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All for love - P12 - (Oneshot)

Title: All out of love
Author: unspoiled
Rating: P12
Warnings / Genre: kitsch of the other variety
Summary: Love is when one is blind to all faults. Normally you see them the infamous rose-colored glasses is not due. Normally you have butterflies in my stomach. Normally you grinning like the last nest. Normally, one does not bitten off piece of tongue in the mouth.
Disclaimer: The Men K are themselves

is love if one is blind to all faults. Normally you see them the infamous pink eye not because. Normally you have butterflies in my stomach. Normally you grinning like the last nest. Normally, one does not bitten off piece of tongue in the mouth. But as you start to not. Forget it, I start again new:

When they were small and were new to the business, they have the last ten minutes before a promotional appearance each time, all standing close together. So close that they could hold hands if they were girls. But they were boys, brothers, to be exact, and brothers, it is enough to feel squeezed the shoulder of the other on its own. Time with more pressure, sometimes less, depending on who just moved like, but always there, always with the front of the front. They are now old hands and no longer small, but on the escalator of the children's way into the men's department. Are you emotionally Sixteen-year-old with unlimited pocket money and a lot of beautiful women. They are professionals, the entire procedure in the master bedroom, all day, and habit. You can which also each alone.

stop, no. Flash. The horror comes from the back, hundreds of thousands of horror movie producers can not be wrong. Sometimes it also lurks behind doors or under furniture, but it always comes out from behind. Whether one on the shoulder and grabs one still has time to turn around in panic, does not matter. It's always too late. Escape is futile, no matter where, not infrequently, you can not run away at all. Because one is caught between walls or walls of the bodies or bodies. Or because his legs simply fail in service. Or because the real terror has nothing to do with their own threat and we want to rush to the horror, but can not because everything comes together: walls, body, paralysis and the pain that one compresses the entire chest. Further in the text.

"Have there actually 'nen Pool?" George asked in the room. No one answers. The question is not whether the hotel has a pool. The question is whether the hotel is ready to block his pool for the next few hours for the majority of its guests. And if David is willing to organize this. "It is our money," they argue every time "you have no idea," he defended his never quite dropped babysitting role. "What you want to live their later times," he thinks to himself. "It's our money," they insist, and in the end they still get their way. They grow up. David still sometimes wish they would - if it - playing with money rather than to treat it as play money.

the way, what ever happens in horror movies, is the cracking of bones. The real breaking real bone. Since no one stands up and crumbles the Brathähnchenskelett from yesterday's dinner. They work with sound effects and hear what the audience is what he believes to bone cracking, because he knows only from television. Fresh bone marrow full of bursts with a lip-smacking, which can reproduce no carrot breaking the world ever will. And does not sound designer, that it is not a sound of many, but the only sound at all in a thick cotton air you can breathe impossible. It pinches crying her eyes when trying to locate it, and really must be seen not at all able to know that it's bad. Almost as flexible and one's own rib drill directly into the lungs. Where were we? Oh, and the pool.

"I'm tired of the pool," complains Bill. He leans on the other end of the room against the armrest of a sofa, his arms crossed, his mouth twisted into a bored pout. Tom did not even lift his head to see him over. Big guys, pros, we remember. And Bill does not have a buck on the discussions that would bring a pool Organization. Do not feel it, in this rigged lobby showcase we-are-so-great-room to wait for them to last for Van. As at the bus stop in Loitsche, really. He has no desire for his new bodyguard, who he deals always in the way, and when the still insists that he takes off his chain, he snaps at him. "I take up the hood," he snorts. "Leave me alone, asshole," he thinks. "Leave me all alone. You have no idea what that is. All this crap. All alone. You bugger off easy. "

can crush larynges you, you knew it? Some pressure on the right spot and that's it. Silent for ever. Silent now, but even if he had cried, we hardly heard him. Crying is the only sound around him, shouting from a hundred mouths, a hundred mouths, a hundred screaming. His eardrums threaten to burst from the force with which the blood roars in his head and he gasps for air, but there is nothing. Breathing does not get up, not even when he was killed, he did not know. Above him is alternately bright and glistening pitch dark, but maybe is not really about him above. Orientation, he has no more air can not, someone beats the inside of his skull with cotton wool. His legs begin to ache suddenly, every joint in the chaotic mess that his body must be something pulls and tears, but where, why and oxygen now. He fidgets, he must be, somewhere must be, the water surface, the air, he must appear only, appear only emerge out of the pool from the bodies from the blood, from the cotton. "Bill!" Yells someone, "Bill, I love you" and then they all scream, louder and louder, and he grins and thanks him and he is really trying to get away. Just breathe. Please.

"We can now," says David, and they start moving. The Fans rave and scream and they will be individually piloted to the van, and ducked as a fugitive. Before Tom einsteigt, he turns and sees George his jacket tightly around the body falls forward as proposed, everything goes. Behind him, Gustav, his head bowed low. Behind Bill with the new bodyguard. "I love you!" Scream the fans that he's on. The hood slipped from his head. A hand reaches for his chain.