Doll

When Sonny returns to his own body, it’s against his will. His limbs feel impossibly heavy, bogged down by sweat and a dull aching of his muscles. The air is warm and stagnant, almost suffocating- it seems the midday heat of summer has finally come in full swing. 

With some difficulty, Sonny separates himself from the sheets despite the way they cling to his skin, sitting up and rubbing the last remnants of sleep from his eyes. There’s a lingering twinge of pain in his backside, and he grimaces just a little at it. It drives him to realize that Pete’s gone. 

He opens his eyes a little wider and leans forward to peer down the length of the bus- where’s Pete gone to? None of the rest of the band seems to be here, either. Totally abandoned. He stands up on shaky legs, feeling a little like a newborn deer as he makes his way down the length of the bus. He pauses when he catches a glimpse of the clock. 

3:15? Shit, I gotta be onstage in like, 15 minutes!

No wonder Pete’s gone- Fall Out Boy’s set must be starting right now! Hurriedly, Sonny turns on his heel and rushes into the back bedroom, wrangling his pants back onto his body- he has no idea where his underwear have gone, but he doesn’t have time to search for them. Pete can keep them as a trophy, whatever. But Sonny does pop into the bathroom to steal some of Pete’s eyeliner. Gotta look half-decent. 

Hardly thinking, Sonny races through the parking lot, weaving between tour buses and vans to get to the stages. Shit, shit, shit. Sonny has no idea where the SmartPunk stage is, which is the one he’s supposed to be on- out of five. He might actually die of embarrassment if he ends up wandering onto someone else’s stage, so he stands there stupidly for a moment at the edge of the parking lot, trying to peer over the sea of people in the crowd and orient himself and fuck, it’s hot out here. He finally thinks to take off his hoodie, wrapping it around his waist so he won’t lose it- even though it kind of emphasizes the wide hips he hates so much- and just as he finishes, finally spots the SmartPunk stage across the crowd. Shit.

There’s a fence and a sea of teenage hormones and angst standing in his way, but Sonny’s determined to make it to his set. Despite the heat bogging him down, he jumps up onto the fence and barely grabs a foothold, clambering over the flimsy thing and dropping down into the grass on the other side. 

His ass still kinda hurts, definitely complains about the motion, but he doesn’t have time to think about it- Sonny races across the lawn, feet hitting the ground like claps of thunder, shoving girls with teased hair and boys in makeup out of his way. The closer he gets to the stage, the more people shout at him, but he doesn’t care. It’s kind of his job on the line. Besides, if the mosh pit starts early, more power to him. 

He hops the security barrier and immediately lands flat on his face. He groans with pain as his body catches up to him, and soon after, he’s scooped up by two security guards- not even his feet touch the ground. 

“Kid, I know you’re excited to see this band, but…”

“Wait, no-” Sonny sits up to see the guards carrying him away from the stage. shit, shit, fuck. Then, he hears Matt’s voice. 

“Hey, wait a minute. You, security, come back here with that kid.”

Sonny looks up and, for a moment, locks eyes with Matt. The security guys are confused, but carry him back to the stage. Matt grins and kneels along the edge.

“That’s our frontman, you dumbasses. Get him up here!”

Sonny finds himself unceremoniously dumped onto the stage, barely catching himself on his forearms. As he clambers past the speakers, Matt snorts with amusement. 

“Hey, dickface. Thought we’d have to play the show without a singer. Where were you?”

Sonny doesn’t feel like answering, so he gets onto his feet and makes his way, shakily, to the mic stand, taking the microphone and turning to face the crowd with a feigned smile.

“I’m Sonny, we’re From First To Last, and you guys better be ready to fucking ROCK, okay? Hit it!”

His smile becomes a little more genuine as Derek, somewhat confused but obliging, begins drumming out the intro to The One-Armed Boxer, prompting the rest of the band to follow along.

“Seriously, though, was that running-through-the-crowd-and-jumping-the-fence shit necessary? What gives, man?” Matt prods at Sonny as he helps pack the last of their equipment into the back of the van. 

“Seriously. It was like a scene from a movie or something,” Travis adds.

“Lay the fuck off. I just didn’t see the time,” Sonny says as he grabs a Monster from a case at the back of the van and cracks it open. It’s piss-warm and tastes like battery acid, but Sonny needs some kind of hydration in his body before he collapses. There are 230 calories in a can of Monster, Sonny thinks to himself. He knows that off the top of his head, so it’ll be easy to keep track of later.

“You guys are late all the time,” Derek adds in Sonny’s defense.

“We’re not late, you’re just early.”

“To-may-to, to-mah-to.”

Matt rolls his eyes and lightly slaps Derek’s head. “Nobody fucking says to-mah-to.”

“Yeah they do!” Derek protests, turning to face Matt. “Like, British people.”

“Well, we’re in America so it’s fucking to-may-toes and they taste like freedom.”

“Freedom does not fucking taste like tomatoes. ”

“You two are making me hungry,” Travis complains, shutting the back door of the van so he can lean against it.

“Well, it’s past lunchtime, but we could still go to the barbecue,” Matt suggests. Derek nods his agreement, and then- as Sonny both dreads and expects- turns his gaze to their frontman. After a moment of tense quiet, he prods, “Sonny?”

“Uh… no thanks.” 

“Are you sure?” Derek asks, something soft in his voice. He’s always been the sweetest of Sonny’s three bandmates, simultaneously a blessing and a curse. His hand reaches towards Sonny’s almost helplessly, brushing against his pinky. “Sonny, you haven’t eaten all day…”

“Uh, yeah I did,” Sonny lies. “I was totally pigging out right before I realized I had to be onstage.”

Derek looks doubtful, but he can’t voice it without making a scene, so he relinquishes the topic. “Alright. Just… wanna come with anyway?”

“No, no,” Sonny says, waving him away. “You guys go eat. I really want to catch the Reggie And The Full Effect set and they’re supposed to be starting soon.”

“Alright. Catch you later, Son.” 

Sonny smiles, ignoring the way hunger pricks at his stomach. “See ya.”

“Yoo-hoo, Sonny!”

“Oh my god, Kaya, you’re such a dog! ”

Sonny hears women giggling behind him, and out of a bored curiosity he turns around. The truth is, he didn’t really care too much about the Reggie set- just needed an excuse to get away from the guys, and for the past half-hour he’s just been milling about the crowd, and thankfully, blending in with the other emo kids for the most part. Until now.

There’s a skinny pale girl with long pink hair sitting in a boy’s lap- the boy’s tan, a little bigger, and he’s got the same black swoopy hair every guy here seems to have. Next to them is a chick with that teased MySpace hairstyle, complete with blonde coon-tails and the works; the third girl has a blonde-and-purple ponytail and she’s the only one not wearing some band tee, instead opting for a faded Ninja Turtles shirt. 

“I fuckin’ told you it was actually him!” Coon-Tails barks out, laughing, and it’s the same voice that was just calling, so she must be Kaya. Pink Hair in the boy’s lap smacks her on the back of the head, grinning like an idiot. Ponytail giggles and gestures Sonny over to the picnic blanket they’re all sitting on, and he obliges, coming over and sitting down in the gap between Ponytail and Pink Hair.

“My friends really like your band,” Ponytail says, smiling shyly. She holds out a hand. “My name’s Emily.”

“That’s my girlfriend’s name,” Sonny comments almost absentmindedly as he shakes her hand. He realizes after a moment that she probably knew that, because he’s got a whole song about her, but this girl might not be as big of a fan as her friends.

“Pftttt, well, forget about her,” Pink Hair says, slurred, leaning against Sonny and wrapping an arm around his shoulder. She drags a finger down the length of his chest- slowly, sensually. “I’m Lola, but you can call me Lolita… if you wanna be Humbert, that is.”

Kaya scoffs and throws an empty can at Lola’s head. “Oh my god, you’re so fucking drunk, Lo. He’s literally underage. You’re literally Humbert here.”

“And, like, right in front of your boyfriend?” Emily adds.

“Carden doesn’t care!” Lola protests, and as if in agreement, the boy shrugs- Sonny notices he hasn’t said a word. Maybe he’s socially anxious? Then, Lola adds with a smarmy grin, “Besides, we’ve talked about it like a thousand times. Sonny-Bunny would make a great spitroast.”

Sonny feels the heat rise to his cheeks at that comment. He looks over to the other boy, who’s just sort of smiling, but even then there’s something almost sinister about it. Sonny feels his skin crawl despite himself. He laughs, nervous, and moves to get up, maybe make some dumb excuse, but Lola’s holding him firm. She squeezes him a little closer. 

“C’mon, Sonny, be a good boy for us.”

Sonny can feel his heart pounding in his chest now. He feels another hand on his lower back, wrapping around his waist and pulling him in closer. He falls off balance and he’s pulled swiftly over Carden’s lap, face landing in Lola’s cleavage. She runs a hand through his hair, holding him down as she does, cheek pressed into the soft mounds on her chest. Sonny looks up just in time to see Kaya pull out a camera and snap a photo.

“I’m sure your little girlfriend won’t mind,” Kaya hums condescendingly. “We all know your MySpace is full of pics of you kissing other guys, anyway.”

“I didn’t know that,” Emily pipes up, looking over Sonny curiously- making no motion to stop the way Lola is holding him. She hums thoughtfully. “Yeah, I guess I can see it, though. He looks kind of gay.”

“Maybe he should give Carden a big ol’ kiss, then!” Kaya suggests, and Emily grins mischievously in agreement.

“Oh my god, yes.”

Lola snorts and tugs Sonny away from her by the hair. He’s not sure what his options really are- He looks this way and that and doesn’t see anyone he knows in the sea of people who could come to his rescue, and he can’t just leave because they’re holding him down like some sort of animal. The hand on his back travels downward, palming at his ass, and the two other girls start chanting, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! ”

The noise draws more attention, and before Sonny knows what’s happening, a crowd is forming around them and Lola’s letting go of him, but by this point there’s a bunch of onlookers and if he tries to leave now it’ll be a scene… and it’s not like this Carden boy is bad-looking so he might as well give in, right? 

Carden smiles like he’s nervous too, brushes his bangs out of the way. Sonny looks up at the crowd again and takes a deep breath to muster some courage. He’s a performer. He’d better give them a damn show.

Sonny sits up on his knees and leans in, cupping Carden’s cheeks as he kisses him. The crowd instantly lights up with hollering and applause. Carden’s hand on his ass grips a little tighter as he reciprocates. The kiss is sloppy and open-mouthed, clearly more for the amusement of the girls watching than for their own. Sonny tries to pull away, but Carden chases him, catching his lip ring in his teeth and pulling him back into a kiss that lasts much too long, all teeth and tongues. Sonny whimpers in a truly pathetic way against his own will- he just wants this over with. When Carden finally lets him go, he feels arms around his waist pulling him backwards, and there’s another pair of lips on his- he opens his eyes just long enough to catch a glimpse of Kaya’s coontails. He grunts and grabs loosely at her wrists, trying to signal for her to let go, but she doesn’t. Instead, her hand travels south, grabbing his cock through his pants- he’s not even hard. He doesn’t want this. Sonny’s sound of protest is muffled by the girl’s lips, but he’s insistent on putting his foot down, pulling her hands away from him and shouldering out of her grip. This has gotten out of hand.

“Aw, Sonny-Bunny, what’d you do that for?” Kaya pouts. “I just wanted a little taste~”

“Sorry, I just realized I, uh…” Sonny swallows thickly and looks around as he gets to his knees- there’s still a crowd, but it’s dispersed somewhat. “I told the guys from Underoath I’d, uh, help them out with some stuff, and I think their set starts pretty soon, so i should go, I’m really sorry. I’d love to stay but…”

“Oh, that’s okay, I guess,” Kaya says, pursing her lips. “You should message me on MySpace, though, my name’s Kaya Kalamity.”

“I’ll, um, definitely do that,” Sonny lies, squirming a little. “Okay, seriously though, I gotta go now.” 

Kaya lets go, and Sonny quickly scrambles out of her grip and off into the crowd. There’s a lingering feeling of disgust on his skin as he skitters off, recoiling every time someone’s hand brushes against him. It’s just ick, ick all over. He needs to get away from all these fans. He needs to feel safe again.