(no subject)
Title: Poison
Author: SoulsDisband
Pairing: Gerard Way + Bert McCracken
Rating: PG. Not-so-wholesome ending.
POV: First Person (Bert's)
Disclaimer: Never happened. Don't own.
Summary: These simple nights in quiet cold are so unlike the days before. We used to know the words to say and the moves to make in the dance that was our lives. Gerard is such sweet poison.
You and I, and us, and we, and everything we were are not the same. These simple nights in quiet cold are so unlike the days before. We used to know the words to say and the moves to make in the dance that was our lives. Now we sit alone, together, as if the calm is not unnerving; as if we haven't torn from each other at the seams. And now the stitches are broken and I spill onto the ground before you, but you simply take a drag and look to the sky, nonchalantly scoffing at how easily I lay down for you. When in truth, I am only falling apart for myself - so I don't have to pretend like this anymore.
I remember how we met. Not where, or when, but I remember exactly how I felt. So full of something which seemed right and wrong at the same time. So in awe of all the things my body could sense, as if I had been half asleep until I met you. We came together with a crash, and hurled ourselves deeper into one another. And every time we were pulled apart we'd gravitate again toward the sweaty fucks and drunken luck which was our elasticised love. I'd stretch for you and move my world so you could fit comfortably within it. You curled into me and nested at the center of my heart, warm and snug as if you had belonged there all along.
And this was how it came to be that it burned to know you were with him. It stung so badly when the icy wind blew through the hole in my chest. The sting was almost unbearable, oh god, the unforgiving sting. But I forgave you, because you whispered so sincerely. I need you. So much. But I forgave you, because there was a Gerard shaped gap which so fretfully needed to be filled.
There were so many times after the night He touched you when I felt dirty inside your skin. I could picture him on you and I could hear his name on your lips, making me feel as if I was the one in the wrong. So, how dare you sit in silence and pretend that it's my fault. How dare you let me believe I am below you (especially when everyone knows you prefer to bottom). How dare you let me run my hands over your deceivingly perfect, pale, innocent skin as if I was the one to corrupt what we had.
And so now, we sit together beneath the stars as you mend and I break, and scream in silence for you to hear me. But you don't, again, instead you think of him and without knowing, begin to talk to me about something which I desperately don't want to hear.
“He was soft. And sometimes still, as if it were the end of the world. All we had left was each other.”
With each word a new crack forms but you don't stop which makes me think you meant to hurt me all along. So we sit, and you speak of your lover, a therapy of sorts, allowing my silence to wash over you in absolution, but the words I'll never say pump so forcefully through my veins that I just have to put out my cigarette on my skin. The singe makes you look and suddenly we're crying and you're puddled on the floor next to me after I fell fifty flights from my chair just to get you to notice me. We rock back and forth and you coo with words that are spelled out in soiled bed sheets. But I'm still crying as if I am the one who should be forgiven, and you let me, and I let me, because it is all we have and I will pretend if I could only have you back.
So for weeks we hold together, and construct ourselves a new amalgamation, this time of the heart so we will always be as one. But the nights are still cold and the wind still blows through my slowly sealing wounds when you arrive late and won't say where you've been. I still crack inside with those words and even though on early mornings when you're swaying me to the beat of our heart, we are intrinsically each other, I still feel alone. So much so, that this pretence of I'm sorry and I forgive you is not enough to save me. And so I fall, fifty stories, for you to notice me and when you do it's not fair, because you still live in that fantasy world where it was me who did something wrong. You think to yourself, why should I be punished twice, before you carve a new hole in someone else's heart and eat away at Him from the inside. I just wish I could have warned him, that you are such sweet poison.
Author: SoulsDisband
Pairing: Gerard Way + Bert McCracken
Rating: PG. Not-so-wholesome ending.
POV: First Person (Bert's)
Disclaimer: Never happened. Don't own.
Summary: These simple nights in quiet cold are so unlike the days before. We used to know the words to say and the moves to make in the dance that was our lives. Gerard is such sweet poison.
You and I, and us, and we, and everything we were are not the same. These simple nights in quiet cold are so unlike the days before. We used to know the words to say and the moves to make in the dance that was our lives. Now we sit alone, together, as if the calm is not unnerving; as if we haven't torn from each other at the seams. And now the stitches are broken and I spill onto the ground before you, but you simply take a drag and look to the sky, nonchalantly scoffing at how easily I lay down for you. When in truth, I am only falling apart for myself - so I don't have to pretend like this anymore.
I remember how we met. Not where, or when, but I remember exactly how I felt. So full of something which seemed right and wrong at the same time. So in awe of all the things my body could sense, as if I had been half asleep until I met you. We came together with a crash, and hurled ourselves deeper into one another. And every time we were pulled apart we'd gravitate again toward the sweaty fucks and drunken luck which was our elasticised love. I'd stretch for you and move my world so you could fit comfortably within it. You curled into me and nested at the center of my heart, warm and snug as if you had belonged there all along.
And this was how it came to be that it burned to know you were with him. It stung so badly when the icy wind blew through the hole in my chest. The sting was almost unbearable, oh god, the unforgiving sting. But I forgave you, because you whispered so sincerely. I need you. So much. But I forgave you, because there was a Gerard shaped gap which so fretfully needed to be filled.
There were so many times after the night He touched you when I felt dirty inside your skin. I could picture him on you and I could hear his name on your lips, making me feel as if I was the one in the wrong. So, how dare you sit in silence and pretend that it's my fault. How dare you let me believe I am below you (especially when everyone knows you prefer to bottom). How dare you let me run my hands over your deceivingly perfect, pale, innocent skin as if I was the one to corrupt what we had.
And so now, we sit together beneath the stars as you mend and I break, and scream in silence for you to hear me. But you don't, again, instead you think of him and without knowing, begin to talk to me about something which I desperately don't want to hear.
“He was soft. And sometimes still, as if it were the end of the world. All we had left was each other.”
With each word a new crack forms but you don't stop which makes me think you meant to hurt me all along. So we sit, and you speak of your lover, a therapy of sorts, allowing my silence to wash over you in absolution, but the words I'll never say pump so forcefully through my veins that I just have to put out my cigarette on my skin. The singe makes you look and suddenly we're crying and you're puddled on the floor next to me after I fell fifty flights from my chair just to get you to notice me. We rock back and forth and you coo with words that are spelled out in soiled bed sheets. But I'm still crying as if I am the one who should be forgiven, and you let me, and I let me, because it is all we have and I will pretend if I could only have you back.
So for weeks we hold together, and construct ourselves a new amalgamation, this time of the heart so we will always be as one. But the nights are still cold and the wind still blows through my slowly sealing wounds when you arrive late and won't say where you've been. I still crack inside with those words and even though on early mornings when you're swaying me to the beat of our heart, we are intrinsically each other, I still feel alone. So much so, that this pretence of I'm sorry and I forgive you is not enough to save me. And so I fall, fifty stories, for you to notice me and when you do it's not fair, because you still live in that fantasy world where it was me who did something wrong. You think to yourself, why should I be punished twice, before you carve a new hole in someone else's heart and eat away at Him from the inside. I just wish I could have warned him, that you are such sweet poison.