Categories > Celebrities > AFI

Giving them Gossip

by TheMarmiteKid 3 reviews

As always, Jade turns to Davey when he's lost. Davey knows this ritual. Always the same. Isn't it? Slash fiction.

Category: AFI - Rating: G - Genres: Romance - Published: 2007-11-03 - Updated: 2007-11-03 - 1802 words - Complete

Disclaimer: I do not own, or claim to own AFI or any of it's affiliates. I do not know Davey, Jade or Marissa. I do not claim that any of this happened, it is a work of fiction, purely for the entertainment of anybody reading.

Warnings: Jade cries. This is most upsetting, but also the most hardcore thing that happens in the entire fiction. If you did not see the pairing, it is m/m. This is slash fiction. Consider yourself warned.

Rating: PG. I wasn't lying about the lack of hardcore.



I sit in my living room, half watching an old movie and doodling on a page of my open writing book. It's a book you got me, big and old looking, bound with faux brown leather and imprinted with beautiful designs, vines and flowers and symbols, I imagine them to be elfin, magical and important. If you look hard enough at the cover, you can see the initials DH. Davey Havok. You had it made especially for me, and made sure they printed the fact the leather was fake right inside the cover, where I can see it so I don't feel bad. You're always thoughtful like that, putting other people's needs to the front of your mind and taking great care in meeting them. Tonight is obviously not my night, as I can't add to the pages and pages of lyrics, used and unused, that fill half of the thick book. I use the remote to flick the TV off and pad, barefoot into the kitchen. I click the kettle on, and close my writing book, laying it gently on the kitchen table and pulling out some herbal teabags and a mug from a wall cupboard. The doorbell chimes, loud and tinny, and I walk back into the hallway, picking up the intercom.

"Hello?" I ask, waiting for the video link to start working.

"D-Davey?" You stammer at the same time the video plays. Your hair is tangled, as if you've run your hands through it one too many times, your eyes are red and swollen and eyeliner streaks teartracks down your cheeks. The entrance lighting makes your eyes glisten, and the tears that are steadily crawling over your stubbly cheeks glint sadly at me.

"The elevator is broken again, but come right up." I say, hanging up the intercom phone and pushing the buzzer to open the door to the stairs, watching the videolink click off, though I still catch the look of relief on your face. Were you scared I wouldn't let you in? I always let you in. I could never turn you away. Never.

I go to my front door, dragging the latch off and twisting the lock, opening the door and listening to your footsteps on the stairs. I hate that she can do this to you, that she can hurt you time and time again, but you always see it as your fault. I hate that she'd dare to be so spiteful. You appear at the top of the stairs, dragging your feet, your arms wrapped around your body, shivering and still letting tears drip from the ends of your eyelashes onto your cheeks.

I pull you straight into my apartment, holding onto your arm, and shut the door before wrapping my arms properly around you, rubbing your back with one hand. I would've hugged you in the hallway, but you're always so self conscious about my gossipy neighbors. It takes you a few seconds, but eventually, you start to hug me back, burying your tearstained face in my shoulder, even though you're the taller out of the two of us. We stand like that for so long my arms ache, and I assume your neck must be permanently bent like that. It is, however, not, and you pull back, scraping at your eyes with your calloused fingers, a faint hint of shame in your honey colored orbs. I roll my own eyes, taking your hand and leading you into the kitchen, seating you in one of the wooden chairs and going back to the kettle.

"Blackcurrant tea?" I ask, and you nod, staring down at your hands, which are clenched together on the tabletop. I make the tea and the room is silent, apart from the sound of boiling water and an occasional sniff from you. I place the mug down in front of your hands and you give an awkward sort of nod. I then sit down opposite you, and start to drink from the scalding hot mug in my hands. By the time you speak, I've almost finished my tea, and you still haven't touched yours, not even moved an inch.
"Davey, I've got bad news."

"You and Marissa are fighting again."

"Not really. It's over with us. Finished." You say this with a determination that I want to trust, but I don't think I can, not after all the times you've come here and said that, in exactly the same state you're in now, I can even tell exactly what you're going to say next. You're going to tell me how you messed up, and then not be able to explain how anything you've just said was your fault.

"I think I'm going to have to leave AFI." You say quietly, and it takes a few seconds for this to kick in. Ice cold fear wraps my heart. Obviously I don't know you as well as I thought.

"What? Because of a girl? Jade, girls come and go. It's your friends that matter." I slam my mug down on the table, and you flinch. I'm reacting how I always do. Fear, anger. "Your friends, Jade. Remember us? Me, Adam and Hunter? What about your brother? Smith'll be ruined if you leave." I stand up, kicking my chair back and walking over towards the counter. "You can't leave AFI Jade. We need you there. I need you there. You can't leave AFI because of a girl!"

"I'm not leaving because of a girl." You say almost silently, and I almost miss it through the hissing of rage in my ears.

"What do you call this then?"

"I'm leaving because of.." You take a deep breath, and I can see your skinny chest expanding under the tight t-shirt you're wearing. Eyeliner is streaked all over your face, and even in my rage, even in this moment, where you might just be ruining the only thing I live for, I can't help but notice that this is always the time you look most beautiful. "Davey, I'm leaving because of a boy."

My anger deflates. Just like that. Just like a jumping castle when a football team wearing track shoes bounce onto it's poor defenceless plastic floor. It seems that I have some sort of emotional issue, because immediately, I want to cry. You never told me, your best friend, that you were gay. You never told me, your best friend, that you felt so strongly for someone you'd give up AFI for them. How could you not tell me this?

"Jade. Don't leave." Is all I can choke out.

"I have to tell him, how I feel, and after that, it'll be too awkward for me to stay." You murmur, and I catch something in what you're saying. Is this guy in the band?

"Is it Adam? Hunter? Oh my god. Jade, if you're in love with Smith, I mean, in that way.. I'm going to puke. Because I would honestly rather that you had boysex with Cake the cat." I say quickly, desperately trying not to get mental images of two of my best friends committing incest. I don't even register that behind that sentence, there is a mild humor value. You do, though, and after making a grossed out face for a few seconds, you reply, a hint of a laugh in your voice.

"No, it's not Smith, don't worry. I love him, but I'd rather have sex with Cake over Smith, too."

"So who is it then?"

"Davey, are you blind or stupid?"

"What? No!" I splutter, reaching for my glasses. Just in case..

"It's you."

"Me? As in you like.. Me. Me as in.. Davey?" I ask, completely, for some reason, confused.

"Yes, you. You as in Davey. As in Davey Havok. As in I'm in love with David freakin' Marchand."

I stare at you blankly, as this information registers.

"Look, I knew it'd be awkward. I'm sorry." You take a deep breath, again, and get up from your chair. "Sorry, Dave. I'll show myself out."

I stare after you as you walk out of the door, before my brain starts processing, and then starts sending frantic messages to my spinal chord, which seems to be malfunctioning in some manner.

"No! Jade! Wait!" I yell, racing after you, into the hallway, right in front of my gossipy neighbors front door.

You look around at me sadly, fresh tears forming in your eyes already.

"Look, Jade. Wait." I pause, then realize I was running. "OH damn you Puget! You made me bloody RUN! Dear lord I bet that was ungainly." You laugh slightly, and with the creasing of your eyes, a tear drips out, landing on your cheek. I take a short step forward, reaching out and catching the tear on my pointer finger, then slipping my whole hand behind your neck. I have to get half onto my tippytoes to reach you, but eventually my lips meet up against yours, my eyes closing. For a couple of seconds, you freeze, but then you slowly start to respond.

Your tongue flicks across my bottom lip, and I open my mouth slightly, feeling your hands slip around my waist. When our tongues meet inside my mouth, I feel a zing of energy and happiness start to zip through me. When we pull back, I make an annoyed groany sound, and your face immediately creases with worry.

"What? I'm sorry! What did I do? Did you.. Was that a mis.."

"Oh shut up, Jade. I was merely annoyed that I'm probably going to end up writing soppy love songs now."

"Now, that, I am not going to apologise for."

"And you made me run. You're a fat lot of use you are."

"If you want, I'll leave.." You start to let go of my waist, and I grab your arms, holding them around me.

"If you leave, I'll send you hate mail written in blood and sealed with the kiss of a Jezebel."

"Always the master of words." You smile, and I reach up to kiss you again, this one lasting longer than the first. "You know, you don't exactly suck at actions, either." You grin, your fingertips trailing under the hem of my t-shirt.

"Oh, you'd be surprised."
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