The Truth Disclaimer: I don't own Velvet Goldmine, although I wouldn't mind owning Jonathan Rhys-Meyers ;D

This is my first VG story so please be kind! Please review with constructive criticism only!

"Brian Slade shooting a hoax!" These are the words that signified the end of my career and the so-called "Death of Glitter." As I look back to that event, memories come flooding back to me like a tidal wave. I can clearly remember the horrified look on all the face of my fans when I was "fatally wounded". I also remember the looks of betrayal and loathing when they found out that the whole thing was just a "publicity stunt". They had no idea that I had a different motive. I hired that phony assassin so that I could be with my one true love: you.

I love you, Curt. I've loved you ever since I first laid eyes on you during that outdoor performance in England. I love everything about you. I love your hair, your eyes, your smile, and every other aspect that makes you Curt Wild. I know you love me too. Don't try to deny it. I remember the hurt look in your eyes in the studio. I never meant to harm you in any way. I was just poisoned by money and fame.

It was only about an hour after you left the studio that I realized my horrible mistake. Sadly, I was too stubborn to reveal my true feelings to you. It broke my heart in pieces, watching you leave the apartment that we shared. In fact, I closed the curtains because I couldn't bear to see that sad and angry look upon your face.

After your car pulled away, I called Jerry and told him that I wanted out of the tour because "things had gotten out of hand". Jerry thought that I was just stressed and I needed to finish the tour, and afterwards I could "do what I wanted". I hung up the phone, angrier than I had ever been.

Feverishly, I racked my brain thinking of ways that I could get out of my obligation so I could be with you, my love. Then, it dawned on me. Several weeks ago, I had given a press conference in which I spoke of premonitions of being shot on stage. Here was the answer I was looking for! I could hire someone to fire a blank full of red paint at me, thereby "killing" me, and ending the tour.

When it came time for the event, I could barely contain my excitement. This was it! No we could finally be together! I walked onto the stage, and picked up my mic. As feathers drifted down on the stage, the shot was fired. I closed my eyes and threw myself back onto the stage. I heard the horrified screams of the audience, and felt the soft feathers that continued to cascade down onto my body. I smiled inside, glad that it was over. Glad that I could now be with you instead of trapped inside the steely clutches of fame and fortune. So no matter what anyone says, honest and true, I did it all for you.