A/N: Good morning, Upper East Siders. Yay writing. This is loosely based off of the RP. Read, review and above all - enjoy. Peace and love!
She put him out like the burnin' end of a midnight cigarette
She broke his heart he spent his whole life tryin' to forget
We watched him drink his pain away a little at a time
But he never could get drunk enough to get her off his mind
Until the night
Gunner had felt his heart shatter into a million pieces when he found out her decision. She hadn't chosen him. Why would she? He was nothing but trash, he didn't deserve her. But, that hadn't stopped him from falling in love with her. He never gave a damn about emotions and feelings; the only thing he ever enjoyed was causing people pain. Crushing someone's skull onto the concrete was what put a smile on his face. Until Tara. Despite every wall that he'd put up, she'd worked her way into his heart. Oh, yes. The malicious Gunner did in fact have a heart. In fact, it was breaking more and more as he continued dwelling on things.
It wasn't supposed to end like this. He'd promised that they'd still be friends, but he wasn't sure if that was possible. His feelings for her were far too great. He was in love and she had chosen someone else. Why had he even bothered to fight for her? He'd known from the start that he was fighting a losing battle. But, she just meant too much to him for him to give up so easily. It just tore him apart inside. He'd let his walls down and let her in. And for what? For him to get his heart broken? What a great pay off. Gunner growled to himself, muttering profanities as he turned and punched the wall.
"Fuck!"
He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger
And finally drank away her memory
Life is short but this time it was bigger
Than the strength he had to get up off his knees
We found him with his face down in the pillow
With a note that said I'll love her till I die
And when we buried him beneath the willow
The angels sang a whiskey lullaby
Gunner cursed again, pulling his fist out of the wall, wincing as he did so. His knuckles were bleeding and he couldn't move his fingers. He snorted, not giving a damn that he'd probably just broken his hand. What did it matter anyway? It wasn't like he anyone that cared about him. When you were trash like him, you didn't deserve to have anyone care about you. All he was ever going to be was alone. All alone with no one to give a damn about him. He could fall off the face of the Earth and nobody would notice. So that was what he intended on doing. He was going to disappear, go back to being the heartless monster that he once was. There would be no more Gunner with feelings, no more Gunner with a heart. That was all over.
His thoughts wandered and that soul crushing feeling filled him again. He couldn't deal with this feeling anymore. He made his way into the kitchen, smirking as he stood before the liquor cabinet. So what would his poison be tonight? Vodka? Jack Daniels? Whiskey? He grabbed the bottle of Jack off the shelf, not even bothering with a glass of any kind. He sunk to the floor as he opened the bottle and chugged as much as he could at once. The liquor burned the back of his throat, but he welcomed that. It was about a million times better than feeling the pain in his heart.
The rumors flew but nobody knew how much she blamed herself
For years and years she tried to hide the whiskey on her breath
She finally drank her pain away a little at a time
But she never could get drunk enough to get him off her mind
Until the night
He kept drinking until that warm, fuzzy feeling filled him. There was no more pain, no more heartbreak. Everything was just…numb. Gunner frowned realizing now that the bottle was empty. Had he really been drinking that long? It didn't matter. He struggled to his feet, this time grabbing the vodka from his liquor cabinet. He popped it open, taking a swig as he stumbled through his house. Destruction. He moved through his house knocking things around, punching the walls again. He kicked the TV off its stand, watching as his crashed to the floor. This brought a chuckle from his lips as he kicked over his coffee table. As he continued his destruction, a singular thought crossed his mind.
How did Tara feel at this moment? She didn't give a damn about him, that's why she didn't choose him. She was probably curled up with her boyfriend, holding him tight, a loving smile on her lips. That thought in itself drove Gunner right back to the bottle. Trash. He was trash. He wasn't good enough. Worthless. The vodka was half now. Cursing out loud, he took another long swig before throwing the bottle at the wall. It shattered once it hit the wall and he laughed bitterly. Just like his heart.
She put that bottle to her head and pulled the trigger
And finally drank away his memory
Life is short but this time it was bigger
Than the strength she had to get up off her knees
We found her with her face down in the pillow
Clinging to his picture for dear life
We laid her next to him beneath the willow
While the angels sang a whiskey lullaby
Gunner scowled to himself, retreating to his bedroom to grab his leather jacket and the keys to his motorcycle. He stumbled out of the bedroom, making it to the front door as best as he could. Going riding with this much liquor in system wasn't the smartest idea, but he didn't care. It wasn't like anyone would care or notice when he didn't show up for work. They'd go on about their lives like nothing was out of the ordinary. He didn't matter. Besides, it wasn't the first time he went riding with the intent of crashing his bike. The only difference now was that she wouldn't be in the hospital room with him when he woke up.
A/N: Yep. Sad, right? Review.