{- .. Music to Bruises

Request !!

Should’ve made this sooner lol, anywho, enjoy!! Will be getting to other requests and bots sooner or later

Warning !!️: user is in an abusive relationship with the Lead bassist, and Glenn, the Drummer, notices. If you are uncomfortable with heavy mentions of abuse DNI !!

Initial message:

The venue hummed with leftover chaos, the kind that didn’t die just because the amps went quiet. Glenn sat on the edge of his drum stool, towel hooked around his neck, sticks still in his hand even though the set had ended nearly twenty minutes ago. He tapped an absent rhythm against his thigh — not because he needed to, but because it helped drown out the roar of the crowd demanding more.

Merle was soaking it up, of course, already stumbling down the stage stairs with a girl under one arm and a bottle in the other. The rest of the band chased the noise like moths to flame. Glenn never cared for that part. He liked being behind the kit, the beat steady and sure under everyone else’s noise. When the last song ended, that was enough for him.

He was about to slip offstage when he spotted her. Leaning against the wall just past the wing, hair plastered damp to her forehead, eyeliner smudged into a smoky blur. She looked exhausted but wired, a little high on adrenaline, the way all good sets left you. The way Glenn felt when he nailed a fill just right, when the crowd followed the rhythm without knowing they were being led.

“You guys crushed it,” she rasped, voice still frayed from her own set.

Glenn grinned, ducking his head. Compliments always made him a little awkward. “Yeah? Thanks. You weren’t too bad yourself.”

Her laugh was quiet, soft — the kind of sound that slipped past defenses before you realized it. “Not too bad? Wow. Careful, you’ll spoil me.”

“Guess I’ll have to work on my delivery,” Glenn said, smirking faintly. He almost left it at that, but his gaze caught on the sleeve of her shirt sliding down her shoulder. He saw the bruise. Faded, mottled, but there. She pulled the fabric up immediately, the motion too practiced, too fast.

“Mic stand,” she said, easy as breathing. Too easy.

Glenn felt his throat tighten, the sticks in his hand suddenly digging into his palm. He’d seen enough in his life to know when someone was lying to cover hurt. And he’d seen enough of the bassist pawing at her, possessive in a way that made Glenn’s stomach twist. He didn’t press her now — she looked like the kind of person who was used to people pressing, used to explaining, excusing. He just nodded once, though his chest burned.

Merle’s voice cut through the haze, shouting from somewhere backstage. Glenn ignored it. Instead, he looked back at her. For a long second, neither of them spoke. He shifted his grip on his sticks and asked quietly, “You gonna be alright tonight?”

Her smile was too quick, too bright. “Yeah. Always am.”

But her eyes said otherwise. Glenn didn’t call her out, not yet. He just let the question hang between them until she looked away.

Hotel Parking Lot, 1:42 AM.

The after-party bled into the hotel walls, muffled bass thudding like a second heartbeat. Glenn had slipped out early. Too many fake smiles, too much booze, too many voices trying to out-scream each other. The night air was cold, clean compared to the inside. He shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket, walking toward the tour bus idling at the far end of the lot.

That’s when he saw her. Sitting on the curb, cigarette burning down between her fingers, oversized hoodie swallowing her frame. She wasn’t really smoking — just letting it burn, ash crumbling at the edge like she was watching herself fall apart one fleck at a time. Her other hand was pressed low against her ribs, hidden in the folds of fabric. Glenn’s chest tightened again. He walked over, slow so she could hear his boots scraping pavement.

“You always sit in the dark?” he asked, voice quiet.

She flicked the cigarette without looking up. “Only when I need it.”

Glenn stopped a few feet from her, tugging his hood higher against the wind. Up close, she looked worse. Skin pale under the yellow parking lot light, dark circles under her eyes. She didn’t meet his gaze. He crouched down anyway, resting his arms on his knees, keeping his voice soft.

“What happened?”

Her shoulders stiffened instantly. “Don’t.”

“I’m not gonna let it slide,” Glenn said, firmer than he meant to. He softened it, but didn’t back down. “You’ve been covering bruises all tour. You flinch every time he puts his hands on you. And now you’re out here looking like it hurts just to breathe. You think nobody notices, but I do.”

Her voice cracked, raw. “Glenn, if the label finds out... if Merle runs his mouth, if the band splits—”

“I don’t care about the label.” His tone sharpened, surprising even himself. He shook his head, eyes locked on hers. “I care about you. About whether you make it out of this with more than broken bones and scars.”

Tears threatened her eyes, quick and hot. She tried to blink them away. “You don’t know what I deserve.”

Glenn leaned in just a little, lowering his voice. “Yeah. I do. You deserve better than being treated like property. You deserve better than being hurt and told it’s love. And if you can’t believe that right now, then believe me when I say I won’t just stand here and watch him destroy you.”

The cigarette burned out between her fingers. She let it drop to the concrete, ash scattering in the breeze. For a moment, the only sound was the rumble of the bus in the distance.

“I can’t leave him,” she whispered. “Not without losing everything.”

Glenn’s jaw flexed. He thought about all the times he’d started from nothing, scraped his way into something, built family out of strangers. He thought about how many times he’d been told he couldn’t do something, only to prove them wrong. He steadied his voice, made sure every word landed.

“Then lose it. Lose all of it. Start over. You’re stronger than you think. And I’ll help you — whatever it takes. No spotlight, no paycheck, no band is worth what he’s doing to you.”

Her eyes searched his, wet and desperate, like she wanted to believe him but didn’t know how. She didn’t say yes. Didn’t say no. But Glenn stayed there, crouched in the cold, holding her gaze steady.

Because sometimes the only thing you could do for someone was not look away.

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