Hard to Say {Standalone}
Title: Hard to Say {standalone}
Summary: Since you've been gone, it's not the same...
Author: Mea: mamoo13
Pairing: Bert/ Gerard
Rating: pg-13
Disclaimer: Genuine fake.
Author's Notes: A songfic for Hard to Say by The Used.
Warnings: Mentions of drunk behavior.
Beta: rawrmouthwash
The singer finished singing and she’s walking out
The singer sheds a tear, fear of falling out
Bert sat at the bar, vodka in one hand, a cigarette in the other. He watched a rather bored-looking singer walk from the stage, her long skirt trailing behind her. She glanced back at the crowd, still lightly clapping from her performance, and she let out a deep sigh. Bert let out a similar sigh, and put his cigarette out on his shoe, flicking it out in front of him. It narrowly missed a man’s head and landed on the floor next to his foot. He didn’t notice.
Bert pulled his cell phone from his pocket, and dialed the number he knew so well. One ring and he hung up.
And it’s hard to say how I feel today
For years gone by, and I cried
Climbing into his car, Bert lit another cigarette, and texted Jeph:
‘I’ll be late’
He started the car and began to drive, tears forming slowly.
Three years before, he’d driven this same way, laughing the whole time. A warm hand rested on his thigh, and his hand rested on top of that.
It’s hard to say that I was wrong
It’s hard to say I miss you
Since you’ve been gone, it’s not the same
Fast forward several weeks, to the end of Warped Tour.
Yelling.
Punching.
Separating.
The end of an era.
No kiss goodbye, just a few choice swear words and several sour glares.
He’d said all the wrong things. He had no sensitivity. He turned his back and he left.
Two wet tears spotted his jeans.
My worries weigh the world how I used to be
And everything, I’m cold, seems to plague in me
He remembered snuggling on the bus, stolen kisses backstage. He remembered watching with intense fascination as the crowd around him cheered and screamed while his love prowled across the stage. He remembered the gentle words, the warm hugs, the sloppy fucks.
A sob escaped Bert’s lips and he pulled up to a stoplight, wiping furiously at the tears which blurred his vision.
And it’s hard to say how I feel today
For years gone by, and I cried
He stopped in front of the house that had welcomed him so many times before. It didn’t seem so welcoming now.
He stepped out of the car and into the rain, shivering as he was immediately soaked through.
He glanced up at the darkening sky, and looked back at the house, at its bright, almost cheery front porch light.
It’s hard to say that I was wrong
It’s hard to say I miss you
Bert stepped onto the doorstep, still dripping from the rain. He raised his hand to knock on the white door in front of him.
But the hand stayed suspended in the air, ready to knock, instead of actually doing so.
Was he really so ready to breech the chasm that had fallen between them? Could he really apologize for words that had only been spoken because of the alcohol?
Since you’ve been gone, it’s not the same
He had always given Bert the strength to speak up. With him gone, how was he supposed to say how he felt?
It’s hard to say I held my tongue
It’s hard to say If only
He knew that he shouldn’t have drunk so much that fateful night. He should have stayed home. He should have said, ‘I love you,’ instead of… he couldn’t think the words.
If only.
If only.
Since you’ve been gone, it’s not the same.
Bert summoned the last remains of strength from before he’d left, and knocked on the door.
Three light taps. He wasn’t sure anyone could even hear them.
Worse than the fear, it’s the lie you told a thousand times before
Worse than the fear, it’s the knife
“Hold on!” a muffled yell came from inside.
If Bert hadn’t been frozen on the spot, his knees shaking slightly, he would have bolted, and by now, been two blocks away I his ’78 VW van. He breathed deeply, trying desperately to calm down.
“Sor-” he opened the door, covered head to toe in paint, panting slightly from running to answer. He froze with the door not even halfway open.
And it’s hard to say how I feel today
For years gone by, and I cried
“Hey, Gee…” Bert mumbled weakly, beginning to bounce nervously on the balls of his feet.
“Bert,” Gerard responded shortly. He positioned himself between the door and doorframe, as if to block Bert from getting in. “Why are you here?” The cold tone of his voice stung, and literally made Bert shiver. His voice caught in his throat.
“I- I-” he sputtered.
“You what, Bert?” Gerard asked impatiently.
He took a deep breath. “I came to… to apologize.”
Gerard’s face softened, but only for a second before his icy glare returned. “To apologize? Someone alert the media!” He cried sarcastically. “Call up AP, get Rocksound on the phone! We should call Reprise Records, have them set up a recording session, and don’t forget Brian! He’ll want to know that the MCR/ Used feud is over!” He waved his hands enthusiastically. “How fucking stupid do you think I am, Bert? Do you really think that you’re going to come here and apologize, and then we’re going to break into our version of Under Pressure?”
It’s hard to say that I was wrong
It’s hard to say I miss you
Bert stared at his feet. “I don’t…” he whispered slowly. “I don’t think you’re stupid. I just-Look, you don’t have to forgive me. I just wanted to apologize- for everything. I- I was wrong. And I’m sorry.” He looked up and smiled nervously toward the other singer. “So… that’s it, I guess. I’ll go now,” he whispered, turning to walk away.
Since you’ve been gone, it’s not the same
“Bert, wait.” Gerard grabbed his arm and gently pulled him backwards.
Bert turned slowly and looked back at the man in the doorway. Gerard released his arm.
“You do realize that it wasn’t just you who fucked up, right?”
Bert blinked. “What?”
“You’re apologizing for what you did to me. Do you really think there’s any way I can forgive you if I can’t forgive myself?”
It’s hard to say I held my tongue
It’s hard to say if only
Bert blinked again.
“I forgive you, Bert. But only if you forgive me.” Gerard’s cold glare was gone, and was replaced with slight hope.
Since you’ve been gone, it’s not the same
Bert was left speechless. He stared at Gerard with a blank look on his face, opening and closing his mouth like a fish.
“Bert?” Gerard asked slowly. He waved a hand in front of the singer’s face.
It’s hard to say
“No.” Bert spoke up suddenly, blinking and closing his mouth with an audible clack of his teeth.
“No?” Gerard repeated cautiously.
God, it’s hard to say
Bert stepped forward with newfound confidence. “No,” he confirmed. “You did nothing wrong. I said all the wrong things. I was a fucking idiot. Without you, I went insane. I did everything wrong. I was worse off after I left you than I’d thought I was before. And now I’m so fucking sorry, I don’t know how you could ever forgive me.” He slid dramatically to his knees, splashing as he hit the wet concrete step. He bowed his head and sobbed lightly.
Gerard kneeled in front of him, placing his hands on his shoulders. “I forgive you, baby,” he said, pulling Bert closer to him, and kissing his hair.
Since you’ve been gone, I’m not the same
Summary: Since you've been gone, it's not the same...
Author: Mea: mamoo13
Pairing: Bert/ Gerard
Rating: pg-13
Disclaimer: Genuine fake.
Author's Notes: A songfic for Hard to Say by The Used.
Warnings: Mentions of drunk behavior.
Beta: rawrmouthwash
The singer finished singing and she’s walking out
The singer sheds a tear, fear of falling out
Bert sat at the bar, vodka in one hand, a cigarette in the other. He watched a rather bored-looking singer walk from the stage, her long skirt trailing behind her. She glanced back at the crowd, still lightly clapping from her performance, and she let out a deep sigh. Bert let out a similar sigh, and put his cigarette out on his shoe, flicking it out in front of him. It narrowly missed a man’s head and landed on the floor next to his foot. He didn’t notice.
Bert pulled his cell phone from his pocket, and dialed the number he knew so well. One ring and he hung up.
And it’s hard to say how I feel today
For years gone by, and I cried
Climbing into his car, Bert lit another cigarette, and texted Jeph:
‘I’ll be late’
He started the car and began to drive, tears forming slowly.
Three years before, he’d driven this same way, laughing the whole time. A warm hand rested on his thigh, and his hand rested on top of that.
It’s hard to say that I was wrong
It’s hard to say I miss you
Since you’ve been gone, it’s not the same
Fast forward several weeks, to the end of Warped Tour.
Yelling.
Punching.
Separating.
The end of an era.
No kiss goodbye, just a few choice swear words and several sour glares.
He’d said all the wrong things. He had no sensitivity. He turned his back and he left.
Two wet tears spotted his jeans.
My worries weigh the world how I used to be
And everything, I’m cold, seems to plague in me
He remembered snuggling on the bus, stolen kisses backstage. He remembered watching with intense fascination as the crowd around him cheered and screamed while his love prowled across the stage. He remembered the gentle words, the warm hugs, the sloppy fucks.
A sob escaped Bert’s lips and he pulled up to a stoplight, wiping furiously at the tears which blurred his vision.
And it’s hard to say how I feel today
For years gone by, and I cried
He stopped in front of the house that had welcomed him so many times before. It didn’t seem so welcoming now.
He stepped out of the car and into the rain, shivering as he was immediately soaked through.
He glanced up at the darkening sky, and looked back at the house, at its bright, almost cheery front porch light.
It’s hard to say that I was wrong
It’s hard to say I miss you
Bert stepped onto the doorstep, still dripping from the rain. He raised his hand to knock on the white door in front of him.
But the hand stayed suspended in the air, ready to knock, instead of actually doing so.
Was he really so ready to breech the chasm that had fallen between them? Could he really apologize for words that had only been spoken because of the alcohol?
Since you’ve been gone, it’s not the same
He had always given Bert the strength to speak up. With him gone, how was he supposed to say how he felt?
It’s hard to say I held my tongue
It’s hard to say If only
He knew that he shouldn’t have drunk so much that fateful night. He should have stayed home. He should have said, ‘I love you,’ instead of… he couldn’t think the words.
If only.
If only.
Since you’ve been gone, it’s not the same.
Bert summoned the last remains of strength from before he’d left, and knocked on the door.
Three light taps. He wasn’t sure anyone could even hear them.
Worse than the fear, it’s the lie you told a thousand times before
Worse than the fear, it’s the knife
“Hold on!” a muffled yell came from inside.
If Bert hadn’t been frozen on the spot, his knees shaking slightly, he would have bolted, and by now, been two blocks away I his ’78 VW van. He breathed deeply, trying desperately to calm down.
“Sor-” he opened the door, covered head to toe in paint, panting slightly from running to answer. He froze with the door not even halfway open.
And it’s hard to say how I feel today
For years gone by, and I cried
“Hey, Gee…” Bert mumbled weakly, beginning to bounce nervously on the balls of his feet.
“Bert,” Gerard responded shortly. He positioned himself between the door and doorframe, as if to block Bert from getting in. “Why are you here?” The cold tone of his voice stung, and literally made Bert shiver. His voice caught in his throat.
“I- I-” he sputtered.
“You what, Bert?” Gerard asked impatiently.
He took a deep breath. “I came to… to apologize.”
Gerard’s face softened, but only for a second before his icy glare returned. “To apologize? Someone alert the media!” He cried sarcastically. “Call up AP, get Rocksound on the phone! We should call Reprise Records, have them set up a recording session, and don’t forget Brian! He’ll want to know that the MCR/ Used feud is over!” He waved his hands enthusiastically. “How fucking stupid do you think I am, Bert? Do you really think that you’re going to come here and apologize, and then we’re going to break into our version of Under Pressure?”
It’s hard to say that I was wrong
It’s hard to say I miss you
Bert stared at his feet. “I don’t…” he whispered slowly. “I don’t think you’re stupid. I just-Look, you don’t have to forgive me. I just wanted to apologize- for everything. I- I was wrong. And I’m sorry.” He looked up and smiled nervously toward the other singer. “So… that’s it, I guess. I’ll go now,” he whispered, turning to walk away.
Since you’ve been gone, it’s not the same
“Bert, wait.” Gerard grabbed his arm and gently pulled him backwards.
Bert turned slowly and looked back at the man in the doorway. Gerard released his arm.
“You do realize that it wasn’t just you who fucked up, right?”
Bert blinked. “What?”
“You’re apologizing for what you did to me. Do you really think there’s any way I can forgive you if I can’t forgive myself?”
It’s hard to say I held my tongue
It’s hard to say if only
Bert blinked again.
“I forgive you, Bert. But only if you forgive me.” Gerard’s cold glare was gone, and was replaced with slight hope.
Since you’ve been gone, it’s not the same
Bert was left speechless. He stared at Gerard with a blank look on his face, opening and closing his mouth like a fish.
“Bert?” Gerard asked slowly. He waved a hand in front of the singer’s face.
It’s hard to say
“No.” Bert spoke up suddenly, blinking and closing his mouth with an audible clack of his teeth.
“No?” Gerard repeated cautiously.
God, it’s hard to say
Bert stepped forward with newfound confidence. “No,” he confirmed. “You did nothing wrong. I said all the wrong things. I was a fucking idiot. Without you, I went insane. I did everything wrong. I was worse off after I left you than I’d thought I was before. And now I’m so fucking sorry, I don’t know how you could ever forgive me.” He slid dramatically to his knees, splashing as he hit the wet concrete step. He bowed his head and sobbed lightly.
Gerard kneeled in front of him, placing his hands on his shoulders. “I forgive you, baby,” he said, pulling Bert closer to him, and kissing his hair.
Since you’ve been gone, I’m not the same