#trans!v

It wasn't the first time V had attended one of Johnny's concerts, and he was positive it wouldn't be the last. He hated how he loved the music, and he hated himself for loving the singer more. He saw how he stared at them. The women who were barely adults, jumping and squealing in the crowd, calling out to him. And he'd be lying if he said he hadn't seen a couple of them making their way out of his changing room.

Yet, here he still was, standing among the crowd with his arms crossed over his chest, almost scowling at Johnny. How long have they been dating now? Five, six months? Oftentimes he questioned why exactly he had fallen for the rockstar. Had it been the fame? The money? The sex? Johnny would normally buy him whatever he wanted (or rather, just tossed his credit card his way and let him scamper off to get whatever item caught his attention), and the intimate times with the man never left him unsatisfied. Still, he wanted more. He wanted it all from the man, not just the petty little things and meaningless title.

Time and time again he had thought of leaving; finding someone else worth his time and emotions, but something always dragged him back. What it was, he didn't know, but he absolutely despised it. The tug of his heartstrings and that warm feeling that would sprout in his chest and move throughout his body whenever the man would say anything to him that held affection.

He's not even listening to the music anymore, too caught in his building rage to even acknowledge the lyrics. However, Johnny makes eye contact with him, and with a smug grin plastered across his face, he sends the man a wink. There goes that feeling again, starting the middle of his chest. But he forces himself to ignore it; to believe that he's sending the wink to the young woman standing next to him with her tits practically falling out of her halter top. He rolls his eyes.

No matter what, he was confronting him about all of this. And he was leaving, no questions asked.

When the concert finally ended and the band said their goodbyes, V finally started to move. He was going to beat Johnny to his changing room, and he was going to make sure no other person got back there before him. He shouldered his way past the other patrons and glared at them when they tried to raise their voice at him. He was lucky none of them decided to push the issue.

He had gone through everything he would say to the rocker when he saw him. Tell him how much of a bastard he was and how he couldn't stand him anymore; how he couldn't stand the way he cheated on him or even looked at those women. Another tug at his heart, but not the familiar giddy feelings. No, this had been something that was eating at him for a long time, and he was finally at his wits end.

“Enjoy the show?” The gruff voice had caught his attention, his eyes glancing over to watch Johnny walk up towards him. The same grin is still on his face, one hand tucked inside his pocket as he stands before him with all of his weight on one foot. “Saw ya out in the crowd. Sure do love our music, don't ya?” He slowly gets closer, lowering his face so he's staring at him over his iconic shades. “Or do ya just come here to see me?”

“Don't flatter yourself,” V scoffs, pushing himself off the wall. He follows Johnny inside the room and away from prying eyes. It always smelled of smoke and alcohol, and no matter how many times he tried to grow accustomed to it, he just couldn't. It was all too strong and just smelled of Johnny, making his head spin.

“So, why are you here, then?” Arms wrap around his waist, and V's quick to wiggle out of his grip with a huff. “Christ, V. That time of the month already?”

“Don't even start,” The sharpness in his tone had shocked both of them, but even if it had truly fazed Johnny, he didn't let it show.

“If you're gonna act like this, you can get the fuck out.”

“Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you? Let one of those whores come in here?”

“Is that what this is about? Christ V-”

“Don't you “Christ, V” me! How do you think that makes me feel?”

“I'm sure you're gonna tell me anyway...”

“Do you even care?”

There's a beat of silence as Johnny removes his shades, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing. V can feel his jaw clench.

“You like them cause they got tits?” he accuses, “'Cause they have curves?”

“V-”

“What do they have that I don't?!” It feels like his throat is trying to close up as tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He tries taking deep breaths to calm himself, blinking rapidly. There was no way he was going to let this man see him cry like this. Still, he couldn't deny the feeling of defeat that had cemented itself in his stomach. He felt sick.

“I've been so patient with you,” He's slow to talk, hands curling into fists as he focuses on anything but Johnny. “I've made so many excuses for you. And you keep doing this-”

“Why don't you just calm down?” Johnny tries, taking a slow step forward. “Deep breaths. We don't gotta discuss this now.”

And for a moment, V tries it, taking a deep breath in and letting his hands relax by his side. He feels arms snake around his waist again, and he allows his hands to rest atop Johnny's forearms. A soft kiss is pressed to his temple, one of the only gentle things Johnny will actually do. Maybe he knew tenderness was one of the things that made V actually calm down. Maybe he had listened and admired him; got to know the small details most people seemed to leave out.

“There. Don't you feel better?” It’s the snide tone in his voice he can pick out, having almost an “I told you so” feel to it. In a way, he did feel better. “Don't know why you're so bent out of shape on this.”

V lets his words sink in. Why had he been so “bent out of shape” about everything? He knew what was to come from a relationship with the rockstar. He had heard every rumor and bitter remark about him. Why did he think he'd be any different?

Right. Because he thought maybe he'd be his saving grace. That he wouldn't actually be wasting his time and emotions trying to “fix” such a broken and angry man. That maybe, just maybe, Johnny would grow up and act like a fucking adult and admit to his faults.

Wishful thinking.

The lies, the poor excuses, the nudes and naughty texts found on Johnny's phone, the women who would leave his changing room, the “innocent” peck on the lips to his adoring fans, the way he would actually comment on a woman's figure while they were out-

It all came back to him, the blinding rage that made his jaw clench. He was played and took advantage of. No matter what he tried doing for Johnny, it was obvious the rocker seemed to have a spot for his fans more than he did V. Had he ever cared for him, actually? Did Johnny ever once look at V and feel the same feelings he did? The butterflies, the tightening of the chest, maybe even some shortness of breath? He doubted it. At the end of the day, he was positive Johnny was more in love with himself and his ideas than he was with V.

Something felt like it snapped inside him, and maybe something truly did. The last heart string that kept him with Johnny finally split. In that moment, he finally felt peace; freedom from the relationship that was bringing him down.

“Well, V. How ya feel now?” Johnny's lips are ghosting the shell of his ear, his voice a low husk as his hands slowly travel lower. There's no thought behind his actions; he almost feels like he's completely disconnected from reality. Throwing his fist forward, he makes contact with Johnny's nose, sending the man stumbling back and blood trailing down from his nostrils. There's a newfound confidence in V as he shoulders past Johnny, the rockstar shouting and hurling insults his way. With his hand on the doorknob, he takes a glance over his shoulder, a smug grin on his face.

“Lot better now that I got that out,” he answers him. Throwing the door open, he slips out of the changing room, making his way for the exit of the venue. It feels like there's a weight that's been lifted off of his chest, and he mentally pats himself on the back for remembering his worth. He wouldn't cry for the man, and he sure as well refused to ever go back to him. Tonight, he'd delete all of his pictures that were of and reminded him of the man, and he would even erase him from his contacts. He didn't want any memories of Johnny.