Stupid Fight Club;
Writing Figh Club fanfiction is hard. The charrie is so complex, I'm scared that I'm destroying him. AND THAT'S NOT COOL. Because I love him. The not-Tyler him. (But I do love the Tyler part of him more.) Homnom. What's a fan to do...?
I'll try to finish it and see if people hate it. If they do, I'll take it down. Here's what I got so far:
I am Jack’s shamed pride.
Tyler was always more powerful than me. He was always stronger than me. He was always the leader. He was always the alpha. I always followed.
I guess you could say Tyler Durden was the man I wanted to be. He was the man most any guy wanted to be. He was as perfect as any guy could get - in the mind of any guy, that is. He cared about nothing material. He wanted no money, needed no one’s ‘okay’ to do anything. He was, in a way, pure. Pure man. Pure human. Like they all should be.
I can’t be the only one who thinks this. I can’t be the only one who wants it.
The thing is, I can’t be like him. I was, for a while. Fight Club liberated me. It brought onto me a whole new outlook on life. When I stopped wanting people’s respect, I got it. But I didn’t care. I still don’t. I don’t need their respect. I need his.
All these men do.
“But this is fucking insane, Tyler! You can’t… you can’t just threaten these people’s lives like this! It’s… it’s murder!”
“Attempted murder, I’d say. But loosen up, would you? You saw that there were no bullets. He was never in any danger.”
“And if he’d had a heart attack caused by the fact that he was scared shitless? What then?”
Tyler liked to do this. He’d advance on me, try to make me step back, and if I did, he’d laugh and roll his eyes. We weren’t supposed to step back. Men didn’t step back, even if they knew they’d lose. I’d stopped stepping back in the first week I’d lived with him.
“Then,” he murmured, still getting closer. “I would have let him die knowing I tried to help.”
I am Jack’s upset stomach.
“You’re sick. This whole thing is fucked up!”
“You know it’s not. You can see the logic. You know, you know, that we helped that guy out. He’d going to become a vet, or whatever it was, now. He’s going to do what he wanted in life. Is that bad? Does that make us bad people?”
Tyler is the king of persuasion. It’s why he’s the leader. I can feel by stomach begin, or rather, continue, to churn. He’s not the leader. This was supposed to be a partnership. This was as much mine as his. Maybe that’s why I’m angry. I’m never in the loop. Why aren’t I in the loop?
“Fuck your ‘us’, Tyler. You’ve been keeping me out of everything! I’ve no idea what’s going on around in this house until it’s happened!”
“You’re as involved as you want to be.”
My insides are cold. I don’t want this. I want Tyler’s approval, but I don’t want to shoot people in the God damned head to get it. It’s not right. I know it’s not. The problem is, I don’t think he knows it’s not.
He still advances, even though I won’t back down. I’ll stand there as long as I have to, and he’ll just keep walking until he realises it. Except he doesn’t stop. He continues his tiny, certain, stupid steps until we’re practically touching noses. I exhale deeply. I refuse to back down.
I am Jack’s stubborn frustration.
“Do you want to be involved? You complain that you don’t know, but - ”
“I do.”
I said it before I really thought about it. I don’t, actually. I don’t want to be a part of this. This is wrong on so many levels, and illegal on even more. But I say that I do simply because I know that’s what Tyler wants to hear. The point of being a man, I think, is to say or do what you want, when you want, no matter the consequences. I’ve started acting like that. Definitely. But I can’t do it when it comes to Tyler. I need him to accept me. Even if he preaches that we don’t need to be accepted by anyone, I know that all the guys here strive to be accepted by him. To be loved by him. To make him happy.
I am Jack’s unoriginal ambition.
“Sound like you’re getting married, man. You’re not getting married, are you?”
That stupid grin. I like that it’s being directed at me. I don’t like that I like it. This is weird and stupid and pathetic on my part.
“Not with my love life, I’m not.”
“Hey, haven’t you fucked that Marla girl yet?”
“No.”
I am not, in fact, fucking Marla. She is fucking Tyler. Tyler is fucking her. I am not in that picture, nor was I asked to be in it. I don’t want to be in it, either. I just wish, sometimes, I actually had someone to fuck.
I am Jack’s humiliating virginity.
“No? Really? Pity. She’s really great in bed…” There is some eyebrow waggling going on. He’s so close, I can actually smell the sweat and dirt coming from him. Being close isn’t a problem. It might be a problem for others, for people out there, in their happy little furnished world, but not us. Not me. I don’t care about that. I care about bigger things. Important things.
“Yeah. I’ve heard.”
“You listen to us?” His laugh shouldn’t sound so nice. I shouldn’t crave its sound. I shouldn’t need his attention as much as I do. But I do. Without Tyler, I am nothing. Without him, I will return to being who I used to be, no matter how much I don’t want it. And for Tyler to like me is just a bonus. I just wish, sometimes, that he wasn’t fucking insane. “You really do need to get laid. It’s part of the human process, you know? Sex relieves the mind and body of stressful feelings, if only for a moment.” He goes into these lecture modes every once in a while. Tyler’s actually very smart. I wonder where he learned half the things he knows. Other times I wonder if it’s just his natural ability to come to rational conclusions like that. Those are the times when I wonder just how rational Tyler ever really is.
“It provides the being with the necessary release required to cleanse the bad from the system. If you enjoy it, your body enjoys it, your mind enjoys it, then your spirit enjoys it. And that’s a fucking good lay.”
I’d agree, but he’s too close to me, so if I nod, our foreheads will bump. Instead I just hum, a little sound he can take to mean I think he’s right or I think he’s wrong. It’s his choice. I don’t right care at this point. Talking about sex reminds me how lonely I truly am in a house full of men. It reminds me how I really do wish Marla liked me instead of him. It makes me remember that I’ve never known the touch of another person. Suddenly, I don’t feel so great. Sleep sounds pretty good to me.
“Hey, you ever kiss another guy?”
I blink, wondering why I’m not completely shocked. I think all his plans and plots and whims have desensitized me. It’s hard to surprise me, nowadays. Especially when I’ve just returned from a place where Tyler had his gun pressed against the back of some random guy’s head.
“No.”
Why would I want to? I’d ask Tyler, but I know what he’ll reply. It’ll be something along the lines of the situation that started everything. Just like the first fight. ‘Why would I want to?’ The answer would be something like: ‘Why wouldn’t you?’.
“Kiss me, then.”
I’d shake my head, but then our noses would bump. I thought I’d forgotten how it felt to be in an awkward situation, but Tyler has, not for the first time, proved me wrong.
I am Jack’s pounding heart.
I roll my eyes. “I’m not kissing you, Tyler.” He smirks at me. He thinks he controls the whole God damned world. I think, in a way, he does.
“I haven’t either. How do you know how it’ll feel if you don’t try?”
“I don’t need to know how it feels.”
“You don’t know that.”
“What?”
“You can’t possibly know that until you try. Maybe you do need to feel it, but you just don’t know it yet.”
He always makes the suggestions, but I always make the first move. He’s sick, but he gives us the chance to back down. I can’t back down. I am a member of Fight Club. I am a member of Project Mayhem. I do not back down.
Taking in an annoyed breath, I feel my stomach twist inside me. There isn’t much of a gap to close. All I have to do is pucker my lips and we’re kissing. So I do.
I am Jack’s rushing adrenaline.
It’s not so bad, really. I just wish my brain would shut down. His lips are moving against mine, opening and closing slightly, like he’s trying to swallow my mouth. It’s weird. It tingles. My stomach is flopping. I pull away. I’m glad it’s over.
“Not so bad, really. You’re not that great of a kisser, though.”
My brows furrow together. That was kind of uncalled for. “It was your stupid idea.” I don’t know why I’m offended. I guess I don’t really laugh much. There’s really only two ways to handle an awkward situation: anger or grins. Grinning doesn’t happen. I’m angry.
“No one forced you.”
He leans forward and pecks my lips playfully, and I finally take a step back. I glare. So what if I’m a bad kisser? So what if he was fucking great? So what if I feel I have room for improvement? So what?
It shouldn’t matter. I don’t have to prove myself to him. I don’t. But I will. I will, because I am nothing, and he is Tyler Durden, and I need him to need me.
I shove him hard. He grabs me by the shirt and pulls our lips together again. We kiss. I’m not sure what to do.
My eyes are open and I watch. I watch his eyes shut tight, I watch his hair float over his forehead… If I cross my eyes some, I can even watch his lips twitch upwards. This is amusing to him. It’s a game. Everything is a game to Tyler Durden. Even me, his partner in crime, his partner in friendship, his partner in philosophy. Even I’m a fucking game to him.
But why should I be taken seriously? Life’s too short. You only live once. You only get one chance to do things, and if you screw up, make sure it was worth it.
I’m kissing him again, digging my fingers into his shoulders. His own grip gets harder, and the collar of my shirt is suffocating me. It kind of hurts. It’s rather uncomfortable.
“Ugh…”
He’s shoved me against the wall, pushing my body against the wood. Some dust and asbestos falls from the ceiling onto us. I don’t care. Tyler never cares. We’re good like this.
I don’t know if it’s still kissing, though.
His teeth are up against my tongue, and they clang against my own. His body is solid and crushing me, his hands moving along and bruising my skin. My skin should have toughened up from all the fights. Tyler is stronger than I thought. I didn’t think anything could give me the glorious pain as nicely as fighting another guy without obligations or regret. Tyler has a knack for proving me wrong.
“Get the fuck out of here, man,” he says, pulling away, grinning, a laugh escaping his lips. I blink, trying not to seem so dazed. He still has me up against the wall, his body still too close to mine to be comfortable. My ribs hurt.
“What?”
I don’t mean to sound breathless. I shouldn’t be. It was just a kiss.
“You’re fucking enjoying this, aren’t you?” He shoves my shoulder, not that there’s much room between the wall and my shoulder for it to have any kind of effect. He’s still grinning. “You want this to continue, don’t you?”
I am Jack’s constricting lungs.
“No.”
“Don’t lie to me.” He’s so intense, the way he’s staring. He looks almost angry. I stare back, though I’m more blank than him. Less passionate.
“I’m not lying.”
His eyes narrow, but he’s smirking. Why does he think he has the right to smirk like that? “So if I stopped right now, you wouldn’t mind?”
Of course I’d mind.
“Of course not. Now get away from me.”
“Tell me the truth! You are not free unless you can tell the truth!”
“I’m free, okay?” Sometimes Tyler is one hell of a jackass. “I’m free! Free as a bird! Okay, Tyler?”
“No, you’re not.” He’s dead serious. I can do nothing but stare. I hate the power he has over me. “Tell me.” He leans in close, his breath on my lips. I shut my eyes. “Tell me you want this, or you’ll never be free. There’s no shame. Anything you want can be yours. Society will not label you. We’re reconstructing it; there are to be no more restrictions to our true selves. Now tell me.”
I’m annoyed of this game.
“I’m not gay, Tyler. If you are, that’s fine with me, but you can’t impose yourself on others!”
I think of Fight Club. I think of Project Mayhem. It’s true that it was their choice to join, but no. It’s not. It wasn’t. They’d just rather Tyler’s rules than society’s, but, in the end, it’s the same difference.
The lesser of two evils.
“If you’re not gay, then why won’t you kiss me?”
“That’s like saying if I’m not straight, why won’t I kiss Marla. I just don’t like you. I don’t like her. I don’t like anybody!”
I am Jack’s lie.
“What are you, then? Asexual? Too good for a fuck? What?”
Fuck. He never said he’d be fucking me. He never implied I’d be fucking him. I shoved hard at his chest again, and he shoves back. There’s a pause; I stare, rather out of breath, and he looks at me, challenging me. Smirking.
I don’t know why I did it. I had stopped questioning things until I realised I wasn’t allowed to anymore. Now I questioned everything.
I don’t know if I threw the first punch or if he did. All I know is that my ribs were bruising and my face cracking, just as his shoulder had popped and his lip sliced. The fight is a blur, like life used to be. It no longer exhilarates me. I anticipate his move, I fight back… He’s lifting his knee, which means my left arm will be in pain for about five seconds… My own fist clips his ear, causing him to grin and spit out the blood in his mouth.
Fighting has lost all meaning to me. My skin doesn’t register the pain anymore. I’m back to not feeling. I’m back to my old life, except instead of the furniture, it’s fighting that has become my routine.
As soon as I realise this, Tyler stops. The smirk that’s usually there is missing. He’s looking at me like I’m a car to be bought. That is, if Tyler ever bought a car. I’m intriguing him, but he’s not amused.
“You don’t care.”
A statement. A fact. Not a question.
I shrug, rolling my shoulder in the process. It aches, but the pain is nothing. I’ve felt so much worse that now even the worst doesn’t seem so bad. I think that’s what Tyler keeps trying to prove. I look down at the scar on my hand.
“You don’t feel.”
I shrug again, spitting on the floor, and feeling my teeth. None of them are missing since last time. Some of the teeth gaps that hadn’t healed opened, though. The blood doesn’t make me gag anymore. I’ve come a long way since my apartment exploded.
“This is why you need me.”
--And cut --
Yeah. It stops right where I intend the smut to start. That always happens. Smut = hard to write. Or, at least, hard to start.
I have the whole 'I am Jack's [blank]' going on because I really loved that. The whole movie, those were my favourite lines. I don't know why, but they just... added so much to it, I think. He was never Jack, you realise that? Just Jack's something. Oh, nameless character, how I love thee...
Omnom. Yeah. So. Dunno what else to say. Calculus is hard. Limits make my brain hurt. I get the questions right, but it takes me for ever. Which isn't cool. But. You know. That's what studying is for, yeah?
I need more HP fics. Good ones. I'm getting pickier with time... *sigh*