Alone In A Crowded Room [1/1?]
Title ;; Alone In A Crowded Room
Author ;; notmadeof_steel
Rating ;; PG, PG-13, MAYBE R
Pairing ;; Gerbert [Gerard & Bert] && Frank/Gerard
Summary ;; He looks a whole jumble of emotions that kills Bert inside, his heart dropping to the floor, rolling down the steps and out into the parking lot where hundreds of cars can roll over it until he can't feel anymore. Bert wants to shake Gerard and shout at him, stock
off to kill Frank, roll up into a ball and cry, and then kiss Gerard. It's tearing him in all directions, so he does the only thing he can;
he smiles and laughs.
Author's note ;; Hey, it's my first EVER slash, not to mention
my first Gerbert baby. So...be cruel and nice? Heheh. And I WISH I owned
these two... :)
Wild drops of hot water splash everyone on the moving tour bus as Bert shakes his head in a whirl of red and black hair with brown roots. He laughs at Quinn who wipes his face off with a horrid look, and he assures the blonde that it’s clean water. He’s got a towel wrapped around his neck, but it might as well be a noose for the life he’s gotten himself into.
Music has become his all. His first thought in the morning is the play list he has for his iPod, for the show that day, for the radio on the bus. At lunch he’s humming new rifts, thinking over notes and words that, by themselves, aren’t that bad, but put together in his songs are the saddest thing, the angriest thing, the happiest thing you’ve ever heard. But, between these thoughts of music and songs and notes and choruses, there’s another lead singer who’s wrestled his way into The Used front man’s head. He’s also associated with music; singing, laughing musically, waving his next tune for Bert to read.
And Bert’s sick of this playing they’ve been doing. Stupid kisses for the cameras, who decide that it’s funny and cute, but what it really is, is Gerard Way toying with his friend’s heart and he doesn’t even know it. But, despite how much this hurts Bert, he still giggles oddly and pecks him on the cheek. It’s annoying to want to cry whenever he stops kissing Gerard, or when they give interviews together and make a joke out of it all.
“Yo, Bert?” Quinn Allman pokes his fellow Mormon in the stomach, leaning closer and setting down the controller to the XBox that was provided on the tour bus. “Bert!” he shouts again, and the front man snaps to, sitting up and glancing around. The scenery outside was a bit dull as the dark blue sky fell closer to the ground like a blanket, fluorescent lighting radiating from the gas station they had parked at.
“We’re stopping for a break. You’ve been sitting there for three hours, man.” And Quinn looks concerned, like he wants to know exactly what’s plaguing his best friend, but he’s a little afraid to ask. He extends a hand but Bert lightly pushes him away to show that he’s fine-at least, physically.
Taking the steps two at a time, Bert almost physically winces as he sees that the My Chemical Romance tour bus has pulled in before them, but he only falters in step and continues walking, tucking his hands safely in the pockets of his long black shorts. He lets his stringy black hair fall in his face and he tries to avoid looking at the other band, but it’s impossible to ignore his name being shouted across the deserted parking lot.
“Bert! Crack! Robert!”
A hand grips into his shoulder, and Bert slowly turns, swallowing the lump in his throat. He smiles, relieved when it’s only Frank Iero, the eccentric and energetic guitarist. “You gone deaf or something man?” Frankie jokes, throwing his full arm around the younger man’s shoulder. “Gerard’s on the bus, he wants to talk with you.” He threw a thumb over his shoulder and patted Bert’s back, jogging to leap on Bob Bryar’s back, making Bob shout in anger and surprise.
So, as slowly as he can, Bert walks to the steps of My Chem’s tour bus and knocks lightly on the black plastic door. He almost turns back around and answers the look he know Frank will give him with a, “He must not have heard me.” But before he can even swivel in his shoes, the door pops open and Bert’s all but dragged inside by Gerard.
The Used singer is tempted to ask, “What are you, high?” but considering the older Way’s past history, he just bites his lip and smiles fakely. “Yo, Gerard, need something?” He wants this over as quickly as it can be, so he can go back to his bus and hope that he’ll never see those beautiful eyes again, and face the fact that the tour’s not over yet.
Gerard’s face is lit up like a handsome Christmas tree with a gothic appeal, forgotten eye liner wearing out from under one eye and a bit of red smeared over his face from his eye shadow. “I’ve been in my bunk all day, writing, and...Well, Bert, you’re my best friend and I can’t tell anyone else...”
These words should have made Bert swell with pride, a warm feeling in his chest, but now it only irritated him beyond belief, and he wondered vaguely if The Used tour bus had razor blades supplied on it. “Go on, I’m here for ya!” Bert smiled encouragingly, tucking away all this inane torture for when he could cry about it at night with everyone else listening when he assumed they were asleep.
“I didn’t write a song at all, which was what I actually intended to do...” Gerard held now a worn piece of notebook paper with his own artwork on the front, and he held it close to his chest like it was of value and importance. Then he thrust it outward and took a shaky breath. “It’s a letter, and it...well, it’s for Frank.” He hitches his voice, like he has really thought this over and has a reply for every comment that he could get. “I know that he’s got Jamia, and he’s probably as straight as a board, but...I just had to, man!”
He looks a whole jumble of emotions that kills Bert inside, his heart dropping to the floor, rolling down the steps and out into the parking lot where hundreds of cars can roll over it until he can’t feel anymore. Bert wants to shake Gerard and shout at him, stock off to kill Frank, roll up into a ball and cry, and then kiss Gerard. It’s tearing him in all directions, so he does the only thing he can; he smiles and laughs.
“Gee, I’m sure it’s going to be perfect, really. Tell me after you give him this, I’ve just gotta take a leak.”
He tries not to feel bad when Gerard’s face momentarily falls, but, he argues with himself that’s he’s given a little allowance because, this is the man who broke his heart without knowing it. Bert shoves the older man’s letter back and gives a large grin. “Really, you’re enough to turn any guy gay, Gerard.” And he dashes off the bus and back onto his own, where he curls up into his bunk and wishes that he had kissed Gerard all along.
[Okay, so? How was it, yo? If you post enough comments I might make this a series, but for now it's standalone. Comments are teh shmex! PS;; extra prize for the person who can tell me the song the title came from!]
Author ;; notmadeof_steel
Rating ;; PG, PG-13, MAYBE R
Pairing ;; Gerbert [Gerard & Bert] && Frank/Gerard
Summary ;; He looks a whole jumble of emotions that kills Bert inside, his heart dropping to the floor, rolling down the steps and out into the parking lot where hundreds of cars can roll over it until he can't feel anymore. Bert wants to shake Gerard and shout at him, stock
off to kill Frank, roll up into a ball and cry, and then kiss Gerard. It's tearing him in all directions, so he does the only thing he can;
he smiles and laughs.
Author's note ;; Hey, it's my first EVER slash, not to mention
my first Gerbert baby. So...be cruel and nice? Heheh. And I WISH I owned
these two... :)
Wild drops of hot water splash everyone on the moving tour bus as Bert shakes his head in a whirl of red and black hair with brown roots. He laughs at Quinn who wipes his face off with a horrid look, and he assures the blonde that it’s clean water. He’s got a towel wrapped around his neck, but it might as well be a noose for the life he’s gotten himself into.
Music has become his all. His first thought in the morning is the play list he has for his iPod, for the show that day, for the radio on the bus. At lunch he’s humming new rifts, thinking over notes and words that, by themselves, aren’t that bad, but put together in his songs are the saddest thing, the angriest thing, the happiest thing you’ve ever heard. But, between these thoughts of music and songs and notes and choruses, there’s another lead singer who’s wrestled his way into The Used front man’s head. He’s also associated with music; singing, laughing musically, waving his next tune for Bert to read.
And Bert’s sick of this playing they’ve been doing. Stupid kisses for the cameras, who decide that it’s funny and cute, but what it really is, is Gerard Way toying with his friend’s heart and he doesn’t even know it. But, despite how much this hurts Bert, he still giggles oddly and pecks him on the cheek. It’s annoying to want to cry whenever he stops kissing Gerard, or when they give interviews together and make a joke out of it all.
“Yo, Bert?” Quinn Allman pokes his fellow Mormon in the stomach, leaning closer and setting down the controller to the XBox that was provided on the tour bus. “Bert!” he shouts again, and the front man snaps to, sitting up and glancing around. The scenery outside was a bit dull as the dark blue sky fell closer to the ground like a blanket, fluorescent lighting radiating from the gas station they had parked at.
“We’re stopping for a break. You’ve been sitting there for three hours, man.” And Quinn looks concerned, like he wants to know exactly what’s plaguing his best friend, but he’s a little afraid to ask. He extends a hand but Bert lightly pushes him away to show that he’s fine-at least, physically.
Taking the steps two at a time, Bert almost physically winces as he sees that the My Chemical Romance tour bus has pulled in before them, but he only falters in step and continues walking, tucking his hands safely in the pockets of his long black shorts. He lets his stringy black hair fall in his face and he tries to avoid looking at the other band, but it’s impossible to ignore his name being shouted across the deserted parking lot.
“Bert! Crack! Robert!”
A hand grips into his shoulder, and Bert slowly turns, swallowing the lump in his throat. He smiles, relieved when it’s only Frank Iero, the eccentric and energetic guitarist. “You gone deaf or something man?” Frankie jokes, throwing his full arm around the younger man’s shoulder. “Gerard’s on the bus, he wants to talk with you.” He threw a thumb over his shoulder and patted Bert’s back, jogging to leap on Bob Bryar’s back, making Bob shout in anger and surprise.
So, as slowly as he can, Bert walks to the steps of My Chem’s tour bus and knocks lightly on the black plastic door. He almost turns back around and answers the look he know Frank will give him with a, “He must not have heard me.” But before he can even swivel in his shoes, the door pops open and Bert’s all but dragged inside by Gerard.
The Used singer is tempted to ask, “What are you, high?” but considering the older Way’s past history, he just bites his lip and smiles fakely. “Yo, Gerard, need something?” He wants this over as quickly as it can be, so he can go back to his bus and hope that he’ll never see those beautiful eyes again, and face the fact that the tour’s not over yet.
Gerard’s face is lit up like a handsome Christmas tree with a gothic appeal, forgotten eye liner wearing out from under one eye and a bit of red smeared over his face from his eye shadow. “I’ve been in my bunk all day, writing, and...Well, Bert, you’re my best friend and I can’t tell anyone else...”
These words should have made Bert swell with pride, a warm feeling in his chest, but now it only irritated him beyond belief, and he wondered vaguely if The Used tour bus had razor blades supplied on it. “Go on, I’m here for ya!” Bert smiled encouragingly, tucking away all this inane torture for when he could cry about it at night with everyone else listening when he assumed they were asleep.
“I didn’t write a song at all, which was what I actually intended to do...” Gerard held now a worn piece of notebook paper with his own artwork on the front, and he held it close to his chest like it was of value and importance. Then he thrust it outward and took a shaky breath. “It’s a letter, and it...well, it’s for Frank.” He hitches his voice, like he has really thought this over and has a reply for every comment that he could get. “I know that he’s got Jamia, and he’s probably as straight as a board, but...I just had to, man!”
He looks a whole jumble of emotions that kills Bert inside, his heart dropping to the floor, rolling down the steps and out into the parking lot where hundreds of cars can roll over it until he can’t feel anymore. Bert wants to shake Gerard and shout at him, stock off to kill Frank, roll up into a ball and cry, and then kiss Gerard. It’s tearing him in all directions, so he does the only thing he can; he smiles and laughs.
“Gee, I’m sure it’s going to be perfect, really. Tell me after you give him this, I’ve just gotta take a leak.”
He tries not to feel bad when Gerard’s face momentarily falls, but, he argues with himself that’s he’s given a little allowance because, this is the man who broke his heart without knowing it. Bert shoves the older man’s letter back and gives a large grin. “Really, you’re enough to turn any guy gay, Gerard.” And he dashes off the bus and back onto his own, where he curls up into his bunk and wishes that he had kissed Gerard all along.
[Okay, so? How was it, yo? If you post enough comments I might make this a series, but for now it's standalone. Comments are teh shmex! PS;; extra prize for the person who can tell me the song the title came from!]