(no subject)
Title: Aquae
Pairing: None
Rating: PG
Summary: The Paramour is a living thing. Sometimes, when he’s asleep, Gerard can hear it breathing. In, out, in, out. It’s soft, it’s silent, and he wonders if he’s the only one who can hear it (if he’s going crazy).
Disclaimer: You think I own them? Look at your life, look at your choices.
Frank is getting a new tattoo that day. Gerard said the night before that he thought tattoos could wait; I thought we had agreed not to leave The Paramour, he said, not even considering that there is someone missing from the house already. That absence haunts Gerard, too. Every action does. Every time he wakes up and climbs down the stairs for breakfast (a breakfast he manages not to eat), it means something. It has to be something bigger than him, because he is too small for the world, and he can’t hold the message inside.
The lead singer’s idea is to make something larger than anything else he has seen before, not in terms of success but in terms of the message. His kids need something explicit, a pair of wings to stitch to their backs to keep flying. Gerard doesn’t think of failure, for this record. It is something he doesn’t even consider, because it comes from the deepest, darkest, most honest part of his soul, and honesty is always appreciated.
When Gerard says “You can’t leave today,” to Frank, that’s honesty, too. The older man knows that without another of his brothers, he isn’t going to make it. Two hours, two days, two weeks; it doesn’t even matter. The house has too many souls inside - bad souls - and he needs his band - his brothers, his life - to fight against them.
The Paramour is a living thing. Sometimes, when he’s asleep, Gerard can hear it breathing. In, out, in, out. It’s soft, it’s silent, and he wonders if he’s the only one who can hear it (if he’s going crazy). It speaks to him, not in a straight way (he’s not going crazy), but it makes his free will work… Differently. It makes him want things that he shouldn’t want. Things that are dangerous, life-threatening. The house can’t hurt him, and it knows, but it can make Gerard want to hurt himself, like he never has before.
Frank doesn’t pay attention to his request. “You’ll be fine,” he says. And Gerard forces himself to believe him, and lets Frank go when he promises “I’ll be back in three hours.”
*
Mikey didn’t say he would be back, and his brother doesn’t expect him to, at this point. He convinces himself that if Mikey’s going to quit the band, then it is for good. Even if deep down in his stomach Gerard has the feeling he’s not going to make it, like he swallowed a thousand pills but in the opposite way (they’re not making him numb, but aware), he doesn’t say anything. Instead, The Paramour talks, and he listens carefully, so carefully it looks like he’s not listening. So carefully that maybe the house won’t know that he sees the point, maybe too well. Maybe she’s right. Maybe, this is the time for them all to quit.
Gerard can only think of one way to quit and it involves the feeling he’s been having, becoming real. The pills going down his dry, aching throat, and not enough water. Never enough water. So Gerard pretends he’s not listening. He’s good at pretending.
*
Once Frank is gone, Gerard runs to Ray and Bob like a scared kid looking for his parents. Ray is explaining something about music to Bob, and Gerard doesn’t get it (did he, ever?). Maybe it’s just the lack of sleep. “Can we go to bed now?” he whispers, expecting them both to grab him and take him to a room. They do. Of course they do. Ray and Bob lay with him in the king sized bed, hugging him, and Gerard feels like he’s nine again. He’s having nightmares, and Mikey, outside the room, outside of that awful world, is safe, while him, the older one, the one’s who’s supposed to be brave, he’s drowning in his world.
Gerard has always blamed New Jersey for that. He wasn’t allowed to play outside because it was too dangerous, so he just had to make up his own world inside his head. The problem with Gerard is, though, his imagination has no limits, and if it does, he hasn’t found them yet, not even with his life at risk, not even inside a house that’s trying to kill them. Another thing that was his idea in the first place.
When he falls asleep, he’s still wrapped around his friends’ arms, sweating and breathing heavily, fearing something that he can’t point out, but he knows it’s there. Keeping an eye on him. Whispering horrendous things that he can’t shake out of his head, no matter how much he tries to think happy thoughts.
*
When Gerard wakes up, Bob and Ray are not there. No one else is. The house is silent. He calls their names (even Mikey’s) a couple of times before he realizes he’s alone in there. His own voice echoes in the walls, and comes back distorted. It’s saying something, again. It’s whispering. Gerard keeps talking because he doesn’t know what it is, what his subconscious is trying to tell him, and if he should listen to it or not. “Guys, are you around?” he repeats as he climbs down the stairs, and no voice comes back. Just that whisper. Pleading, desperate. And he can finally hear it, and understand.
Pool. Too hot. Burning.
It’s reasonable enough, so Gerard nods. Now that he thinks about it, it is hot. He is burning under his skin; his blood is boiling and it’s not exactly rage. It’s fear. He can’t take it anymore.
He’s not entirely conscious when he gets out of the house, and he doesn’t need to be. He walks around it, barefoot, freezing. Gerard hates February, because it’s such a cold, boring month. Yet again, he’s going to die in that month, and he’ll always be associated with it, when people think of him. In a way, it’s okay. February is blue, it’s sad, it’s monotonous. It will represent well the circumstances of his death; how he was feeling when he did it.
The pool’s enormous, the biggest one Gerard has ever seen, and when he steps on the thin layer of ice on top of the water, he can hear it crack, too loudly, until it gives in, and Gerard disappears under it. He finally wakes up, takes a deep breath, and it all goes to his lungs. It’s so cold that it feels like it’s stabbing him, his throat, and his insides. He realizes this is not what he wants, but he can’t get out of the water. He can’t even move.What are the others going to think? Gerard doesn’t mean to leave them, didn’t mean to leave them. It’s just a mistake.
Gerard’s barely conscious when two hands pull him out of the water, and he’s crying. The burning sensation isn’t inside anymore, but rolling down his cheeks as he struggles for breath and tries to open his eyes to see who has saved him. Gerard recognizes the voice long before he opens his eyes. “I said I’d be back, soon, I said I would,” Frank says, breathing heavily, like he’s gasping for air too. Gerard has the feeling he’s not the only one who’s crying. He ignores how cold he is and clings onto Frank, closing his eyes.
*
That night when Gerard wakes up, the temperature, for the first time in weeks, is okay. He doesn’t have to put a jacket on or take off his shirt. He isn’t sweating or shivering. He just is. He walks to the bathroom to brush his teeth, to maybe go downstairs, and get food. He hasn’t eaten in what feels like months, but it’s been just two or three days.
Gerard stares at his reflection, and for the first time, it stares back, alive, and more powerful than ever.
“I’m still me,” he says.
Pairing: None
Rating: PG
Summary: The Paramour is a living thing. Sometimes, when he’s asleep, Gerard can hear it breathing. In, out, in, out. It’s soft, it’s silent, and he wonders if he’s the only one who can hear it (if he’s going crazy).
Disclaimer: You think I own them? Look at your life, look at your choices.
Frank is getting a new tattoo that day. Gerard said the night before that he thought tattoos could wait; I thought we had agreed not to leave The Paramour, he said, not even considering that there is someone missing from the house already. That absence haunts Gerard, too. Every action does. Every time he wakes up and climbs down the stairs for breakfast (a breakfast he manages not to eat), it means something. It has to be something bigger than him, because he is too small for the world, and he can’t hold the message inside.
The lead singer’s idea is to make something larger than anything else he has seen before, not in terms of success but in terms of the message. His kids need something explicit, a pair of wings to stitch to their backs to keep flying. Gerard doesn’t think of failure, for this record. It is something he doesn’t even consider, because it comes from the deepest, darkest, most honest part of his soul, and honesty is always appreciated.
When Gerard says “You can’t leave today,” to Frank, that’s honesty, too. The older man knows that without another of his brothers, he isn’t going to make it. Two hours, two days, two weeks; it doesn’t even matter. The house has too many souls inside - bad souls - and he needs his band - his brothers, his life - to fight against them.
The Paramour is a living thing. Sometimes, when he’s asleep, Gerard can hear it breathing. In, out, in, out. It’s soft, it’s silent, and he wonders if he’s the only one who can hear it (if he’s going crazy). It speaks to him, not in a straight way (he’s not going crazy), but it makes his free will work… Differently. It makes him want things that he shouldn’t want. Things that are dangerous, life-threatening. The house can’t hurt him, and it knows, but it can make Gerard want to hurt himself, like he never has before.
Frank doesn’t pay attention to his request. “You’ll be fine,” he says. And Gerard forces himself to believe him, and lets Frank go when he promises “I’ll be back in three hours.”
*
Mikey didn’t say he would be back, and his brother doesn’t expect him to, at this point. He convinces himself that if Mikey’s going to quit the band, then it is for good. Even if deep down in his stomach Gerard has the feeling he’s not going to make it, like he swallowed a thousand pills but in the opposite way (they’re not making him numb, but aware), he doesn’t say anything. Instead, The Paramour talks, and he listens carefully, so carefully it looks like he’s not listening. So carefully that maybe the house won’t know that he sees the point, maybe too well. Maybe she’s right. Maybe, this is the time for them all to quit.
Gerard can only think of one way to quit and it involves the feeling he’s been having, becoming real. The pills going down his dry, aching throat, and not enough water. Never enough water. So Gerard pretends he’s not listening. He’s good at pretending.
*
Once Frank is gone, Gerard runs to Ray and Bob like a scared kid looking for his parents. Ray is explaining something about music to Bob, and Gerard doesn’t get it (did he, ever?). Maybe it’s just the lack of sleep. “Can we go to bed now?” he whispers, expecting them both to grab him and take him to a room. They do. Of course they do. Ray and Bob lay with him in the king sized bed, hugging him, and Gerard feels like he’s nine again. He’s having nightmares, and Mikey, outside the room, outside of that awful world, is safe, while him, the older one, the one’s who’s supposed to be brave, he’s drowning in his world.
Gerard has always blamed New Jersey for that. He wasn’t allowed to play outside because it was too dangerous, so he just had to make up his own world inside his head. The problem with Gerard is, though, his imagination has no limits, and if it does, he hasn’t found them yet, not even with his life at risk, not even inside a house that’s trying to kill them. Another thing that was his idea in the first place.
When he falls asleep, he’s still wrapped around his friends’ arms, sweating and breathing heavily, fearing something that he can’t point out, but he knows it’s there. Keeping an eye on him. Whispering horrendous things that he can’t shake out of his head, no matter how much he tries to think happy thoughts.
*
When Gerard wakes up, Bob and Ray are not there. No one else is. The house is silent. He calls their names (even Mikey’s) a couple of times before he realizes he’s alone in there. His own voice echoes in the walls, and comes back distorted. It’s saying something, again. It’s whispering. Gerard keeps talking because he doesn’t know what it is, what his subconscious is trying to tell him, and if he should listen to it or not. “Guys, are you around?” he repeats as he climbs down the stairs, and no voice comes back. Just that whisper. Pleading, desperate. And he can finally hear it, and understand.
Pool. Too hot. Burning.
It’s reasonable enough, so Gerard nods. Now that he thinks about it, it is hot. He is burning under his skin; his blood is boiling and it’s not exactly rage. It’s fear. He can’t take it anymore.
He’s not entirely conscious when he gets out of the house, and he doesn’t need to be. He walks around it, barefoot, freezing. Gerard hates February, because it’s such a cold, boring month. Yet again, he’s going to die in that month, and he’ll always be associated with it, when people think of him. In a way, it’s okay. February is blue, it’s sad, it’s monotonous. It will represent well the circumstances of his death; how he was feeling when he did it.
The pool’s enormous, the biggest one Gerard has ever seen, and when he steps on the thin layer of ice on top of the water, he can hear it crack, too loudly, until it gives in, and Gerard disappears under it. He finally wakes up, takes a deep breath, and it all goes to his lungs. It’s so cold that it feels like it’s stabbing him, his throat, and his insides. He realizes this is not what he wants, but he can’t get out of the water. He can’t even move.What are the others going to think? Gerard doesn’t mean to leave them, didn’t mean to leave them. It’s just a mistake.
Gerard’s barely conscious when two hands pull him out of the water, and he’s crying. The burning sensation isn’t inside anymore, but rolling down his cheeks as he struggles for breath and tries to open his eyes to see who has saved him. Gerard recognizes the voice long before he opens his eyes. “I said I’d be back, soon, I said I would,” Frank says, breathing heavily, like he’s gasping for air too. Gerard has the feeling he’s not the only one who’s crying. He ignores how cold he is and clings onto Frank, closing his eyes.
*
That night when Gerard wakes up, the temperature, for the first time in weeks, is okay. He doesn’t have to put a jacket on or take off his shirt. He isn’t sweating or shivering. He just is. He walks to the bathroom to brush his teeth, to maybe go downstairs, and get food. He hasn’t eaten in what feels like months, but it’s been just two or three days.
Gerard stares at his reflection, and for the first time, it stares back, alive, and more powerful than ever.
“I’m still me,” he says.