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Maxx Green.

November 2012

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falseyoureyes in slashthefate

Title: Trashed and Scattered
Author: falseyoureyes
Pairing: Ronnie Radke/Craig Mabbit; Ronnie Radke/OMC Bryan Money/Robert Ortiz; Bryan Money/Omar Espinoza; Max Green/OFC 
Summary: At the worst possible moment, everything comes crashing down on Ronnie. What innocence he had left is ripped from him, a stranger haunting him begining to break him down-and the only person who can piece him back together is someone he vowed to hate forever.
Rating: R (for now)
Warnings: non-con, abuse, substance abuse, self-harm, homophobia, language
Disclaimer: The events portrayed herein are fictional and bear little if any resemblance to real life.
A/N: This story is un-beta'd, and probably will continue to be un-beta'd. If you tend to nitpick about little errors, you probably don't want to read.
NOTE: I just realized I had this as "Ronnie Radke/OFC".  I have fixed the pairings. Took me three chapters to notice but I fixed it. Enjoy.

( 001: Princess )

Jacky sighed as he stood in front of Ronnie’s porch. The other man was curled up in a ball outside of his front door, arms around his stomach and eyes closed. He sighed, shaking his head before taking both steps in a leap and shaking the other man’s shoulder.

“Hey, hey man,” Ronnie made a noise of protest, but Jacky shook his shoulder harder. “Hey. Wake up.”

Ronnie winced, eyes opening slowly, then shutting again as soon as he saw daylight. He blinked until his eyes were adjusted, raising his head up and looking around until he spotted Jacky standing over him, leaning down with his hands resting on his knees.

Jacky’s brows were raised. “Did you really sleep out here? How wasted were you last night?”

“Um…” Ronnie cringed, closing his eyes, the previous night’s events flooding back to him. The only thing keeping him from tearing up was the fact he hadn’t had anything to drink since the beer the previous night. “Yeah. I don’t…I didn’t have that much.” He reached a hand up, scrubbing at the back of his head. “I feel really sick.”

“Yeah, that’ll happen. You slept in a ball, that does funny shit to your stomach.” He stood up half-way, holding his arms out. “Here, lemme help you up.”

Ronnie looked at Jacky’s arms like they where foreign objects, then breathed out, nodded and grabbed them. Flashes from the night before, of grabbing the man’s wrist, came to him, and as Jacky pulled him to his feet he breathed in heavily.

He half-fell into the other man’s arms, trying futilely to stand on his own. Jacky gripped one of his upper arms, the other moving to wrap around his waist to keep him steady and let him rest his hands on his shoulder. Ronnie’s heart thudded when he remembered the man pushing him down, his hands having no where to go besides his attacker’s chest.

He didn’t realize Jacky was talking to him until a minute later, his friend shaking his shoulders lightly. “Hey, are you okay? You don’t look so hot.”

“I think…I think I’m about to pass out.” Ronnie’s voice was soft, slightly watery, as he started to slide back. Jacky caught him, both arms around his waist to keep him from falling.

“Shit, man. Where are your keys?”

“I don’t-” A wave of horror washed over Ronnie and he pulled back, still tottering on his feet, frantically searching his pockets. He finally found them, tucked into his pocket, but there were only three keys where there should’ve been four; one of his spare house keys was missing.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”

“What?” Jacky still had hold of Ronnie’s arm and was keeping him upright still. “What is it, man? What happened?”

“Nothing, I…” Ronnie breathed out, looking at the three keys again for a moment before sighing, an almost relieved sound. “I thought I’d lost my house key.”

Jacky frowned, not convinced, but said nothing on the matter. His eyes suddenly widened, and Ronnie cringed, worried about what he was going to say when he reached up and touched Ronnie’s cheek. “Jesus, man, what the hell happened? Your face is all…purple.”

“What’re you talking about?” Ronnie reached up, touching the spot Jacky had. His skin was tender but when he pulled his fingers away, all that was on them was make up. “Its just make up, man.”

“No, its like…really bruised. Did someone clock you?”

Ronnie bit his lip as Jacky tilted his head up, examining the bruise. “No. I just fell on my way home.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t break your fucking cheek bone.” Jacky replied, touching it lightly again. Ronnie cringed and the other man frowned, pulling his hand away and standing up fully. Ronnie started to teeter again and Jacky moved his arm again, wrapping it back around his waist and taking his keys from him.

Jacky lead him into his house and over to his couch, sitting him down and making his way to the kitchen. Ronnie heard him rummaging through the cabinets, cursing under his breath; this was followed by the sink running and more cabinets opening and closing.

Ronnie’s breathing was heavy, body trembling all over and head spinning. He turned himself around, lying on his side, curled back up on his couch. His stomach began to hurt less but it gave an uneasy clenching-and-unclenching feeling all over. He wanted to puke but he didn’t think he had anything left in him.

Jacky wandered into the living room, glass of water and bowl of microwaved soup in hand. He set them both on the table, sighing and shaking his head as he looked at Ronnie, staring at him and curled up pitifully on the couch.

“You need to sit up if you’re going to eat.”

“Or you could just spoon feed me.” Ronnie replied, arms tightening around his stomach, eyes wide and innocent looking. Even if he didn’t tell Jacky what had happened, it still felt like the other man knew something.

Jacky only sighed though, bending down and helping him to sit up. Ronnie pulled his knees to his chest as Jacky reached for the glass of water first, handing it to the other man. Ronnie struggled to hold the glass up himself; it kept slipping in his fingers.

Jacky sighed and grabbed it, letting Ronnie’s hands hold onto it still as he helped him drink. “Are you sure you’re okay, man?”

“No.” Ronnie replied after he’d finished drinking; half the glass was gone. He felt so thirsty, and he vaguely recalled reading somewhere in high school that if you were thirsty, that was already a bad sign.

Jacky took the glass from Ronnie’s hands, picking up the bowl. He helped Ronnie hold it, forgetting the spoon entirely. He almost choked on the noodles until Jacky tipped the bowl down, holding it away from his hands.

Ronnie choked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Jacky set the bowl down and reached up when Ronnie leaned forward, feeling his forehead. “You’re not hot.”

“I didn’t think I was.” He shuddered, leaning against Jacky slightly and hiding his face in his arms. He pondered if he should tell Jacky what happened, tell him about the man, tell him why he freaked when he saw his keys. But his thoughts turned to the man, remembering his “promise”; something told him even if they went to the police, the guy would still avoid them. Ronnie could hardly remember what he looked like, and he didn’t know the guy’s name. Would Jacky even believe him? Would he freak out?

Ronnie’s stomach churned, going over all the possible reactions in his head. The first one would be Jacky telling him he was lying. The second scenario was Jacky freaking out and making him go to the hospital, and to the police, and tell everyone. Ronnie wasn’t sure he could face anyone like that, after something like that happened. Even if Jacky was there with him.

Jacky’s voice brought Ronnie out of his thoughts, the other man gently squeezing his shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe you’re getting sick. You were outside all night, weren’t you?”

Ronnie sighed, opening his mouth to answer ‘no,’ then thought better of it. “Yeah, maybe. I guess.” As if on cue his chest started to hurt and he coughed, a rough and rattling sound. Jacky pat him on the back and stood up.

“I’m gonna call the others. You’re not well enough to practice today.” Ronnie opened his mouth to protest but Jacky held up his hands. “Shut it, you’re not practicing today.”

Ronnie sighed, resting his chin on his knees again and looking at the half full bowl and cup. Jacky stepped out of the house, shutting only the screen door as he pulled out his cell.

Ronnie forced his sore legs to move, but didn’t stand up immediately. His body began to shake again as he listened to Jacky yelling at Gil, the moments when he was silent filling with flashes of the previous night.

“I don’t know, man. Why don’t you come over and see for your fucking self?” Ronnie’s chest tightened, remembering the way it felt to have the man pushing down on him, pressing him against the floor. “Yeah. He’s banged up, too. He’s shaking. I dunno, he said he fell.”

Ronnie’s knee began to bounce and he felt himself go cold. His stomach began to flip-flop again, a reaction to how his body had became ice only seconds before the man had came in him. It felt like his body had done it on purpose; the heat he’d felt after had felt like someone had poured lava down his spine.

“I’m not sure, man. Yeah, whatever.” Ronnie glanced at Jacky; Gil had probably stopped arguing with him. Ronnie looked back at the food, stomach churning again, and he forced himself to his feet slowly. “Yeah, just bring some Puffs and some Vick’s or something. I’ll talk to you when you get here, man.”

Ronnie began to teeter again when Jacky came back inside. The other man frowned. “Hey, are you gonna be okay?”

Ronnie turned his head slightly, opening his mouth to answer; instead, the soup he’d just ate and the water he’d just drank came up and out over his coffee table. Jacky leaned back for a moment until Ronnie started to waver again; he dashed over to him, arms wrapping around his waist once more to keep him steady.

“Jesus Christ, man!” Ronnie’s eyes started to well with tears and he turned his head away from his friend; that only caused him to become dizzier, more puke coming out. Jacky struggled to keep him upright.

Jacky waited until the other man had finished, then pulled him back until he was standing upright again. Ronnie leaned against Jacky when he pulled him, head coming to a rest on his shoulder and letting out a weak-sounding, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, man. Shit.” Ronnie pressed his face more into Jacky’s shoulder. The other man shook his head, pulling him away from the vomit. “Come on, you need to get out of these clothes and get cleaned up. Then straight to bed.”

Ronnie nodded, letting Jacky lead him upstairs. He wanted to pull away, knowing his jeans were still sticky from the blood and cum in them. Ronnie had forgotten about it entirely, his body hurting too much for him to focus on his clothes sticking to him. It horrified him to remember that he was so out of it that he hadn’t remembered the dried fluids sticking to his body. He just prayed Jacky didn’t want to help him bathe; that would be a dead give away.


DD: Poor Ronnie!

I dont usually read angsty shit like this but you write it very well.

Ffff. You only read it because you're my friend, and that makes you biased. :)
Oh, you are full of crapola.

I read this because I was your friend yes, but I woulda told you if it was shite, trust me.
Yeah, you say that now. >__O

Maybe I should write a crap piece on purpose.
Well, now that you tell me, I'll know and it won't be sincere.

Or I'll just do something horrid like write Kirk/Bryan and watch as your brains/writing chops ooze out of your ears and scoot away down the hall.
Damn girl, he needs to tell Jacky what's going on right now or I will.
How are you going to do that, Magic Treehouse yourself in?

...if so, please let me come too. :D
Oh I'll figure something out. At least I know what he looks like now :)

And of course you're invited.
;______; poor ronnie!! Aww he should really tell Jacky... but I can totally understand why he doesn't want to :(
yeah, i know. ;______; hurts to even do this to him. and its only really going to be a bit worse here out. :( <3