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I Don't Like it Like This (Gerard Way/Bert McCracken)

Fandom: RPS: My Chemical Romance/The Used
Pairing: Gerard Way/Bert McCracken
Theme set: Delta
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't know, didn't happen!



I Don’t Like it Like This

I – Unexpected

There’s not much left after you’ve gone. Just a few empty boxes, empty shelves, and one taped up box by the front door that I’ve promised to send to you. It seems so quiet now that you’re gone. And I’m not a quiet person, but without you it just seems that much quieter, emptier, lonelier.

I didn’t expect it at all. I was planning a road trip for our time off. Just driving somewhere, anywhere, and just being us for a while. I was hoping to quit smoking, just like Frank had. I was hoping for a lot of things. So when the moment came I was left floored, mouth agape, shocked into silence for once. And when you stormed about the apartment, slamming doors and shouting about how things had changed, how I had changed, how you weren’t happy any more, and you hadn’t been for a long time, I thought maybe my heart would just fall into a million little pieces because I could see us ending right there.

I kicked you out that night, and told you to come back for your things in a couple of days. And then I sank to the floor and stayed there for hours, not caring if it got uncomfortable, smoking cigarettes until I had none left, not quite knowing what to do with myself.


II – The Past

It used to be so easy, so good, and so comfortable. It used to be so that I could talk to you and not feel like an idiot. It used to be that you would understand what I was saying, and not tell me to shut up half way through the sentence. And sometimes we could just sit in silence, just understanding that we didn’t feel like talking right then. And other times, the really difficult times, you would understand how it felt when I got frustrated at seeing all the drink and all those drugs every day, and how hard it was to say no, even though you still drank alcohol sometimes.

And when it happened, when we stopped being just friends and became something more, it was better and worse at the same time. It became something better because you saw that much more of me, and it became worse because of that very same reason. It was difficult when we were touring, as any relationship is. It became… different.

It used to be difficult, yes, but when I remember certain days, certain moments, the difficult times don’t seem all that difficult at all.


III – Difference

Now that I think about it, I realise that there was more than just a difference in how we were as friends, as lovers, as people who knew each other. We were different in so many more ways. You weren’t afraid of telling me what you thought about me. You weren’t afraid of telling me to shut the fuck up when you were in that kind of mood, which was nearly all the time. I think about the times we could talk, and we could understand each other, and realise they were few and far between. More often than not, we would disagree about something; whether it was music, or films, or games, or about the date of a particular event, or anything. And you were so damn stubborn. You liked to win the arguments.

Maybe the fact that we had so many arguments was why it ended like it did. Maybe you were sick of my stubbornness, my refusal to just give in to you sometimes. Maybe you just fell out of love. Maybe you just found someone who was more into the things that you were into. Maybe you didn’t want a comic-book-nerd-boyfriend.


IV – First Time

When I told you about my first time, like, with a guy, you laughed. You said you hadn’t realised I’d started so late on, being so obviously gay and all. I took offence at your words. I didn’t quite get your sense of humour sometimes, even after knowing you for months. You often surprised me with harsh comments and insults, and sometimes you didn’t even mean it. It’s like you would just blurt them out, barely realising the effect until the victim stopped talking to you. The guys, they knew what you were like. They had learnt to stop bothering so much about what you said. I was different. I took it harshly, and we had a huge row about it. Stubborn as you were; you would not back down. Perhaps if I hadn’t taken such offence you would have just apologised anyway. I don’t know.

But a pattern emerged after so long. Our arguments very often started with a thoughtless comment, with a blurted out sentence from you. Or with me taking things the wrong way. Am I being one-sided here? I know I pissed you off so many times. Maybe that’s why our arguments started. It takes two to tango, right?

Our first time was the result of one of those arguments. The first kiss, real kiss that is, and everything else that came afterwards. Maybe it wasn’t just the arguments that ended it. They did start it, after all.


V – Food/Drink

There was a time, of course, when alcohol was like the third person in our relationship. Back then, everything was so confusing and messed up. I barely knew what I was doing. I would say and do things that I didn’t remember doing the next day, so when I was informed by my brother that I had so openly made out with you as a dare, I was a little surprised, a little pleased, and a little disappointed. Surprised because I didn’t think I’d be so…spontaneous around you. I was a little afraid of you back then, though I don’t really know why. I was pleased, because maybe I’d wanted it to happen all along, I was just afraid to admit it to myself, and disappointed because I didn’t remember a single fucking second of it.

That is why, of course, that I don’t really count that kiss as our first. The first was later, much later, when we were free from the influence of alcohol, and we kissed on our own terms, because we wanted to, because I wanted you and you wanted me, and because we were alone and…well, you get the idea.

And of course, a lot of our true first times happened while we were drunk. Drink was such a big part of our lives back then. It changed, of course, as so many things did. Now the most daring thing I will drink is full fat coke instead of diet.


VI – The Present

Now, now things are quite different. Now I’ve moved on, and so have you. Now I focus on the band, on the music, and I don’t know what the hell you focus on. Your life seems like a whirlwind that no one can quite keep up with. It was always that way, though. Not even I could keep up with you. But now I’m…I’m back to who I used to be. I’ve changed, you know. I’ve changed so damn much.

I went out just yesterday and didn’t get recognised. It’s been over a year since we last toured, and even longer since we broke up. I’m older, maybe wiser, maybe just forgotten. It’s been a long time since I last spoke to you on the phone, and even longer since I last picked up a magazine to follow what the press said about us. And I don’t get recognised so much at all now. I guess I look different to how I was back then. Maybe the age shows more.

I don’t know if you got recognised so much, or if you still do. It’s like a gauge of how famous you are, getting recognised. There was a time when I couldn’t go out without others around me, people to get me through a crowd, to get me through hundreds of eager fans. There was a time when people used to try and catch us together, when we would read the rumours sections of the newspapers and magazines and try to guess if any were about us.

Now, now I’ve stopped caring.


VII – Dreams/Nightmares

I had a nightmare, that I was alone, with nothing and no one. I dreamt that the guys were doing their own thing and that Mikey was married and living his life without me, and that I had no one. Not you, not my family, not my friends, not my girlfriend; no one.

And it was the worst feeling in the world, being so alone. It feels like you’re slowly sinking in a pit of your own negative thoughts, putting yourself down, talking to yourself because you’ve no one else to talk to, wishing someone would call you but not really wanting to call them yourself, because that would mean you were lonely, and you don’t want to be seen as lonely.

And god, I woke up thinking it was real, that the band really had finished, and I really did have no one, and I had to go and check that Mikey was still there, and that Frank and Ray and Bob were still there, and then I sat up all night thinking about it, about you, and wishing for things that could never happen.


VIII – Memory

In the early hours of the morning, before anyone else is awake, and I’m still alone with my thoughts, I have a flash of memory. It’s brought on by the discovery of a photograph in my bunk on the tour bus, hidden under the mattress. I don’t remember putting it there, but that’s beside the point. It’s a picture of the two of us, taken on a beach back when we were on tour doing some interview or other, and you’re holding a slice of cold pizza and I’m looking kind of dazed and confused, though I was off the alcohol by that point.

And it reminded me of the times we were just us, before the huge fame, before the fall-out, before things got complicated, and we were just friends with too many feelings, hiding them beneath a façade of big smiles and jokes and behind-the-scenes goings-on.

And I wish, I wish that we could go back to that, when things were not right, but so much better than they are. Why is it that I live my life wishing that things could be as they were, when at the time I was wishing things could be different?


IX – Eyes

When we meet up, some time later, when things are so different, and I’m alone, just like I predicted, and you are…you’re adjusted, you’re well and successful, and you’re just how I didn’t imagine you being, and it seems so strange. Well, we meet up on my tour bus. It’s an odd experience, demanding that we are left alone and not disturbed for some time. I’m drinking Dr Pepper, something I’ve become addicted to in the days since alcoholism. You look…annoyed. Your eyes dart about the room, taking in the difference. Maybe you wish the others were here. Maybe you hate the silence that a solitary tour bus brings. Maybe you miss your band mates. Maybe you miss how things were back then. I don’t know.

I’ve missed you. I’ve missed lying on a cramped tour bus bunk with you in the early hours of the morning, seeing your face, your blue eyes so close to mine, and wondering what you were thinking. I’ve missed those strange and random walks on sleepless nights, and talking to you about anything and everything, and having you understand what it’s like to be tempted every single day by something you can never give in to again. I’ve missed you, and I can’t tell you, I can’t admit it. And I can’t for the life of me think why.


X – Health

Remember that time I was ill? I caught something off Frank. He suffered with it, and then got better and passed it to me. Only it hit me hard. I hadn’t been sleeping very well, and I’d been thinking too much, and working too hard, and it just hit me one night. I was sick. I was cranky, angry, moaning, whining, and everyone was sick of me.

They left me to suffer on my own. Mikey brought me ginger tea and told me to be careful.

I called you. I remember it well, even though I was sick and feverish, and had been vomiting all evening. I remember telling you I missed you so fucking much, and that I wished you were there with me. I remember feeling so lonely, without a soul in the world who could really comfort me, and I all I wanted was for you to be there.

And when you told me to fuck off, I felt more alone than ever.


XI – Similarity

When you came visiting me, on my tour bus, when the band was over and it was just me and my invisible friends, and you tell me that we could never have worked out. And I ask you why. Why is it that despite being so similar, we were doomed to failure all along?

I mean, look at us. We have the same problem with addiction, we are both so stubborn, and won’t give up a fight; always wanting to prove we can go the whole run, can prove our doubters wrong, all that… So why could we never have worked out?

And you tell me that it’s those things that doomed us, the similarities, not the differences. The differences made it work for a while. The similarities made us hate ourselves even more, because we could see our own faults in the other.

And it’s then, only then, that I realise maybe you were right all along.


XII – The Future


You once predicted what our futures would be like; when we were so drunk all we could do was lie on my bunk huddled together and speak in hushed tones. You whispered that I would be the successful comic-book artist, the successful solo-artist once the band had gone its way and run its course, and the happily married man with children and a house with a picket fence. I laughed it off, saying that I would never go solo because I relied on my band mates too much, and that I would never marry because I had you.

You just looked at me with sad eyes and said that soon I wouldn’t need you at all, and I wondered if you were just messing with me, like you did sometimes, just for amusement, or because you felt like it, or you were bored. But the seriousness on your face told me that you weren’t messing at all.

I didn’t really expect you to be right. And you weren’t, to an extent. But you were about one thing.


XIII – Something/Someone Missing


I wake up in the middle of the night gasping for breath, my chest heavy and my heart racing, and my mind in a million different places, the last remnants of a nightmare escaping my thoughts. It feels empty beside me, like there was someone there who isn’t there any more, like there was an arm slung across me until so very recently, like someone had just vacated the bed before I woke.

The phone is ringing, but I don’t answer it. I leave it to ring in the dark, lonely night, and in the morning, when I’ve forgotten the nightmare, there’s a message flashing on my machine.

I’m clutching a cup of coffee, sipping carefully as I listen to the message. It’s from someone whose voice I haven’t heard in so long that I’ve almost forgotten what they sound like. That laughter at the end that is so unmistakably you and it makes my heart jump when you announce that you are visiting soon.

God, I’ve missed you.


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January 2008

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