Though I'm Hardly Worth Your Time. [S/A]
Title: Though I'm Hardly Worth Your Time.
Author: Britney. memorysthatfade.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jalex. (Jack Barakat/Alex Gaskarth)
POV: Third.
Disclaimer: I do not own All Time Low, and what happens in this story; isn't real, hopefully. (:
Summary: "Fuck You, Barakat."
Author's Note: Ahh, I don't know about this one. I feel as if, it's too.. depressing? Or sad? Or all of the above. I don't know. But tell me what you think(:
Here's my Tumblr. I'd like some followers please?(:
Fiction List.<3
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
he was alone, sitting in the darkness of his dull-colored bedroom. his chestnut brown, guitar in his hand, and his warm, crystal tears streaming down his face. his phone kept singing 'i miss you - b/182' every five or so minutes, as that one boy kept texting and calling him. he knew what the text's say, ofcorse he did. he did this, one too many times; as he eventually figured out that they all say the same.
he couldn't help but close his dark piercing eye's, and give a meaningless, heartless chuckle. his hand snaked through the covers of his bed trying to find his phone. once reaching the destination, his lips tugged up into a mocking smile and he opened his eye's checking the screen of his phone.
'Beckett.'
covered the large screen in bright white letters. his eye's widened as he through his phone, against the black wall; hearing a thump, smash and bang as the phone collided with the wall. stupid wall.. always have to get in the way. he stood up slowly, hearing his harsh breathing go through one ear, and out the other.
walking to the door, he steps sounded like earthquakes. making everyone fall, and crash in the progress. this amused the poor heartless boy. seeing people hurt, and cry; was the highlight of all days. making them feel the pain, he once felt. the pain that was marked in his heart forever. the feeling of emptyness would now never go away. he always tried tugging a smile at the feeling; but in the end. no matter how much of a meaningless, heartless, cold-blooded, monster he was. his pain conquered all.
his lips started twitching in the moment, no matter how many hearts he broke. no matter how many people he crushed, or ruined in the process. nothing would fill the whole buried deep down inside of him. he was strong, and nothing was s'pose to hurt. nothing was s'pose to move him, or please him. make him feel bad, or good. but this did, he did.
he hadn't seen him for three hundred and fifty six weeks, one thousand, and ninety three days, eight thousand seven hundred and sixty hours, fifteen million seventy six thousand and eight hundred minutes.
all these 'men' he'd been with these past three fucking unbelievable years.. johnson, beckett, wentz.. they'd all been toys. something for him to play with, to keep his mind off him. to him, there like, animals for young serial killers; something for his sickly, disturbed mind to feed off.
as he thought deeply on this, he smiled that seedy smile to himself. a smile that only the near dead would see. he did it well. that mysterious bad boy rep. that had girls drooling over, and boys enrolled with. he had it down pack, as if it was eating in the palm of his hands.
his hand grabbed the icey, gold doorknob; that seperated his room, to the rest of this cruel devoured house. his parents weren't home. they were never home. due to the fact that they lost there favorite son, and the other reject has turned into a mindfucking, liferuining, coldhearted, son of a bitch.. it made the small smile on his lips, stretch even more.
his own parent's were afraid of him. now that's not an everyday thing.
as he was walking down the stairs, to enter the first floor of his house, he scanned the pictures that were up on the wall. not ever, did he notice them. he slightly raise his big black eyebrow, and stared at them sickenly. he picked one off the frame, and looked at the two brothers standing there. hand in hand, and an ocean in the clear view of the background. he narrowed his piercing eye's slowly before slamming the picture into the wall. breaking the memories, that were closely forgotten.
not failing to smash, and pull every photo off the staircase wall; he stopped at one. staring wide eye at the picture. two boys, one slightly taller then the other. limbs wrapped around ones neck, and hands wrapped around ones waist. facing eachother, and lips colliding. the background was dark, but the fireworks were in clear view of the sky. alot of people behind them, but they stood out. he glared at it, licking his lips.
remembering the sweet taste of alcohol, that came off the boys lips. the way their lips moved in synch with eachothers, how they perfectly matched. how everyone thought they were wrong, for falling for the same sex. but in his case. he was wrong. wrong on so many levels, and that made his smile, turn into a smirk.
picking up the picture up carefully off it's frame, he gently brushed the photo of where his love was standing. his features then turned rough, and his smirk went more into a devilish crooked smile. his face had changed in a blink of a second. eye's widening, he through the picture, against the door and screamed out in pain. although he wouldn't admit it. it was pain.
he straightened himself up, before hovering to the front door. leaving the place he travelled through, full of broken glass and crinkled up pictures. he grabbed the door handle, and pushed the wooden door forward before heading out into the darkness that is, 1.27a.m.
---
he was clutching onto the steering wheel, of his '67, chevy impala - more or less, his baby. roming around the baltimore street's at night, was something he was known for. sleep all day, party all night? well. not exactly party. but still. his thoughts over powered his mind, when he drove past the park. he smiled slightly, remembering everything, and nothing at the same time. but shrugging it off as, he kept his eye's on the road.
he went to grabbed his phone, as he realised that it was smashed, against the wall back at his house. he chuckled without humor; at how many times, he's done that. and gotten new phones. shaking his head, he peered up again. his eye's burning through every car that went past.
he pulled in at a graveyard, too close to his house. stepping out, in just skinny jeans and a top; the coldness didn't bother him. the breeze from the wind, who would've made anyone drop to there knee's and beg for a sweater, made him feel wanted. he made his way through the eerie, smelly, dead parts of baltimore. searching for what he was looking for, he saw dead flowers on everyones gravestones. it looked like no one had been here for years, the way this was going. and as cold as he was. he thought it was pathetic.
he walked slowly, around the left side of the 4/5th graveyard and his eye's scanned everywhere, but making a stop at where his was made. kicking the gravestones, that were in the way, and stepping on the flowers with all force as he made his way to his destination.
' Jack Bassam Barakat.
June 18th, 1988 - December 1st, 2007.
Beloved Son Of Joyce and Bassam Barakat.
And Dearly Missed Partner Of Alex Gaskarth.
Rest In Peace.'
his eyebrow's knotted together as his icey cold fingers traced his name. he knew why he had a hole in his heart. he knew why his soul was black, and why he was a heartless monster. he knew why he put everyone around him through misery and pain.. and it was all because of this. a tear trickled down his cheek, as his features softened. no one, and he knew for a fact, NO ONE could replace this person who use to mean so much to him. NO ONE could fill up the emptiness in his body, NO ONE could help him. and frankly, EVERYONE new that.
no one could save him now, he was far too gone for anything to happen. and honestly, that didn't bother him one bit. being alone didn't bother him either. he was so use to it, that it was now his way of life. he licked his lips slowly, as his eye's scanned the red and white roses placed everywhere around the grave. he could see the tear stains on them, quite clearly.
he looked at the pictures around the grave, one of himself, zack, rian and jack. he frowned upon the picture. seeing them all wear bright pink booty shorts, guitars in there hands and drumsticks in rians. the stupid ass bandana he use to wear, and jacks old skunk hair. he looked down for a moment, taking a few deep breaths before he looked up again.
another picture was of his family and himself. he was wearing a goofy grin, the one that always use to make him smile. but now, it just drove a dagger through his heart. his eye's caught attention of the last photo. it was bigger then the other and had about 4 photos surrounding it.
he froze as he saw what were up there. five photos of them two.. five photos of them two together.. five photos of them two being happy. one was them as kids, at christmas. jack was holding up a brand new homealone video, and alex had his first guitar. they were sitting next to eachother, arms around them smiling like fucking idiots.
the next one was them in middle school, he was dressed up as batman as jack was dressed up as spiderman. it was halloween. his forever, and ever favorite holiday. his eye's averted from the picture staring at the one next to it. it was the junior dance, jack was wearing the big white and blue ass tux. and he had two beers in his hands. him, on the other hand; had his leg over jack, and looked like he was about to get laid.
he searched for the last one, as his eye's grew wider. it reconized the picture anywhere. it was the very last picture they took together. they were cuddled up on the couch, his head in the crook of jacks neck, and jacks arm around him. a blanket covering there bodies, and they faces were blank, as they were sleeping. he knotted his eyebrows together, widing his eye's to the fact of what he was doing, he sniffled abit.
he sigh internally, wiping away the pathetic water that was sliding down his cheeks. he doesn't cry. he never crys. and not for something so stupid, like this. his eye's filled with rage, turning bloodshot as he glared at the cleary marked gravestone. the place that held the remains of him. his face hardening as if it was the only face he knew; and his eye's darted pitch black. with his lip twitching on the side.
"fuck you, barakat."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author: Britney. memorysthatfade.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jalex. (Jack Barakat/Alex Gaskarth)
POV: Third.
Disclaimer: I do not own All Time Low, and what happens in this story; isn't real, hopefully. (:
Summary: "Fuck You, Barakat."
Author's Note: Ahh, I don't know about this one. I feel as if, it's too.. depressing? Or sad? Or all of the above. I don't know. But tell me what you think(:
Here's my Tumblr. I'd like some followers please?(:
Fiction List.<3
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
he was alone, sitting in the darkness of his dull-colored bedroom. his chestnut brown, guitar in his hand, and his warm, crystal tears streaming down his face. his phone kept singing 'i miss you - b/182' every five or so minutes, as that one boy kept texting and calling him. he knew what the text's say, ofcorse he did. he did this, one too many times; as he eventually figured out that they all say the same.
he couldn't help but close his dark piercing eye's, and give a meaningless, heartless chuckle. his hand snaked through the covers of his bed trying to find his phone. once reaching the destination, his lips tugged up into a mocking smile and he opened his eye's checking the screen of his phone.
'Beckett.'
covered the large screen in bright white letters. his eye's widened as he through his phone, against the black wall; hearing a thump, smash and bang as the phone collided with the wall. stupid wall.. always have to get in the way. he stood up slowly, hearing his harsh breathing go through one ear, and out the other.
walking to the door, he steps sounded like earthquakes. making everyone fall, and crash in the progress. this amused the poor heartless boy. seeing people hurt, and cry; was the highlight of all days. making them feel the pain, he once felt. the pain that was marked in his heart forever. the feeling of emptyness would now never go away. he always tried tugging a smile at the feeling; but in the end. no matter how much of a meaningless, heartless, cold-blooded, monster he was. his pain conquered all.
his lips started twitching in the moment, no matter how many hearts he broke. no matter how many people he crushed, or ruined in the process. nothing would fill the whole buried deep down inside of him. he was strong, and nothing was s'pose to hurt. nothing was s'pose to move him, or please him. make him feel bad, or good. but this did, he did.
he hadn't seen him for three hundred and fifty six weeks, one thousand, and ninety three days, eight thousand seven hundred and sixty hours, fifteen million seventy six thousand and eight hundred minutes.
all these 'men' he'd been with these past three fucking unbelievable years.. johnson, beckett, wentz.. they'd all been toys. something for him to play with, to keep his mind off him. to him, there like, animals for young serial killers; something for his sickly, disturbed mind to feed off.
as he thought deeply on this, he smiled that seedy smile to himself. a smile that only the near dead would see. he did it well. that mysterious bad boy rep. that had girls drooling over, and boys enrolled with. he had it down pack, as if it was eating in the palm of his hands.
his hand grabbed the icey, gold doorknob; that seperated his room, to the rest of this cruel devoured house. his parents weren't home. they were never home. due to the fact that they lost there favorite son, and the other reject has turned into a mindfucking, liferuining, coldhearted, son of a bitch.. it made the small smile on his lips, stretch even more.
his own parent's were afraid of him. now that's not an everyday thing.
as he was walking down the stairs, to enter the first floor of his house, he scanned the pictures that were up on the wall. not ever, did he notice them. he slightly raise his big black eyebrow, and stared at them sickenly. he picked one off the frame, and looked at the two brothers standing there. hand in hand, and an ocean in the clear view of the background. he narrowed his piercing eye's slowly before slamming the picture into the wall. breaking the memories, that were closely forgotten.
not failing to smash, and pull every photo off the staircase wall; he stopped at one. staring wide eye at the picture. two boys, one slightly taller then the other. limbs wrapped around ones neck, and hands wrapped around ones waist. facing eachother, and lips colliding. the background was dark, but the fireworks were in clear view of the sky. alot of people behind them, but they stood out. he glared at it, licking his lips.
remembering the sweet taste of alcohol, that came off the boys lips. the way their lips moved in synch with eachothers, how they perfectly matched. how everyone thought they were wrong, for falling for the same sex. but in his case. he was wrong. wrong on so many levels, and that made his smile, turn into a smirk.
picking up the picture up carefully off it's frame, he gently brushed the photo of where his love was standing. his features then turned rough, and his smirk went more into a devilish crooked smile. his face had changed in a blink of a second. eye's widening, he through the picture, against the door and screamed out in pain. although he wouldn't admit it. it was pain.
he straightened himself up, before hovering to the front door. leaving the place he travelled through, full of broken glass and crinkled up pictures. he grabbed the door handle, and pushed the wooden door forward before heading out into the darkness that is, 1.27a.m.
---
he was clutching onto the steering wheel, of his '67, chevy impala - more or less, his baby. roming around the baltimore street's at night, was something he was known for. sleep all day, party all night? well. not exactly party. but still. his thoughts over powered his mind, when he drove past the park. he smiled slightly, remembering everything, and nothing at the same time. but shrugging it off as, he kept his eye's on the road.
he went to grabbed his phone, as he realised that it was smashed, against the wall back at his house. he chuckled without humor; at how many times, he's done that. and gotten new phones. shaking his head, he peered up again. his eye's burning through every car that went past.
he pulled in at a graveyard, too close to his house. stepping out, in just skinny jeans and a top; the coldness didn't bother him. the breeze from the wind, who would've made anyone drop to there knee's and beg for a sweater, made him feel wanted. he made his way through the eerie, smelly, dead parts of baltimore. searching for what he was looking for, he saw dead flowers on everyones gravestones. it looked like no one had been here for years, the way this was going. and as cold as he was. he thought it was pathetic.
he walked slowly, around the left side of the 4/5th graveyard and his eye's scanned everywhere, but making a stop at where his was made. kicking the gravestones, that were in the way, and stepping on the flowers with all force as he made his way to his destination.
' Jack Bassam Barakat.
June 18th, 1988 - December 1st, 2007.
Beloved Son Of Joyce and Bassam Barakat.
And Dearly Missed Partner Of Alex Gaskarth.
Rest In Peace.'
his eyebrow's knotted together as his icey cold fingers traced his name. he knew why he had a hole in his heart. he knew why his soul was black, and why he was a heartless monster. he knew why he put everyone around him through misery and pain.. and it was all because of this. a tear trickled down his cheek, as his features softened. no one, and he knew for a fact, NO ONE could replace this person who use to mean so much to him. NO ONE could fill up the emptiness in his body, NO ONE could help him. and frankly, EVERYONE new that.
no one could save him now, he was far too gone for anything to happen. and honestly, that didn't bother him one bit. being alone didn't bother him either. he was so use to it, that it was now his way of life. he licked his lips slowly, as his eye's scanned the red and white roses placed everywhere around the grave. he could see the tear stains on them, quite clearly.
he looked at the pictures around the grave, one of himself, zack, rian and jack. he frowned upon the picture. seeing them all wear bright pink booty shorts, guitars in there hands and drumsticks in rians. the stupid ass bandana he use to wear, and jacks old skunk hair. he looked down for a moment, taking a few deep breaths before he looked up again.
another picture was of his family and himself. he was wearing a goofy grin, the one that always use to make him smile. but now, it just drove a dagger through his heart. his eye's caught attention of the last photo. it was bigger then the other and had about 4 photos surrounding it.
he froze as he saw what were up there. five photos of them two.. five photos of them two together.. five photos of them two being happy. one was them as kids, at christmas. jack was holding up a brand new homealone video, and alex had his first guitar. they were sitting next to eachother, arms around them smiling like fucking idiots.
the next one was them in middle school, he was dressed up as batman as jack was dressed up as spiderman. it was halloween. his forever, and ever favorite holiday. his eye's averted from the picture staring at the one next to it. it was the junior dance, jack was wearing the big white and blue ass tux. and he had two beers in his hands. him, on the other hand; had his leg over jack, and looked like he was about to get laid.
he searched for the last one, as his eye's grew wider. it reconized the picture anywhere. it was the very last picture they took together. they were cuddled up on the couch, his head in the crook of jacks neck, and jacks arm around him. a blanket covering there bodies, and they faces were blank, as they were sleeping. he knotted his eyebrows together, widing his eye's to the fact of what he was doing, he sniffled abit.
he sigh internally, wiping away the pathetic water that was sliding down his cheeks. he doesn't cry. he never crys. and not for something so stupid, like this. his eye's filled with rage, turning bloodshot as he glared at the cleary marked gravestone. the place that held the remains of him. his face hardening as if it was the only face he knew; and his eye's darted pitch black. with his lip twitching on the side.
"fuck you, barakat."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~