![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kat_lair***
Title: The Principle of Irregularity
Author:dreamersdare, kat_lair, pushkin666
Fandom: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Pairing: Gerard/Mikey
Tags: Ficlet, Round Robin, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Sibling Incest, Implied/Referenced Incest, it's about the yearning
Rating: T
Word count: 746
Summary: We can none of us be anyone else but who we are.
Author notes: We had a threeway fandom date and, in time-honoured tradition, wrote some round robins. If you can guess who wrote which part you will win... uhh, bragging rights? Title from the quote by Pierre-Auguste Renoir: "One can thus state, without fear of being wrong, that every truly artistic production has been conceived and executed according to the principle of irregularity."
The Principle of Irregularity on AO3
“Space!” Gerard flailed his hand around, flicking some of the paint from his brush as he did so. “Space. Do you see?” He glared at Mikey as he continued. “This is my space. This room. It’s where I… well it’s where I create.” He scowled at the way Mikey’s lips twitched at that last word, as though his brother was trying very hard not to laugh at him. A wave of affection went through him at Mikey’s reaction but also annoyance that even now, after all these years and miles between them, Mikey was still able to affect him like this. It had always been their way though. Days, weeks and months would go by without them talking or seeing each other and then Mikey would turn up and he would end up giving in. Again.
Gerard turned away and stared out of the windows way down into the streets below. This attic apartment, or garret apartment as the agent’s brief had called it, was everything he’d always wanted. The main reason after all that he’d come to Paris. He’d been seduced by the stories of the 19th century artists in Paris, thrilled to read about the lives of Degas, Renoir and Toulouse-Lautrec. He’d wanted to live in that time, rather than in the 21st century that he now inhabited.
“Okay,” Mikey said.
Gerard eyed him suspiciously. “Okay?” he echoed. “What does that mean, okay? Is that the kind of okay where you’re going to respect my space?”
Mikey shrugged. “I always respect your space, Gee.”
That was… annoyingly true in ways that Gerard wasn’t prepared to examine too closely. He couldn’t afford to get dragged down that rabbit hole. He was focused. “So, you’re… not staying here?” He had to ask; clarity was important.
Mikey rolled his eyes. “Of course, I am. Why wouldn’t I?”
Gerard spluttered. “My space,” he said again, with an emphatic wave of his arms. “This is my zone, Mikeyway, you can’t just… be in it.”
Mikey’s answer was a slow blink, and he nudged his bag a little closer to the bedroom door. “You’re such a drama queen,” he muttered. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why would me being here stop you being creative?”
“Because you’re—” Gerard cut himself off sharply, teeth digging into his bottom lip like he could physically stop something incriminating falling past them. Something poetic about fixation and sustenance and inspiration and wanting and needing. Something entirely inappropriate to say to his own brother, something that had helped him find Paris when he’d felt most lost. He wrapped his fingers more tightly around the smooth wooden handle of his paintbrush, like an anchor.
“-you,” he finished lamely.
Mikey looked at him silently for long seconds. His smile, when it came, was oddly melancholy around the edges. It reminded Gerard of Seine in the rain, still beautiful but… sad, somehow. Maybe Mikey had his own reasons to come to Paris. Maybe Gerard was being selfish, trying to keep him at arm’s length.
“We can none of us be anyone else but who we are,” Mikey said finally.
Gerard opened his mouth but couldn’t quite string a sentence together. “Mikey, what…? Did something…?”
Mikey waved a hand at him, all carefree amusement once more. “Go back to your art,” he said. “I’m taking a nap. Jetlagged, you know.” With that he grabbed his bag and disappeared into Gerard’s bedroom, closing the door softly behind himself.
Gerard stared at it like it was a masterpiece in Louvre, with the same combination of frustration and yearning he looked at the paintings, because it had never been enough for him to just appreciate what was already there. He had always wanted to experience it for himself, to get his hands dirty, streaks of paint up to his elbows, in his hair, until his thoughts and dreams mixed together like watercolours in a cup.
His brother was no exception. And the longer Mikey stayed, the closer he got, the more likely Gerard was to spill his messy emotions all over and ruin the picture the two of them made. It wasn’t perfect, Gerard knew that much, but it was safe, and that had been enough for as long as he remembered.
Part of him feared it was about to change. A bigger part shivered at the possibility, no matter how faint, at painting something new, garnet red anticipation bleeding into the indigo of their status quo.
And that scared him even more.
***
Title: The Principle of Irregularity
Author:
dreamersdare, kat_lair, pushkin666 Fandom: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Pairing: Gerard/Mikey
Tags: Ficlet, Round Robin, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Sibling Incest, Implied/Referenced Incest, it's about the yearning
Rating: T
Word count: 746
Summary: We can none of us be anyone else but who we are.
Author notes: We had a threeway fandom date and, in time-honoured tradition, wrote some round robins. If you can guess who wrote which part you will win... uhh, bragging rights? Title from the quote by Pierre-Auguste Renoir: "One can thus state, without fear of being wrong, that every truly artistic production has been conceived and executed according to the principle of irregularity."
The Principle of Irregularity on AO3
“Space!” Gerard flailed his hand around, flicking some of the paint from his brush as he did so. “Space. Do you see?” He glared at Mikey as he continued. “This is my space. This room. It’s where I… well it’s where I create.” He scowled at the way Mikey’s lips twitched at that last word, as though his brother was trying very hard not to laugh at him. A wave of affection went through him at Mikey’s reaction but also annoyance that even now, after all these years and miles between them, Mikey was still able to affect him like this. It had always been their way though. Days, weeks and months would go by without them talking or seeing each other and then Mikey would turn up and he would end up giving in. Again.
Gerard turned away and stared out of the windows way down into the streets below. This attic apartment, or garret apartment as the agent’s brief had called it, was everything he’d always wanted. The main reason after all that he’d come to Paris. He’d been seduced by the stories of the 19th century artists in Paris, thrilled to read about the lives of Degas, Renoir and Toulouse-Lautrec. He’d wanted to live in that time, rather than in the 21st century that he now inhabited.
“Okay,” Mikey said.
Gerard eyed him suspiciously. “Okay?” he echoed. “What does that mean, okay? Is that the kind of okay where you’re going to respect my space?”
Mikey shrugged. “I always respect your space, Gee.”
That was… annoyingly true in ways that Gerard wasn’t prepared to examine too closely. He couldn’t afford to get dragged down that rabbit hole. He was focused. “So, you’re… not staying here?” He had to ask; clarity was important.
Mikey rolled his eyes. “Of course, I am. Why wouldn’t I?”
Gerard spluttered. “My space,” he said again, with an emphatic wave of his arms. “This is my zone, Mikeyway, you can’t just… be in it.”
Mikey’s answer was a slow blink, and he nudged his bag a little closer to the bedroom door. “You’re such a drama queen,” he muttered. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why would me being here stop you being creative?”
“Because you’re—” Gerard cut himself off sharply, teeth digging into his bottom lip like he could physically stop something incriminating falling past them. Something poetic about fixation and sustenance and inspiration and wanting and needing. Something entirely inappropriate to say to his own brother, something that had helped him find Paris when he’d felt most lost. He wrapped his fingers more tightly around the smooth wooden handle of his paintbrush, like an anchor.
“-you,” he finished lamely.
Mikey looked at him silently for long seconds. His smile, when it came, was oddly melancholy around the edges. It reminded Gerard of Seine in the rain, still beautiful but… sad, somehow. Maybe Mikey had his own reasons to come to Paris. Maybe Gerard was being selfish, trying to keep him at arm’s length.
“We can none of us be anyone else but who we are,” Mikey said finally.
Gerard opened his mouth but couldn’t quite string a sentence together. “Mikey, what…? Did something…?”
Mikey waved a hand at him, all carefree amusement once more. “Go back to your art,” he said. “I’m taking a nap. Jetlagged, you know.” With that he grabbed his bag and disappeared into Gerard’s bedroom, closing the door softly behind himself.
Gerard stared at it like it was a masterpiece in Louvre, with the same combination of frustration and yearning he looked at the paintings, because it had never been enough for him to just appreciate what was already there. He had always wanted to experience it for himself, to get his hands dirty, streaks of paint up to his elbows, in his hair, until his thoughts and dreams mixed together like watercolours in a cup.
His brother was no exception. And the longer Mikey stayed, the closer he got, the more likely Gerard was to spill his messy emotions all over and ruin the picture the two of them made. It wasn’t perfect, Gerard knew that much, but it was safe, and that had been enough for as long as he remembered.
Part of him feared it was about to change. A bigger part shivered at the possibility, no matter how faint, at painting something new, garnet red anticipation bleeding into the indigo of their status quo.
And that scared him even more.
***