writefiction | Repost of "Breaking Free" --NOT friend's only--

Title/Chapter: Breaking Free (01/?)
Author: Amanda W.
Pairing: Zaylor
Rating: NC-17
Notes: AU-ish. No Natalie, Ezra, Ellie etc. And they still live in Tulsa. And the story starts in May 2003.
Summary: No summary. I'm too lame.
Author's Note: Yes, I'm finally doing it as promised.

Comments are always appreciated. :)

CHAPTER ONE

Taylor’s POV
The making of this long-time-coming album was going roughly. We were writing songs and the record execs were hating them. They were saying the songs weren’t “Hanson” enough. They were too emo and not enough “MMMBop.” We were all fed up; my brothers, myself, our parents. And now my younger brother and I were going at it.

“You know what?! Fuck you, Zac! Fuck you!” I yelled from my standing position, hands on hips. Zac had his arms crossed over his broad chest.

Now he points to himself, eyes wide.

“Me?! Fuck me?! Fuck you, Taylor! You’re such a fucking diva!” he yells back. I narrow my eyes into a glare. I can feel my nostrils flaring.

“You’re such an ass,” I hiss.

“It’s better to be one than have your head up one!” Zac retorts.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“You know exactly what that means!” Zac takes a huge step closer, throwing his arms wide. “You fucking kiss the asses of all the big wigs at the label! And you do the same with the fans! You fucking irritate me, Taylor! I wish you would just go the hell away!”

I stumble back a step. That hurt. That really fucking hurt. It was like Zac had punched me in the gut. We’re supposed to be close. He’s supposed to love me. Not in the sick way that you do him, a nasty voice in my head hisses. At that point, I turn and storm from the room. And then I’m running, tears in my eyes.

Zac’s POV
“You fucking irritate me, Taylor! I wish you would just go the hell away!” I yell angrily. My older brother takes a step back like he was hit. Before he bolts from the room, I swear his eyes look wet. Fuck, I made him cry. Now I’m not so much pissed at Taylor as I am at myself.

In complete anger, bordering on rage, I swipe my arms over the top of the piano, sending the stacks of paper everywhere. I curse quietly to myself and crouch down to start picking up the sheet music. There’s a low whistle from the doorway.

“What happened in here?” Isaac says. I grunt in response. “Did you and Taylor have another fight?” he asks, stooping down next to me.

“He just… And I just…” I sigh heavily, plopping down on my ass. I dig my fingers into my hair, holding my head, eyes squeezed shut.

“What’s up with the two of you anyway?” Isaac asks, scooping up papers. “You guys have been fighting like cats and dogs recently.”

“I don’t know what’s going on,” I answer softly. I squeeze my eyes shut tighter against the tears that had come on so suddenly.

“Zac?” Isaac asks quietly. I bite my lip. Then I feel my older brother’s hand on my shoulder and that’s the last straw. I break down, a strangled sob ripping from my throat.

“Zac!” Isaac gasps. He wraps his arms around me tightly, holding me close. I can only sob into his shoulder.

“It’s okay, Zac. Shh. It’s okay,” he murmurs.

But I know it’s not okay. Nothing’s okay. It hasn’t been okay for a long time. For a little over a year now. Ever since I realized I was in love. I’m still in love and it’s tearing me apart. It’s so wrong though. So very wrong. It’s gotten to the point where all I do is fight with him. I can’t tell him how I feel. He’d hate me. I don’t think I could live with that. But I don’t think I can live like this anymore.

I pull away from Isaac, wiping at my face.

“Zac?” he asks.

“I’m okay. I’m okay,” I tell him.

“Are you sure?” He helps me to my feet.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good,” I try to assure him. He eyes me skeptically. I pray he doesn’t see through my lies. Then he nods.

“Go,” he says. “Go make up with Tay or something.” I nod and leave the room.

I rush upstairs to the bedroom I share with Taylor. I lock the door and head to the adjoining bathroom. I lock that door too. Then I open the medicine cabinet, immediately finding what I’m looking for.

My fingers curl around the plastic handle of the razor. I pull it from the safety of the shelf. Then I stare at it, noticing how the three blades glint in the light. But I’m pulled from my trance when I hear the bedroom door knob rattle.

I shove the razor back into the medicine chest and slam it shut. I flush the toilet, then turn on the tap. It runs for a moment before I turn it off again. Then I walk into the bedroom to find Taylor there.

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