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Emotion Sickness	By : gooddayray Category: My Chemical Romance > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1014 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of My Chemical Romance. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Emotion Sickness
- 1
Title: Emotion Sickness
Rating: R
Pairing: Bert/Gerard
POV: Gerard’s
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of these characters.
Warnings: Some boy ontop of boy action.
Summary: "I actually felt sick every time I saw you. I felt that clenching feeling in my throat, the one you got before you were about to cry or vomit. I hated it."

A/N: Hello, I haven’t written anything in a long long time, so I may be a bit rusty. I used to be EternalDemise. I also used to write ‘Taste of Venom’. I don’t think anyone will remember, but yes. That one kind of died for me. I am in the process of re-writing it though. So we’ll see how it goes. Enjoy! =)

Emotion Sickness

***

I kicked the loose gravel beneath my feet as I passed the buses. I was having a competition with myself, seeing how far I could kick the rocks and then trying to beat it. Yeah, that’s how lame I was.

As I walked along I found myself nearing your bus. I didn’t even want to pass it, but it was unavoidable. I actually felt sick every time I saw you. I felt that clenching feeling in my throat, the one you got before you were about to cry or vomit. I hated it.

I didn’t even know why we were fighting in the first place. Actually, that’s a lie. I did know. It was that fucking ‘Under Pressure’ that started it. I wish we hadn’t even done it. It started with that. Then you went back to your old junkie ways and I was done. Pathetic. Then you had the balls to call me boring just because I wasn’t digging myself an early grave like you were.

Every pill you swallowed, every drink you drank, every needle you injected. For every one of those, I took a step farther away from you. And you didn’t even notice. Every time I saw you, you were out of it. I think maybe I was scared that you’d pull me back into the downward spiral. And you probably would have if I hadn’t kept my distance.

It was with those thoughts that I passed your bus. I tried not to look, tried not to stare, but something caught my eye. I realised it wasn’t a something, but more of a someone. They were huddled near the bus steps, curled into a tight ball.

I cautiously moved closer, trying to get a better look at the lone figure. And the messy hair that resembled black straw told me it was you. My eyes widened and I slowly started to inch back. I was just going to walk away. Pretend I didn’t see you. Ignore the fact that you probably needed help.

That all would’ve happened if you hadn’t looked up at that moment and called out my name in the most lost, confused tone I’d ever heard leave your lips. It stopped me in my tracks and I stared.

Should I run? Should I pretend I didn’t hear you? Should I help you?

I walked stiffly over to the side of the bus where you couldn’t see. I wasn’t supposed to be feeling this. Pity. Of all the people that deserved my pity, you were not one of them.

I slammed my fist against the cool metal and groaned as I felt the pain shoot through to my wrist. I leant against the bus and sagged in defeat. I couldn’t walk away from you.

I stood and took a deep breath before I made my way around to you. You were still in the same position as before and I leant down, brushing my hand over your shoulder to let my presence be known.

You tensed at first, but when you turned and realised who it was you darted up, wrapping your arms tightly around my neck, clawing at my back as if you were trying to mould us together.

After minutes of you saying how you thought I’d left but thank God I hadn’t and my half-hearted attempts at comforting you, I asked why you were out here.

“T-The guy’s aren’t there and I couldn’t get up the stairs,” you said, dropping your head in shame.

It was then that I could smell the alcohol. I was surprised I hadn’t noticed before. It was like one of those foul perfumes a girl would put too much of on to impress a guy. Only it was much worse.

I rolled my eyes. This was all too familiar. I hooked my arms under your shoulders and hauled you up, not caring at that point if I hurt you or not.

You leant against me as I helped you up the stairs. I pushed the door open and let you go as I closed the door, thinking you could make your own way to the couch. I was wrong.

I pulled you up once again, and dropped you onto the couch. You looked up at me, flashing your bright blue puppy-dog eyes my way and I had to look away. You always knew how to get me.

“I missed you, Gerard.”

How can you miss someone so boring?

“Gerard, please. Talk to me.”

“I… fuck. What the fuck do you want me to say, Bert?” I couldn’t help the bitterness in my tone.

You didn’t say anything, just fixed your gaze on the dirty carpet. You looked like you were going to cry and I knew I’d have to get out soon.

I wasn’t supposed to feel sorry for you. I wasn’t supposed to care. I was supposed to hate you.

I knew I never could though.

I moved over and sat down next to you. Neither of us spoke. You lifted your head as if you were going to speak, but no sound ever left your lips.

You shifted closer to me. Closer. Closer. Closer until you were pressed against my side. You lifted my arm and draped it over your shoulders, clutching tightly to my hand, as if you knew I would push you away.

And I wanted to push you away. I was going to push you away. But it was as though that thought had paralysed me and I couldn’t move. I suppose that was a good thing though.

I suppose that was a good thing because you wouldn’t have kissed me. You wouldn’t have kissed me and I wouldn’t have felt the sorrow behind the alcohol and the lust. I wouldn’t have felt the sorrow through your kiss.

And my limbs were alive again. I grabbed your face between my hands and pulled you against me. I kissed you with all the pent up anger, lust, passion, desire, hunger, need, regret; I kissed you with everything I had.

But as soon as it started, it stopped. You’d bolted up and backed yourself into the furthest corner from me. The raw emotion that seared through that kiss had scared you. Had sickened you. See, that is why you and I didn’t fit.

We never had fit.

I stood and looked to you, to the door, to you. That could be my only moment for escape. I turned my gaze back towards the door. It would only take three steps and I could be free. I wouldn’t have to see you again.

But then I would have to see you. We were, after all, playing on the same tour. I slowly made my way over to your corner and sat down in front of you. We stared at each other for what seemed like hours, not talking, not moving; hardly even breathing.

Your eyes started to water and you looked back towards the dirty carpet. I hoped to God you wouldn’t cry. You weren’t supposed to cry. You were supposed to be a heartless bastard. You were supposed to be someone I could hate.

You looked back up and, thankfully, the tears were gone. But the look was still there. The pain, the confusion, the sorrow.

You crawled closer and looked up at me like a lost little boy. And at that moment I felt lost.

I couldn’t remember why we’d parted, why I’d let you go.

But then all the memories of all your hurtful words spoken through drunken phone calls, all your petty remarks made in interviews, all of your hollow promises hurtled me back to reality and I looked away.

Boy, were you a manipulator. Even if you didn’t know it.

I felt you crawl into my lap and wrap your thin arms around my waist. I looked down at your black strands, not moving. I didn’t know how to handle you like this.

You shuddered against me and I knew you were asking to be held. I didn’t know what you wanted me to do… hold you close, pet your hair, whisper soothing comforts in you ear?

I wasn’t going to do that after all you put me through.

I wasn’t going to, but that’s exactly what I did.

Held you close. Pet your hair. Whispered soothing comforts in your ear.

It almost made me sick.

I stopped my movements and we just sat there. You and I; together.

You started placing soft kisses along my neck. Soft kisses that soon turned into soft bites.

You pulled back, staring straight into my eyes, asking for permission. But I knew you would continue regardless of whether I gave permission. And that was almost a good thing.

Tomorrow when I’d be regretting everything I could comfort myself by saying you gave me no choice, you forced me into it.

Because I was like that. Never wanting to take responsibility for my actions. But I wasn’t the only one.

You dove in and crashed your lips against mine, and it was all tongues, teeth and hot, hot breath.

You pushed me back so I was lying flat against the carpet, straddling me, and I could have sworn I saw a smirk pass your lips. But I wasn’t sure if that was just my imagination. I had a lingering thought that all the drunken sadness was an act. An act just to get me in this position.

It wouldn’t be the first time you’d stooped so low.

But your hips against mine muted all of those thoughts and I was overcome with sheer need.

You started kissing your way down my neck, latching onto my collarbone. You ground your hips against mine, making us both moan.

Those where the things that made me realise how much I’d missed you.

I pushed back up and switched our roles so you were lying beneath me. Only one thought registered in my mind. Clothes. Must. Go.

I ripped and tore at our clothes with a brutality I didn’t even know I possessed.

You groaned at my actions, searching for more contact. I ground my hips against yours and had to stop from the pleasure skin on skin brought.

I lowered myself down, dropping light kisses along your jaw. But then all the anger coursed back through my veins and I bit down.

I bit down with all I was worth. I bit down until I could feel the light trickle of warm liquid flow over my tongue.

I trailed my way up to your lips and kissed them hard, pushing my tongue through chapped lips. You could taste your blood on my tongue and you loved it.

You were sick.

Sick. Disgusting. And that just made me kiss you harder. All my anger flowing through the kiss.

You drew back slightly, allowing me to nip along your jaw line, leaving small marks.

“Gerard,” you whispered, barely audible.

You repeated my name again and again until I pulled back. You stared at me with such intensity.

You stared, and what I saw in your eyes couldn’t be explained. It wasn’t love, lust, anger, hate or even the sorrow that was there before. It was something indescribable, something almost intriguing.

You moved your arm and lightly draped it around my neck, pulling me closer so we were nose to nose.

Our eyes were still locked when you closed the gap, connecting our lips.

It was simple skin on skin, lips touching lips. No eager tongue movement, or violent teeth. Just a soft touch.

And there you were again, manipulating your way back in. But I found myself wondering if this time you were genuine. But I knew that was impossible, didn’t I?

You trailed your hand down my chest as you broke the kiss, making light patterns along my abdomen, looking at me with that same look.

And I knew then what you were trying to say.

It was your eyes that told me what your mouth couldn’t. That was always the way with you. Any sliver of emotion you showed was a weakness to you, something someone could use against you. So you didn’t show anything. You pushed people away, ignored things. You never faced a lot of things.

You were scared.

And then I was the one who closed the gap.

I wouldn’t let you run anymore.

***
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Emotion Sickness