Episodes 1/10
Title: Episodes
Chapter: One
Author:
citricpepper
Pairing: Gerard Way/Brian Schechter
Rating: R/NC-17
POV: Second Gerard/Brian, switches in every chapter
Summary: There are so many sides of a relationship, to find them out, you just have to look closely
Disclaimer: Although this was based in real facts and real people, I do not own or profit from the characters in this story. Don't sue, don't kill. The plot, however, is mine. Steal and I will both sue and kill you.
Warnings: Swearing, strong content, mature themes, references to drugs and suicide, graphic sex, Eliza Cuts
Dedications: Life on the murder scene for helping me with the plotline and the most amazing beta-reader in the world,
gee4president
EPISODES
Episode 1: Rock Bottom For Two (July/2004)
Brian
You remember when you saw him. You remember it as vividly as if you were living it now, because you’d never felt so damn relived in all your life. He was pale as a ghost, in awful shape, as unhealthy as anyone could look- dark locks greasy, eyes dazed and empty. But still he was alive and at the time that was all that mattered to you.
The week before that day, you experienced pure hell. You were half a country away from My Chem, praying to the skies everything would be okay -or as okay as possible- when you came back. At those times, you were always startled and stressed, waiting for an emergency call at any minute. Still, you were also used to Gerard drinking like he was. Simply because he shut you out… he shut everyone out. He was utterly lost into his own poisoned world, and you, the manager, just didn’t wanna be the intruder, you didn’t wanna be a dick. You understood his reasons, and above all you understood him. You weren’t his father; you had absolutely no right to be preaching to him about anything. He was just a kid, an overgrown, rejected teenager, dealing with fame and a pressure most grown-ups couldn’t bare, with money enough to afford his outrageous lifestyle. You let him get on with it. You have to admit you even neglected him a little. You surely tried to talk to him a few times but when he raised his left hand at you, telling you he was just fine you shook it off and let him be. And that’s exactly why on that week, when those goddamn 5 Am phone calls started, with a completely wasted Gerard crying out desperately to you, you felt so guilty, useless and ashamed. You asked yourself over and over again if you had paid enough attention, you tortured your morals by feeding the idea that it was your obligation to notice the real dimension of his problem, you even wondered whether introducing The Used to My Chem had just made things worse, letting Bert contaminate the older Way with his self-destructive lifestyle. Gerard, the fruity outcast, the musical genius, the breath-taking writer, the Halloween rock god, the artist, the kid with an incredible stage presence, the one who you admired so solidly, had always been, by far, the favorite one on the ‘kids you manage’ list. You were fascinated by his glow, his fiery energy and you beat yourself up over the fact that you didn’t do enough when you saw it burning out.
On that week you became a zombie yourself. You couldn’t focus on work, you were even harsh to Bert. All you could think about was coming back and keeping Gerard from falling deeper than he already had. More than the band, more than fact that Matt was out, more than the fact that Gerard’s voice was turning into trash on stage, more than MCR falling apart from the booze; there was this kid- confused and depressed and your responsibility. Gerard had reached rock bottom. And he had reached it just when your hands were tied up by the distance.
You remember the first time he called, completely stoned, voice breaking, telling you he was scared, lost and confused. You remember you even felt honored that he had looked to you, simply the manager, to open himself and not his band mates. He could have done it to anyone, but of all people, he chose you. The genius had elected you to be his wonder wall.
Still, you thought you were gonna die of a heart attack when you heard your cell phone go off at that time, always alert and alarmed, because a part of you was always waiting for very bad news at any second. He talked, you listened. He told you everything. He poured his soul out to you between scared lines and chokes. At some point in your conversations, you’d always start crying silently, because really, it was just too sad. He told you about not being able to control his urge for booze for a long time, he told you about his need to get away, he told you all about his fears, and you swore you could almost see exactly how he buried his head in his hands and said, lips quivering to the phone ‘It’s not only booze and pills… It’s cocaine too.’ He forced the reality you avoided right down your fucking throat with his slurred, teary confessions.
And when he realized the worst; that he had a very solid, serious problem, he broke down completely. He’d call you sobbing his heart out and you remember his voice, his pleas, his heartbreaking sentences. ‘I don’t want that, Brian, I swear, I don’t wanna fuck it up, god, I just wanna run away…’ or ‘Brian, please forgive me, I never meant to… I’m so weak, I wish it had never happened… I’m fucking cutting it out, Brian, I need it all out of me…’. It tore you apart in an unexplainable way. You couldn’t go there to keep him from doing anything stupid, but sitting down and listening nearly killed you.
And the worst was when he called for the last time; his voice just so different, electric, erratic, breathless, claiming he didn’t wanna live for another second, just to witness his dreams falling apart by his fault. You had to fucking talk him out of it, and god, it was one of the hardest things you’ve ever done in your whole life. You were seriously afraid of failing him and yourself. You knew if you did, you’d just have to kill yourself to, as a way of punishment for your uselessness. You talked to him, drifted away by so many different drugs in such an absurd amount, for two hours straight on, before calling Jerry and waiting, walking from one side of the room to the other, for his call. And he called, he said they took a walk, Gerard was okay, passed out in his bunk and he said he wanted to be clean and sober.
You shook faintly for hours after that, cursing yourself for everything to no end. You still needed to see Gerard alive to assume it was true. You needed that visual irreversible truth, because the chaos and shock you went through was too overwhelming.
And that’s why when you saw him, so fucking worn out, three days after the almost tragic morning, you can still remember every trace of that moment. Because you felt like it was not only Gerard who was being re-born; but also you.
comments, please? they make me smile a lot :)