Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance

Well best friend's means...

by XxlovefrankieroxX 2 Reviews

Songfic one shot based off Taking back sunday's 'there's no I in team'. Just a short, Bert/Gee angsty thing. Nothing special xD

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: R - Genres: Angst,Romance - Characters: Frank Iero,Gerard Way - Published: 2011/06/18 - Updated: 2011/06/18 - 1433 words - Complete

Well I can’t regret...
Can’t you just forget it? I started something I couldn’t finish. And if we go down, we go down together. Best friend’s means... well best friends means..
.

I could see him falling. I could see the way he wasn’t even trying to make it through the day anymore. I could see him reaching his demise just as surely as I could see that I was causing it. But damn, he looks so beautiful when he looks at me like that.
“Bert... Bert, what am I to you?”
Not high enough. He’s clearly not high enough when he asks me questions like that. Just slip him another pill, mix him another drink, steal his breath in another kiss and he’s mine for the taking.
“You’re my best friend, sugar.”

And I’ve got a twenty dollar bill that says you’re out late night starting fist fights, versus fences, in your back yard. Wearing your black eye like a badge of honour. Soaking in sympathy with friends who never loved you...
Nearly half as much as. Me.


He’s a crazy motherfucker, that’s for sure. Half of those injuries of his you wouldn’t believe the stories behind them. I believe them, cos’ I’m there half the time. I like to watch him when he gets so off his face everything is split into worth fighting, or worth fighting for. I’m a mix of both I think... He’ll beat up anything and anyone on my behalf, but there’s been many a night when it’s me he’s beating instead.
I love the way he hurts me. Kisses are so much better with blood in your mouth. And he’s a gorgeous little creature when he’s spent all his anger and just submits to me. His friends don’t understand how he comes back so beat up all the time, and they take good care of him. Oh they treat him as if he were the king.
I treat him like the worthless son of a bitch he is.
And I will always love him. So much more than they ever could.

Broken down in bars and bathrooms. All I did was what I had to. Don’t believe me, when I tell you, it’s just what anyone would do. Take the time to talk about it, think a lot and live without it. Don’t believe me when I tell you... it’s something unforgivable.

I sob harshly with my hand on the tiled wall, surrounded by piss and vomit and it’s so hilarious I can’t stop shaking with laughter. My heads in a spin and no amount of vodka has made it any better tonight. Oh Frankie, that gorgeous little specimen. I should have known he’d try and get his tongue in, and his hands in, and his fucking leg over. So I punched him. Nothing more or less than what he deserved. I didn’t expect Gerard’s heartbroken look to hurt me so much though... or those words of his...
“What do you want Bert!? What am I to you? A cheap fuck? Your boyfriend? Just be fucking straight with me!”
Oh Gerard. You precious little thing. Never thought he was ever sober or enough, or cared enough, to actually think about me. I thought he was a cheap fuck... I thought I was a cheap fuck too... friends who got drunk together. High together. Horny together. Gave each other the worst of ourselves and were happy with it.
Stupid me, to believe I could get away with that. Stupid me, to believe I wouldn’t hurt him.
Wouldn’t just end up killing the last of me that was ever alive.

You never knew -
Well I never told you... Everything I know about breaking hearts I learned from you, it’s true. I’ve never done it with the style and grace you have, but I’ve made long term plans based on these mistakes.


Watching him from a distance is something I was never good at. And when he’s got that little beauty wrapped him it’s even worse. Oh the fan girls love it, to know the kisses those two shares on stage are also shared in heated, desperate moments when they can sneak in enough time in a dressing room or on the bus. I love to think of it too. Love to think of how their tongues will wrap around each others with soft, insistent passion. The way their hips will move in time. Such a passionate, loving couple. How I hope it burns him to know I know.
But of course it will never burn him. But it burns me, and I know I will never let myself fall for another man again. My broken, shattered body will never pick itself up from the ground I hit when I fell for him and he didn’t catch me.

Is this what you call tact? I swear you’re as subtle as a brick in the small of my back. So let’s end this call, and end this conversation. There’s nothing worse (that’s right he said it, that’s right he said it. Have another drink and drive yourself home). I swear, you have no idea (I hope there’s ice on all the roads). The jealousy that became me thinking (and you can think of me when you forget your seatbelt. And when your head goes through the windshield) that you always had it way too easy.

I can’t stop myself from crying even though I know the look he is giving me is one of disgust and not love. The lack of poisons in my body are leaving me far too sober, his hands are not holding mine back, my heart is like a knife stabbing me repeatedly in the chest. I fucking hate him so much, I hate him so much I can’t let him go and I’ll be him shamelessly if that’s what it takes.
“Please, please Gee, I –”
“No Bert! I’m with Frank now. Nothing you say will change how I feel for him, I’m leaving okay?”
Another drink. Give him another drink. Maybe when he’s drunk, when he’s fucking off his head like before then he’ll remember the way he feels for me and that stupid son of a bitch he fucks every night.
“For God sakes Bert!”
He sounds mad but he downs the whiskey anyway, plants a kiss on my cheek. Goes to the door. And I was everything; I was the best he would ever get. No matter how much Frank will say he loves him, no matter how many times to they roll between the sheets and fuck oh so slow and sweetly, I’ll always be the only one who loved him the most. I know he’ll never know that, I hope he fucking dies. I hope that single drink will be his death...
Oh sugar. You precious thing. Shattered glass and blood makes a deadly glittering cocktail that looks so beautiful on the road. You’re pretty little face could never compare. I hoped for your death but I never meant it, I meant it when I saw him though. Hundreds of flowers by your bedside, his hand holding yours, his lips pressing tender fucking kisses to your cheek. If only you knew how easy it would be to have me back, you only have to say the word... but when your bruised eyes open you only stare at me blankly before you close them again and you kill the final piece of me holding onto hope.

Best friends means I pulled the trigger, best friends means you get what you deserve. Best friends means I pulled the trigger. Best friends mean you get what you deserve.

“Bert, what am I to you?”
”You’re my best friend sugar.”
I loved him. I loved him more than anything, more than life itself. All life... My life. Their life... his life. We could have been something truly special but he flipped my world upside and watched me crash land on my head. I make my way to his hospital bed, picking up pieces of my skull as I go and when I train the gun between his sleeping eyes I know he’ll never feel a thing. I was dead long ago.
And so was he.

Bang.
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