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writetomyheart2014-08-22 10:57 pm
myxstorie.livejournal.com) wrote in writetomyheart2014-08-22 10:57 pm
Entry tags:
[Team 1] I Love You
I apologise in advance for the GWay kick I am on -_-; ♥
"I love you," Gerard mumbled, staring resolutely down at the sketchpad on the tiny little table he'd commandeered for his own. The page was covered in smudges and faded graphite and eraser residue where he'd been drawing the same lines over and over again, trying to give the illusion of Rumour's jacket fluttering in the breeze, struggling to match the sweep of her hair to the wind outside, buffeting off the sides of the bus as they rumbled down the highway between one city and the next.
Three-day-old cigarette ash decorated the table top from the overflowing ashtray at his elbow, and Gerard fumbled his lighter between his fingers, the catch under his thumb and sudden, tiny flame comforting in its familiarity. Shoving another stick between his lips, he sucked in a long, deep breath, holding it until he ached, until the ache turned persistent and started to burn throughout his chest. Reluctantly, he let the smoke escape from the corners of his mouth, eventually releasing it all in a long stream that clouded around his face before dissipating, settling into the lumpy furniture and the piss-poor curtains that couldn't even keep the moonlight out.
“I love you.” He tried again, the words foreign and uncomfortable on his tongue. They didn’t sound right in his voice, coming out forced and unpractised, stunted in a way he hadn’t felt for years. Rumour stared up at him from the page, and he barely resisted the urge to stub his cigarette out in her stupid little face. Having a superpower would be awesome. She would just look up and say, hey, I heard a rumour that you’re in love, and it would be so, just like that. If he had a superpower he probably wouldn’t even be in this situation. Lindsey would have caught him one day walking through a wall, or returning from flight, or talking to centipedes and she’d have fallen completely head over heels, never mind his lank hair and pudgy cheeks and annoying tendency to go off on pretentious tangents at the drop of a hat.
His vice had steadily burnt down between his fingers, and Gerard only managed one more puff before it was only good to join the steadily-growing cigarette cemetery he was working on. God, he wanted a drink. This would be so much easier with some liquid courage burning its way down his throat. Three years ago he’d have had no problem proclaiming his love (and anything else) to whoever would listen, although probably he’d also have forgotten every word of it if and when he ever came down. Shame settled, heavy and ugly in his stomach, and Gerard swallowed down the urge to vomit, closing his eyes against the memory of what he’d become.
When he opened them again, Rumour was still looking up at him through her bangs. He snatched at the page, ripping it from his sketchbook, and balled it up in his fist. “I love you,” he snarled, furious at his own ineptitude, “I love you, dammit. I love you.”
“I love you too!” Frank sang, voice drifting out from the bunks. His body followed shortly after, far less melodic and graceful than his voice as he stumbled through the door and promptly tripped over the trash can Gerard had left in the aisle. Going down like a sack of potatoes, his yelled, “Fuck!” was muffled by a mouthful of Gerard’s socked foot, but when he scrambled back onto his feet Frank was grinning like it had never happened. “We all love you!”
“Shut up, fucker,” Gerard grumbled, tapping a fresh cigarette from his pack and scrapping with Frank briefly when he tried to wriggle his sneaky, tattooed fingers in to steal one. “Asshole, go buy your own.” He still gave Frank one, though. You never know when you might be stuck on the road without a cigarette, and Gerard could do with being owed all the favours he could get.
Frank flopped down on the little couch opposite, paying no mind to Gerard’s work as he propped his feet up on the table. Gerard was pretty sure the grey socks on his feet were white when they started touring, but he’d picked this shirt two days ago by counting the number of stains, and could scarcely remember the last time he’d taken a shower, so he wasn’t in much of a position to judge.
“Just tell her.” Frank said, like it was really that easy. Just because he’d been with Jamia since forever and they were, like, soul mates or something, he thought it was all playground-simple for everyone like it had been for them.
“Dude,” Gerard started, but Frank interrupted before that thought could go anywhere.
“Seriously,” he steamrolled, blowing smoke across the table into Gerard’s face, “Just say it. Once it’s all out in the open it’ll be so much easier and you won’t be this crazy little freak any more.”
Gerard was saved from having to dignify that with an answer when the bus shuddered to a stop and Frank threw himself bodily towards the door like truck stops and fresh air and crappy vending machine coffee were his reason for living.
-
Lindsey was everything. Funny and smart and stunningly beautiful, and talented too, so, so talented. Gerard hid in the wings of the stage as she played, bass steady around her neck and hair flying as she lost herself to the music, head thrown back and fingers flying. She was incredible, the most mesmerising thing he’d ever laid eyes on, and he couldn't tear them away for even a second. Tattoos standing out stark and vivid against pale skin, bright red lips and jet black hair, the Snow White of the punk rock scene.
She fell off the stage and into his arms, laughing around his mouth as he kissed her. Gerard took in her flushed face and wild, bright eyes, all that joy and energy directed straight at him, and his heart soared. It was right there, written all over her face for the world to see if they so much as looked their way for just a moment, and he could feel the words on the tip of his tongue, begging to be spoken aloud for the first time. She loved him. She loved him and Gerard felt like an idiot for doubting her even for a moment because she was right there in his arms and she loved him, she loved him and he loved her more than he'd ever thought possible, loved her little upturned nose and loved her wide smile and loved her crazy hair after a show, loved how her lipstick smeared when she kissed him like she was dying, loved her laugh and her hopes and her dreams, whispered into his ear in the dark, and he opened his mouth to tell her, felt the words leave his lips, but instead of I love you what he heard himself say was;
"Marry me."
Lindsey's eyes bugged out of her head, and Gerard practically swallowed his tongue in panic, cursing over and over again, shit shit shit shit shit, but she wasn't letting go of him, wasn't backing the fuck up like a deer in the headlights, why wasn't she kicking him to the kerb? Instead she was smiling, grinning wider than he'd ever seen before, tangling her fingers in his hair and kissing the breath right out of him.
"Okay." Lindsey whispered against his mouth, and Gerard wondered if she'd consider it bad form if he passed out right about now.
Your turn,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
yararanger! ♥
"I love you," Gerard mumbled, staring resolutely down at the sketchpad on the tiny little table he'd commandeered for his own. The page was covered in smudges and faded graphite and eraser residue where he'd been drawing the same lines over and over again, trying to give the illusion of Rumour's jacket fluttering in the breeze, struggling to match the sweep of her hair to the wind outside, buffeting off the sides of the bus as they rumbled down the highway between one city and the next.
Three-day-old cigarette ash decorated the table top from the overflowing ashtray at his elbow, and Gerard fumbled his lighter between his fingers, the catch under his thumb and sudden, tiny flame comforting in its familiarity. Shoving another stick between his lips, he sucked in a long, deep breath, holding it until he ached, until the ache turned persistent and started to burn throughout his chest. Reluctantly, he let the smoke escape from the corners of his mouth, eventually releasing it all in a long stream that clouded around his face before dissipating, settling into the lumpy furniture and the piss-poor curtains that couldn't even keep the moonlight out.
“I love you.” He tried again, the words foreign and uncomfortable on his tongue. They didn’t sound right in his voice, coming out forced and unpractised, stunted in a way he hadn’t felt for years. Rumour stared up at him from the page, and he barely resisted the urge to stub his cigarette out in her stupid little face. Having a superpower would be awesome. She would just look up and say, hey, I heard a rumour that you’re in love, and it would be so, just like that. If he had a superpower he probably wouldn’t even be in this situation. Lindsey would have caught him one day walking through a wall, or returning from flight, or talking to centipedes and she’d have fallen completely head over heels, never mind his lank hair and pudgy cheeks and annoying tendency to go off on pretentious tangents at the drop of a hat.
His vice had steadily burnt down between his fingers, and Gerard only managed one more puff before it was only good to join the steadily-growing cigarette cemetery he was working on. God, he wanted a drink. This would be so much easier with some liquid courage burning its way down his throat. Three years ago he’d have had no problem proclaiming his love (and anything else) to whoever would listen, although probably he’d also have forgotten every word of it if and when he ever came down. Shame settled, heavy and ugly in his stomach, and Gerard swallowed down the urge to vomit, closing his eyes against the memory of what he’d become.
When he opened them again, Rumour was still looking up at him through her bangs. He snatched at the page, ripping it from his sketchbook, and balled it up in his fist. “I love you,” he snarled, furious at his own ineptitude, “I love you, dammit. I love you.”
“I love you too!” Frank sang, voice drifting out from the bunks. His body followed shortly after, far less melodic and graceful than his voice as he stumbled through the door and promptly tripped over the trash can Gerard had left in the aisle. Going down like a sack of potatoes, his yelled, “Fuck!” was muffled by a mouthful of Gerard’s socked foot, but when he scrambled back onto his feet Frank was grinning like it had never happened. “We all love you!”
“Shut up, fucker,” Gerard grumbled, tapping a fresh cigarette from his pack and scrapping with Frank briefly when he tried to wriggle his sneaky, tattooed fingers in to steal one. “Asshole, go buy your own.” He still gave Frank one, though. You never know when you might be stuck on the road without a cigarette, and Gerard could do with being owed all the favours he could get.
Frank flopped down on the little couch opposite, paying no mind to Gerard’s work as he propped his feet up on the table. Gerard was pretty sure the grey socks on his feet were white when they started touring, but he’d picked this shirt two days ago by counting the number of stains, and could scarcely remember the last time he’d taken a shower, so he wasn’t in much of a position to judge.
“Just tell her.” Frank said, like it was really that easy. Just because he’d been with Jamia since forever and they were, like, soul mates or something, he thought it was all playground-simple for everyone like it had been for them.
“Dude,” Gerard started, but Frank interrupted before that thought could go anywhere.
“Seriously,” he steamrolled, blowing smoke across the table into Gerard’s face, “Just say it. Once it’s all out in the open it’ll be so much easier and you won’t be this crazy little freak any more.”
Gerard was saved from having to dignify that with an answer when the bus shuddered to a stop and Frank threw himself bodily towards the door like truck stops and fresh air and crappy vending machine coffee were his reason for living.
-
Lindsey was everything. Funny and smart and stunningly beautiful, and talented too, so, so talented. Gerard hid in the wings of the stage as she played, bass steady around her neck and hair flying as she lost herself to the music, head thrown back and fingers flying. She was incredible, the most mesmerising thing he’d ever laid eyes on, and he couldn't tear them away for even a second. Tattoos standing out stark and vivid against pale skin, bright red lips and jet black hair, the Snow White of the punk rock scene.
She fell off the stage and into his arms, laughing around his mouth as he kissed her. Gerard took in her flushed face and wild, bright eyes, all that joy and energy directed straight at him, and his heart soared. It was right there, written all over her face for the world to see if they so much as looked their way for just a moment, and he could feel the words on the tip of his tongue, begging to be spoken aloud for the first time. She loved him. She loved him and Gerard felt like an idiot for doubting her even for a moment because she was right there in his arms and she loved him, she loved him and he loved her more than he'd ever thought possible, loved her little upturned nose and loved her wide smile and loved her crazy hair after a show, loved how her lipstick smeared when she kissed him like she was dying, loved her laugh and her hopes and her dreams, whispered into his ear in the dark, and he opened his mouth to tell her, felt the words leave his lips, but instead of I love you what he heard himself say was;
"Marry me."
Lindsey's eyes bugged out of her head, and Gerard practically swallowed his tongue in panic, cursing over and over again, shit shit shit shit shit, but she wasn't letting go of him, wasn't backing the fuck up like a deer in the headlights, why wasn't she kicking him to the kerb? Instead she was smiling, grinning wider than he'd ever seen before, tangling her fingers in his hair and kissing the breath right out of him.
"Okay." Lindsey whispered against his mouth, and Gerard wondered if she'd consider it bad form if he passed out right about now.
Your turn,
yararanger! ♥