Insomnia Does The Strangest Things...
AH! Don't kill me. Have to start somewhere, right? Hrmm forgive my lack of slashiness.
Title: [Insert Clever Title To Make You Think I'm Not That Bad Really Here]
Pairing: What?! Can't you guess?! Oh go on then... Adam/Jesse
Rating: Have no idea. Bad language mainly.
Summary: Adam really doesn't like Jesse. Really. Promise.
Apparently tabs don't work in LJ world. Damn my clever, easy to read formatting. Now it just looks stupid
It doesn’t matter how much John pretends, Jesse is a scumbag, always has been, always will be. It kills me every time I see them together, how can John just not see it? I’ve tried telling him before, but he just punches me on the arm and says “This is why I’m with Jesse then” and bounds off to go do whatever next comes into his head.
I’d have thought that after Taking Back Sunday broke up I’d never get to see John again, guess that miracles happen, and I do appreciate that we’re still friends. Everything that had happened though has caused the arse named Lacey to crop up.
John told me he was going off to see Jesse for the third time this week. It was getting kinda stupid, I swear he was doing it because he knew it pissed me off, I can’t understand for the life of me how he could possibly want to spend so much time with a complete and utter arsehole. And he is. He used to pick up John from mine JUST to piss me off, I swear. John would always say “Just going to the loo” seconds before Jesse arrived, so I’d ALWAYS have to answer the door to his sneering, fat face.
“Look who it is. Where’s John?” He’d say, half shoving me, half pushing his way through the doorway, or something to that effect.
“Sorry, no arseholes today thanks.” I’d say cheerily, as if I was addressing the milkman, and try shoving his fat arse through that door and out, as if that was enough to get him out of my life.
“You’d probably better leave then, Lazzarra.”
“Fuck off…”
And John would jump into the fight that had just started in my doorway trying to drag us both off each other, and be screaming at us both to stop. Of course we did, I mean, we were both there for John. And we’d stand, glaring at each other, daring the other one to start another fight.
“Please, stop fighting my boyfriend, Adam. For goodness sakes, why can’t you just be happy for me?” And John would march out, and the last thing I’d see was the smarmy face of that nob-cheese that got his own way.
After many times of the same sort of thing happening, John just stopped Jesse from seeing me. In retaliation, Jesse would spend every waking moment with John, just so that I’d get majorly annoyed. Not that I’m in love with him or anything, don’t get me wrong. It’s just its John… And he’s just… John. The thing is I want so badly to wipe that smug smile off that bastards face, just once. That’s all I wanted, and yet it was never going to happen.
After John left to be with precious Fat-Face, I decided that a night spent plotting his death was a complete waste of time, and went out to the pub for a few drinks. And then I can plot his demise in a different environment (inspiration friendly)… perhaps create a few more gory ideas.
I walked into the bar and sat down. It wasn’t until I had some beer in my hand that I saw Fat-Face staring at his glass down the other end of the bar. Maybe he was trying to find something in there, I don’t know, something like a personality. I swore loudly and looked around for John, ducking in case he was near. If John saw me here it would just create a scene, he’ll think I came to be angry at Jesse and him, and all I wanted to do was drink! DRINK! No one would ever believe me though! I contemplated leaving, but then decided not. If they have a problem with the people in this bar, MY bar, why should I leave?
I glared at Fat-Face, although he hadn’t seen me yet. It was fun watching him be all depressed, staring at the dregs of his beer. Several pints later, he was still there. And it was starting to dawn on me that John hadn’t just got lost in the toilet, and that maybe he wasn’t actually there.
I knew I was forcing myself to feel happy about that fact; Fat-Face was here all alone and depressed because clever John had ditched him. But there was something else there, something else nagging at my stomach, and it was probably the fact that John had lied to me about where he was going. Not that I felt pity or anything for that bastard. I downed the rest of my alcohol to try and get rid of this feeling. Alternatively, he could be ditching John, and John was waiting for him, but the look on his face made it obvious that wasn’t the case.
I tried to pretend I didn’t care what Jesse was doing, or how stupid he looked with his face all mopey. But kind of unsuccessfully, every time there was a movement, I’d jerk so that I could see him better. The whole time he didn’t see me. How dare he? I wanted him to, so that we could fight there and then, and I can tell him that John doesn’t love him and make him hurt so much more. I stood up, but unfortunately Jesse was walking toward the door.
Desperate for Jesse to scream at me, or something, I stormed out the door after him, ready to punch him in the face. As I ran out, I realised I didn’t know where I was going. I frowned, and pushed my hair out of my eyes.
I rang up John.
“Hello? You are speaking to Nolan, the sex God of the 21st century.”
In the background I could hear… I blanked them out and just carried on talking.
“Nolan, what are you doing?” I demanded, for some reason my anger at Jesse was turning to John. I was desperate for a fight.
“Fucking…” John stopped talking for a bit, “Not a good time Laz- OH FUCK!”
I hung up.
I walked around the block a couple of times, just being generally pissed off for absolutely no real reason. John can fuck who he wants, and I should be happy for him and this other guy, after all, it makes Lacey miserable. So why am I feeling pissed off at him? It made no sense. I stormed around a bit to make myself feel a bit better, and kicked a bin.
“WOAH, bloody hell…” Some voice was coming out from under the bin, as it moved off him and he shoved it to the floor.
“Sorry man, I didn’t mean to… Fat- I mean, Jesse?”
I watched him wipe his sleeve across his face and stand up quickly. A little too quickly probably, he was swaying and his eyes were spinning. I reacted by putting my hands out as he started to fall, but he shoved me away.
“Don’t touch me…” He slurred and tried throwing a punch at me. I dodged it, looks like I’ll get my fight after all. Only I didn’t feel that adrenaline rush I usually get when I’m fighting with Fat-Face. I felt kind of sad… he was quite pathetic really.
“Or what, you’ll set John out on me?” I shoved him away and his arms wind milled. Luckily, he was able to catch his balance.
“Fuck you Lazzarra… he loves me so much more than you, and you’re so jealous because he likes me and not you…” He was swaying on the spot, his hand on his head.
“Is that why he’s sleeping with someone else?” Oh shit. Verbal diarrhoea. I cursed under my breath, as I watch his face fall.
“He’s always… I… what?” And then he fell over.
I definitely wasn’t strong enough to carry his weight; I could only manage to haul him back on to his feet, his arms draped across my neck.
“I hate you. But I’m not going to leave you out on the cold.” I half-dragged him across the street to random directions he was giving me to his house. Blimey he was heavy… “You need to lose some weight.”
He growled, and tried to swipe at me again, his arms only twisting around my neck, causing my spine to scream in pain. I wrapped my arm around his waist and continued to drag him the “fastest way” to his house. I don’t even know why I was doing it, why do I want to spend more time than the actual minimal with Fat-Face?
I grumbled and moaned as we walked, and he cursed and tried fighting me. What a great weight I had to lug around with me, and he won’t appreciate it! Fucker!
I gave up when he reached his house, and had to sit down for a second on the porch and recuperate whilst he attempted every single key into his house lock as he had forgotten which one it was. I was ready to kill something by the time he had got to the third one… 15 minutes it took! 15! And that was just trying to find the hole!
Good thing he didn’t go through all 19 keys “Just to be sure” as it opened on the third. I shoved him inside, hauled him upstairs and threw him onto his bed and was all set to storm off, when I felt a hand grab my wrist.
“Jesse. Don’t. Touch. Me.” I glared at him, as he rolled around on the mattress.
“I wouldn’t touch you with a 10ft bargepole.” He groaned. “I’m going to be sick…”
So then, to skip the gory details, I spent all night up with a complete bastard who had his head in the toilet. And even though it was disgusting, and I hate him so much, it wasn’t really THAT bad. I mean, if you half close your eyes, stick your left leg out a little and twist your head at a 45 degree angle, he wasn’t THAT ugly. And in my sleep-deprived, alcohol driven phase at about 3am I told him this. Hopefully he didn’t hear, I think he had fallen asleep in the toilet. He really was quite gross, I don’t know WHAT John sees in him, I mean, he can’t look at him with blurred eyes forever, one day he’s got to fully focus, and that day he’ll be sorry. Maybe that’s why Johns sleeping with someone else, because he fully focused by mistake and realised how fat Jesse really is.
I can’t really remember what happened, but I must have fallen asleep in his room. I woke up to the sound of Jesse retching ONCE AGAIN, my neck stupidly painful. And I fumbled with some Paracetamol for my head, but ended up giving it to him as he stumbled into the room.
“I think I feel better Lazzarra.” He smiled wanly at me.
“Ok. Can I go home now?” I said grumpily. I desperately wanted him to throw up again, just so that I could spend more time patting his back. How soppy was I getting? No more time spent with Mr Lacey, I’m sounding like a girl.
“I guess… thanks so much. I guess, maybe…”
“Save the boring blah blah blah speech,” The rude side of me blurted out and I leapt up ready to storm out. Hrm, I’ve been doing a lot of storming recently. This is the effect Fat-Face has on me! It leads to no good!
“You fucking bastard, for a second I was going to apologise. Thanks for stopping me making the biggest mistake of my life.”
“Fuck you.” I frowned.
I don’t know who kissed whom first at that point. I remember rejoicing as I had got the last word as we smashed into each other, our lips meeting at about the same time as our teeth. That hurt. Fat-Face was a shit kisser as well! No wonder John’s cheating on him.
I think I may have said that, but it was lost in the slightly gentler kissing that followed. And for some reason my stomach was twisting, even though he’s a fat, bad kisser and badly dressed wannabe “scene boy”. And for some reason I was kissing him back, our lips moving over each other just slow enough to leave a tingle where they had been. His hands started at my face, leaving tickling trails as he pushed his way down my chest, and around my waist. I doubt that my arms would be able to wrap around his fat stomach, so I just stuck with his groin, my hands creating the murmur in my mouth that I so wanted to feel (Maybe he called me a dick- that Jesse is a fucking retard), as our tongues flickered for just a moment on each other before we carried on.
I really do hate him though, really I do.
Title: [Insert Clever Title To Make You Think I'm Not That Bad Really Here]
Pairing: What?! Can't you guess?! Oh go on then... Adam/Jesse
Rating: Have no idea. Bad language mainly.
Summary: Adam really doesn't like Jesse. Really. Promise.
Apparently tabs don't work in LJ world. Damn my clever, easy to read formatting. Now it just looks stupid
It doesn’t matter how much John pretends, Jesse is a scumbag, always has been, always will be. It kills me every time I see them together, how can John just not see it? I’ve tried telling him before, but he just punches me on the arm and says “This is why I’m with Jesse then” and bounds off to go do whatever next comes into his head.
I’d have thought that after Taking Back Sunday broke up I’d never get to see John again, guess that miracles happen, and I do appreciate that we’re still friends. Everything that had happened though has caused the arse named Lacey to crop up.
John told me he was going off to see Jesse for the third time this week. It was getting kinda stupid, I swear he was doing it because he knew it pissed me off, I can’t understand for the life of me how he could possibly want to spend so much time with a complete and utter arsehole. And he is. He used to pick up John from mine JUST to piss me off, I swear. John would always say “Just going to the loo” seconds before Jesse arrived, so I’d ALWAYS have to answer the door to his sneering, fat face.
“Look who it is. Where’s John?” He’d say, half shoving me, half pushing his way through the doorway, or something to that effect.
“Sorry, no arseholes today thanks.” I’d say cheerily, as if I was addressing the milkman, and try shoving his fat arse through that door and out, as if that was enough to get him out of my life.
“You’d probably better leave then, Lazzarra.”
“Fuck off…”
And John would jump into the fight that had just started in my doorway trying to drag us both off each other, and be screaming at us both to stop. Of course we did, I mean, we were both there for John. And we’d stand, glaring at each other, daring the other one to start another fight.
“Please, stop fighting my boyfriend, Adam. For goodness sakes, why can’t you just be happy for me?” And John would march out, and the last thing I’d see was the smarmy face of that nob-cheese that got his own way.
After many times of the same sort of thing happening, John just stopped Jesse from seeing me. In retaliation, Jesse would spend every waking moment with John, just so that I’d get majorly annoyed. Not that I’m in love with him or anything, don’t get me wrong. It’s just its John… And he’s just… John. The thing is I want so badly to wipe that smug smile off that bastards face, just once. That’s all I wanted, and yet it was never going to happen.
After John left to be with precious Fat-Face, I decided that a night spent plotting his death was a complete waste of time, and went out to the pub for a few drinks. And then I can plot his demise in a different environment (inspiration friendly)… perhaps create a few more gory ideas.
I walked into the bar and sat down. It wasn’t until I had some beer in my hand that I saw Fat-Face staring at his glass down the other end of the bar. Maybe he was trying to find something in there, I don’t know, something like a personality. I swore loudly and looked around for John, ducking in case he was near. If John saw me here it would just create a scene, he’ll think I came to be angry at Jesse and him, and all I wanted to do was drink! DRINK! No one would ever believe me though! I contemplated leaving, but then decided not. If they have a problem with the people in this bar, MY bar, why should I leave?
I glared at Fat-Face, although he hadn’t seen me yet. It was fun watching him be all depressed, staring at the dregs of his beer. Several pints later, he was still there. And it was starting to dawn on me that John hadn’t just got lost in the toilet, and that maybe he wasn’t actually there.
I knew I was forcing myself to feel happy about that fact; Fat-Face was here all alone and depressed because clever John had ditched him. But there was something else there, something else nagging at my stomach, and it was probably the fact that John had lied to me about where he was going. Not that I felt pity or anything for that bastard. I downed the rest of my alcohol to try and get rid of this feeling. Alternatively, he could be ditching John, and John was waiting for him, but the look on his face made it obvious that wasn’t the case.
I tried to pretend I didn’t care what Jesse was doing, or how stupid he looked with his face all mopey. But kind of unsuccessfully, every time there was a movement, I’d jerk so that I could see him better. The whole time he didn’t see me. How dare he? I wanted him to, so that we could fight there and then, and I can tell him that John doesn’t love him and make him hurt so much more. I stood up, but unfortunately Jesse was walking toward the door.
Desperate for Jesse to scream at me, or something, I stormed out the door after him, ready to punch him in the face. As I ran out, I realised I didn’t know where I was going. I frowned, and pushed my hair out of my eyes.
I rang up John.
“Hello? You are speaking to Nolan, the sex God of the 21st century.”
In the background I could hear… I blanked them out and just carried on talking.
“Nolan, what are you doing?” I demanded, for some reason my anger at Jesse was turning to John. I was desperate for a fight.
“Fucking…” John stopped talking for a bit, “Not a good time Laz- OH FUCK!”
I hung up.
I walked around the block a couple of times, just being generally pissed off for absolutely no real reason. John can fuck who he wants, and I should be happy for him and this other guy, after all, it makes Lacey miserable. So why am I feeling pissed off at him? It made no sense. I stormed around a bit to make myself feel a bit better, and kicked a bin.
“WOAH, bloody hell…” Some voice was coming out from under the bin, as it moved off him and he shoved it to the floor.
“Sorry man, I didn’t mean to… Fat- I mean, Jesse?”
I watched him wipe his sleeve across his face and stand up quickly. A little too quickly probably, he was swaying and his eyes were spinning. I reacted by putting my hands out as he started to fall, but he shoved me away.
“Don’t touch me…” He slurred and tried throwing a punch at me. I dodged it, looks like I’ll get my fight after all. Only I didn’t feel that adrenaline rush I usually get when I’m fighting with Fat-Face. I felt kind of sad… he was quite pathetic really.
“Or what, you’ll set John out on me?” I shoved him away and his arms wind milled. Luckily, he was able to catch his balance.
“Fuck you Lazzarra… he loves me so much more than you, and you’re so jealous because he likes me and not you…” He was swaying on the spot, his hand on his head.
“Is that why he’s sleeping with someone else?” Oh shit. Verbal diarrhoea. I cursed under my breath, as I watch his face fall.
“He’s always… I… what?” And then he fell over.
I definitely wasn’t strong enough to carry his weight; I could only manage to haul him back on to his feet, his arms draped across my neck.
“I hate you. But I’m not going to leave you out on the cold.” I half-dragged him across the street to random directions he was giving me to his house. Blimey he was heavy… “You need to lose some weight.”
He growled, and tried to swipe at me again, his arms only twisting around my neck, causing my spine to scream in pain. I wrapped my arm around his waist and continued to drag him the “fastest way” to his house. I don’t even know why I was doing it, why do I want to spend more time than the actual minimal with Fat-Face?
I grumbled and moaned as we walked, and he cursed and tried fighting me. What a great weight I had to lug around with me, and he won’t appreciate it! Fucker!
I gave up when he reached his house, and had to sit down for a second on the porch and recuperate whilst he attempted every single key into his house lock as he had forgotten which one it was. I was ready to kill something by the time he had got to the third one… 15 minutes it took! 15! And that was just trying to find the hole!
Good thing he didn’t go through all 19 keys “Just to be sure” as it opened on the third. I shoved him inside, hauled him upstairs and threw him onto his bed and was all set to storm off, when I felt a hand grab my wrist.
“Jesse. Don’t. Touch. Me.” I glared at him, as he rolled around on the mattress.
“I wouldn’t touch you with a 10ft bargepole.” He groaned. “I’m going to be sick…”
So then, to skip the gory details, I spent all night up with a complete bastard who had his head in the toilet. And even though it was disgusting, and I hate him so much, it wasn’t really THAT bad. I mean, if you half close your eyes, stick your left leg out a little and twist your head at a 45 degree angle, he wasn’t THAT ugly. And in my sleep-deprived, alcohol driven phase at about 3am I told him this. Hopefully he didn’t hear, I think he had fallen asleep in the toilet. He really was quite gross, I don’t know WHAT John sees in him, I mean, he can’t look at him with blurred eyes forever, one day he’s got to fully focus, and that day he’ll be sorry. Maybe that’s why Johns sleeping with someone else, because he fully focused by mistake and realised how fat Jesse really is.
I can’t really remember what happened, but I must have fallen asleep in his room. I woke up to the sound of Jesse retching ONCE AGAIN, my neck stupidly painful. And I fumbled with some Paracetamol for my head, but ended up giving it to him as he stumbled into the room.
“I think I feel better Lazzarra.” He smiled wanly at me.
“Ok. Can I go home now?” I said grumpily. I desperately wanted him to throw up again, just so that I could spend more time patting his back. How soppy was I getting? No more time spent with Mr Lacey, I’m sounding like a girl.
“I guess… thanks so much. I guess, maybe…”
“Save the boring blah blah blah speech,” The rude side of me blurted out and I leapt up ready to storm out. Hrm, I’ve been doing a lot of storming recently. This is the effect Fat-Face has on me! It leads to no good!
“You fucking bastard, for a second I was going to apologise. Thanks for stopping me making the biggest mistake of my life.”
“Fuck you.” I frowned.
I don’t know who kissed whom first at that point. I remember rejoicing as I had got the last word as we smashed into each other, our lips meeting at about the same time as our teeth. That hurt. Fat-Face was a shit kisser as well! No wonder John’s cheating on him.
I think I may have said that, but it was lost in the slightly gentler kissing that followed. And for some reason my stomach was twisting, even though he’s a fat, bad kisser and badly dressed wannabe “scene boy”. And for some reason I was kissing him back, our lips moving over each other just slow enough to leave a tingle where they had been. His hands started at my face, leaving tickling trails as he pushed his way down my chest, and around my waist. I doubt that my arms would be able to wrap around his fat stomach, so I just stuck with his groin, my hands creating the murmur in my mouth that I so wanted to feel (Maybe he called me a dick- that Jesse is a fucking retard), as our tongues flickered for just a moment on each other before we carried on.
I really do hate him though, really I do.