Title: I Miss You Singing Me To Sleep
Author: Emelie
Pairing: Tony Lovato/Gerard Way
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Two depressed ex rock stars.
Disclaimer: As far as I know those tow aren't ex rock stars, so this can't be true
Notes: 1. I wrote this a few months ago, but haven’t got around to post it until now. 2. This isn’t beta’ed, because I’m tired of being a burden. Forgive the stupid Swede…3. This is to marre_barre because she rocks.




You can't understand what he's doing here. A few minutes ago the door closed behind him and his pattering steps led him in to the couch, to the opposite end of it to where you were sitting. Now he's sitting there, rubbing his hands together. You pull up your legs beneath you, so you can sit comfortably while studying him and his nervous rubbing.

His wild hair falls down in his pale face, so the only thing you can see is the tip of his nose that points out from the black hair. But you know what's hiding behind the curtain, you know it too well. Thin lips and a pointy nose in a childish-looking round face. Eyes that screams of mania and helplessness in a frame of black and red.

You know that face far to well. Even though you try to forget what the shrunk up person is doing in the other end of the couch, even though you do everything not to understand it, you know it anyway. You try to force your gaze away from him and back to the pointless program at the TV. But you can't.

"You should cut your hair," you mutter. It's not the point that he should hear you, but in some way it is the point too.

"You have as long hair yourself," he answers, half loud without looking up from his hands. And you know he's right, if you just let your high, blond mohawk fall down, it would be almost as long as his black hair.

He's everything you hate. He's the ghost in your life that makes you scared of both light and darkness. But mostly of what will happen next. Because you know how alike you two are, it could be you at the other end of the sofa.

But you are so different too, it could never be him who takes your place.

You lower your gaze from his curtain of hair, just to see your own tattooed hands with nails painted in faded black, rubbing against each other in you knee. Just like his. He has to stop doing that soon, or he will make a knot out of his fingers.

Or you will.

You feel like crying out loud, releasing all the hidden frustration that lives within you soul.

You look up at him again. The TV is buzzing quietly in the background. His hair is slowly moving back and forth.

When you look closer you realise that his whole body is shaking. His rubbing hands are now holding on to each other for dear life, to get something stable to hold on to. You wonder for how long he's been shaking. For how long did you look away? A minute, a half-hour? You don't know.

He pulls his knees up to his chest, hugging them, to get his body to stop shaking, without much success. He just looks like a vibrating meatball. A mixture of a helpless cry and a stifled sob escapes his lips, that are pressed together hard.

You hurry to crawl to his side of the couch and wrap your arms around him. Slowly you rock the shaking man, trying to calm him down.

After a while you feel how the body starts to relax in your arms and you hug him harder to your chest.

"Gerard?" you whisper and bury your face in his hair. It smells of smoke and like it hasn’t been washed. "Gerard?"

"I couldn't..." he whispers with shaking voice. "I had to come back..."

"Why?" His hair tickles your nose familiarly.

"You... you are the only one who can handle me..." His voice is muffled as he talks into your shirt. "Sorry?"

Your hand strokes his back slowly.

"Tony?" His voice is worried.

"Why did you leave?"

"To prove to myself that I could cope without you..." he mumbles shyly, "but I can't."

You squeeze him harder against you, as hard as your arms let you. You're not letting him disappear again.

"Promise me one thing?" you whisper.

"Mmm?"

"Never leave me again?"

"Never," he promises.

He is everything you hate, everything you fear and the reason why you can't sleep at night. But he is everything you love, the reason why you're still on this earth. He scars you. You make him calm.

"I love you," you whisper into his ear.

He moves in your grip, makes him self free so he can look up at you. He sees intense, blue eyes in a face that is grey and tired with worry. You see a childish, round boy face that is pale by the lack of sun.

As your lips meet you don't feel the taste of smoke in his mouth, and he doesn't feel it in yours. But you remember that one week ago you promised each other to stop smoking.

Smoking. That's the only addiction you have left. And one day you will stop that too. Maybe.

You are lying down at the couch now, beside each other. Your heads are in the end where you sat before and your feet where Gerard sat. You wonder if it should be the other way around.

You brush his hair away from his face, his light brown eyes stares sadly at you. You try to smile at him, but you don't think it comes out too good. Instead you just hug each other, trying to forget the daily life by hiding in the body heat of the other man.

*

Gerard is still asleep when you wake up a few hours later. He looks so angel like and innocent when he's asleep. It reminds you of back when you met. Back when he was happy. You want nothing more then to make him smile again.

Your lives can't go on like this much longer. None of you ever goes out if it's not necessarily. You have almost no contact with the outside world. Gerard's brother Mikey comes by every now and then, but when you think about it, he's the only one who does.

When you stopped drinking and doing drugs you got lonely. Before you were intoxicated and social. You don't dare to go back to your old friends, because you think they will make you drink again. Even though you know they won't.

Once alcohol was your best friend, but it betrayed you and almost took the best thing in your life away from you.

You're just two worthless ex rock stars. No, Gererd's not worthless, you're the only one who are.

You miss the days when you were at the road, you miss all the fun you had there.

You remember at one of those endless tours a friend of yours, Bert, had dropped by with one of his friends. That friend was Gerard. That was almost ten years ago now. You wonder what Bert is doing now a days, none of you have talked to him in ages. He's probably dead or a caring family father.

Bert makes you think of Matt, not of any particular reason, he just does. Matt, the bass player of the band you once were in and your favourite cousin. The last time you saw him was at his mom's 60th birthday last year. And he barley said hi to you. You miss him terribly.

"What are you thinking about?" a soft voice says beside you.

"Matt," you stare up at the ceiling. "I miss him."

A warm hand strokes your chin slowly. "You should call him," Gerard says.

"I know, but I don't think I dare."

"Why not? It's not like he'll kill you. It's a phone line between you."

"Can you sing for me?"

"I can't sing," he snorts.

"And I'm the queen of England."

All since his band split up he had refused to sing, he said the others didn't want him anymore because he couldn't sing. That wasn't true, no one but him thought so.

You miss hearing him sing. "I miss you singing me to sleep", like they sang in that old New Found Glory song. Too bad you can’t remember what song it is.

"Please, for me?"

He sits up with his back to you.

"No, I'll never sing again."

You sit up behind him and put your head at his shoulder. "I miss hearing you sing even more then I miss talking to Matt. Please, sing something?"

You hear him hum some random tones. His voice sounds insecure and unused. A little like your voice when you wake up in the morning with a sore throat. You smile to yourself, it feels good to make him use his voice again.

"What do you want me to sing?"

"You know what they do to guys like us in prison." You feel his shoulder tense under your head. You touched one more sensitive spot there, but you love that song. He didn't just refuse to sing after that his band split up, he couldn't stand their songs either. At least you were better than him at that point, you can listen the old music you made, but you don't like doing it.

He moves his head to the side, giving you a fast glance. You smile back trying to encourage him. Reluctantly he forms the first words of the song, trying to find his voice again.

"In the middle of a gun fight
In the centre of a restaurant
They say, 'Come with your arms raised high'..."

His voice is dead and has absolutely no feeling at all. But as he finds the right rhythm and his voice wakes up to life again, the song starts to live. You wrap your arms around him, squeezing him hard to your body. And in the pit of your stomach a little red flower of pride and hope starts growing.
He finish the song and as the last note fades away his head falls down over yours like all air left his body. Like a balloon that someone stuck a needle in.

"We're just two men as god has made us," you half sing half whisper into his ear. "And you can sing."

He answers nothing but his body is more relaxed then it has been for months as he rest against you.

Outside the dim winter afternoon has turned into jet-black night.

*

You wake up next morning with a feeling that something is terribly wrong. The other side of the bed is cold and empty.

A cold hand grabs your heart and squeezes it hard. You always wake up before Gerard and the few times you haven't something bad has been going on. The though that he have left you again hits you. In a way it wouldn't surprise you if he has, but you didn't expect him to do it as soon. And you know you won't survive if he has.

With great hesitation you get out of bed. You would prefer to stay under the warm blanket without knowing anything, just hide from he world. But the fear that Gerard has done something to hurt himself again forces you to out in the house and see what's going on.

This reminds you of something that happened almost a half year ago.

The house had been totally quiet when you got home that afternoon after buying some food, witch was a rare thing. Gerard always had some CD playing, whatever he was doing.

You had found him in the kitchen with your sharpest kitchen knife in his hand that he was trying to stab into his own heart. But he wasn't capable of doing that ho himself, so instead he just cut up his chest.

That day he did something he never done before, and had promised later never to do again, he threatened you with the knife because you had walked in and tried to stop him. That scared you, more then anything he ever had done before. You don't think that you could take that one more time.

As you struggled with trying to take the knife from him without hurting any of you more, someone opened the door. You swore you yourself, cursing at the person who chooses this inopportune moment to walk into your life. Who ever it was never paid attention at any other time, so why should they do now? You wondered if any of the neighbours had heard you and called the police?

The person that shows up in the kitchen doorway appears to be the one you feared it to be the most. It's Mikey's thin frame and big glasses you saw. He shouldn't see his elder brother like this, brown eyes sparkling with yellow fire, but a distant fire like there was a transparent wall in front of them.

You've seen those eyes too many times before, but they never fails to scare you to death. Luckily it was much more often before.

To your surprise Mikey just fasten his eyes on Gerard, walks to him and takes the knife.

Without the knife in his hand it was like all life disappeared from Gerard's body. He sank down at the floor, covering his head with his arms, shaking. Mikey sat down beside him, holding him close and rocking him slowly. Just like you use to do. If it weren't for the blood and the fact that you felt like crying it would have been a beautiful scene.

Together you and Mikey finally got Gerard calm again. He was sleeping in the bed you shared, looking so small and innocent. As long as the blanket covered his scared chest and arms. You and Mikey sat at the other side of the bed, the side that was yours.

"Does he get like this often?" Mikey asked you while looking concerned at his brother.

"No, not since he gave up the drugs. This was the first time it been this bad in years..."

He nods. "He had those attacks when he was a teenager every now and then. But mom and me learned to control them in some way. I hoped he had grown out of that."

You're good at scaring yourself. Now you're almost panicking, just thinking of what might have happened, even before you know if it's true.

You put on your dressing grown and peeks out through the small opening in the door, like world war three might be going on out there.

The hallway is dark and quiet, but you can see light coming from the kitchen. Slowly you sneak out and into the light room.

The sight that meets you when you step into the kitchen almost makes you faint. Much have you suspected, but not in your wildest dreams this would appear.

Gerard is standing in the middle of the room with his hair collected in a tuft, his cheeks have a slight healthy red tone and he’s smiling while quietly singing a song to himself. It takes you a moment to make out the words.

"I can't dream any more, since you left
I miss you singing me to sleep
I can't wake any more in your arms
I miss you singing me to sleep..."

In his hands he holds a package of milk, a cheese and butter. The table behind him is almost set for a huge breakfast.

"Are you awake already?" he stops his singing. "I was going to surprise you!"

The only thing that's missing is him wearing a apron.

"Tony?" he put the food down and walks to you.

"Sorry," you shake your head quickly to clear your thoughts. " I guess I'm not awake yet."

He smiles broadly and gives you a quick good morning kiss.

"Breakfast is ready," he says, "and thank you for making me sing yesterday!" He grabs your hand and pulls you to the table still humming the old New Found Glory song. It annoys you that you can't remember the name of it.

He serves you strawberry yoghurt and a sandwich with cheese and salami before he sits down and grabs something to eat himself.

"Dressed to kill!" you exclaim proudly.

"What?" He looks up from his bowl of milk and cornflakes.

"Nothing, I was just thinking about that song you sang. I thought about it yesterday too, for some reason, but I couldn't remember the title. But now I remembered it!"

*

You move the phone in your hand. The backside looks exactly the same as it did a few minutes ago. Once again you turn the front side up and starts dialling the number.

03265...

You know the number by heart, but you can't make your fingers dialling the whole number.

You put the phone down at the table in front of you again, hugging your knees as you curse to yourself.

Suddenly you feel a warm hand touch your shoulder. That causes you to fire one more volley of curse at yourself for not hearing Gerard enter the room.

"What's up?" he asks quietly and sits down beside you at the couch. You rest your head at his chest as he hugs you tightly. Enjoying the feeling of another body close to yours.

"I can't call him."

"Who?"

"Matt."

"Why can't you call him? You have his number, right?"

"Yes, but my fingers won't let me dial the number."

"Do you want me to do it for you?"

"No!" you almost scream. For some reason that thought scares you even more then doing it yourself. Maybe because you know Gerard would dial the number and push the call button and that would mean that you actually have to talk to Matt.

You want nothing more then hearing his voice again, but you dare not take the first step. It's so long since you talked to him and you fear that the amount of time has made him forget about you. That he wouldn't remember you at all when he heard your voice.

Or maybe he's angry at you. You don't know why though, no one of you have done anything to hurt the other, you just drifted apart. You met Gerard and he and his girlfriend Tracy got married. They've got two kids now, two girls. They should be three and five now if you remember right.

Maybe you and Gerard could baby sit those girls sometime. You would love to do that. If you don't tell Matt about the knife incident, if you do he would probably not let his kids near you.

Gerard strokes you soothingly over your sad hair. Yes, your hair is sad today. You had no energy to put up your mohawk so the long blond hair is just hanging in all different directions, barley covering the black, short hair at the sides. And your real, brown hair colour shows up in the bottom.

He reach out and grabs the phone, "Call him." There is no question in that statement, it's just do it, you have no other choice. You turn around in his lap so your back is against his chest. Reluctantly you take the phone from him and start dialling the number.

His hands are tracing over your tights, to give you confident.

032652...

You look helpless at him, "I can't!"

"You can, come on now!" His voice is calm and secure.

"No, I can't!" You bury you head into his neck. It makes you feel so miserable to not be able to do something as normal as make a phone call. But you can't, and that makes you the black sheep in the white, perfect flock. The sheep that should be executed.

"Tony..." he kisses the top of your head slowly, "my little Tony."

"I should die."

"No, there's no reason you should die."

"I can't even make a fucking phone call, I don't deserve to live."

He hugs you tight. "You do not deserve to die! How do you think I'm supposed to live without you?"

You shrug, you don't care, nothing matters.

Suddenly you feel the cold plastic of the phone against your ear and the irritating sound of the signals that tells you that somewhere, not far away from here, a phone is ringing.

"Take the phone," Gerard says. You don't move. His warm hand closes around your cold one and moves it up to your ear. Apathetically you grab the phone.

Signal after signal beeps into your ear.

"Hey, we're not..." It's Matt's voice speaking in your ear. His voice hasn't changed at all since you last time you heard it. Your heart makes a little, happy jolt of recognition. "...home at…" you hang up quickly.

"He hates me, he doesn't want to talk to me" you state.

"But you didn't say anything?"

"It was just the answering machine." He should have been home if he wanted to talk to you, that he wasn't must be a sign that he wants nothing to do with you.

"That doesn't mean he hates you." Gerard's arms are wrapped around your stomach. "Maybe he was just picking up is kids? Call in half an hour again or leave a message."

You don't answer him, you just bury your face into his neck one more time, letting his hair cover your face. You're not even the black sheep, you're the invincible sheep that the shepherd forgot.

"Call again," he continues, "and leave a message. Ask him to call back, it's not that dangerous. It's like sending an e-mail, nothing personal. You don't have to talk to anyone but a fucking machine."

You nod your head slowly, you could do that.

"Do you want me to dial the number?"

You nod once more.

This time you take the phone from him when he gives it to you. Your heart is beating fast, scared that someone will answer, as you hear the singles in your ear.

"Hey, we're not home at the moment, but leave a message and we might call you back. If we want to." Your heart sinks like a stone. You must be one of those that he won't call back. But now you're this far and you have to leave a message, if you don't want to hate yourself even more afterwards.

"H...hi, it's Tony," you say insecurely. "Can you call me later, Matt? I miss you." You hang up and throw the phone across the room. It lands in one of the flowerpots in the window, luckily without breaking anything.

Gerard kisses you slowly. You feel that he is proud of you, and somewhere deep inside you are proud too.

His hands sneak in under your shirt and lift it up over your head, letting it fall down at the floor. He eyes your tattooed chest, the tattoos that you never show anyone anymore. Not that you're ashamed of them, it's just not you anymore. The tattoos were a part of the old Tony.

You unbutton his shirt, letting it expose his pale chest, free from tattoos but filled with scars that the caused him self. He always wears a shirt too, not that he's ashamed of his scares, but he doesn't want anyone to ask him about them.

You're so much alike, yet so different.

He lies down at the couch pulling you atop of him, kissing you hungrily.

*

Your fingers draw lines over his chest, following the scares and tie them together with invincible lines. He lies beside you, smiling warmly.

Suddenly the phone rings, the sharp signal stabs the silence until it's bleeding.

Gerard sits up, preparing for the walk to the phone. You shouldn't have thrown it as far away as you did.

You shiver slightly of the cold that surrounds your naked body, now when its protective cover has gone to answer the phone.

He bends down and gives you a quick kiss before he walks across the room. You watch the line of his pale, beautiful body and his untidy, back hair.

"Way," he answers. "Yeah, one moment." He walks back across the room, smiling as he gives you the phone. "It's Matt."

Exited you take the phone, he called back! But as soon as you put the phone to your ear the usual fear grabs you again. Just because he called doesn't mean he wants to talk to you.

"Hello?" you answer insecurely. Gerard takes the plaid that hangs over the couch and drapes it around you, so you can talk without getting cold.

"See you soon," he whispers and kisses your free ear, before he leaves the room.

"Tony!" you hear Matt's familiar voice, and by the sound of it he is smiling. "I've missed you too!"