My Only Symptom
Title: My Only Symptom
Series: 3
Chapter: 1
Authors: trollsttroll & absinthe_memory
Fandom: My Chemical Romance/The Used
Pairing: Bert/Gerard
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Fiction. Learn it, live it, love it.
Dedicated to: snowisgreat because her comments keep us going...
Summary: Are life and love nothing but instigators of escapism?
Author's Note: Obviously inspired by Sleep... and transformed into a collaboration of sorts...
Explanation: Each series is going to be a different 'verse inspired by the lyrics of In Love and Death and The Black Parade...
In Love and Death/The Black Parade Songfic SeriesSeries 1
1. I'm So Weak
2. Without It All
3. Never AloneSeries 2
1. Stumbling Half Aware
2. I'm Not In Love
3. Figure It Out
The text on the computer screen morphs and crawls across the glass; spiderlike in its varying speeds. The near unmoving twitch of the one that's been spotted perched three fucking inches form the ceiling... the aggressive charge of the one that's got its own mortality in mine. Some say... fight or flight. I blink once and then twice. There's nothing but unmoving black letters on so much white.
Digging my palms into my eyes, I groan in frustration. I can't fucking sleep. I won't sleep. Not until my body gives in. Not until I'm week on my feet and my chin is falling towards my chest in defeat. Suffer and walk away a madman. Suffer and fall asleep a dead man.
I run my finger around the rim of the tumbler containing no less than a half a cup of the cheapest whiskey this side of Jersey. It takes me all of of two seconds to make my decision. The shaped edges of the glass feel like heaven under my fingertips. There's no grittiness of raw, homespun material. This feels nothing like paper mulch and canvas. And any dust that could have collected upon its surface has long ago been wiped clean by my hands. And, I drink.
Don't you breath for me, I'm undeserving of your sympathy. Don't you dream for me... don't you fucking dare. I don't want your child-like laughter. I don't want your adoring stares. No, what I want is for you to look at me with fear in those wild eyes. I want more than the satisfaction of a smile, a touch... a good lay.
Slamming the whiskey down my throat fast and hard, I hiss and look back at the computer. In the dim light of the bedroom lamp, my reflection comes alive. I'm no savior. No, I'm a vile beast... and I've got the blood on my teeth and hands to prove it. But there ain't no way that I'm sorry for what I did. And there ain't no way that I'm coming back again.
And through it all, how could you cry for me? How could you lie to me? But, I don't feel bad about it. And during it all, how could you beg from me? How could you say to me... I never felt enough to care about it. But, I do now.
When did insomnia become my only symptom? They say. "So, shut your eyes..."
"Kiss me, goodbye?"
He says. "Sleep."
But I can't help but lay awake at night; every thought upon and about you. I wonder if I should feel remorse. I wonder if I should care about what we did. Why don't I feel bad about it? And it seems like maybe, just maybe, the hardest part is letting go of my dreams. Then again, perhaps the hardest part's the awful things that I've seen. I saw what we had, what we were, and what we could have been... Three cheers for tyranny and my unapologetic apathy.
And there you are; shoulder blades cutting sharply through so much cotton and so much fear of living. I drank for the horror that I was in; for the good guys, and the bad guys, for the monsters that I'd been. I drank for you. And for us... I drank to survive. Yet, ended up doing anything but.
And he said. "Just sleep, Gee. Just go to fucking sleep."
Series: 3
Chapter: 1
Authors: trollsttroll & absinthe_memory
Fandom: My Chemical Romance/The Used
Pairing: Bert/Gerard
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Fiction. Learn it, live it, love it.
Dedicated to: snowisgreat because her comments keep us going...
Summary: Are life and love nothing but instigators of escapism?
Author's Note: Obviously inspired by Sleep... and transformed into a collaboration of sorts...
Explanation: Each series is going to be a different 'verse inspired by the lyrics of In Love and Death and The Black Parade...
In Love and Death/The Black Parade Songfic SeriesSeries 1
1. I'm So Weak
2. Without It All
3. Never AloneSeries 2
1. Stumbling Half Aware
2. I'm Not In Love
3. Figure It Out
The text on the computer screen morphs and crawls across the glass; spiderlike in its varying speeds. The near unmoving twitch of the one that's been spotted perched three fucking inches form the ceiling... the aggressive charge of the one that's got its own mortality in mine. Some say... fight or flight. I blink once and then twice. There's nothing but unmoving black letters on so much white.
Digging my palms into my eyes, I groan in frustration. I can't fucking sleep. I won't sleep. Not until my body gives in. Not until I'm week on my feet and my chin is falling towards my chest in defeat. Suffer and walk away a madman. Suffer and fall asleep a dead man.
I run my finger around the rim of the tumbler containing no less than a half a cup of the cheapest whiskey this side of Jersey. It takes me all of of two seconds to make my decision. The shaped edges of the glass feel like heaven under my fingertips. There's no grittiness of raw, homespun material. This feels nothing like paper mulch and canvas. And any dust that could have collected upon its surface has long ago been wiped clean by my hands. And, I drink.
Don't you breath for me, I'm undeserving of your sympathy. Don't you dream for me... don't you fucking dare. I don't want your child-like laughter. I don't want your adoring stares. No, what I want is for you to look at me with fear in those wild eyes. I want more than the satisfaction of a smile, a touch... a good lay.
Slamming the whiskey down my throat fast and hard, I hiss and look back at the computer. In the dim light of the bedroom lamp, my reflection comes alive. I'm no savior. No, I'm a vile beast... and I've got the blood on my teeth and hands to prove it. But there ain't no way that I'm sorry for what I did. And there ain't no way that I'm coming back again.
And through it all, how could you cry for me? How could you lie to me? But, I don't feel bad about it. And during it all, how could you beg from me? How could you say to me... I never felt enough to care about it. But, I do now.
When did insomnia become my only symptom? They say. "So, shut your eyes..."
"Kiss me, goodbye?"
He says. "Sleep."
But I can't help but lay awake at night; every thought upon and about you. I wonder if I should feel remorse. I wonder if I should care about what we did. Why don't I feel bad about it? And it seems like maybe, just maybe, the hardest part is letting go of my dreams. Then again, perhaps the hardest part's the awful things that I've seen. I saw what we had, what we were, and what we could have been... Three cheers for tyranny and my unapologetic apathy.
And there you are; shoulder blades cutting sharply through so much cotton and so much fear of living. I drank for the horror that I was in; for the good guys, and the bad guys, for the monsters that I'd been. I drank for you. And for us... I drank to survive. Yet, ended up doing anything but.
And he said. "Just sleep, Gee. Just go to fucking sleep."