. "Bastard", Max spat.

In the blink of an eye Max was on him, his knees pressing painfully into Craig's hipbones, one hand on his shoulder to hold him on the ground, no matter how much he struggled. Craig tried to shove him off with his hands and elbows but he was clearly in a disadvantageous position. And if he was honest, Max's hate-filled expression scared him to the core. He had only once seen him like this before, when he had gotten into a drunken brawl at some bar.

"Fucking bastard", Max repeated with an obvious, alcohol induced slur and tried to get through Craig's defence to hit him in the face. "What did I even do to you?!" Craig shouted at him.

"I hate you, faggot!" He managed to grab Craig somehow and crashed his head into the little coffee table which fell over with a loud clang. Craig went dizzy from the sharp pain for a moment and that was enough for Max to pull his hands away from his face and beat him up. "You're worthless" -hit- "You're a fucking" -hit- "girl an' your voice" -hit- "is crap!" -another hit. By this time Craig was wincing in pain and prayed Max would stop. "You're even shorter 'n me an' - " His insults turned into unintelligible wails and Craig thought he even saw a tear falling from his eyes. Insted of getting angy at Max he felt his heart clench.

Suddenly, hasty footsteps approached and Bryan and Robert burst into the room. They had been smoking outside and had been alarmed by the noise inside the bus. They saw Max hovering over Craig and thrashing him violently. Immediately, they ran over and yanked Max up, holding his bloody hands behind his back as he threw his arms around wildly.

"He needs to sober up somewhere!"

"Yeah, let's lock him in the bathroom, quick!"

With their combined strength, they managed to push Max who was still raging into the small bathroom and locked the door. A loud crash could be heard as if Max had thrown his body against the door to open it, then his fists banged on the wood and he shouted demands to be let out, followed by the sound of throwing up and then silence.

"I think I'd better check if he's okay", Robert said after a moment of static silence and left the little room. Bryan looked at Craig. "You okay, man?" 

"I will be... I'm going to bed", Craig mumbled, not in the mood for talking. He picked himself up off the floor and staggered to his bunk. He pulled the curtain close and tried to find a position in which his body didn't hurt and he didn't smear blood on his pillow.

He was the first to wake up the next morning and got up with a groan. He shuffled to the tiny bathroom that still smelled like puke to splash some cold water into his face like he did every morning. But as the the pain back at the lightest touch, he realized that it was a very bad idea today. He dabbed the droplets away while looking into the mirror. A chapped eyebrow, a bruise on his cheekbone, one on his jaw, and a nasty swollen lip around his piercing, and some other bruises on his body. He grimaced and let out a sigh, placed the towel on its rack and went to the mini-kitchen where he poured himself a bowl of cornflakes.

Craig sat down and took a spoonful of cornflakes but as he chewed the crunchy food, his jaw exploded in a fresh wave of pain. He sighed and shoved the bowl away a bit. He'd have to wait until the cornflakes were soaked and could be chewed without straining his jaw.

"Whoa, damn. That's gnarly..." Craig looked up and saw Robert staring at his battered face with raised eyebrows.

"Max was completely wasted", Bryan piped up. He had just shown up behind Robert and guessed correctly what the exchange of looks was about.

"Yahh, I noticed that."

"He didn't mean it. I don't know what's wrong but he was like, taking it out on you. Don't take it personal."

"I don't", Craig shrugged but winced when he moved his bruised limbs, "I guess we're all a bit fucked up with the pressure..."

"Yeah, that and..." Robert threw a meaningful glance at yesterday's newspaper that lay on one of the chairs and as Craig followed his eyes he saw the headline.
"Singer Ronald Radke released from prison"

Craig understood that there was a lot more to this whole thing than meets the eye. "Insecurity" and "projection" were just two of the words that floated through his mind but he couldn't yet grasp the full extent. "Oh", he just said.

"Oh", someone echoed from the doorway but for a different reason. It was Max who stared at Craig's abused face with guilt-ridden eyes, and slowly approached them at the table. He picked up an aspirin and a glass of water on the way and then slumped down on a chair.

"I'm really sorry, man", Max said and looked at Craig with honest regret in his eyes.

"It's okay", Craig answered quietly, easily forgiving him, too easily maybe, and averted his face. 

He couldn't help wondering when Max would get shit faced and violent again, and the smashed trust hurt a lot more than the physical abuse.


A/N: Please note that I do not approve of or encourage any form of violence. I'm a pacifist. This is fiction and it's a product of me despising violence, drinking/drug abuse and homophobia, plus some bottled up frustration that has nothing to do with this fic whatsoever, and being stressed out because of exams.

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