Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
Hard to Say
9 reviewsnot sure if this should be in MCR or the Used, but whatever... basically a Bert/Gerard fic, with a little Frerard in it. I really like this idea, I'm not too keen on how it turned out, but hey......
1Moving
I see your face everywhere; on the TV, on the internet, in the record stores, on T-shirts. I can’t escape your probing eyes; they haunt me, reminding me of the wrongs I did you. It pains me to remember what a fool I was, how I scorned the most precious thing you ever offered me. I wish I had swallowed my pride instead of walking away. I wish I had picked up the phone instead of losing myself in drugs. But it’s too late now, what’s done is done and I can never change the past.
*
We had been inseparable, the best of friends despite the five years between us. Maybe I was too young, too immature, more interested in my next beer or fix than anything else. We were both drunk that first time, unusually for you since you’d been clean, but nothing out of the ordinary for me. We were alone on the bus, the others still down at the pub. You flung yourself at me, shocking me as your lips locked with mine. We were drunk, we were bored; it seemed natural at the time as a kiss turned to many kisses and make out sessions turned to sex. I had a girlfriend, you had an on-off relationship with a woman, but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like it meant anything, it was purely something to do, or so I always thought.
I remember pretty early on how I realised Frankie liked you as more than a friend. No one else seemed to have noticed and I don’t know how I did, but I’d always catch him looking at you, or watching us together.
“You should tell him,” I said to him once, hardly realising what a jerk I must sound. He didn’t even pretend not to know what I was talking about; instead he shot me a pained look.
“If he’s happy, I’m happy,” he shrugged. “But if you hurt him, I swear I will personally make your life a living hell.” His voice had changed. He suddenly sounded threatening, almost scary. But I had laughed; laughed at his loyalty, laughed his love. What an idiot I was, what a fucking fool. But through the haze of drink and drugs I was just too blind to see it.
Then the day came when you finally told me. I should have seen it coming, should have known how much of a better person than me you were, but of course I didn’t. I had moved forward to kiss you as usual, but you put a finger on my lip to stop me.
“Bert,” you said nervously. I grinned at you, still unsuspecting.
“What is it babe?” I asked lightly, moving closer to you.
“We need to talk,” you breathed.
“So talk,” I said seductively, snaking my arm around your waist. You took a deep breath and offered me something I could never deserve.
“I think I love you.”
I let go of you, taking a step backwards. Love? I was free as a bird, what did I need the chains of love for? Love tied a person down, binding them to another. Or maybe I was just scared; terrified of relying on another human being. I could see the pain in your eyes, but it could not move my cold heart. And then I laughed, hysterically almost – I guess it was either that or crying. You shot me a look of disgust then, shaking your head, you walked out of the door, out of the room, and out of my life.
*
For a little while I was angry with you, why couldn’t you have been satisfied with what we had, why did you have to want more? It took me until that night to realise what a dreadful mistake I had made. I had just woken up from one of my usual nightmares when I reached out to hold you, to let you comfort me. But instead of your warm body there was a cold, empty space. I cried and cried until all my tears were dry, but it was too late. You were gone.
What I miss about you the most isn’t the way your body moved with mine, not how our lips latched together, but instead those talks we had safe in each others arms. Or even all the times you stopped me from having another drink. I used to get so pissed off, what business of yours was it? But now I’m just touched you cared enough to try to save me from myself.
I could have ran after you that night, or picked up the phone and called you, or done anything. But you know me. I couldn’t have grovelled at your feet and begged for forgiveness. I should have, but I was too fucking proud. Everyone thought I hate you – but what they couldn’t see was that it was me I hated for the terrible thing I did to you.
Over a year has passed since I last held you in my arms. And now you are married, world famous, everyone loves you. I still scorn you in public, I don’t know why, it seems somehow necessary. You moved on, but I never did. You know me; I find it so hard to say that I was wrong and that I miss you so much. I try to forget, you to find someone else, but since you’ve been gone I’m not the same.
I’m sorry Gee, I’ll love you forever.
*
We had been inseparable, the best of friends despite the five years between us. Maybe I was too young, too immature, more interested in my next beer or fix than anything else. We were both drunk that first time, unusually for you since you’d been clean, but nothing out of the ordinary for me. We were alone on the bus, the others still down at the pub. You flung yourself at me, shocking me as your lips locked with mine. We were drunk, we were bored; it seemed natural at the time as a kiss turned to many kisses and make out sessions turned to sex. I had a girlfriend, you had an on-off relationship with a woman, but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like it meant anything, it was purely something to do, or so I always thought.
I remember pretty early on how I realised Frankie liked you as more than a friend. No one else seemed to have noticed and I don’t know how I did, but I’d always catch him looking at you, or watching us together.
“You should tell him,” I said to him once, hardly realising what a jerk I must sound. He didn’t even pretend not to know what I was talking about; instead he shot me a pained look.
“If he’s happy, I’m happy,” he shrugged. “But if you hurt him, I swear I will personally make your life a living hell.” His voice had changed. He suddenly sounded threatening, almost scary. But I had laughed; laughed at his loyalty, laughed his love. What an idiot I was, what a fucking fool. But through the haze of drink and drugs I was just too blind to see it.
Then the day came when you finally told me. I should have seen it coming, should have known how much of a better person than me you were, but of course I didn’t. I had moved forward to kiss you as usual, but you put a finger on my lip to stop me.
“Bert,” you said nervously. I grinned at you, still unsuspecting.
“What is it babe?” I asked lightly, moving closer to you.
“We need to talk,” you breathed.
“So talk,” I said seductively, snaking my arm around your waist. You took a deep breath and offered me something I could never deserve.
“I think I love you.”
I let go of you, taking a step backwards. Love? I was free as a bird, what did I need the chains of love for? Love tied a person down, binding them to another. Or maybe I was just scared; terrified of relying on another human being. I could see the pain in your eyes, but it could not move my cold heart. And then I laughed, hysterically almost – I guess it was either that or crying. You shot me a look of disgust then, shaking your head, you walked out of the door, out of the room, and out of my life.
*
For a little while I was angry with you, why couldn’t you have been satisfied with what we had, why did you have to want more? It took me until that night to realise what a dreadful mistake I had made. I had just woken up from one of my usual nightmares when I reached out to hold you, to let you comfort me. But instead of your warm body there was a cold, empty space. I cried and cried until all my tears were dry, but it was too late. You were gone.
What I miss about you the most isn’t the way your body moved with mine, not how our lips latched together, but instead those talks we had safe in each others arms. Or even all the times you stopped me from having another drink. I used to get so pissed off, what business of yours was it? But now I’m just touched you cared enough to try to save me from myself.
I could have ran after you that night, or picked up the phone and called you, or done anything. But you know me. I couldn’t have grovelled at your feet and begged for forgiveness. I should have, but I was too fucking proud. Everyone thought I hate you – but what they couldn’t see was that it was me I hated for the terrible thing I did to you.
Over a year has passed since I last held you in my arms. And now you are married, world famous, everyone loves you. I still scorn you in public, I don’t know why, it seems somehow necessary. You moved on, but I never did. You know me; I find it so hard to say that I was wrong and that I miss you so much. I try to forget, you to find someone else, but since you’ve been gone I’m not the same.
I’m sorry Gee, I’ll love you forever.
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