Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
Just One Night
6 reviews[One-Shot] She had just wanted him to be there for her, just for that one night, instead he was being sucked off round the back of some sleazy bar. As usual.
0Unrated
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PoV of own character (female).
If you don't like fics where Gerard is a drunk and a bit of a dick then don't read this. However as this is in no way supposed to be a true portrayal of Gerard and is entirely fictional it shouldnt offend too many I hope.
The song at the end is stolen from 3 Doors Down and is called 'Here Without You'. Please don't judge the fic on the song that inspired it. Just give it a go. There is a bit more story after the song is 'sung' make sure you don't skip that bit!
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Just One Night
I throw Gerard one last look over my shoulder and disappear out of the bar and into the night. The truth was that I wanted him to follow me. To chase me down the emptying streets begging me for forgiveness, tainted yellow by the harsh streetlight, hair matting slightly in the light rain. He wouldn’t though. He never did. Every time this happened, because of course it had happened before, I would just walk home alone and wait for him to turn up next to me in our bed. Maybe that morning, maybe not for days, weeks even. Sometimes he wouldn’t bother to return before he left for tour again. I still can’t decide which one I prefer. Him being there or not. There’s a thin line I suppose between hatred and just being angry because you care, because you’re in love.
The air is cold and the moon is covered by grey clouds which threaten more rain. As if we hadn’t had enough these past few days. There were permanent puddles on the streets this time of year, the sewers never quite managing to drain them all away in time for the next down pour. I cast my gaze up past the streetlamps to the clouds and question silently why life had to be this way. Why I had to fall asleep alone on a regular basis. Why he had to lie and deceive. Why I had to love him regardless, blindly, even though he obviously didn’t care about me.
One night. I’d wanted him there, needed him there for one night. One measly night. My bands first show and I’d wanted him there. I’d wanted to make him proud. Because after all if any one knew a good show it was Gerard Way. Instead he’d gone down town and gotten trashed in a nameless bar with faceless people and puke patterned walls. One night. I had just wanted him to give me that one night of his life.
There’s no one around now and I think about taking the short cut through the woods but I figure I’ll just take the safer, longer, route. After all I don’t mind the walk. It’s calming, it gives me space to think. Unconfined by the walls of our apartment covered in smiling photos and Gerard’s slightly darker art work. The woods look dark and mysterious but not frightening as I study them from my side of the street. What could frighten you when you were dating a rock star? You see it all. Drunken rage, drug induced hysteria, depression spurned by one critical review too many. Your boyfriend, fiancé, with his body wrapped around the closest thing to him with a pulse.
The amount of phone calls I’d had off him trying to explain himself outweighed the amount of bones I have in my body. Apparently it’s because he gets lonely, because he misses me. Does he not think I get lonely too? That I miss him? And yet I manage to stay here and remain faithful. I sleep alone every night in our bed, noticing with every passing night how his smell would fade from the room, from the sheets. Then he would return and I’d be so full of hope because things would be Ok with him back. How often were those hopes dashed? More times than I bare to remember. Nearly every time he bothers to return to me.
Seedy bars smelling of tobacco smoke and lust, strip clubs with flashing lights and glamorous dancers, back street alleys littered with condoms, needles and junk. He’d find somewhere to get high, to get drunk, to get laid. No matter how hard I tried to help him, to stop him, he’d be there the next night. As soon as he could get away from me he’d be back there with even more lust in his veins, with an even higher craving for the substances that could make this life bearable where I could not.
The block of flats is rising in front of me now and I can see our window from my position in the car park. I should be back at Sam’s flat partying with the rest of them. Celebrating our first big show, well big by our standards. The show that marked the beginning of our band’s journey for real. We were going to go somewhere and I damn right deserved to be there with them, feeling happy and excited and nervous about what life held in front of me. Instead I was climbing the stairs to my apartment alone because the one person in my life that I would die for was out getting sucked off by some bleach blonde tattooed whore round the back of a grotty pub. Words slurred in lust and intoxication. How could I love him? Why the fuck do I love him? Do I love him?
The thought occurs to me as I enter the flat. Headed automatically for the kitchen where my stash of alcohol is hidden in the cupboard behind the fryer. I grab a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels and settle on the sofa, tucking my feet underneath me. I can feel the emotion building up at the back of my throat. The urge to cry is as overwhelming as the burning sensation now hitting the back of my throat. I rest my head back and stare at the white painted ceiling. There’s a small paint splatter right above me where Gerard had become a bit too enthusiastic while creating and ended up painting some of the ceiling as well as his canvas.
Please just come home. I beg silently. Although why I want him to come back I don’t understand. He’d just be drunk, he’d pass out, we’d never talk, he wouldn’t be in any state to talk. I’d wake up in the morning to a pile of puke and a still slumbering Gerard. I’d eventually find some excuse to go out, to get away from him. Then in the evening I’d go to Sam’s to write more songs or go through old stuff with the rest of the band. Maybe if I was lucky we’d have a gig so I could spend that small amount of time forgetting about everything. Forgetting Gerard. Forgetting how screwed up my life had become since I started dating one of the most lusted over men in the country, in the world.
I take a few more mouthfuls of my drink and then carefully replace it in it’s rightful hiding place. Stumbling slightly from exhaustion rather than drunkenness I make my way to my dark, empty bedroom. Falling onto the hard mattress I close my eyes without bothering to remove any of my clothes and I fall instantaneously into a deep, dreamless sleep.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
When I awake in the morning I’m surprised to feel a heavy arm around my waist. I roll over and come face to face with a sleeping Gerard. Asleep, not comatose, and his eyes are red but not with drug use, his cheeks appear tearstained, I don’t allow myself the hope that this means he is in remorse however. Gerard could be an emotional drunk. He’d been known to pay hookers just to listen to his rants about how bad his life was. I disentangle myself from him and disappear into the shower. Washing away the smells of last nights show and the remnants of last nights self pity.
If I’d been surprised to wake up next to Gerard this morning I’m even more surprised when I walk out of the bathroom, fully dressed, to find Gerard stood in the kitchen cooking pancakes and setting the small table for two people. Fake flower in a vase and all.
“Shit. This was meant to be ready by the time you were done.” He mumbles. Turning away from me quickly to grab the pancakes and put them in a stack on a plate. “Here. Take a seat. It’ll be done real soon.”
I want to ask what’s going on but if I speak I might wake up and this is such a lovely dream that I don’t think I ever want to wake up. I look around me at the kitchen, smell the smells, and suddenly I feel so so terribly alone.
“What is all this?” I ask Gerard as he sits across from me and starts shovelling food onto my plate the way my Mum would when she thought I wasn’t eating enough.
“Breakfast.” He smiles as if this is a completely normal situation for us to find ourselves in. I look down onto my plate and tear away a chunk of pancake with my fork. I put it in my mouth just so I won’t have to say anything. It tastes dry and I have to take a mouthful of water to swallow it. It has nothing to do with Gerard’s cooking ability however, more the dawning feeling of dread building in my stomach and spreading throughout my entire body.
“I’ve decided I’m going to make a real go of things this time. I’m going to stop getting wasted and stoned every night. I’ll stay away from all those raunchy clubs. I’ll be faithful to you. I promise you that this time I’m going to make this work because I’m sick of hurting you. I let you down last night and I’m sorry. I really am… So what do you say?” The hopeful look in his eyes will surely haunt me for the rest of my life. I set down my fork and stare down into my lap. Fighting the all too familiar urge to burst into tears. I look up again at his still eager face. “I don’t think I can Gerard. I’m sorry.” I choke out before grabbing my coat, slipping on some shoes and stumbling to Sam’s house. Tears mar my vision the whole way and all I can see as I make my way down the familiar streets is Gerard stood there in the kitchen, smiling, informing me he’d cooked us breakfast. How can I love you, when you’ve trampled my heart beyond recognition let alone function.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“You’ll never guess who I saw out there.” Joey whispers to me as we wait to go out on stage.
“Who?” I ask tiredly. The last two months had been hard. We’d been on the longest tour yet. I’d left Gerard. I wasn’t coping. Performing every night was the only thing really keeping me alive.
“Guess?”
“Santa Clause?”
“No, Gerard stupid!” He laughs. My heart stops beating for a second. I’d forgotten that this was the home town show. That my home town was Gerard’s hometown. That My Chem were off tour still.
“You Ok? Look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“No no. I’m fine. Come on. That’s our queue.” I say and lead them onto the stage.
Half way into the set I see him. He’s a few rows from the front and I only notice him because of the way he’s stood stock still compared to everyone else who is dancing or jumping or something . He’s just stood there, looking at me, drinking me in with those amazing eyes.
“This is a new song.” I announce to the crowd, unable to remove my eyes from Gerard. “It goes out to a certain person, I think he used to love me.” I trail off at Gerard’s slight, subconscious, nod. Then the guitars start up and I begin to sing.
“A hundred days have made me older
Since the last time I saw your pretty face
A thousand lies have made me colder
And I don’t think I can look at this the same.
But all the miles that separate,
Disappear now when I’m dreaming of your face.
I’m here without you baby.
But you’re still on my lonely mind.
I think about you baby
And I dream about you all the time.
I’m here without you baby
But you’re still with me in my dreams
And tonight boy it’s only you and me.
The miles just keep rolling
As the people leave their way to say ‘hello’
I’ve heard this life is overrated
But I hope that it gets better as we go
I’m here without you baby.
But you’re still on my lonely mind.
I think about you baby
And I dream about you all the time.
I’m here without you baby
But you’re still with me in my dreams
And tonight boy it’s only you and me.
Everything I know and anywhere I go
It gets hard but it won’t take away my love
And when the last one falls
When it’s all said and done
It gets hard but it won’t take away my love…”
The music fades out and the crowd cheers and I see Gerard’s face trying to make sense of the song. Was this goodbye? Hello? He didn’t know, I didn’t know. He’d probably turn up at the flat tonight either drunk or sober and that would go half way to determine how things would play out. Then we’d have that talk. The one we’d needed to have for months, years maybe. We may wake up in each others arms on the verge of a brand new life together. Or I may wake up alone, as I had done nearly every night for the last 3 years, finally free of the anchor that had been slowly dragging me down into Gerard’s murky depths.
PoV of own character (female).
If you don't like fics where Gerard is a drunk and a bit of a dick then don't read this. However as this is in no way supposed to be a true portrayal of Gerard and is entirely fictional it shouldnt offend too many I hope.
The song at the end is stolen from 3 Doors Down and is called 'Here Without You'. Please don't judge the fic on the song that inspired it. Just give it a go. There is a bit more story after the song is 'sung' make sure you don't skip that bit!
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Just One Night
I throw Gerard one last look over my shoulder and disappear out of the bar and into the night. The truth was that I wanted him to follow me. To chase me down the emptying streets begging me for forgiveness, tainted yellow by the harsh streetlight, hair matting slightly in the light rain. He wouldn’t though. He never did. Every time this happened, because of course it had happened before, I would just walk home alone and wait for him to turn up next to me in our bed. Maybe that morning, maybe not for days, weeks even. Sometimes he wouldn’t bother to return before he left for tour again. I still can’t decide which one I prefer. Him being there or not. There’s a thin line I suppose between hatred and just being angry because you care, because you’re in love.
The air is cold and the moon is covered by grey clouds which threaten more rain. As if we hadn’t had enough these past few days. There were permanent puddles on the streets this time of year, the sewers never quite managing to drain them all away in time for the next down pour. I cast my gaze up past the streetlamps to the clouds and question silently why life had to be this way. Why I had to fall asleep alone on a regular basis. Why he had to lie and deceive. Why I had to love him regardless, blindly, even though he obviously didn’t care about me.
One night. I’d wanted him there, needed him there for one night. One measly night. My bands first show and I’d wanted him there. I’d wanted to make him proud. Because after all if any one knew a good show it was Gerard Way. Instead he’d gone down town and gotten trashed in a nameless bar with faceless people and puke patterned walls. One night. I had just wanted him to give me that one night of his life.
There’s no one around now and I think about taking the short cut through the woods but I figure I’ll just take the safer, longer, route. After all I don’t mind the walk. It’s calming, it gives me space to think. Unconfined by the walls of our apartment covered in smiling photos and Gerard’s slightly darker art work. The woods look dark and mysterious but not frightening as I study them from my side of the street. What could frighten you when you were dating a rock star? You see it all. Drunken rage, drug induced hysteria, depression spurned by one critical review too many. Your boyfriend, fiancé, with his body wrapped around the closest thing to him with a pulse.
The amount of phone calls I’d had off him trying to explain himself outweighed the amount of bones I have in my body. Apparently it’s because he gets lonely, because he misses me. Does he not think I get lonely too? That I miss him? And yet I manage to stay here and remain faithful. I sleep alone every night in our bed, noticing with every passing night how his smell would fade from the room, from the sheets. Then he would return and I’d be so full of hope because things would be Ok with him back. How often were those hopes dashed? More times than I bare to remember. Nearly every time he bothers to return to me.
Seedy bars smelling of tobacco smoke and lust, strip clubs with flashing lights and glamorous dancers, back street alleys littered with condoms, needles and junk. He’d find somewhere to get high, to get drunk, to get laid. No matter how hard I tried to help him, to stop him, he’d be there the next night. As soon as he could get away from me he’d be back there with even more lust in his veins, with an even higher craving for the substances that could make this life bearable where I could not.
The block of flats is rising in front of me now and I can see our window from my position in the car park. I should be back at Sam’s flat partying with the rest of them. Celebrating our first big show, well big by our standards. The show that marked the beginning of our band’s journey for real. We were going to go somewhere and I damn right deserved to be there with them, feeling happy and excited and nervous about what life held in front of me. Instead I was climbing the stairs to my apartment alone because the one person in my life that I would die for was out getting sucked off by some bleach blonde tattooed whore round the back of a grotty pub. Words slurred in lust and intoxication. How could I love him? Why the fuck do I love him? Do I love him?
The thought occurs to me as I enter the flat. Headed automatically for the kitchen where my stash of alcohol is hidden in the cupboard behind the fryer. I grab a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels and settle on the sofa, tucking my feet underneath me. I can feel the emotion building up at the back of my throat. The urge to cry is as overwhelming as the burning sensation now hitting the back of my throat. I rest my head back and stare at the white painted ceiling. There’s a small paint splatter right above me where Gerard had become a bit too enthusiastic while creating and ended up painting some of the ceiling as well as his canvas.
Please just come home. I beg silently. Although why I want him to come back I don’t understand. He’d just be drunk, he’d pass out, we’d never talk, he wouldn’t be in any state to talk. I’d wake up in the morning to a pile of puke and a still slumbering Gerard. I’d eventually find some excuse to go out, to get away from him. Then in the evening I’d go to Sam’s to write more songs or go through old stuff with the rest of the band. Maybe if I was lucky we’d have a gig so I could spend that small amount of time forgetting about everything. Forgetting Gerard. Forgetting how screwed up my life had become since I started dating one of the most lusted over men in the country, in the world.
I take a few more mouthfuls of my drink and then carefully replace it in it’s rightful hiding place. Stumbling slightly from exhaustion rather than drunkenness I make my way to my dark, empty bedroom. Falling onto the hard mattress I close my eyes without bothering to remove any of my clothes and I fall instantaneously into a deep, dreamless sleep.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
When I awake in the morning I’m surprised to feel a heavy arm around my waist. I roll over and come face to face with a sleeping Gerard. Asleep, not comatose, and his eyes are red but not with drug use, his cheeks appear tearstained, I don’t allow myself the hope that this means he is in remorse however. Gerard could be an emotional drunk. He’d been known to pay hookers just to listen to his rants about how bad his life was. I disentangle myself from him and disappear into the shower. Washing away the smells of last nights show and the remnants of last nights self pity.
If I’d been surprised to wake up next to Gerard this morning I’m even more surprised when I walk out of the bathroom, fully dressed, to find Gerard stood in the kitchen cooking pancakes and setting the small table for two people. Fake flower in a vase and all.
“Shit. This was meant to be ready by the time you were done.” He mumbles. Turning away from me quickly to grab the pancakes and put them in a stack on a plate. “Here. Take a seat. It’ll be done real soon.”
I want to ask what’s going on but if I speak I might wake up and this is such a lovely dream that I don’t think I ever want to wake up. I look around me at the kitchen, smell the smells, and suddenly I feel so so terribly alone.
“What is all this?” I ask Gerard as he sits across from me and starts shovelling food onto my plate the way my Mum would when she thought I wasn’t eating enough.
“Breakfast.” He smiles as if this is a completely normal situation for us to find ourselves in. I look down onto my plate and tear away a chunk of pancake with my fork. I put it in my mouth just so I won’t have to say anything. It tastes dry and I have to take a mouthful of water to swallow it. It has nothing to do with Gerard’s cooking ability however, more the dawning feeling of dread building in my stomach and spreading throughout my entire body.
“I’ve decided I’m going to make a real go of things this time. I’m going to stop getting wasted and stoned every night. I’ll stay away from all those raunchy clubs. I’ll be faithful to you. I promise you that this time I’m going to make this work because I’m sick of hurting you. I let you down last night and I’m sorry. I really am… So what do you say?” The hopeful look in his eyes will surely haunt me for the rest of my life. I set down my fork and stare down into my lap. Fighting the all too familiar urge to burst into tears. I look up again at his still eager face. “I don’t think I can Gerard. I’m sorry.” I choke out before grabbing my coat, slipping on some shoes and stumbling to Sam’s house. Tears mar my vision the whole way and all I can see as I make my way down the familiar streets is Gerard stood there in the kitchen, smiling, informing me he’d cooked us breakfast. How can I love you, when you’ve trampled my heart beyond recognition let alone function.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“You’ll never guess who I saw out there.” Joey whispers to me as we wait to go out on stage.
“Who?” I ask tiredly. The last two months had been hard. We’d been on the longest tour yet. I’d left Gerard. I wasn’t coping. Performing every night was the only thing really keeping me alive.
“Guess?”
“Santa Clause?”
“No, Gerard stupid!” He laughs. My heart stops beating for a second. I’d forgotten that this was the home town show. That my home town was Gerard’s hometown. That My Chem were off tour still.
“You Ok? Look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“No no. I’m fine. Come on. That’s our queue.” I say and lead them onto the stage.
Half way into the set I see him. He’s a few rows from the front and I only notice him because of the way he’s stood stock still compared to everyone else who is dancing or jumping or something . He’s just stood there, looking at me, drinking me in with those amazing eyes.
“This is a new song.” I announce to the crowd, unable to remove my eyes from Gerard. “It goes out to a certain person, I think he used to love me.” I trail off at Gerard’s slight, subconscious, nod. Then the guitars start up and I begin to sing.
“A hundred days have made me older
Since the last time I saw your pretty face
A thousand lies have made me colder
And I don’t think I can look at this the same.
But all the miles that separate,
Disappear now when I’m dreaming of your face.
I’m here without you baby.
But you’re still on my lonely mind.
I think about you baby
And I dream about you all the time.
I’m here without you baby
But you’re still with me in my dreams
And tonight boy it’s only you and me.
The miles just keep rolling
As the people leave their way to say ‘hello’
I’ve heard this life is overrated
But I hope that it gets better as we go
I’m here without you baby.
But you’re still on my lonely mind.
I think about you baby
And I dream about you all the time.
I’m here without you baby
But you’re still with me in my dreams
And tonight boy it’s only you and me.
Everything I know and anywhere I go
It gets hard but it won’t take away my love
And when the last one falls
When it’s all said and done
It gets hard but it won’t take away my love…”
The music fades out and the crowd cheers and I see Gerard’s face trying to make sense of the song. Was this goodbye? Hello? He didn’t know, I didn’t know. He’d probably turn up at the flat tonight either drunk or sober and that would go half way to determine how things would play out. Then we’d have that talk. The one we’d needed to have for months, years maybe. We may wake up in each others arms on the verge of a brand new life together. Or I may wake up alone, as I had done nearly every night for the last 3 years, finally free of the anchor that had been slowly dragging me down into Gerard’s murky depths.
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