Title: Day Has Come
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Hancest/slash
Pairing: Figure it out? <3
POV: Zac (changes between Zac and Taylor from chapter to chapter)
Disclaimer: Don't own em, don't know em!
Summary: Neither of us knew what to expect. How could we possibly know?

AN: The first part was just... a prologue, I suppose! I really don't know where I'm going with this story. Maybe I'll never finish it, maybe someone can help me with ideas, but mainly I just want your guts to flip inside out from a well-written *gasp* ZAYLOR! Yes, my friends; 'tis a Zaylor. Well that's all for the A-N right now.



Chapter One: Kiss Me Deadly


Zac


I'm sitting on a street corner, puffing on a Newport. I didn't generally like to smoke but on occasion when the tensions rose (both sexual and emotional at that moment in time), the smoke helped to clear my mind, although cloud the air. Reverse psychology possibly?

I thought about all that had happened in the past few days and it got to the point where it was just too much for me to bear. I'd never had back problems up until that night, that conversation of our fate... and then I started feeling like someone dropped a box of concrete bricks onto my shoulders. I never thought a person could feel physical pain over something emotionally painful. Just the fact that I was aching made the situation worse, because Taylor blamed it on himself.

"Why in the world do you make it all about you, Tay? It's definitely not your fault that my back is fucked now. I bet you just... slammed me a little too hard into the wall the other night or something." I tried joking with him, but the grim look on his face remained. I cleared my throat.

"Because I'm the one causing all of this stress, Zac."

"Yeah, Tay; by being so incredibly sexy, you forced me to kiss you in the back of the bus."

He blushed. "That's not what I meant. I meant because we wouldn't have had that conversation if I hadn't been such a girl by bringing it up..."

"Tay..." I said softly yet firmly so as to make myself clear. "That conversation would have happened whether you sparked it or not. It was inevitable."

A look of surprise came over him. "You're so smart for a teenager. I swear." He smiled, pecked me quickly while no one was watching, and whispered hot on my ear, "C'mon. Let's go back to the room so you can show me just how smart you really are."

Once he led me to our room in the hotel (we'd wanted to get away for a while), we were interrupted very rudely by room service (aren't they supposed to knock!?). So I fell off of him onto the floor, running straight out of the room and left the hotel, which is how I ended up here: sitting on a street corner with a cancer stick hanging between my lips and a rather painfully stiff feeling, if you catch my drift.

While I sat there, I tried to rub my back and smoke at the same time. It didn't work. I felt a kink rise in my neck and I pulled my arm away sharply. This was more than just normal back pains. I'd been drumming since I was five; so why now?

I shook it from my mind as I thought of Taylor, staring at me with those insane blue eyes of his. Sometimes I wondered if God molded his eyes by hand instead of just taking them from the conveyor belt of human anatomy. Then I thought of the shocked look on his face as the maid waltzed in, and how red he turned when I crawled off of his naked body. I smirked to myself. How he ended up naked so quickly and how I managed to keep my clothes on is still a mystery to me. Needless to say he shrieked his head off when that lady came in; thankfully she was in the living room and we were in the bedroom so he shouldn't have been as red as he was. Still, there he was, a beet-red face and a flawless tan body. Priceless, shy Taylor. My love. What was next for us?

I tried to blow rings with the smoke I exhaled, but I wasn't that skilled of a smoker. I hoped I never would be.