Work Text:
Party girls don't get hurt
Can't feel anything, when will I learn?
I push it down, push it down
Gavin knew that with being labeled as “the fuck-up”, there was bound to be insults. He knew there would be hurt feelings and yelling. He knew, he knew, he knew. It had hurt so much at first. He wasn’t trying to hurt anyone’s chances, he was just…
Hurting their chances.
But he learned that if he just suppressed it, he’d forget and eventually get over it. Again and again, he pushed it down. Forget, forget, forget. It’s just a game. An explosion brewing and simmering deep inside.
But the insults didn’t feel like a game.
I'm the one "for a good time call"
Phone's blowin' up, ringin' my doorbell
I feel the love, feel the love
He was always there for drinks. Geoff would call him up, asking if he wanted to get bevs. Sometimes it’s Michael calling him, cheerfully asking if they wanted to get drunk. A couple jests and Ray sighing in the background. But more often than not, it’s Gavin asking.
He’d be a regular person for a night. No heists, no planning, no deaths.
He needed to forget.
1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, drink
1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, drink
1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, drink
Gavin drank to forget. What else was it good for? He nursed a beer on most days, a couple at most, just to get a buzz and have him thinking about something else. Anything else.
He’d sit with the boys, pitching in when appropriate. Laugh, chat, drink, rinse, repeat. No one suspected a thing.
It soon became drink, drink, drink, drink, forget.
Throw 'em back 'til I lose count
On a particularly rough day, Gavin found himself away from the crew, holding whiskey in his hand. Stronger than he usually had. He swirled the drink before downing nearly half of it. He winced at the burn of the liquor leaving a trail of fire in its wake, but it was good, and had done its job.
Drink, drink, drink, forget, more. He needed more and more and more. He needed it. Away from the laughter, away from the sirens ringing forever in his ear, away from gunshots and bombs.
Gavin had the money to spend anyways.
I'm gonna swing from the chandelier, from the chandelier
I'm gonna live like tomorrow doesn't exist
Like it doesn't exist
I'm gonna fly like a bird through the night, feel my tears as they dry
I'm gonna swing from the chandelier, from the chandelier
When you have enough, you can tell. The world is spinning and everything is funny when it’s not. Ryan had driven Gavin home after he had dragged him away from his seventh glass that night. Gavin wanted to be alone; he didn’t want to go to their shared apartment.
Not tonight.
Gavin arrived at his apartment complex and stumbled to his place, clumsily unlocked the door and slamming it behind him. He staggered to his mini bar and pulled out another bottle of whiskey. He could still remember the terrible fires and insults tossing and turning in his head like minnows.
He opened the bottled and drank straight from the bottle, his eyes bleary and memories swimming in his head.
Forget, for god’s sake.
But I'm holding on for dear life, won't look down, won't open my eyes
Keep my glass full until morning light, 'cause I'm just holding on for tonight
Help me, I'm holding on for dear life, won't look down, won't open my eyes
Keep my glass full until morning light, 'cause I'm just holding on for tonight
On for tonight
He was awoken by his phone ringing loudly beside him. It made his head ache. Gavin forced his eyes open and uncurled his stiff fingers from the bottle and answered it.
“Goddammit Gavin! I called you a million fucking times already!" Michael's voice screeched, "Get your lazy ass over the Geoff’s apartment, we-“
Gavin disconnected before Michael could finish.
Sun is up, I'm a mess
Gotta get out now, gotta run from this
Here comes the shame, here comes the shame
He took a quick shower, slipped on his sunglasses, and drove to Geoff’s apartment. Gavin took the elevator and barely knocked once before it was thrown open. Gavin could Geoff, Ryan, Jack, and Ray behind Michael.
“What the fuck dude? Why’d you hang up before I was done?” Michael asked angrily. Gavin just shouldered past him and plopped down on the couch with the rest of them. They gave a look, but dismissed it.
“Alright guys, we have another heist…”
They always forget it. What a damn shame.
1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, drink
1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, drink
1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, drink
Gavin stumbled to Geoff’s apartment, bloodstained and crying. Ryan, Geoff, Jack, and Michael stumbled in after, but no Ray. One less person, and one more body.
Ray had died trying to take out the police so that the rest could escape.
It was all his fault, his, his, his, no one else’s his. If he hadn’t dropped the keys, if he hadn’t forgotten to kill the cashier, Ray would be there. Gavin wiped the tears from his eyes and made his way to the alcohol cabinet, and pulled out a bottle whiskey. That is what he was drinking lately. More and more whiskey. More and more fire burning his throat and embers sizzling in his head. But no one protested and Gavin drank and quarter of it before he collapsed on the floor sobbing.
There were jokes about Gavin killing them with his stupidity, but it was real. It was so real and now…
Gavin was going to pay.
Throw 'em back 'til I lose count
Gavin had cleaned himself up and ran from Geoff’s apartment with Michael screaming in pain and anger and despair behind him, and to the nearest bar. He drank and drank and drank to forget, but the pain with there.
Eventually he was the only one there, but the bartender let him stay when he uttered,
“My friend was murdered.”
Because there was no other word for it.
I'm gonna swing from the chandelier, from the chandelier
I'm gonna live like tomorrow doesn't exist
Like it doesn't exist
I'm gonna fly like a bird through the night, feel my tears as they dry
I'm gonna swing from the chandelier, from the chandelier
After Ray’s death, Geoff was determined to avenge him. So he did heist after heist, but it was less successful without their sniper there. Less money came pouring in. The bags under his eyes became more prominent, and he took more risks. They had to pay.
More and more extravagant the heists became, more explosive and more sirens piercing the air with their wailing cry. More injuries, more crying, more whiskey downed in one night. More and more the bad things rose.
Eventually Ryan died, with his last cry of, ”For Ray!” and a bang.
But I'm holding on for dear life, won't look down, won't open my eyes
Keep my glass full until morning light, 'cause I'm just holding on for tonight
Help me, I'm holding on for dear life, won't look down, won't open my eyes
Keep my glass full until morning light, 'cause I'm just holding on for tonight
On for tonight
Forget, please, for fuck’s sake, please, no, forget, forget, forget.
He needed to forget because his head was swimming and his eyes were foggy and Michael and Jack had died in a helicopter crash and he was so hopelessly lost.
Geoff and pulled Gavin away from the fiery mess, crying and his moustache they had joked about countlessly was smoldering, and now they were forgotten. They promised, never alone, together, and forget please. They had barely made it to Geoff’s apartment, which was too quiet, and the silence, too loud. It screamed in his ears and pounded against the back of his eyes.
It was a mess. Gavin hated it. It was all his fault, his, and everyone was paying for it but him. His fault, others’ payment.
He needed to set things straight.
On for tonight
'Cause I'm just holding on for tonight
Oh, I'm just holding on for tonight
On for tonight
Gavin slipped away from Geoff’s arms (how did he curl around Gavin and why wasn't he disgusted with him he killed Ray and Ryan and Michael and Jack and oh God he killed them) and walked the way to his apartment in the morning, when the air was sharp and bitter and real. He walked all the way and damn it if it was three miles away because it was too much.
His fault, all his, he needed to pay, set things straight, forget, because that’s what the initial thing was. It was his fault his, his, his, and that repeated over and over like a broken record and he knew he couldn't be fixed. All this, couldn't be fixed without one thing. Might as well throw away the record.
So he poured out the pills, opened the last bottle of whiskey and swallowed.
On for tonight
'Cause I'm just holding on for tonight
'Cause I'm just holding on for tonight
He didn’t hear his phone ringing, and he didn’t hear the door being broke down an hour later, and he didn’t hear Geoff crying out his name in despair, his voice chock-full of despair and anger and regret. He didn't hear Geoff's lament, wondering where it all went wrong. How did he lose his boys, his family, his only incentive for living? A terrible, terrible, cry of smashing glass and the firing of guns.
And Gavin certainly didn’t hear the news saying something about the end of the Fake AH Crew,
Oh, I'm just holding on for tonight
On for tonight
On for tonight
Because he forgot.