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The Complete Fic Directory
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Fireworks
It’s the chemicals you’re not supposed to mix together that make the most beautiful explosions. You know, like...like fireworks? You stick all that shit together and you get something that’s pretty fucking spectacular. The way I see it, you know in the back of your mind it’s essentially just an explosion. You’re basically just blowing shit up. But it’s beautiful destruction. That’s how you justify it. You light the fuse, it goes bang, everything shines, it fizzles out. And you’re left with this grey smog across the darkness that makes you cough. But it was worth it. I think that’s the principle I was working off when I let myself fall in love with Mark Owen.
Honestly? I never did that well in chemistry at school, but even I could work out this one. Take one insecure fuck-up from Stoke, add one uncertain smiler from Oldham, then stir in some booze and some drugs...then stand well back.
It’s funny but nothing could stop us finding each other. We were always going to be put in that situation, we were always going to end up together. Neither one of us had the willpower to stop loving each other. We both could have written down the reasons it was wrong. The fact I can’t even look after myself when all he will always need is protecting. The fact I never think before I speak and he always takes things personally. The fact I lash out at everyone without ever dealing with the problem whilst he internalises everything and attempts to cope alone. I guess from that list you’d have to wonder why we loved each other. But God, we loved each other. I’m not sure that will ever change. We’re like those stars that explode, but you can still see their light every night, you know? That’s me and Mark.
Coz we are such a fucking double act. I love to crack jokes and he loves to laugh. We’re both a bit out of it at times – and not just coz of the drugs and the booze, not these days anyway, we had to stop that rubbish to stay alive. He understands me though. And I know I’m not the easiest bloke to understand. He understands why I am the way I am. We’re both a little bit scared of all the things the world can throw at us. We’ve both dealt with it in ways that haven’t been entirely healthy. But for all the shouting matches and the tears, we were still something else. Something better than ordinary life. My mistake was always looking for a high that was better than him – there is no high better than him, there is nothing and no one better than him. I mean it, we really were just...better.
I don’t mean to sound like some condescending flowers and love-hearts kinda git, but I know the difference. I know what it’s like to care. I know how much better it is to love. Coz I love Mark and...and back in the days when he loved me back, when he loved me from by my side instead of from a distance, we were fucking gorgeous. We got drunk and I smashed up some crockery and he cried and I left and he chased me and we fought and then we held each other and everything was just...magnified by how much we cared. Nothing could be small with us. We were the chemicals, our love was the bang. Firework love shines. In order to shine we had to burn. Chemicals in a confined space – just add fire. The fire was my lifestyle. I made friends with the wrong people, stayed out, got lost, lost him somewhere along the way.
We would kiss each other so forcefully it would hurt sometimes, and that just sums us up. Angrily. That’s how he would kiss me. Sick bastard I am I kinda liked it. I kinda enjoyed how he would cling to me. It was beautiful in a twisted way. It was passion. We always knew it was because we loved each other that we were capable of all that force. And we both appreciated being loved like that. He would still be smiling. A sad sort of a smile but a loving one. Because we both saw the sparkle in each other, the glint of what we loved about each other. Even as things were destroyed all around us, as he was being destroyed in front of me, even as I destroyed myself, we both saw each other exactly as we had in the beginning. I don’t know how he saw me, all I know is that, for some reason, he liked what he saw. No one else has since. Fuck it, even I don’t. That’s Mark though, always looking for the stars that have fallen into the gutter. As for him though? God. He was – is! – such a stunning creature. He’s not without his flaws, his faults. But his smile, his warmth...the way he seems to be constantly looking for an excuse to try and make everything and everyone ok. He is something that no one can really say. He’s that bit of glitter you find still stuck to your clothes months after Christmas day. And he is not for me.
He left in a blaze befitting of firework love. We’d parted ways more than once before that, but this was the moment. This was the finale to our grand display. And we both knew it. I hadn’t come home for a week. He hadn’t know where I was. The only assurance he’d had that I was alive was Jason phoning him to say he’d found me on his doorstep one night – though I’d been gone by the next – and asking whether we’d had a fight. A fight would have been nicer, Mark informed me, coz at least if we’d fought before I disappeared, he would have known what he did wrong. I only realised I should have told him that he had never done anything wrong, that I was wrong, everything about me is wrong, when it was too late for me to say it. I never told him at the time coz I was too drunk and possibly still a little bit high on whatever it was I was trying that week. Instead I chose to argue back, to punch at walls and rant and, in a fine act of stupidity, disappear all over again. By the time I got back he was gone. He left a note, detailing why he couldn’t cope anymore, and I was left alone in the smoke, choking.
I shouldn’t have been surprised that, when he finally cleared the smoke, he decided he’d had enough of firework displays. A lot of effort, a lot of energy, and at the end of the day, very little to show for them. Even if they were beautiful.
There’s some chemicals that don’t react. Even when you throw sparks at them. Maybe my problem is that I think that concept is too fucking boring. Maybe that’s why I’m still sitting alone in the dark whilst Mark is moving on. He’s found an ambient glow. Jason Thomas Orange, come on down.
Jason is part of the untold darkness of our story. Or at least, he mopped up after us after hours. He’s the medic treating all the people that got too close to the firework show. He’s the guy who bandaged us up. He was the one that would get the call in the middle of the night to say I’d been arrested or Mark had ended up at the hospital. He was the one who would turn up to foot the bill when I’d spent all our money on drugs and he was the one who would drive over to our house in the middle of the night when the shouting was disturbing the neighbours. Mark and me took it in turns to borrow his sofa. We both knew his phone number better than our own. I guess Mark knew it a little too well. God that sounds so fucking bitter.
Truth is Jason is the one who kept Mark alive, not me. As much as I loved him I was crap at sustaining him. I could do passion, oh that was fine. The explosions and the sparks and the lighting up of a night’s sky I could manage. But life? The day to day? That was never me. It was always Jason who dealt with life on our behalf. Which usually meant making sure Mark was alive whilst I went and threw my own life away. He has carried Mark in his arms and held him close and cleaned up his cuts and dried his tears and always, always, made sure he’s had a good meal down him. Whilst I’ve just tried to keep him alive through the full force of my love for him. A counterproductive strategy when the fact he loved me tore him up completely. He was broken up almost all the time about the fact that he loved me and yet all I did was blaze at him. It burnt him sometimes.
Jason doesn’t blaze.
I’m not surprised Mark fell for him. I’m not surprised that together they make this thing that can’t ever really fade. It’s beautiful but it’s practical. You know, built to last. There’s no bangs and no sparks. They will never paint the night’s sky a different colour. But they will glow. Mark smiles all the time now. Jason thinks about everything before he acts, he makes sure Mark is ok with things and uses logic to try and understand Mark’s point of view before he contests it. He still bandages Mark up from time to time, because the world still hurts Mark from time to time, that’s just its way. But he’s there to notice if Mark cuts himself. I never was, I never noticed. For all that I was wrapped up in Mark I never noticed when he fell. Jason notices everything. He has an eye for detail. He has a careful nature. Cautious, softly-spoken. Sensible. And Mark...well, Mark, for his part, relaxes Jason. It’s his smile. It’s his instinctive need to try and make everyone happy. It’s...it’s just Mark. Don’t get me wrong, they bicker. They rarely see eye to eye on anything. But they don’t shout or raise their voices. They banter. They even laugh. Mark is constantly trying to stop Jason worrying, Jason is always trying to remind Mark that bad things can, and will, happen if they’re not careful. I’d find it sweet to watch if it didn’t kill me.
I did everything wrong. I always do.
Like I said, I am wrong. Maybe I’m just wrong for him, despite how easily we fell back into each other’s arms so many times before. But I still love him you know. And he still loves me too, I know that much. Jason know it too, coz Jason is good at knowing things. I don’t think he minds too much.
It took Mark leaving for me to realise just how dark things had become. I’d been so busy enjoying the show, I hadn’t looked at my clock and seen how late it was. I was a fuck-up from Stoke and I was proving everyone right about what happens to fuck-ups from Stoke. But I hate proving people right. So I fixed myself, as best I could. I quit everything addictive. Well, except the fags...I tried but...well, it was the least toxic of my habits. I went round and I tried to mend every person I had broken unintentionally, and a few I had broken with definite intent. I got myself some semblance of a life. I was still fucking scared of reality and of dealing with life but I stopped trying to avoid it and finally decided a head-on battle would be ok. It had to be better than what had gone before. It was only then I went back to find Mark again.
Jason actually smiled when he saw me. He was glad, he was relieved. I think he felt guilty, for helping Mark but not helping me. I was relieved too. Because even though I knew that he was the one person who was capable of making me lose Mark forever, I also knew he was the one person I could trust to love Mark right, to look after him. He still carries Mark, I knew from the moment I saw them together. Him holding Mark’s hand as Mark swayed under my gaze. Mark seems to have created a shelter for himself in the slight concave of Jason’s chest. It’s amazing how much more safety there is in Jason’s wiry frame than in my own brutish lump.
I am sure there have been moments. Moments when Mark and me have had the potential to start exploding all over again. Even something as slight as a breath brushing against my hand is enough to spark memories. We still love each other with force but the fireworks are over. We were something beautiful whilst we lasted. And that’s the only way I ever want to love.
Honestly? I never did that well in chemistry at school, but even I could work out this one. Take one insecure fuck-up from Stoke, add one uncertain smiler from Oldham, then stir in some booze and some drugs...then stand well back.
It’s funny but nothing could stop us finding each other. We were always going to be put in that situation, we were always going to end up together. Neither one of us had the willpower to stop loving each other. We both could have written down the reasons it was wrong. The fact I can’t even look after myself when all he will always need is protecting. The fact I never think before I speak and he always takes things personally. The fact I lash out at everyone without ever dealing with the problem whilst he internalises everything and attempts to cope alone. I guess from that list you’d have to wonder why we loved each other. But God, we loved each other. I’m not sure that will ever change. We’re like those stars that explode, but you can still see their light every night, you know? That’s me and Mark.
Coz we are such a fucking double act. I love to crack jokes and he loves to laugh. We’re both a bit out of it at times – and not just coz of the drugs and the booze, not these days anyway, we had to stop that rubbish to stay alive. He understands me though. And I know I’m not the easiest bloke to understand. He understands why I am the way I am. We’re both a little bit scared of all the things the world can throw at us. We’ve both dealt with it in ways that haven’t been entirely healthy. But for all the shouting matches and the tears, we were still something else. Something better than ordinary life. My mistake was always looking for a high that was better than him – there is no high better than him, there is nothing and no one better than him. I mean it, we really were just...better.
I don’t mean to sound like some condescending flowers and love-hearts kinda git, but I know the difference. I know what it’s like to care. I know how much better it is to love. Coz I love Mark and...and back in the days when he loved me back, when he loved me from by my side instead of from a distance, we were fucking gorgeous. We got drunk and I smashed up some crockery and he cried and I left and he chased me and we fought and then we held each other and everything was just...magnified by how much we cared. Nothing could be small with us. We were the chemicals, our love was the bang. Firework love shines. In order to shine we had to burn. Chemicals in a confined space – just add fire. The fire was my lifestyle. I made friends with the wrong people, stayed out, got lost, lost him somewhere along the way.
We would kiss each other so forcefully it would hurt sometimes, and that just sums us up. Angrily. That’s how he would kiss me. Sick bastard I am I kinda liked it. I kinda enjoyed how he would cling to me. It was beautiful in a twisted way. It was passion. We always knew it was because we loved each other that we were capable of all that force. And we both appreciated being loved like that. He would still be smiling. A sad sort of a smile but a loving one. Because we both saw the sparkle in each other, the glint of what we loved about each other. Even as things were destroyed all around us, as he was being destroyed in front of me, even as I destroyed myself, we both saw each other exactly as we had in the beginning. I don’t know how he saw me, all I know is that, for some reason, he liked what he saw. No one else has since. Fuck it, even I don’t. That’s Mark though, always looking for the stars that have fallen into the gutter. As for him though? God. He was – is! – such a stunning creature. He’s not without his flaws, his faults. But his smile, his warmth...the way he seems to be constantly looking for an excuse to try and make everything and everyone ok. He is something that no one can really say. He’s that bit of glitter you find still stuck to your clothes months after Christmas day. And he is not for me.
He left in a blaze befitting of firework love. We’d parted ways more than once before that, but this was the moment. This was the finale to our grand display. And we both knew it. I hadn’t come home for a week. He hadn’t know where I was. The only assurance he’d had that I was alive was Jason phoning him to say he’d found me on his doorstep one night – though I’d been gone by the next – and asking whether we’d had a fight. A fight would have been nicer, Mark informed me, coz at least if we’d fought before I disappeared, he would have known what he did wrong. I only realised I should have told him that he had never done anything wrong, that I was wrong, everything about me is wrong, when it was too late for me to say it. I never told him at the time coz I was too drunk and possibly still a little bit high on whatever it was I was trying that week. Instead I chose to argue back, to punch at walls and rant and, in a fine act of stupidity, disappear all over again. By the time I got back he was gone. He left a note, detailing why he couldn’t cope anymore, and I was left alone in the smoke, choking.
I shouldn’t have been surprised that, when he finally cleared the smoke, he decided he’d had enough of firework displays. A lot of effort, a lot of energy, and at the end of the day, very little to show for them. Even if they were beautiful.
There’s some chemicals that don’t react. Even when you throw sparks at them. Maybe my problem is that I think that concept is too fucking boring. Maybe that’s why I’m still sitting alone in the dark whilst Mark is moving on. He’s found an ambient glow. Jason Thomas Orange, come on down.
Jason is part of the untold darkness of our story. Or at least, he mopped up after us after hours. He’s the medic treating all the people that got too close to the firework show. He’s the guy who bandaged us up. He was the one that would get the call in the middle of the night to say I’d been arrested or Mark had ended up at the hospital. He was the one who would turn up to foot the bill when I’d spent all our money on drugs and he was the one who would drive over to our house in the middle of the night when the shouting was disturbing the neighbours. Mark and me took it in turns to borrow his sofa. We both knew his phone number better than our own. I guess Mark knew it a little too well. God that sounds so fucking bitter.
Truth is Jason is the one who kept Mark alive, not me. As much as I loved him I was crap at sustaining him. I could do passion, oh that was fine. The explosions and the sparks and the lighting up of a night’s sky I could manage. But life? The day to day? That was never me. It was always Jason who dealt with life on our behalf. Which usually meant making sure Mark was alive whilst I went and threw my own life away. He has carried Mark in his arms and held him close and cleaned up his cuts and dried his tears and always, always, made sure he’s had a good meal down him. Whilst I’ve just tried to keep him alive through the full force of my love for him. A counterproductive strategy when the fact he loved me tore him up completely. He was broken up almost all the time about the fact that he loved me and yet all I did was blaze at him. It burnt him sometimes.
Jason doesn’t blaze.
I’m not surprised Mark fell for him. I’m not surprised that together they make this thing that can’t ever really fade. It’s beautiful but it’s practical. You know, built to last. There’s no bangs and no sparks. They will never paint the night’s sky a different colour. But they will glow. Mark smiles all the time now. Jason thinks about everything before he acts, he makes sure Mark is ok with things and uses logic to try and understand Mark’s point of view before he contests it. He still bandages Mark up from time to time, because the world still hurts Mark from time to time, that’s just its way. But he’s there to notice if Mark cuts himself. I never was, I never noticed. For all that I was wrapped up in Mark I never noticed when he fell. Jason notices everything. He has an eye for detail. He has a careful nature. Cautious, softly-spoken. Sensible. And Mark...well, Mark, for his part, relaxes Jason. It’s his smile. It’s his instinctive need to try and make everyone happy. It’s...it’s just Mark. Don’t get me wrong, they bicker. They rarely see eye to eye on anything. But they don’t shout or raise their voices. They banter. They even laugh. Mark is constantly trying to stop Jason worrying, Jason is always trying to remind Mark that bad things can, and will, happen if they’re not careful. I’d find it sweet to watch if it didn’t kill me.
I did everything wrong. I always do.
Like I said, I am wrong. Maybe I’m just wrong for him, despite how easily we fell back into each other’s arms so many times before. But I still love him you know. And he still loves me too, I know that much. Jason know it too, coz Jason is good at knowing things. I don’t think he minds too much.
It took Mark leaving for me to realise just how dark things had become. I’d been so busy enjoying the show, I hadn’t looked at my clock and seen how late it was. I was a fuck-up from Stoke and I was proving everyone right about what happens to fuck-ups from Stoke. But I hate proving people right. So I fixed myself, as best I could. I quit everything addictive. Well, except the fags...I tried but...well, it was the least toxic of my habits. I went round and I tried to mend every person I had broken unintentionally, and a few I had broken with definite intent. I got myself some semblance of a life. I was still fucking scared of reality and of dealing with life but I stopped trying to avoid it and finally decided a head-on battle would be ok. It had to be better than what had gone before. It was only then I went back to find Mark again.
Jason actually smiled when he saw me. He was glad, he was relieved. I think he felt guilty, for helping Mark but not helping me. I was relieved too. Because even though I knew that he was the one person who was capable of making me lose Mark forever, I also knew he was the one person I could trust to love Mark right, to look after him. He still carries Mark, I knew from the moment I saw them together. Him holding Mark’s hand as Mark swayed under my gaze. Mark seems to have created a shelter for himself in the slight concave of Jason’s chest. It’s amazing how much more safety there is in Jason’s wiry frame than in my own brutish lump.
I am sure there have been moments. Moments when Mark and me have had the potential to start exploding all over again. Even something as slight as a breath brushing against my hand is enough to spark memories. We still love each other with force but the fireworks are over. We were something beautiful whilst we lasted. And that’s the only way I ever want to love.