a fic about why brandon flowers loves the hove festival, and why he keeps coming back
crossfire
gerard way/brandon flowers
~1,700 words
i own nothing but the mac i've been writing this shit on. worlds needs more bflow/gway. just sayin.
a short story about a love affair between brandon flowers and gerard way, the birth of crossfire. a hot summer night on the idyllic hove festival and why brandon keeps coming back there.
they would so make a good couple.
Quoted in Q Magazine, lead singer Brandon Flowers of The Killers picked Hove 2007 as his best ever festival experience, and described his first meeting with the Norwegian summer as "mind-blowing" and "incredible moving".
Brandon walks off the stage with a huge grin, the screams from around eight thousand fans ringing in his ears as he wipes sweat off his forehead and sets off to watch Bright Eyes. He realizes his mouth feels dryer than the fucking wasteland in Vegas though, so he tells the rest of the band he'll catch up with them, because he needs something to drink. The sun is setting, and there's smiles on everyones faces, and he grins to himself as he grabs a bottle of water, drinking a generous amount. He's about to throw the nearly empty bottle of water when someone bumps into him. "Oh shit," a man says, "sorry dude, didn't see you there." He looks up, and Brandon realizes there's something familiar with the apple-shaped face and pointy nose. The man probably recognizes him too, because he grins and says, "Brandon Flowers, right? Man, what a great show." He holds out his hand for Brandon to take, and he does, shaking it firmly. "Gerard Way." Oh, right. Lead singer of My Chemical Romance. "I know who you are," Brandon blurts and the man - Gerard Way - grins. The tiny teeth, Brandon decides, gives him a very boyish look although the man is like, thirty.
"You on your way to see Bright Eyes too?" he asks, motioning towards the woods as he pulls a pack of cigarette out of his ridiculously tight pants. Brandon nods, and before he knows it they're walking towards the sound of music together. They walk in silence, Gerard regularly blowing out puffs of smoke. Brandon realizes he hasn't really listened to his band before, and he feels kind of stupid, because Gerard's obviously listened to his.
They watch the show from the side of the stage, exchanging approving nods. Brandon finds himself following Gerard off the stage before the set ends, and back at the backstage area they can see the sun already rising. "Fuck, that's beautiful," he says and Gerard looks at him. "Yeah," he agrees, lighting up another smoke. His pocket vibrates and he realizes he forgot all about his bandmates. The message is from Dave.
didnt c u @ bright eyes. we r going back to the hotel.
Brandon doesn't really know why, but there's something about Gerard that makes him want to spend more time with him, so he finds himself replying, saying not to stay up and wait for him. "So, what brings you here so early? I thought you weren't playing until Saturday?"
Gerard smiles, nodding. "Yeah, that's true. But we had some free time on our hands and we figured why not get here early? So many great bands playing." Brandon silently agrees, he would definitely stay the entire week if he had the chance; the Norwegian summer is like nothing he's seen before. Mind-blowing and moving. The clock is ticking, and it's passed one AM, but there's still people running around, the second day of the festival is far from over.
Brandon feels like there's some kind of magnetic power linking him to Gerard, and he can't find himself to leave him just yet. He suggest they go for a walk, and Gerard happily agrees and after ten minutes of slow walking, they're down by the beach, the rays of sun gently starting to touch the cool water. Brandon turns to ask Gerard about his band, out of curiosity and courtesy, but before he gets that far Gerard's lips is on his. He responds immediately, his hand coming up to touch the back of Gerard's neck for support as their teeth clash together, forgetting all about his pregnant wife at home.
"So it wasn't just me, then," Gerard pants when the kiss ends, and Brandon just shakes his head, in loss of words. "I don't know about you, but I want-"
"I do," Brandon says urgently, licking his lips. "If you're suggesting what I think you are." Gerard kisses him chastely, and nods.
Before Brandon can even think it all through, Gerard's fixed transportation for them back into town. They walk separately into the hotel, meeting each other in the elevator, taking it up to the fourth floor instead of the third; where the room Brandon shares with Ronnie is. Gerard leads him to his room, assuring him he's rooming by himself.
They start kissing again as soon as the door is closed and locked, their lips meeting in a frenzy. Brandon's hands automatically goes for Gerard's blazer, pushing it off his broad shoulders, revealing yet another layer of black clothing. They stumble together towards the bed, their lips locked, shedding more and more layers of clothing on the way.
"I didn't really expect this to happen so I came a little unprepared, so this will have to do," Gerard murmurs as he pulls out a small tube of hand lotion from his suitcase. "I don't have any condoms so I just have to trust you not to carry anything, I know I'm not."
Brandon nods, he's not carrying anything, he knows that. He's had a steady and loyal relationship for several years, and as he thinks of that there's a small tinge of guilt building up in his chest, but he pushes it away, just like he pushes his religious beliefs aside. He has to go through with this, the attraction - or whatever it is - between them is too strong to ignore even if he wanted to.
Gerard lays down on the bed, his fingers slick with lotion as he guides his own fingers to his hole, starting to prepare himself for what's next. Brandon doesn't really find the action itself hot, but the moans emerging from Gerard's mouth is, and the faces he pulls is enough to drive Brandon mad.
After five minutes or so, Gerard pulls him on top of him. He reaches for the lotion, squirting some onto his hand and slicking up Brandon's rock hard cock. Gerard grabs his dick, and guides it to his ass, urging him to push in. And when he does, Brandon loses track of everything.
He's pretty sure every-fucking-one on the hotel can hear their screams of pleasure as they nearly come in union, Gerard first, then Brandon. He collapses on top of him, breathing hard and ragged against the soft skin on Gerard's cheek. He doesn't want to pull out, right now, he wants to be one with Gerard forever. He realizes that sounds fucking stupid, but the connection between them is so deep, he can't even manage to put it into words. It just comes out as incoherent mumbles when he tries, but somehow Gerard understands as he nods and just kisses him.
As his cock grows soft he does have to pull out though, so he does, the cool air hitting his dick hard. He snuggles close to Gerard for warmth and pulls the soft sheets tight around their bodies. They kiss for a little while, but it's nearly three AM and Brandon can't deny that he's tired. After some time, Brandon's breathing evens out and he's sleeping, his legs tangled with Gerard's under the cotton sheets.
When Brandon wakes up it's raining heavily outside, dark clouds rolling in over town, Gerard still sleeping peacefully beside him. The clock says 7:23 and he knows he's leaving within a few hours, although right now he doesn't want to. Gerard stirs, groaning slightly. He looks up at Brandon and smiles. "I don't even know what to say, but somehow I don't think I have to."
"Some things are too good to put into words," Brandon agrees as Gerard slips out of bed, starting to dress as Brandon watches. When they're both fully dressed Brandon realizes it's time for him to leave soon, and a he can feel a dull ache in the pit of his stomach, and it feels just like heartache. And it's just like Gerard knows, because then he's there, trying to kiss the pain away. For a minute it works, until there's a buzz in Brandon's pants. He has to leave.
Brandon spends five minutes kissing Gerard goodbye, knowing this is probably a one-time thing, although he knows he, and probably Gerard too, wants to carry this on. He nearly throws up when he arrives at the tour buss waiting for him.
*
Brandon spends the rest of the tour trying to put words on what he feels for Gerard, he can't though. It's too hard. He hasn't heard from Gerard yet, but he figures he's struggling with the feelings, too. Brandon had his manager find out what Gerard's e-mail address is, so it's not like he can't write to him. He just doesn't know what to write.
A couple of years later, Brandon is back at the Hove Festival in Norway. He still hasn't written to Gerard, and still he hasn't heard anything. The connection is still there, he can feel it every time his mind wanders back to that night. But with a kid, and another just around the corner he just can't bring himself to do anything about it. Besides, Gerard is married too now, and his wife gave birth to a daughter this spring. Despite that, there's no denying of what he felt and still feels, something in the pit of his stomach tells him Gerard is still feeling it, too.
He's back at the hotel, having booked the same room he and Gerard shared. He sits on the bed, notebook and pen in his hand, writing furiously. Finally, he's putting some of it into words, and it's turning into a song. He's writing a song for Gerard before he even realizes it.
He puts the song on his solo record a year later, and the same night as he performs it at the festival it all began, Gerard writes him an e-mail.
thank you.
That's all the e-mail says, but Brandon understands and he wants to write back, wants to hear his voice, wants to feel his sweaty skin under his fingers, but that's all that needs to be said. At least for now.
~fin
ps. i obviously took the liberty to pretend mcr had no shows between the date the killers performed at hove to the date they had their own show there. hope you liked it.
gerard way/brandon flowers
~1,700 words
i own nothing but the mac i've been writing this shit on. worlds needs more bflow/gway. just sayin.
a short story about a love affair between brandon flowers and gerard way, the birth of crossfire. a hot summer night on the idyllic hove festival and why brandon keeps coming back there.
they would so make a good couple.
Quoted in Q Magazine, lead singer Brandon Flowers of The Killers picked Hove 2007 as his best ever festival experience, and described his first meeting with the Norwegian summer as "mind-blowing" and "incredible moving".
Brandon walks off the stage with a huge grin, the screams from around eight thousand fans ringing in his ears as he wipes sweat off his forehead and sets off to watch Bright Eyes. He realizes his mouth feels dryer than the fucking wasteland in Vegas though, so he tells the rest of the band he'll catch up with them, because he needs something to drink. The sun is setting, and there's smiles on everyones faces, and he grins to himself as he grabs a bottle of water, drinking a generous amount. He's about to throw the nearly empty bottle of water when someone bumps into him. "Oh shit," a man says, "sorry dude, didn't see you there." He looks up, and Brandon realizes there's something familiar with the apple-shaped face and pointy nose. The man probably recognizes him too, because he grins and says, "Brandon Flowers, right? Man, what a great show." He holds out his hand for Brandon to take, and he does, shaking it firmly. "Gerard Way." Oh, right. Lead singer of My Chemical Romance. "I know who you are," Brandon blurts and the man - Gerard Way - grins. The tiny teeth, Brandon decides, gives him a very boyish look although the man is like, thirty.
"You on your way to see Bright Eyes too?" he asks, motioning towards the woods as he pulls a pack of cigarette out of his ridiculously tight pants. Brandon nods, and before he knows it they're walking towards the sound of music together. They walk in silence, Gerard regularly blowing out puffs of smoke. Brandon realizes he hasn't really listened to his band before, and he feels kind of stupid, because Gerard's obviously listened to his.
They watch the show from the side of the stage, exchanging approving nods. Brandon finds himself following Gerard off the stage before the set ends, and back at the backstage area they can see the sun already rising. "Fuck, that's beautiful," he says and Gerard looks at him. "Yeah," he agrees, lighting up another smoke. His pocket vibrates and he realizes he forgot all about his bandmates. The message is from Dave.
didnt c u @ bright eyes. we r going back to the hotel.
Brandon doesn't really know why, but there's something about Gerard that makes him want to spend more time with him, so he finds himself replying, saying not to stay up and wait for him. "So, what brings you here so early? I thought you weren't playing until Saturday?"
Gerard smiles, nodding. "Yeah, that's true. But we had some free time on our hands and we figured why not get here early? So many great bands playing." Brandon silently agrees, he would definitely stay the entire week if he had the chance; the Norwegian summer is like nothing he's seen before. Mind-blowing and moving. The clock is ticking, and it's passed one AM, but there's still people running around, the second day of the festival is far from over.
Brandon feels like there's some kind of magnetic power linking him to Gerard, and he can't find himself to leave him just yet. He suggest they go for a walk, and Gerard happily agrees and after ten minutes of slow walking, they're down by the beach, the rays of sun gently starting to touch the cool water. Brandon turns to ask Gerard about his band, out of curiosity and courtesy, but before he gets that far Gerard's lips is on his. He responds immediately, his hand coming up to touch the back of Gerard's neck for support as their teeth clash together, forgetting all about his pregnant wife at home.
"So it wasn't just me, then," Gerard pants when the kiss ends, and Brandon just shakes his head, in loss of words. "I don't know about you, but I want-"
"I do," Brandon says urgently, licking his lips. "If you're suggesting what I think you are." Gerard kisses him chastely, and nods.
Before Brandon can even think it all through, Gerard's fixed transportation for them back into town. They walk separately into the hotel, meeting each other in the elevator, taking it up to the fourth floor instead of the third; where the room Brandon shares with Ronnie is. Gerard leads him to his room, assuring him he's rooming by himself.
They start kissing again as soon as the door is closed and locked, their lips meeting in a frenzy. Brandon's hands automatically goes for Gerard's blazer, pushing it off his broad shoulders, revealing yet another layer of black clothing. They stumble together towards the bed, their lips locked, shedding more and more layers of clothing on the way.
"I didn't really expect this to happen so I came a little unprepared, so this will have to do," Gerard murmurs as he pulls out a small tube of hand lotion from his suitcase. "I don't have any condoms so I just have to trust you not to carry anything, I know I'm not."
Brandon nods, he's not carrying anything, he knows that. He's had a steady and loyal relationship for several years, and as he thinks of that there's a small tinge of guilt building up in his chest, but he pushes it away, just like he pushes his religious beliefs aside. He has to go through with this, the attraction - or whatever it is - between them is too strong to ignore even if he wanted to.
Gerard lays down on the bed, his fingers slick with lotion as he guides his own fingers to his hole, starting to prepare himself for what's next. Brandon doesn't really find the action itself hot, but the moans emerging from Gerard's mouth is, and the faces he pulls is enough to drive Brandon mad.
After five minutes or so, Gerard pulls him on top of him. He reaches for the lotion, squirting some onto his hand and slicking up Brandon's rock hard cock. Gerard grabs his dick, and guides it to his ass, urging him to push in. And when he does, Brandon loses track of everything.
He's pretty sure every-fucking-one on the hotel can hear their screams of pleasure as they nearly come in union, Gerard first, then Brandon. He collapses on top of him, breathing hard and ragged against the soft skin on Gerard's cheek. He doesn't want to pull out, right now, he wants to be one with Gerard forever. He realizes that sounds fucking stupid, but the connection between them is so deep, he can't even manage to put it into words. It just comes out as incoherent mumbles when he tries, but somehow Gerard understands as he nods and just kisses him.
As his cock grows soft he does have to pull out though, so he does, the cool air hitting his dick hard. He snuggles close to Gerard for warmth and pulls the soft sheets tight around their bodies. They kiss for a little while, but it's nearly three AM and Brandon can't deny that he's tired. After some time, Brandon's breathing evens out and he's sleeping, his legs tangled with Gerard's under the cotton sheets.
When Brandon wakes up it's raining heavily outside, dark clouds rolling in over town, Gerard still sleeping peacefully beside him. The clock says 7:23 and he knows he's leaving within a few hours, although right now he doesn't want to. Gerard stirs, groaning slightly. He looks up at Brandon and smiles. "I don't even know what to say, but somehow I don't think I have to."
"Some things are too good to put into words," Brandon agrees as Gerard slips out of bed, starting to dress as Brandon watches. When they're both fully dressed Brandon realizes it's time for him to leave soon, and a he can feel a dull ache in the pit of his stomach, and it feels just like heartache. And it's just like Gerard knows, because then he's there, trying to kiss the pain away. For a minute it works, until there's a buzz in Brandon's pants. He has to leave.
Brandon spends five minutes kissing Gerard goodbye, knowing this is probably a one-time thing, although he knows he, and probably Gerard too, wants to carry this on. He nearly throws up when he arrives at the tour buss waiting for him.
*
Brandon spends the rest of the tour trying to put words on what he feels for Gerard, he can't though. It's too hard. He hasn't heard from Gerard yet, but he figures he's struggling with the feelings, too. Brandon had his manager find out what Gerard's e-mail address is, so it's not like he can't write to him. He just doesn't know what to write.
A couple of years later, Brandon is back at the Hove Festival in Norway. He still hasn't written to Gerard, and still he hasn't heard anything. The connection is still there, he can feel it every time his mind wanders back to that night. But with a kid, and another just around the corner he just can't bring himself to do anything about it. Besides, Gerard is married too now, and his wife gave birth to a daughter this spring. Despite that, there's no denying of what he felt and still feels, something in the pit of his stomach tells him Gerard is still feeling it, too.
He's back at the hotel, having booked the same room he and Gerard shared. He sits on the bed, notebook and pen in his hand, writing furiously. Finally, he's putting some of it into words, and it's turning into a song. He's writing a song for Gerard before he even realizes it.
He puts the song on his solo record a year later, and the same night as he performs it at the festival it all began, Gerard writes him an e-mail.
thank you.
That's all the e-mail says, but Brandon understands and he wants to write back, wants to hear his voice, wants to feel his sweaty skin under his fingers, but that's all that needs to be said. At least for now.
~fin
Click to viewps. i obviously took the liberty to pretend mcr had no shows between the date the killers performed at hove to the date they had their own show there. hope you liked it.