mcfly-slash ... Fairytale gone bad
i had a killer-weekend. in the time-span of maybe 8 hours tops i met patrick and pete from fall out boy and billy talent. had no sleep though and was well dead. so it's actually a surprise that i could write this one here.
Title: Fairytale gone bad
Author: me … who else, eh?
Rating: PG-13 for the usual no-no word and some sexual innuendos
Chapter: 1/1 … Standalone
Genre: Drama
Pairing: PoynterJones … or well it could be whoever/whoever except for Harry but I thought of PonyterJones so that’s what it is.
Summary: Tell them it’s me who made you sad … tell them the fairytale gone bad.
Disclaimer: Nah, not true.
Dedication: Cazzabum and everyone
Author’s note: Still occupied in my new project, I thought it was time for a little standalone again. This one is based on "Fairytale gone bad" by Sunrise Avenue (listen to it!) and the final two lines are shamelessly nicked from the song. And please don't hit me for wrong tenses yeah? I simply am useless when it comes to grammar.
I’m sorry I did this to you. Seriously, I really am, even though you might not believe it.
I really didn’t mean to hurt you like that. I actually don’t even know what I meant to do, I just had to do something. And suddenly everything sort of had a mind of its own and when I started to realise that, it was too late. Way too late.
You see, I had gotten to a point where I had no idea what to do anymore. Things between us had been going downhill so rapidly. And all of a sudden everything we seemed to do with and around each other was fighting. Fighting about niggly things that weren’t worth fighting over in the first place. We screamed and shouted at each other and at the end of it, there were always the tears.
But no tears ever helped. No matter how much you, me, or both of us cried. No matter how much we comforted each other after our fights had taken the teary peak again, as soon as the tear-staines had vanished and our eyes had been dried, the uncomfortable feeling was right back again.
I don’t even know how we had gotten this far. What had caused that change in our relationship. Maybe we were just too close, spent too much time with each other. Think about it, when was the last time we both did something on our own? Yeah right, I can’t remember either.
All I knew was that I couldn’t be with you anymore. At least not like that. But I couldn’t split up with you. No matter what I said to you when we were fighting, I loved you. I loved you too much to split up with you and break your heart more than I did during all our fights.
I thought about leaving. Just like that, in the middle of the night while you were still sleeping, disappearing for a couple of days. But I couldn’t stand the thought of you waking up in an empty bed and throughout the day slowly realising that I had left you without even leaving a bloody note. Not that a note would have changed anything anyway.
No, in order to split up with you I needed you to hate me. You needed to split up with me, not the other way round. You’d still be hurt but it’d be for different reasons. You’d be too busy hating me to grief over the end of our relationship.
Believe me, I’m not proud of what I did. I planned it all out but that doesn’t mean that I’m proud of what resulted in the end.
I knew you were over to visit your mum and I knew you’d be back home in the evening. And I knew that this was the only chance I had.
I can’t even remember the name of the guy I picked up at the pub. Hell, I don’t even remember his fucking face or what we spoke about. He meant less than nothing to me but still, he was my only way out.
We were already half-naked when you called, leaving a message on the answering machine, saying you’d be on your way home now. I remember that guy wondering about me having a boyfriend and urging to hurry up so we wouldn’t get caught. I must have told him some rubbish about your way home being long and that we had all the time in the world.
We were in the middle of shameless outright fucking. I had him bent over on the couch, thrusting into him for everything I was worth. He urged me on to go harder, faster, and oh did I oblige.
And suddenly you were standing in the room, letting out nothing but a shocked gasp. You looked at us for just a few seconds but those seemed to stretch on forever before you turned away, heading straight for our bedroom.
When you slammed the door, the reality of everything caught up on me. I now realised what I had done, what I had just lost. What I most certainly would never get back.
I didn’t bother about the guy, he could have turned into smoke at that very second for all I cared. I just grabbed my boxers from the floor, hastily put them on, before heading after you.
You shoved clothing into a bag, mine not yours. You saw me enter but didn’t say anything, just continued the packing with more rush and force. And I only stood there, staring dumbly, not saying a word.
I know I should’ve told you that what you had just seen was of no meaning. That my senses had abandoned me.
I didn’t say a bloody thing though, just let you do what you did, shoving everything that was mine into that one bag.
That was what I had wanted. You hated me. Obviously you did, since you hadn’t so much as looked at me after you’d seen me fucking that guy on the couch. I knew that I had finally gone too far and that you now finally didn’t want to be around me anymore. I had reached the goal that I had been aiming for.
I felt more horrible than I ever have before.
Was this what I wanted all along? All I wanted was us to be individuals again. I wanted to stop the fighting, the insults and, most of all, the tears.
But I saw the look on your face when you shoved the closed bag in my arms before you went to lock yourself into the bathroom until I left. And that’s when I knew I had only made things so much worse. I didn’t stop any tears, just opened even more floodgates.
And I should have followed you. I should have banged the fucking bathroom door down, begging for your forgiveness, stopping your tears from falling. I should have told you that I loved you because that’s what I did, that’s what I still do.
Instead I held the bag and went back into the by now deserted living room and put my clothes back on while letting everything that had happened replay in my mind again. I once more looked around the room, taking everything in. Then I took my keyring from the coffee table, pulling the key of the flat off it and leaving it behind before I left.
The whole incident is a while ago now and still, I feel miserable for what I did. You’re not in the best of moods either, no surprise. I don’t think that seeing each other pretty much every day does much to help but what else could we do? The band’s our responsibility, we couldn’t let it split up with us too, it wouldn’t have been fair to anyone involved.
They all know we split up though we never said a word. Or maybe you did and I just didn’t, I don’t know. But they can tell anyway. Either because we both look like being the living death or because we can’t even breathe in the other one’s direction.
Another band-practise had just passed and I’m laying on the couch in our rehearsal room, my recent home. I’m staring at the ceiling, willing away the look of hurt you had on your face for the whole day. It won’t work.
We had been going through a new song today. A song I wrote about letting go. A song I wrote to you, which of course I hadn’t spoken out loud, asking you to finally let go of me so you could live on your life and eventually be happy again.
You deserve to be happy. Just not with me because no matter how hard I will try, I could never make you happy. Maybe for a month or two but then the whole mess would just start all over again.
You should get yourself someone new, someone who appreciates you much more than I ever could.
Maybe you already have.
I see the looks you exchange with Harry. I know he’s always loved you from the heart and believe me, he’d rip me into pieces and fed me to the animals at the zoo if he could for what I did to you. And from the way you look at him I can tell you begin to wonder if he is the one who can help you move on, move away from me.
I know he is. Harry is your key to happiness, you just have to grab for it. There isn’t a solution for me in this one but there is for you. Harry is your solution.
The others blame me for everything. For the tension that is hanging thick in the room once we’re all together. They blame me for stealing your smile, for robbing you off the glint in your once so bright eyes. They’d never say it but from their looks I can tell they do.
And you know what? They’re right. It is my fault entirely. And if I could take it back, I would. Only, it wouldn’t help at all. Sooner or later we would’ve split up anyway. I just chose to take the brutal way instead of letting realisation slowly and painfully creep upon all of us.
Please, you have to hate me. Do it for the both of us. Because I think if you will be able to hate me, you will be able to get over me. And maybe, in the far future, we might even be able to talk to each other again like the friends we used to be.
Hate me for what I did to you, for what I did to the band. Hate me for breaking you apart, for shattering all the dreams you had about a fairtytale romance.
You can tell the world what I did to you. You can tell them what you saw that night. Hell, scream it from a rooftop if you want to. Tell them that you think I am the biggest scumbag walking the face of the earth.
Tell them it's me who made you sad …
tell them the fairytale gone bad.
The End
Comments are appreciated
PoynterJones Standalone
Title: Fairytale gone bad
Author: me … who else, eh?
Rating: PG-13 for the usual no-no word and some sexual innuendos
Chapter: 1/1 … Standalone
Genre: Drama
Pairing: PoynterJones … or well it could be whoever/whoever except for Harry but I thought of PonyterJones so that’s what it is.
Summary: Tell them it’s me who made you sad … tell them the fairytale gone bad.
Disclaimer: Nah, not true.
Dedication: Cazzabum and everyone
Author’s note: Still occupied in my new project, I thought it was time for a little standalone again. This one is based on "Fairytale gone bad" by Sunrise Avenue (listen to it!) and the final two lines are shamelessly nicked from the song. And please don't hit me for wrong tenses yeah? I simply am useless when it comes to grammar.
I’m sorry I did this to you. Seriously, I really am, even though you might not believe it.
I really didn’t mean to hurt you like that. I actually don’t even know what I meant to do, I just had to do something. And suddenly everything sort of had a mind of its own and when I started to realise that, it was too late. Way too late.
You see, I had gotten to a point where I had no idea what to do anymore. Things between us had been going downhill so rapidly. And all of a sudden everything we seemed to do with and around each other was fighting. Fighting about niggly things that weren’t worth fighting over in the first place. We screamed and shouted at each other and at the end of it, there were always the tears.
But no tears ever helped. No matter how much you, me, or both of us cried. No matter how much we comforted each other after our fights had taken the teary peak again, as soon as the tear-staines had vanished and our eyes had been dried, the uncomfortable feeling was right back again.
I don’t even know how we had gotten this far. What had caused that change in our relationship. Maybe we were just too close, spent too much time with each other. Think about it, when was the last time we both did something on our own? Yeah right, I can’t remember either.
All I knew was that I couldn’t be with you anymore. At least not like that. But I couldn’t split up with you. No matter what I said to you when we were fighting, I loved you. I loved you too much to split up with you and break your heart more than I did during all our fights.
I thought about leaving. Just like that, in the middle of the night while you were still sleeping, disappearing for a couple of days. But I couldn’t stand the thought of you waking up in an empty bed and throughout the day slowly realising that I had left you without even leaving a bloody note. Not that a note would have changed anything anyway.
No, in order to split up with you I needed you to hate me. You needed to split up with me, not the other way round. You’d still be hurt but it’d be for different reasons. You’d be too busy hating me to grief over the end of our relationship.
Believe me, I’m not proud of what I did. I planned it all out but that doesn’t mean that I’m proud of what resulted in the end.
I knew you were over to visit your mum and I knew you’d be back home in the evening. And I knew that this was the only chance I had.
I can’t even remember the name of the guy I picked up at the pub. Hell, I don’t even remember his fucking face or what we spoke about. He meant less than nothing to me but still, he was my only way out.
We were already half-naked when you called, leaving a message on the answering machine, saying you’d be on your way home now. I remember that guy wondering about me having a boyfriend and urging to hurry up so we wouldn’t get caught. I must have told him some rubbish about your way home being long and that we had all the time in the world.
We were in the middle of shameless outright fucking. I had him bent over on the couch, thrusting into him for everything I was worth. He urged me on to go harder, faster, and oh did I oblige.
And suddenly you were standing in the room, letting out nothing but a shocked gasp. You looked at us for just a few seconds but those seemed to stretch on forever before you turned away, heading straight for our bedroom.
When you slammed the door, the reality of everything caught up on me. I now realised what I had done, what I had just lost. What I most certainly would never get back.
I didn’t bother about the guy, he could have turned into smoke at that very second for all I cared. I just grabbed my boxers from the floor, hastily put them on, before heading after you.
You shoved clothing into a bag, mine not yours. You saw me enter but didn’t say anything, just continued the packing with more rush and force. And I only stood there, staring dumbly, not saying a word.
I know I should’ve told you that what you had just seen was of no meaning. That my senses had abandoned me.
I didn’t say a bloody thing though, just let you do what you did, shoving everything that was mine into that one bag.
That was what I had wanted. You hated me. Obviously you did, since you hadn’t so much as looked at me after you’d seen me fucking that guy on the couch. I knew that I had finally gone too far and that you now finally didn’t want to be around me anymore. I had reached the goal that I had been aiming for.
I felt more horrible than I ever have before.
Was this what I wanted all along? All I wanted was us to be individuals again. I wanted to stop the fighting, the insults and, most of all, the tears.
But I saw the look on your face when you shoved the closed bag in my arms before you went to lock yourself into the bathroom until I left. And that’s when I knew I had only made things so much worse. I didn’t stop any tears, just opened even more floodgates.
And I should have followed you. I should have banged the fucking bathroom door down, begging for your forgiveness, stopping your tears from falling. I should have told you that I loved you because that’s what I did, that’s what I still do.
Instead I held the bag and went back into the by now deserted living room and put my clothes back on while letting everything that had happened replay in my mind again. I once more looked around the room, taking everything in. Then I took my keyring from the coffee table, pulling the key of the flat off it and leaving it behind before I left.
The whole incident is a while ago now and still, I feel miserable for what I did. You’re not in the best of moods either, no surprise. I don’t think that seeing each other pretty much every day does much to help but what else could we do? The band’s our responsibility, we couldn’t let it split up with us too, it wouldn’t have been fair to anyone involved.
They all know we split up though we never said a word. Or maybe you did and I just didn’t, I don’t know. But they can tell anyway. Either because we both look like being the living death or because we can’t even breathe in the other one’s direction.
Another band-practise had just passed and I’m laying on the couch in our rehearsal room, my recent home. I’m staring at the ceiling, willing away the look of hurt you had on your face for the whole day. It won’t work.
We had been going through a new song today. A song I wrote about letting go. A song I wrote to you, which of course I hadn’t spoken out loud, asking you to finally let go of me so you could live on your life and eventually be happy again.
You deserve to be happy. Just not with me because no matter how hard I will try, I could never make you happy. Maybe for a month or two but then the whole mess would just start all over again.
You should get yourself someone new, someone who appreciates you much more than I ever could.
Maybe you already have.
I see the looks you exchange with Harry. I know he’s always loved you from the heart and believe me, he’d rip me into pieces and fed me to the animals at the zoo if he could for what I did to you. And from the way you look at him I can tell you begin to wonder if he is the one who can help you move on, move away from me.
I know he is. Harry is your key to happiness, you just have to grab for it. There isn’t a solution for me in this one but there is for you. Harry is your solution.
The others blame me for everything. For the tension that is hanging thick in the room once we’re all together. They blame me for stealing your smile, for robbing you off the glint in your once so bright eyes. They’d never say it but from their looks I can tell they do.
And you know what? They’re right. It is my fault entirely. And if I could take it back, I would. Only, it wouldn’t help at all. Sooner or later we would’ve split up anyway. I just chose to take the brutal way instead of letting realisation slowly and painfully creep upon all of us.
Please, you have to hate me. Do it for the both of us. Because I think if you will be able to hate me, you will be able to get over me. And maybe, in the far future, we might even be able to talk to each other again like the friends we used to be.
Hate me for what I did to you, for what I did to the band. Hate me for breaking you apart, for shattering all the dreams you had about a fairtytale romance.
You can tell the world what I did to you. You can tell them what you saw that night. Hell, scream it from a rooftop if you want to. Tell them that you think I am the biggest scumbag walking the face of the earth.
Tell them it's me who made you sad …
tell them the fairytale gone bad.
The End
Comments are appreciated
PoynterJones Standalone