"He could not throw everything away for love. That would've been stupid."
Title: Holding On [sequel to Quiet Things] (1/3)
Author: icanwaitforever
Pairing: Pierre/David obviously
Rating: As a whole, NC-17 though it's pretty PG-13 this chapter.
POV: Third
Summary: Pierre gets the inspiration to write the song Holding On.
Warnings: Cursing and a little bit of boy kissing and touching.
Disclaimer: Don't own either of them or Simple Plan's other bandmembers and songs, please don't sue. I am a poor college student with no money.
Dedication: For Rissa and Matt.
Author Notes: The song Holding On on the new Simple Plan CD pretty much screams P/D to me, ever since the first time I heard it, for a LOT of reasons. This is my take on the reason to why it was written. This is the sequel to The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows, a fic I posted back I think in...February? They're two seperate fics, but this is a continuation of that story. I got a bunch of requests to continue it, so here it is! I hope none of you are disappointed.
Maybe it was all a dream.
That's what David was hoping for when he felt the familiarity of stiring from sleep, the events between him and Pierre hours before still on his mind. It could've been a dream. It all happened so fast and it felt too foreign, to unrealistic to have actually occured. Maybe the bassist had imagined the entire thing, a concequence for the lack of sleep he had been applying himself with lately. Like a mirage, only he wasn't in the middle of a desert and seeing a body of water, no, he was dreaming about fucking Pierre Bouvier.
If he could only have been so lucky.
He groaned, eyelids already at half mast into squints and he had just opening his eyes seconds prior. The room was too bright. He was still on the floor, knees against his chest and back against the wall and he hurt. His body ached all over and maybe he would've been able to pin all of the pain from the way he was sitting, the way he had fallen asleep, but his ass hurt too and he knew the obvious reason why. Trying to move was something that should've been an easy task to accomplish, but at the moment it seemed like the hardest thing in the world for him to do. Struggling with himself for a few moments, David decided to just sit there until someone tried to call him or knock on his hotel room door to get ahold of him. Didn't they have press stuff to do that day? David couldn't remember if that was on the agenda or if it was something else, something to do with the writing of their upcoming album. He still needed to put down some bass tracks and look over lyrics that Chuck had written for another song in the works. Everyone always got to share their opinion.
But none of that seemed appealing at all at that moment. All David wanted to do was sit there against the wall and cry. That was easier said than done, though, David felt like he couldn't even cry anymore. Everything was let out that night. His cheeks were still covered with the tears that dried against them as he fell asleep in a tight ball, the heavy eyeliner beneath his eyes smudged way past the corners. He reached up to rub at his closed eyelids, trying to rid the sleep and the hurt from them, but neither was accomplished. Opening his eyes fully, the irises adjusted to the light of the room and he looked down at his hands, coal from the make up smeared across his fingers.
At that moment it was safe to say that David was pretty sure that he looked like shit.
----
"Where the fuck is David?!"
Chuck had requested for everyone to be down in the lobby of the hotel by the latest ten o'clock AM and everyone had obliged, but only four of the band members stood there (plus Patrick, as usual filming the scene). The drummer was fuming. It had passed ten a half hour ago and David still wasn't showing up. He knew that the bassist took forever to get ready most of the time, but this was ridiculous.
"Diva D..." Sebastien mumbled quietly, a hint of a smile at the corners of his lips since it was an attempt at a joke and Jeff let out a snicker, but they both stopped thinking it was funny when they were met with a death glare from Chuck.
Pierre however, was at the other side of the lobby, leaning back against the countertop of the check in with his hands in his pockets and his head hanging low. This was all of his fault and he fucking knew it. His insides were turning and he was pretty sure that throwing up was going to be inevitable, it was bound to happen by the end of the day. he didn't even know what was going to happen. Of course, he automatically thought the worst and pictured the elevator door opening and David walking out with all of his suitcases declaring that it was time for him to leave the band. Pierre wasn't stupid, he knew David was broken and beyond repair and not happy with his life anymore and the reason for all of that was because of him. Every day that he saw how miserable the bassist was, it ate away at him inside. At first he didn't care, he was too stupid to notice and focused all of his emotions on Lachelle to pay attention to how badly he broke the other down. Lachelle deserved it though, didn't she? She deserved all of the love in the entire world considering when Pierre first got together with her, he was seeing David constantly behind her back.
By seeing he meant fucking.
Lachelle was gorgeous. Lachelle was sweet and funny and knew how to make Pierre smile almost as good as David knew how. Almost. She laughed at all of his stupid jokes and thought bathroom humor was the best humor around...how could he not be into a girl like her? Plus, the sex was amazing. She had a body to kill for and she was fantastic in bed. Not to mention she knew how to fucking party, how to hold her liquor down and one of the keys to the singer's heart was through alcohol. That was no secret. She was the perfect girl for Pierre. She was the perfect girl and Pierre had cheated on her non-stop for two years.
But the thing was...she wasn't David.
"Okay, so since all of us are standing here just waiting for David to come down and it's obviously not working out...I'm going to actually go up there and see what's the matter," Jeff's voice cut through the silence and Pierre's thoughts. The guitarist started to walk over to the elevator, but a ding was heard and the doors slid open. Lo and behold, the raven haired bassist stepped out and Pierre's head shot up to see him walk into the lobby. Chuck didn't even take a second before he started attacking him.
"David, what the fuck is wrong with you?! We're gonna be late for this interview because you couldn't get your ass down here fast enough--"
"Merde, Chuck," David cursed, snapping the words at the drummer's face when he got close enough. "Shut the fuck up. It's not for another hour and I'm down here and we're gonna be on fucking time so just chill, alright?"
Chuck could've seriously burned holes into the bassist the way that he was staring at him, but David continued walking till he was at the front of the lobby and exiting to get to where the van was.
"The first interview we've had in months about our upcoming album and David's just acting like it's no fucking big deal. God, I could just..." Running his hands through his hair in frustration, Chuck rambled to himself, muttering the end part of his sentence as he walked towards the doors as well. The rest of the band got the hint that it was time to go, following suit.
----
The interview went well, at least from the woman who was interviewing them's standpoint. Honestly, you could've probably cut the tension in the room with a knife. David suspected that the gallons of bleach she obviously used for her hair probably sunk in way past the roots and seeped into her brain. Typical blonde. Either that or she was just too stupid to notice that something definitely was not right. That was fine by the band though, this was after all about their new CD anyway and they needed to let people know that yes, they were still alive and no, the band did not break up. All of her questions had a sticky sweet feeling to them, her voice nasally when she spoke and her giggle had a high pitch whenever she thought something was funny. David suspected that she was forcing the laughs out.
He also suspected that she didn't give a damn about Simple Plan either, but whatever. That wasn't one of the qualifications she probably needed to get the job. One of the questions on the survey she probably filled out was definitely not "Do you like Simple Plan? Check yes or no." None of that mattered though, the whole point of this was so that the fans got a heads up with what was happening with them and their music.
David decided from that moment on that he did not like blondes. The interviewer definitely rubbed him the wrong way and in a strange way reminded him of Lachelle...though he couldn't hate Lachelle. She was too funny and nice and...non-threatening to be able to hate. He would always try to find a reason to hate her, but then she brought back David his favorite kind of sushi whenever she and Pierre had gone out to eat somewhere, or made sure that the bassist got shotgun whenever they were in the van and had to drive a long distance...because she knew he felt claustrophobic when sitting in the back. She even made him fucking soup and bought him medication whenever he got sick.
Because David Desrosiers was Pierre Bouvier's best friend.
And Lachelle Farrar was Pierre Bouvier's girlfriend.
He went to therapy shortly after the break up with Pierre. The bassist wouldn't dare tell a soul about it and it was all anonymous, but he had learned a few things from the visits...how to deal with his emotions. He did not hate Lachelle. The therapist told him to maybe focus and channel his anger on something else, something that he wouldn't end up hurting. He tried writing, he kept a diary in his suitcase and he jotted down a few notes about how he felt once in awhile, but that never really helped. David decided that the stupid blonde reporter would just have to deal with being the object of the bassist's anger. She made it easy, though.
"So did you and the singer really fuck around?"
The interview was over and David thought he was alone, making his way to the bathroom before leaving to go back to the hotel, but the bottle blonde reporter cut infront of him before he could actually get to where he wanted to go. Staring at her in horror, the words she said played in his ears on repeat like a broken record.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me...what's your name again?" She actually had to think for a moment and David curled his upper lip up in disgust. "Oh, yeah, David."
"First of all, that's just a rumor and and second of all, even if it did happen in some crazy fucked up universe, why the hell would I tell you anything?"
"I'm not as dumb as you think I am, sweetheart," she said with a wink and then she was gone. David watched as she turned on her heels and excited the hallway and fingernails dug into his palms from the fists he ended up making in anger. Kicking the door to the men's bathroom open, the bassist suddenly felt the need to just...go back to the hotel and lie down. Fuck pissing, he just...needed to leave. Now.
----
Why did it always feel like when shit just kept on happening to your life, it didn't stop until you actually hit rock bottom? David felt like every day he was digging a bigger hole for himself and people kept on shoving him into it. When he was pretty sure than he had hit the end of it all, it was like the ground was pulled from beneath his feet. He just wanted it to end already. Once it all stopped, there was nowhere to go but up. David just had to keep on reminding himself that. He'd be able to climb out of the hole he made for himself eventually. He had to think positive, as much of a struggle as that was for him.
The entire ride back to the hotel was in silence. Chuck was still pissed about how David almost didn't show for the interview that day, Pierre didn't know what to say after the previous night's events with the bassist and David...well...he just didn't want to deal with anyone or anything.
Once they were back and inside of the hotel, they went their seperate ways, David the only one actually going up to his room. Pierre watched him, with a heavy heart, enter the elevator from the inside of the lobby where he was waiting for Lachelle to show up. He had promised her that he'd take her out to lunch that day once they were back from the interview. The other four must've went to get something to eat as well, but the bassist was definitely not hungry. The doors slid closed and the singer couldn't see the bassist anymore, letting out the breath he didn't even realize that he had been holding in. Closing his eyes, he choked back a sob that was ready to escape his throat. Fuck. He was so stupid. He let David go, then fucked around with him a year later and he didn't expect any concequences? Was he really that stupid? He wasn't even drunk when he did it!
"Hey baby..."
Pierre was caught offguard as he felt slender arms wrap around his waist from behind and lips press against the back of his neck for a kiss and if he really tried, he could picture those body parts belonging to David, still remembering distinctly what it felt like when it was from him. It was Lachelle though and the singer swallowed hard at the lump that appeared in his throat before opening his eyes and turning around in the woman's arms.
"Hey you, are you ready to go?"
Of course she was. She looked absolutely stunning and Pierre guessed that it must've taken her more than an hour to get ready. A small smile tugged at his lips at the thought of David taking just as much time getting ready, remembering it driving him up the fucking wall back when they were together.
"So I bumped into David on the way down here," Lachelle's words made Pierre's thinking come to a halt and his heart stopped in his chest. Holy shit. His pulse picked up immedately and he automatically thought the worst. Did the bassist tell her what had happened the night before? Did she find out? This is what guilt must've felt like and the lump that was in Pierre's throat before found home there yet again.
"He seemed really upset about something so I think we should bring back some food for him later. It didn't look like he was going to get anything."
Pierre's heart went back to normal, the fear of getting caught evaporating immediately. He still felt guilty, even more than before, but he pushed those thoughts from his mind. Giving a small nod in agreement, he rested his arm around her waist and guided her to the doors.
"Yeah, we can do that. No problem."
----
Lying on his back on the hotel bed, David could feel himself sinking down into the soft mattress. He tried his best not to think about how less than twenty-four hours ago he wasn't occupying this bed alone, though when he got back the sheets were tucked in and the pillows were arranged neatly. It didn't smell like sex either, he noticed, when he first collapsed onto it. Someone had obviously come in and changed it.
"Wow, that must've been one hell of a lovely surprise for the cleaning lady," David's voice dripped sarcasm as he spoke outloud to himself.
For a few moments the bassist just stared up at the ceiling, starting to count the number of tiles that were there, but he eventually gave up since his mind was elsewhere. Why did he keep on getting put through this? He thought it ended so long ago and now it was back. It was like the wounds that had sliced him open a year ago had been reopened and cut deeper, salt pouring into them with each look the singer gave him. David wasn't blind, nor was he close to being stupid. Throughout the entire interview that day he could feel Pierre eyes burn into the back of his head, watching his every move and it made the bassist unbelievably uncomfortable. What the fuck was going to come next? Everything that was happening to him felt like blow after blow to his stomach and David even winced in pain as he lied there on the off-white sheets of the hotel bed.
After a moment he sighed, turning over to his side to pick up the journal he had placed on the nightstand next to the bed. He needed to let shit out.
----
About an hour and a half later, Pierre found himself standing at the door leading to David's hotel room. The singer was holding a plastic bag with food Lachelle had picked out for David at the place that they decided to get lunch and, of course, Pierre was the person who had to deliver. He couldn't exactly have said to Lachelle "no, you go do it since I just fucked him last night and I don't want things to be awkward."
So yes, this did leave the singer in quite a predicament. It left him standing outside of the door to David's hotel room.
It didn't have to be this hard, but it was. And it was the singer's fault, every single part of it. Why did he even chose Lachelle over David anyway? Because it was the safe route, he reminded himself and he shook his head in anger. Whoever came up with the saying 'better safe than sorry' should be shot...if they weren't already dead. Pierre had the right mind to find out, if this guy was dead, where his grave was so he could kick him around in it a bit. He hated himself. Now he regretted ever being with Lachelle in the first place. He did remember though that when him and David first started out...it was supposed to mean nothing but a good time and sex, but it grew into something so much more. Pierre had tried to not let it get to that point, but he couldn't stop it. More and more, as each day went by, he fell harder and harder for the bassist.
When he had met Lachelle three years prior, he didn't take it seriously. He went out with her, yes...slept with her, yes...but he did the same thing with David, just not...publicly. The bassist didn't mind though, he got it. He understood. He dated women too. The singer had stayed with Lachelle through the entire time and David had his on and off relationships, but soon Pierre found that he was in more of a committed relationship with Lachelle than David was ever with any of his girlfriends. The bassist always seemed to cut the relationships short right before things got too serious.
Pierre, on the other hand, found himself engaged.
There wasn't really one specific day that he woke up and said to himself 'oh, I love Lachelle, it's time to dump David now'. No. It was a series of events and days and weeks and months that went by that caused him to crack and crumble into the decision to break things off. Could he really see himself with a guy for the rest of his life? What would the fans say about it all? It could ruin Simple Plan, everything the both of them had worked so hard for. It was safe. Lachelle was safe and easy. David was danger and the unknown. The last thing Pierre could handle was not knowing what was going to happen to his life. He could not throw everything away for love. That would've been stupid.
But now...now he was turning everything over in his head and it was eating him up inside. What if he was still with David instead of Lachelle?
What if he was engaged to David?
---
"I'm gonna marry you one day."
David's words were sloppy and slurred as he stumbled over to the mirror that was on the dresser across from the bed. He was pretty drunk, but at least he was able to form coherent sentences and actually speak clear enough for Pierre to understand. Half naked, boxers riding low on his hips, the bassist leaned forward to look at his reflection in the mirror and gripped the side of the dresser so hard to keep from falling that his knuckles turned white. He laughed at what he saw, perfect emo hair disheveled from a round of sex, eyeliner smuged under glazed from alcohol eyes. Catching the other in the mirror's reflection as well, he smirked when their eyes met.
The singer was lying naked on the bed, actually sober since he had a marginally less amount of drinks in his system compared to David, but none-the-less was amused by the other's sudden revelation.
Tucking his hands behind his head, he sat up slightly, leaning against the headboard of the bed as a wide smile grew on his lips. "Oh really now?"
"Yes!" David spun around and almost lost his balance from the quick motion, knees buckling slightly and he grabbed at the dresser once more to keep his body from hitting the ground. Another burst of hysterical giggles fell from his lips and Pierre just grinned as he watched the scene. Once the twenty-four year old stopped his laughter, he licked at his lips and clumsily made his way back to the bed, plopping down where the singer's feet were. Falling back, David just turned his body to look in the direction of where the singer was sitting, black bangs covering his eyes, so he blew up to clear his vision. It was still blurry from all of the liquor he consumed, but at least he could actually see Pierre now. Hair spread out over the familiar sheets beneath the two of them, David just grinned drunkly.
"We are gonna get married and live happily ever after."
"And where exactly are we going to live?" Pierre asked, still thoroughly amused, eyebrows raised in question.
"Here! In Montreal! Duhhh..."
"Like there's any place that's better," Pierre said with a laugh, watching at the other tried to sit back up again but fell back twice during both attempts. The bassist just decided to lean back against his elbows when he used them to push himself up.
"Never!" Giving a toss of his hair at another attempt to make sure all of his hair was out of his eyes, David looked back at the singer and bit down on his lip ring in a grin. After he was able to see straight without things moving around, David managed to move his body up the bed more, going to straddle the singer's bare hips and reached up to wrap his arms around the singer's shoulders to keep himself steady. "And we're going to have kids." He pressed his forehead against Pierre's.
David could feel the singer's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but he saw the smile widen at his lips and that made another giggle errupt from his mouth.
"You've got it all figured out, don't you?"
"Yes. And their names are going to be Bob and Anna."
"A boy and a girl, eh? Why the fuck those names?"
"They're easy! I can remember them!"
With a loud laugh Pierre flipped over the both of them so that the bassist was pinned under him, legs still wrapped around his waist because the younger of the two was like a fucking leech and didn't want to let go. That was a-okay for the singer though and he rolled his hips down, erection rubbing against the clothed one beneath him. He didn't understand why David decided to put his boxers back on so quickly, but then again there were very few times that Pierre ever really understood the man beneath him. Letting out a low moan, David's hips swayed back up and he leaned his body up to press a kiss to the singer's lips.
"So you'll be taking my last name, right?" Pierre asked teasingly against the other's lips, teeth tugging at the lip ring before pulling away.
"Fuck no! In you're dreams, Bouvier. I will always be a Desrosiers!"
"Maybe we can compromise." Reaching up with one of his hands, the singer traced over David's bottom lip, playing with the metal in the center of it. The bassist noticably shivered under his touch and they locked eyes. "We can mix them." David stared at him for a few moments, bright hazel eyes looking into Pierre's chocolate brown ones for a bit as he tried to register in his drunken state of mind what he meant.
"What?"
"We can be like...Pierre and David Desrouvier or something."
With a snort, David tried to dismiss the idea as a stupid one, but he couldn't help but close his eyes and not fight away the smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"Ridiculous."
"But it's a good idea."
"Juck fuck me already, Pierre."
----
Pierre smiled to himself as he remembered that night, never really taking David one-hundred percent serious at the time, though maybe he should've. It wouldn't really have changed anything though, he knew that and maybe he did have an inkling in the back of his mind during that time that the bassist wasn't just joking around. He wasn't even sure if he himself was just joking around.
David was piss drunk though, how could anyone take him seriously then?!
Rocking back and forth on his heels, the singer chewed on his bottom lip nervously, still eyeing the door he had yet to knock on.
"What the fuck, stop being such a pussy..." he scolded himself and reached up to finally give a few knocks. It didn't take long for the door to open (which surprised Pierre, but he didn't say anything about it) and the two of them stood there face to face. Silence crept over them for a few seconds, Pierre not knowing really what to say and David fighting the urge to slam the door in the his face and crawl back into the hotel bed to cry.
"Can I come in--"
"No."
"Well then I'm just going to stand out here with this food for you until you let me."
David eyed the bag in Pierre's hand and his stomach turned. He wasn't sure if it was from hunger or nausea, maybe a bit of both.
"Pierre, why are you here?" He couldn't prolong the question any further and David was pretty fucking sure the singer would not be standing in the doorway of his hotel room just to bring him food. He could've told Seb or Chuck or Jeff or even Patrick to go do it for him. The other looked away and David had to bite into his bottom lip from spitting out the word 'coward' at him.
"Can we...can we talk, David?"
The bassist weighed the pros and the cons of the situation in his head, thinking about how much worse he'd probably feel after Pierre would leave if they did talk rather than feel better.
He had no idea why he answered with a yes.
Author: icanwaitforever
Pairing: Pierre/David obviously
Rating: As a whole, NC-17 though it's pretty PG-13 this chapter.
POV: Third
Summary: Pierre gets the inspiration to write the song Holding On.
Warnings: Cursing and a little bit of boy kissing and touching.
Disclaimer: Don't own either of them or Simple Plan's other bandmembers and songs, please don't sue. I am a poor college student with no money.
Dedication: For Rissa and Matt.
Author Notes: The song Holding On on the new Simple Plan CD pretty much screams P/D to me, ever since the first time I heard it, for a LOT of reasons. This is my take on the reason to why it was written. This is the sequel to The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows, a fic I posted back I think in...February? They're two seperate fics, but this is a continuation of that story. I got a bunch of requests to continue it, so here it is! I hope none of you are disappointed.
Maybe it was all a dream.
That's what David was hoping for when he felt the familiarity of stiring from sleep, the events between him and Pierre hours before still on his mind. It could've been a dream. It all happened so fast and it felt too foreign, to unrealistic to have actually occured. Maybe the bassist had imagined the entire thing, a concequence for the lack of sleep he had been applying himself with lately. Like a mirage, only he wasn't in the middle of a desert and seeing a body of water, no, he was dreaming about fucking Pierre Bouvier.
If he could only have been so lucky.
He groaned, eyelids already at half mast into squints and he had just opening his eyes seconds prior. The room was too bright. He was still on the floor, knees against his chest and back against the wall and he hurt. His body ached all over and maybe he would've been able to pin all of the pain from the way he was sitting, the way he had fallen asleep, but his ass hurt too and he knew the obvious reason why. Trying to move was something that should've been an easy task to accomplish, but at the moment it seemed like the hardest thing in the world for him to do. Struggling with himself for a few moments, David decided to just sit there until someone tried to call him or knock on his hotel room door to get ahold of him. Didn't they have press stuff to do that day? David couldn't remember if that was on the agenda or if it was something else, something to do with the writing of their upcoming album. He still needed to put down some bass tracks and look over lyrics that Chuck had written for another song in the works. Everyone always got to share their opinion.
But none of that seemed appealing at all at that moment. All David wanted to do was sit there against the wall and cry. That was easier said than done, though, David felt like he couldn't even cry anymore. Everything was let out that night. His cheeks were still covered with the tears that dried against them as he fell asleep in a tight ball, the heavy eyeliner beneath his eyes smudged way past the corners. He reached up to rub at his closed eyelids, trying to rid the sleep and the hurt from them, but neither was accomplished. Opening his eyes fully, the irises adjusted to the light of the room and he looked down at his hands, coal from the make up smeared across his fingers.
At that moment it was safe to say that David was pretty sure that he looked like shit.
----
"Where the fuck is David?!"
Chuck had requested for everyone to be down in the lobby of the hotel by the latest ten o'clock AM and everyone had obliged, but only four of the band members stood there (plus Patrick, as usual filming the scene). The drummer was fuming. It had passed ten a half hour ago and David still wasn't showing up. He knew that the bassist took forever to get ready most of the time, but this was ridiculous.
"Diva D..." Sebastien mumbled quietly, a hint of a smile at the corners of his lips since it was an attempt at a joke and Jeff let out a snicker, but they both stopped thinking it was funny when they were met with a death glare from Chuck.
Pierre however, was at the other side of the lobby, leaning back against the countertop of the check in with his hands in his pockets and his head hanging low. This was all of his fault and he fucking knew it. His insides were turning and he was pretty sure that throwing up was going to be inevitable, it was bound to happen by the end of the day. he didn't even know what was going to happen. Of course, he automatically thought the worst and pictured the elevator door opening and David walking out with all of his suitcases declaring that it was time for him to leave the band. Pierre wasn't stupid, he knew David was broken and beyond repair and not happy with his life anymore and the reason for all of that was because of him. Every day that he saw how miserable the bassist was, it ate away at him inside. At first he didn't care, he was too stupid to notice and focused all of his emotions on Lachelle to pay attention to how badly he broke the other down. Lachelle deserved it though, didn't she? She deserved all of the love in the entire world considering when Pierre first got together with her, he was seeing David constantly behind her back.
By seeing he meant fucking.
Lachelle was gorgeous. Lachelle was sweet and funny and knew how to make Pierre smile almost as good as David knew how. Almost. She laughed at all of his stupid jokes and thought bathroom humor was the best humor around...how could he not be into a girl like her? Plus, the sex was amazing. She had a body to kill for and she was fantastic in bed. Not to mention she knew how to fucking party, how to hold her liquor down and one of the keys to the singer's heart was through alcohol. That was no secret. She was the perfect girl for Pierre. She was the perfect girl and Pierre had cheated on her non-stop for two years.
But the thing was...she wasn't David.
"Okay, so since all of us are standing here just waiting for David to come down and it's obviously not working out...I'm going to actually go up there and see what's the matter," Jeff's voice cut through the silence and Pierre's thoughts. The guitarist started to walk over to the elevator, but a ding was heard and the doors slid open. Lo and behold, the raven haired bassist stepped out and Pierre's head shot up to see him walk into the lobby. Chuck didn't even take a second before he started attacking him.
"David, what the fuck is wrong with you?! We're gonna be late for this interview because you couldn't get your ass down here fast enough--"
"Merde, Chuck," David cursed, snapping the words at the drummer's face when he got close enough. "Shut the fuck up. It's not for another hour and I'm down here and we're gonna be on fucking time so just chill, alright?"
Chuck could've seriously burned holes into the bassist the way that he was staring at him, but David continued walking till he was at the front of the lobby and exiting to get to where the van was.
"The first interview we've had in months about our upcoming album and David's just acting like it's no fucking big deal. God, I could just..." Running his hands through his hair in frustration, Chuck rambled to himself, muttering the end part of his sentence as he walked towards the doors as well. The rest of the band got the hint that it was time to go, following suit.
----
The interview went well, at least from the woman who was interviewing them's standpoint. Honestly, you could've probably cut the tension in the room with a knife. David suspected that the gallons of bleach she obviously used for her hair probably sunk in way past the roots and seeped into her brain. Typical blonde. Either that or she was just too stupid to notice that something definitely was not right. That was fine by the band though, this was after all about their new CD anyway and they needed to let people know that yes, they were still alive and no, the band did not break up. All of her questions had a sticky sweet feeling to them, her voice nasally when she spoke and her giggle had a high pitch whenever she thought something was funny. David suspected that she was forcing the laughs out.
He also suspected that she didn't give a damn about Simple Plan either, but whatever. That wasn't one of the qualifications she probably needed to get the job. One of the questions on the survey she probably filled out was definitely not "Do you like Simple Plan? Check yes or no." None of that mattered though, the whole point of this was so that the fans got a heads up with what was happening with them and their music.
David decided from that moment on that he did not like blondes. The interviewer definitely rubbed him the wrong way and in a strange way reminded him of Lachelle...though he couldn't hate Lachelle. She was too funny and nice and...non-threatening to be able to hate. He would always try to find a reason to hate her, but then she brought back David his favorite kind of sushi whenever she and Pierre had gone out to eat somewhere, or made sure that the bassist got shotgun whenever they were in the van and had to drive a long distance...because she knew he felt claustrophobic when sitting in the back. She even made him fucking soup and bought him medication whenever he got sick.
Because David Desrosiers was Pierre Bouvier's best friend.
And Lachelle Farrar was Pierre Bouvier's girlfriend.
He went to therapy shortly after the break up with Pierre. The bassist wouldn't dare tell a soul about it and it was all anonymous, but he had learned a few things from the visits...how to deal with his emotions. He did not hate Lachelle. The therapist told him to maybe focus and channel his anger on something else, something that he wouldn't end up hurting. He tried writing, he kept a diary in his suitcase and he jotted down a few notes about how he felt once in awhile, but that never really helped. David decided that the stupid blonde reporter would just have to deal with being the object of the bassist's anger. She made it easy, though.
"So did you and the singer really fuck around?"
The interview was over and David thought he was alone, making his way to the bathroom before leaving to go back to the hotel, but the bottle blonde reporter cut infront of him before he could actually get to where he wanted to go. Staring at her in horror, the words she said played in his ears on repeat like a broken record.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me...what's your name again?" She actually had to think for a moment and David curled his upper lip up in disgust. "Oh, yeah, David."
"First of all, that's just a rumor and and second of all, even if it did happen in some crazy fucked up universe, why the hell would I tell you anything?"
"I'm not as dumb as you think I am, sweetheart," she said with a wink and then she was gone. David watched as she turned on her heels and excited the hallway and fingernails dug into his palms from the fists he ended up making in anger. Kicking the door to the men's bathroom open, the bassist suddenly felt the need to just...go back to the hotel and lie down. Fuck pissing, he just...needed to leave. Now.
----
Why did it always feel like when shit just kept on happening to your life, it didn't stop until you actually hit rock bottom? David felt like every day he was digging a bigger hole for himself and people kept on shoving him into it. When he was pretty sure than he had hit the end of it all, it was like the ground was pulled from beneath his feet. He just wanted it to end already. Once it all stopped, there was nowhere to go but up. David just had to keep on reminding himself that. He'd be able to climb out of the hole he made for himself eventually. He had to think positive, as much of a struggle as that was for him.
The entire ride back to the hotel was in silence. Chuck was still pissed about how David almost didn't show for the interview that day, Pierre didn't know what to say after the previous night's events with the bassist and David...well...he just didn't want to deal with anyone or anything.
Once they were back and inside of the hotel, they went their seperate ways, David the only one actually going up to his room. Pierre watched him, with a heavy heart, enter the elevator from the inside of the lobby where he was waiting for Lachelle to show up. He had promised her that he'd take her out to lunch that day once they were back from the interview. The other four must've went to get something to eat as well, but the bassist was definitely not hungry. The doors slid closed and the singer couldn't see the bassist anymore, letting out the breath he didn't even realize that he had been holding in. Closing his eyes, he choked back a sob that was ready to escape his throat. Fuck. He was so stupid. He let David go, then fucked around with him a year later and he didn't expect any concequences? Was he really that stupid? He wasn't even drunk when he did it!
"Hey baby..."
Pierre was caught offguard as he felt slender arms wrap around his waist from behind and lips press against the back of his neck for a kiss and if he really tried, he could picture those body parts belonging to David, still remembering distinctly what it felt like when it was from him. It was Lachelle though and the singer swallowed hard at the lump that appeared in his throat before opening his eyes and turning around in the woman's arms.
"Hey you, are you ready to go?"
Of course she was. She looked absolutely stunning and Pierre guessed that it must've taken her more than an hour to get ready. A small smile tugged at his lips at the thought of David taking just as much time getting ready, remembering it driving him up the fucking wall back when they were together.
"So I bumped into David on the way down here," Lachelle's words made Pierre's thinking come to a halt and his heart stopped in his chest. Holy shit. His pulse picked up immedately and he automatically thought the worst. Did the bassist tell her what had happened the night before? Did she find out? This is what guilt must've felt like and the lump that was in Pierre's throat before found home there yet again.
"He seemed really upset about something so I think we should bring back some food for him later. It didn't look like he was going to get anything."
Pierre's heart went back to normal, the fear of getting caught evaporating immediately. He still felt guilty, even more than before, but he pushed those thoughts from his mind. Giving a small nod in agreement, he rested his arm around her waist and guided her to the doors.
"Yeah, we can do that. No problem."
----
Lying on his back on the hotel bed, David could feel himself sinking down into the soft mattress. He tried his best not to think about how less than twenty-four hours ago he wasn't occupying this bed alone, though when he got back the sheets were tucked in and the pillows were arranged neatly. It didn't smell like sex either, he noticed, when he first collapsed onto it. Someone had obviously come in and changed it.
"Wow, that must've been one hell of a lovely surprise for the cleaning lady," David's voice dripped sarcasm as he spoke outloud to himself.
For a few moments the bassist just stared up at the ceiling, starting to count the number of tiles that were there, but he eventually gave up since his mind was elsewhere. Why did he keep on getting put through this? He thought it ended so long ago and now it was back. It was like the wounds that had sliced him open a year ago had been reopened and cut deeper, salt pouring into them with each look the singer gave him. David wasn't blind, nor was he close to being stupid. Throughout the entire interview that day he could feel Pierre eyes burn into the back of his head, watching his every move and it made the bassist unbelievably uncomfortable. What the fuck was going to come next? Everything that was happening to him felt like blow after blow to his stomach and David even winced in pain as he lied there on the off-white sheets of the hotel bed.
After a moment he sighed, turning over to his side to pick up the journal he had placed on the nightstand next to the bed. He needed to let shit out.
----
About an hour and a half later, Pierre found himself standing at the door leading to David's hotel room. The singer was holding a plastic bag with food Lachelle had picked out for David at the place that they decided to get lunch and, of course, Pierre was the person who had to deliver. He couldn't exactly have said to Lachelle "no, you go do it since I just fucked him last night and I don't want things to be awkward."
So yes, this did leave the singer in quite a predicament. It left him standing outside of the door to David's hotel room.
It didn't have to be this hard, but it was. And it was the singer's fault, every single part of it. Why did he even chose Lachelle over David anyway? Because it was the safe route, he reminded himself and he shook his head in anger. Whoever came up with the saying 'better safe than sorry' should be shot...if they weren't already dead. Pierre had the right mind to find out, if this guy was dead, where his grave was so he could kick him around in it a bit. He hated himself. Now he regretted ever being with Lachelle in the first place. He did remember though that when him and David first started out...it was supposed to mean nothing but a good time and sex, but it grew into something so much more. Pierre had tried to not let it get to that point, but he couldn't stop it. More and more, as each day went by, he fell harder and harder for the bassist.
When he had met Lachelle three years prior, he didn't take it seriously. He went out with her, yes...slept with her, yes...but he did the same thing with David, just not...publicly. The bassist didn't mind though, he got it. He understood. He dated women too. The singer had stayed with Lachelle through the entire time and David had his on and off relationships, but soon Pierre found that he was in more of a committed relationship with Lachelle than David was ever with any of his girlfriends. The bassist always seemed to cut the relationships short right before things got too serious.
Pierre, on the other hand, found himself engaged.
There wasn't really one specific day that he woke up and said to himself 'oh, I love Lachelle, it's time to dump David now'. No. It was a series of events and days and weeks and months that went by that caused him to crack and crumble into the decision to break things off. Could he really see himself with a guy for the rest of his life? What would the fans say about it all? It could ruin Simple Plan, everything the both of them had worked so hard for. It was safe. Lachelle was safe and easy. David was danger and the unknown. The last thing Pierre could handle was not knowing what was going to happen to his life. He could not throw everything away for love. That would've been stupid.
But now...now he was turning everything over in his head and it was eating him up inside. What if he was still with David instead of Lachelle?
What if he was engaged to David?
---
"I'm gonna marry you one day."
David's words were sloppy and slurred as he stumbled over to the mirror that was on the dresser across from the bed. He was pretty drunk, but at least he was able to form coherent sentences and actually speak clear enough for Pierre to understand. Half naked, boxers riding low on his hips, the bassist leaned forward to look at his reflection in the mirror and gripped the side of the dresser so hard to keep from falling that his knuckles turned white. He laughed at what he saw, perfect emo hair disheveled from a round of sex, eyeliner smuged under glazed from alcohol eyes. Catching the other in the mirror's reflection as well, he smirked when their eyes met.
The singer was lying naked on the bed, actually sober since he had a marginally less amount of drinks in his system compared to David, but none-the-less was amused by the other's sudden revelation.
Tucking his hands behind his head, he sat up slightly, leaning against the headboard of the bed as a wide smile grew on his lips. "Oh really now?"
"Yes!" David spun around and almost lost his balance from the quick motion, knees buckling slightly and he grabbed at the dresser once more to keep his body from hitting the ground. Another burst of hysterical giggles fell from his lips and Pierre just grinned as he watched the scene. Once the twenty-four year old stopped his laughter, he licked at his lips and clumsily made his way back to the bed, plopping down where the singer's feet were. Falling back, David just turned his body to look in the direction of where the singer was sitting, black bangs covering his eyes, so he blew up to clear his vision. It was still blurry from all of the liquor he consumed, but at least he could actually see Pierre now. Hair spread out over the familiar sheets beneath the two of them, David just grinned drunkly.
"We are gonna get married and live happily ever after."
"And where exactly are we going to live?" Pierre asked, still thoroughly amused, eyebrows raised in question.
"Here! In Montreal! Duhhh..."
"Like there's any place that's better," Pierre said with a laugh, watching at the other tried to sit back up again but fell back twice during both attempts. The bassist just decided to lean back against his elbows when he used them to push himself up.
"Never!" Giving a toss of his hair at another attempt to make sure all of his hair was out of his eyes, David looked back at the singer and bit down on his lip ring in a grin. After he was able to see straight without things moving around, David managed to move his body up the bed more, going to straddle the singer's bare hips and reached up to wrap his arms around the singer's shoulders to keep himself steady. "And we're going to have kids." He pressed his forehead against Pierre's.
David could feel the singer's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but he saw the smile widen at his lips and that made another giggle errupt from his mouth.
"You've got it all figured out, don't you?"
"Yes. And their names are going to be Bob and Anna."
"A boy and a girl, eh? Why the fuck those names?"
"They're easy! I can remember them!"
With a loud laugh Pierre flipped over the both of them so that the bassist was pinned under him, legs still wrapped around his waist because the younger of the two was like a fucking leech and didn't want to let go. That was a-okay for the singer though and he rolled his hips down, erection rubbing against the clothed one beneath him. He didn't understand why David decided to put his boxers back on so quickly, but then again there were very few times that Pierre ever really understood the man beneath him. Letting out a low moan, David's hips swayed back up and he leaned his body up to press a kiss to the singer's lips.
"So you'll be taking my last name, right?" Pierre asked teasingly against the other's lips, teeth tugging at the lip ring before pulling away.
"Fuck no! In you're dreams, Bouvier. I will always be a Desrosiers!"
"Maybe we can compromise." Reaching up with one of his hands, the singer traced over David's bottom lip, playing with the metal in the center of it. The bassist noticably shivered under his touch and they locked eyes. "We can mix them." David stared at him for a few moments, bright hazel eyes looking into Pierre's chocolate brown ones for a bit as he tried to register in his drunken state of mind what he meant.
"What?"
"We can be like...Pierre and David Desrouvier or something."
With a snort, David tried to dismiss the idea as a stupid one, but he couldn't help but close his eyes and not fight away the smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"Ridiculous."
"But it's a good idea."
"Juck fuck me already, Pierre."
----
Pierre smiled to himself as he remembered that night, never really taking David one-hundred percent serious at the time, though maybe he should've. It wouldn't really have changed anything though, he knew that and maybe he did have an inkling in the back of his mind during that time that the bassist wasn't just joking around. He wasn't even sure if he himself was just joking around.
David was piss drunk though, how could anyone take him seriously then?!
Rocking back and forth on his heels, the singer chewed on his bottom lip nervously, still eyeing the door he had yet to knock on.
"What the fuck, stop being such a pussy..." he scolded himself and reached up to finally give a few knocks. It didn't take long for the door to open (which surprised Pierre, but he didn't say anything about it) and the two of them stood there face to face. Silence crept over them for a few seconds, Pierre not knowing really what to say and David fighting the urge to slam the door in the his face and crawl back into the hotel bed to cry.
"Can I come in--"
"No."
"Well then I'm just going to stand out here with this food for you until you let me."
David eyed the bag in Pierre's hand and his stomach turned. He wasn't sure if it was from hunger or nausea, maybe a bit of both.
"Pierre, why are you here?" He couldn't prolong the question any further and David was pretty fucking sure the singer would not be standing in the doorway of his hotel room just to bring him food. He could've told Seb or Chuck or Jeff or even Patrick to go do it for him. The other looked away and David had to bite into his bottom lip from spitting out the word 'coward' at him.
"Can we...can we talk, David?"
The bassist weighed the pros and the cons of the situation in his head, thinking about how much worse he'd probably feel after Pierre would leave if they did talk rather than feel better.
He had no idea why he answered with a yes.