Mobscene

It was nothing like the night before that Manson entered the bus. His mood was a dark one, and his fingers were wrapped tightly around the handle of his duffle bag, squeezing it until his knuckles were turning white from the pressure. He wasn't quite sure why he was so pissed off about Jamie leaving the way he did, without another word. The very moment that he stepped onto the bus, he was greeted by Ginger, who seemingly had not fully calmed down just yet. "What the fuck Manson?!"

It was most unfortunate for Ginger that Manson was in a really bad mood at the moment, at he hadn't noticed it soon enough. Within the second of Ginger's little outburst, Manson dropped his bag to the floor and threw his fist into Ginger's eye before he stalked to the back of the bus to lay down. Ginger stumbled back with a shocked look on his face that Manson had hit him and quickly brought a hand up to cradle his injured face. He was just about to go after Manson and get him back for that, though thankfully John 5 was quick to grab him by the arm and hold him at bay. It wouldn't be easy to find a replacement drummer on such short notice if Ginger was allowed to do what he was wanting to.

Once John had Ginger calmed down a bit so that he wouldn't stupidly go to get himself hurt again, John made his way to the back of the bus to inquire as to why Manson was so pissed off. He slowly opened the door, the hinges creaking noisily as he peeked his head inside, though he didn't get a single word out before Manson cut him off. "Just leave me the fuck alone." His tone was bitter and tired as he laid his head back and closed his eyes.

John was reluctant to do as Manson told him to, wanting to know why Marilyn was acting the way that he was. He didn't really think it was about Ginger. Even if it did because he had hit the drummer and all, but still. John stood there for a moment before deciding that it was best to just not bother him. It would only make him more angry anyway, and John didn't want to be on the wrong end of that anger. He walked back to the front of the bus and sat down beside Ginger, who was now sitting with his head paid back and an ice pack over his eye.

"Did you find out what the fuck his problem is?" Ginger asked in a slightly aggravated tone of voice. He wasn't sure what annoyed him more, the fact that Manson had hit him like that out of nowhere, or that he now had a black eye to cover up.

Manson was the last one off of the bus by a long shot. He waited until the others were out of sight, and there was no chance that he would have to deal with anymore. He headed straight for his suite, not stopping for any reason. He even blew off a maid who tried to stop him to see if there was anything that he wanted anything. He didn't let himself over think anything as he got inside and stripped down, quickly finding his way into the soft bed and crawling underneath the covers. He didn't let himself think about much of anything, pushing the events of that day to the very back of his mind. so that he could more easily drift to sleep for the night.

Manson slept rather late the next morning, even past the morning and into noon. He finally woke up with a yawn. Simply laying there in the bed for a few moments before he slowly slid his eyes open. He felt even worse when he woke up that morning, realizing that he would never get to see, ...er, fuck Jamie again. He didn't know what it was bothering him so much, but it was... Probably just cause he'd now have to find some other person to use. With heavy sigh he pulled himself out of bed and started to get ready to leave, making sure to pack all his things together after he got dressed in a pair of dark maroon leather pants and a black button up long sleeved shirt, which was what he considered to be his casual attire. When it was all done he threw his duffle bag over his shoulder, leaving everything else for lackeys to load onto the tour bus. Just like the last time that he got onto the bus, he went straight back to one of the rooms in the back and closed the door without a single word to any of the other band members. All and all he was in a pretty shitty mood, and didn't feel like putting up with anyone at that point.

Meanwhile in the front of the bus, Ginger was sitting crossed and holding a mirror, examining his make-up job, making sure that the black eye wasn't visible.

"Hey, Ginger, what did you to make him so pissy?" John 5 asked, raising a non-existent eyebrow as he sat across the bus from Ginger at a small table. His words came out slightly slurred since he was eating a jelly filled doughnut.

Ginger looked up to glare at 5 for a moment, "You know damn well I didn't do a fucking thing." He said calmly before getting up and going over to snatch a doughnut out of the box sitting in front of 5.

After a few hours of resting in the back of the bus on his own the bus came to a stop at the arena they were to perform at that night. He waited about fifteen minutes before he hauled himself off the bus and went straight to work, going about doing the usual sound checks and vocal exercises. Manson was snappy and rude with anyone that dared to speak to him, though most had enough sense to see that he wasn't in any kind of good mood or even relatively close to being nice by any stretch of the imagination. Anyone who came couldn't avoid having to go up and ask or tell him something made it quick and to the point before retreating as quickly as humanly possible as far away from him as they could.

When everything was finished that Manson had to see to he went to his dressing room and pulled a bottle of red wine out of his bag, opening it and taking a sip right from the bottle as he plopped down on the couch, an obvious and dangerous sneer painted on his face.

Manson didn't leave his dressing room not even once before the show started. Ignoring everything...even his own thoughts to a degree. He didn't even go to hang out with the other band mates before the show was supposed to start, which was just about as strange as it got. About 30 seconds before the show was supposed to start Manson showed up at the stage entrance where the other guys were.

"Hey-" Tim started to ask Manson where he had been at, but didn't get out another word before Manson went out to start the performance. For Manson, the concert was horrid and terrible. Anyone who knew Manson would have seen clearly that his performance was very angry. Though the fans were completely loving it, perhaps even more so than they would have had Manson been in a good mood. By the time that the concert was ended, he ended up profusely bleeding from a gushing self inflicted wound on his chest.

"We better get that stitched up." His stage manager said to him just as he was stalking off stage.

"Fuck that." Was Manson's only reply as he pushed the man out of his way.

~*~

On his way back home, Jamie had a lot on his mind. He felt like Manson was pissed off at him, though he wasn't quite sure why. Because he hadn't said that he was going on the tour? Jamie told himself that he was stupid for thinking such a thing. As though Manson really gave a damn whether he went on the tour or not. Jamie didn't realize that there had been no music playing in his car at all, and so his thoughts over took his attention completely, causing him to almost run off the road. He clutched the steering wheel and gasped deeply for air. Thankfully the rest of his drive home was completely uneventful.

When Jamie got back to his apartment, the first thing that he noticed was that there was a light on. He hadn't left that on... had he? He was a little frightened, his heart pounding a little quicker than normal. He slowly made his way over to the couch, which faced the other wall and was just about to look over the side of it when Mark popped up. Jamie gasped and jumped backwards from surprise.

"Holy fuck...you scared the shit out of me... what are you doing here?" Jamie asked, his hand clutched over his chest as he gasped gently. Mark looked like he had been asleep, a confused and tired expression on his face.

"Ah...hm? Jamie... what are you doing here.." Mark muttered softly.

"I live here, dumbass. What are you doing here?" Jamie asked him slightly annoyed. He went around and moved Mark's legs out of the way so that he could sit down on the couch with him.

"I just wanted to see if you would come back tonight... Did something go wrong? You chickened out didn't you?" Mark said with a small amount of disappointment in his voice. Though part of him was at least a little happy that Jamie had come back. He really didn't know what was wrong with him. Why couldn't he just ask Jamie to be with him, instead of just handing him off to someone else? He sighed softly.

"I don't know... I just... don't know... I probably wont be able to go on the tour. I'll never get the time off work." Jamie frowned deeply as he rested his head against Mark's thigh and closed his eyes gently. It didn't go unnoticed by Mark that Jamie really wanted to go.

"Yes you will." Mark said softly, almost as a promise that he was going to make Jamie go. Though Jamie didn't even hear the words, he was so tired that he had fallen asleep right there on the couch, resting against his friend. Mark smiled softly and ran his fingers through soft locks of blonde hair before he gently removed himself from the couch, being extra careful not to wake Jamie as he left the apartment.

The next morning Jamie woke up pretty early, groaning softly as he rolled over and almost fell into the floor. He blinked his eyes open. He had almost excepted to see Mark still laying there with him. He sat up slowly and looked around for a moment before picking up the backstage pass that was around his neck and looked over it attentively. He gazed at all the tour days for a little while before he brushed his fingertips over his name written in Manson's handwriting. He chewed at his bottom lip for a little bit before sighing softly and getting up to go take a shower and get ready for work. Though after his shower was done, he found himself missing Manson's scent that was on him before.

That day Jamie tried his best to avoid interaction with anyone - especially his boss. He was going to ask if he could get time off to go on Manson's tour. He was unsure of how it would go. He could only hope that he would get the time off. He wanted it badly. Though he wasn't sure if he would actually be able to pack up and go anyways if he was told no. That just wasn't the type of person that he was. When it was almost time for him to get off, he took a deep breath before standing up and going back to his boss's door and knocked lightly on it. "S-sir, may I come in..?" He asked nervously, his whole frame shuddering slightly because of that. After getting permission to come in, Jamie opened the door and stepped inside, closing the door back behind him.

His boss was sitting at his desk, and seemed rather busy with his work. Jamie simply stood there; shuffling his feet back and forth as he wanted to get the middle aged man's attention. Finally the man looked up, though he didn't seem to be in a very good mood, which made Jamie frown in disappointment. "What is it?" He snapped at Jamie.

"Well... you see...I..." Jamie stuttered a little bit, which didn't make the man be any more patient with him. Jamie took a deep breath before going on. "I want to go on Marilyn Manson's tour... It would be a great opportunity for me to find out more about him and-" Jamie had a few more things to try to convince him that it was a good idea, but he was cut off by an amused chuckle by his boss, causing Jamie to cringe.

"What? Absolutely not! Now get out of here." He demanded, he thought that Jamie was lying, that there was no way that he would actually get the chance to get invited to go along with Marilyn Manson, the very thought was a ridiculous one. Jamie frowned deeply and hung his head sadly as he exited the office without another word. He gathered his things together and got ready to go home. Once he was in his car he pulled out the stage pass again and looked at the arena location for that night. It wasn't but a few hours away... maybe he could still make it...No, how could he? He would surely loss his job.

He couldn't stop thinking about it as he back home. As he stepped inside he saw Mark sitting on the back of his couch, holding a couple of bags. Jamie sighed softly, "I really don't know why I even bother locking my door. What's that?" Jamie said with a shake of his head before motioning to the bags that Mark was holding.

"Wellll... it's for you. It's clothing, so you don't have to look like your normal boring old clothes without stealing everything that I own." He said with a small smirk.

Jamie frowned softly, "You shouldn't have done that... besides... I'm not going to go, I couldn't get time off of work."

Mark made a face at Jamie as he started pulling the clothes out of the bags to show them to Jamie, "Yes you are... you have to. Don't worry about your job, you're a smart guy, there will always be work for you." Mark commented with a grin.

"Well... I...I don't know.." Jamie muttered softly under his breath as he went over to look at the things Mark had gotten for him. Mark laid out a pair of denim short shorts, a deep blue t-shirt with the neckline torn, and a pair of knee high black boots. "Here, put this on... and wear that nice black trench coat of yours."

Jamie blushed at what his friend wanted for him to wear, but he didn't put up any kind of fight and simply nodded his head and went into his bedroom, closing the door before he stripped down to get changed into the fresh set of clothing. After getting changed, and putting his jacket on like Mark had wanted him too. He looked himself over in the mirror for a moment before smiling and leaving the room to go show Mark.

"You look great." Was the first thing that came out of Mark's lips, smiling softly, causing Jamie to smile and blush. Mark dragged Jamie into the bathroom, along with a small bag filled with make-up.

"W...what are you doing?" Jamie asked slightly confused, as Mark looked his face over for a moment before pulling out a few different colors of eye shadows and lipsticks.

"I'm going to make you look perfect, now hold still and don't talk." Mark said as he started to generously apply eyeliner. By the time that Mark was done with the blonde, his lips were painted in a dark navy blue color that matched the shirt that he wore, and blue eye shadow that went about a quarter of an inch past his eye.

"There...all done, looks great, doesn't it?" Mark said very proud of his own work. After than was done, they both rushed around to get the things that Jamie would need for the remainder of the U.S tour. Once they were done, Mark quickly handed Jamie his bag and started pushing him out the door.

"Hurry up! Get going!" Mark rushed him, "Call me if you need someone to come pick up your car later... and you better." Mark said firmly.

"Alright... but go home, I don't need you staying here racking up my power bill." Jamie said; resisting being pushed out the door for a moment before he simply left. He left quickly and drove as fast as he could to get to the next town that Manson would be in. It was a miracle that he didn't get pulled over on the way there. He really didn't want to miss the show. He wished that he were going to be able to get there before it started so that he could see Manson, but that wasn't going to be possible.

As he got there, the show had already started, so he had a hard time getting in because of crowds. After about an hour, he managed to get backstage, not even bothering to try to get out in the audience tonight. He got as close to the stage as anyone was allowed to, wanting to watch the show at least a little bit. People who worked for Manson seemed a little on edge, some seeming like they were having a really bad day. As Jamie watched Manson perform, it became clear rather quickly to him that Manson was in a bad mood. He cringed slightly when Manson broke a wine bottle and went about cutting himself with it.

By the time the show came to an end, there were a lot of things broken, if fact there was probably more broken equipment than there was usable stuff. When Manson came off the stage, Jamie was propping himself up against a wall with his legs crossed at the ankles. Manson walked right by him without even noticing, though that wasn't to surprising since Jamie was wearing make-up, and looked a little different than before, and the fact that he was just a groupie. He wanted to get Manson's attention, and in a moment of completely boldness, or perhaps just stupidity, Jamie did just that.

"Holy fuck, you look like shit." Jamie said loud and clear. His heart was pounding a mile a minute, he really didn't know what had gotten into him, but he was sure that he was going to get pounded for it. He had his heels turned slightly, ready to start running if Manson decided to take his anger out on him right then and there.

Manson stopped dead in his tracks and turned around to look at Jamie. As soon as the words left the blonde's lips, every set of eyes that had been near enough to hear the bold comment were on Jamie and Manson, watching it like someone might watch a train wreck. Everything seemed to stop in that moment; even time it's self. It was hard to say just how long Jamie and Manson stood there staring at each other. It felt like hours that no one was even breathing, though it was probably just minutes, maybe it was even just merely seconds. Jamie wasn't really quite sure, though he did feel like he was on the verge of having a heart attack.

To say that Manson was shocked would be a drastic understatement. He had honestly thought that he was never going to see Jamie again, and for the briefest of a second, a small glimmer of happiness could be seen in his eyes as he stared expressionless for a long time at the boy, who looked really damn hot that night. Jamie wasn't even sure if he was that happiness, maybe it was just his own wishful thinking; it was obvious that he was delusional anyways; so maybe seeing things was his next step towards total insanity. Jamie had almost forgotten that anyone else was even there, all that he could see now was Manson, and really, he was the only one that Jamie wanted to see.

Manson didn't say anything at all, and he didn't allow Jamie his chance to run. Not that he actually could, because he felt as though his whole body was numb up until the point that Manson grabbed him by arms and dragged him down the hallway and back to his dressing room. Jamie shrieked in fear, trying at no avail to try to free himself from the dark haired man's grasp, sure that he was going to get pounded for his actions. Manson slammed the door shut behind them and pushed Jamie up against it roughly, though what he did next was completely unexpected by the blonde as Manson pressed his lips to Jamie's and began to pummel his mouth, kissing him roughly. He didn't care in the least that the cut on his chest was still gushing blood and throbbing painfully.

Jamie was thrilled, his heart pounding wildly against his rib cage as Manson kissed him the way that he did. It was shocking, so much so that Jamie was too shocked to even respond for a moment. As soon as he regained a bit of himself he started kissing back just a roughly, his arms moving up to wrap around the older man's shoulders and press himself flush against his chest. He didn't care at all that moment that Manson's blood was getting all over his shirt.

Manson groaned out hotly as he kissed Jamie as though it were the first and the last time that he would ever get the chance to do so, Jamie doing just the same in return. The kiss between them was bruising, violent, but most of all it was needy, and filled with desire. Manson ran his hands up and down along the boy's sides as he pressed him flat against the closed door behind him, doing all that he could to get as close to Jamie as possible, wanting to merge and melt into him. Though unfortunately, it was short lived as a loud knock came at the door, closely fallowed by Tim's voice.