I wrote this because after reading a lot of My Chemical Romance fanfiction, I decided to jump on the super unoriginal bandwagon.
“Sorry for the unoriginal title, it’s better than it sounds. I promise!” Oh, by the way, I don’t own MCR, although I think it is slightly ridiculous that that actually needs to be clarified.
It was a day just like any other day. The boys in MCR were playing another show at another unnamed location because quite frankly, no one knows what else they do and also no one wants to take the time to develop their stories with such trivial details like, oh, I don’t know, setting. Anyway, as they were finishing their set (as it always seems they are), Gerard Way looked with longing eyes towards the guitarist on his right, cruelly separated from him forever by fate. Despite the fact that Gerard has had several girlfriends and is currently married to a woman, and by that I mean not a man, he was most definitely secretly gay. He yearned for the day when Frank Iero would recognize that he, Gerard, was desperately in love with him. The longer he withheld his feelings from the object of his affection, the more he felt as if he were suffocating, like some kind of deep and meaningful simile. As Frank played his guitar with vigor, he couldn’t keep himself from wondering what those fingers would feel like against his ivory skin and running through his raven hair. Or at least that’s what he was probably wondering because as we all know, that is the only thing he wonders about. Unfortunately he knew his love was unrequited. He knew this because at that very second Frank Iero was screaming into the crowd, “I LOVE WOMEN! AND I WILL NEVER LOVE A MAN, ESPECIALLY NOT GERARD WAY!”
Gerard stifled a cry. He finished the show, which does not need to be described because that would require the use of details and dialogue and everyone of course just wants to get to the smutty part, and ran quickly onto the bus. He then locked himself into the bathroom, grasped his razor, and said to no one in particular, “If I can’t have Frank, then I don’t want to live, even though just this morning I was perfectly fine!”
Releasing a small sob, he went to make the first gash when suddenly Frank came bursting through the door, even though that he had no idea where Gerard was going and if you’ll reference to five lines earlier, the bathroom door was locked.
“GERARD DON’T DO IT!”
“Okay,” Gerard said.
“Gerard, I love you,” Frank said, coming towards Gerard and cradling the larger man’s head in his hands. “I’ve always felt that way, I was just too afraid to ever tell you. I planned on keeping it a secret and taking it to my grave until like five seconds ago, when for some unknown reason I decided to tell you.”
“Well, that makes perfect sense,” Gerard replied.
“We don’t need to talk anymore because no one really cares and is probably actually skipping this part of the story in order to find the part where he have passionate sex in anatomically impossible positions,” Frank murmured, his eyes (which were actually brown but have been described as greenish-brown orbs of fire or other equally majestic and incorrect ways) shining.
The two lover’s lips moved towards one another, much like two freight trains, one having left York at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 50 mph, the other from Peterborough at 4:19p.m. at a speed of 45 mph. And like the two freight trains, they eventually collided in a sweet explosion of sparks or something like that.
As the two men parted, Frank said in an unexpected and shocking way, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”
Gerard replied in an equally unpredictable way, “Me too.”
The vocalist and the guitar player then exited the bathroom and went to find their fellow band mates. Of course Mikey, Bob, and Ray were already on the bus.
“Guys were dating now,” Frank announced, holding Gerard’s hand.
“Okay,” they replied in unison because it would be far too tedious to have individual dialogue.
The lovers than exited the bus, walked off into the sunset, and lived happily ever after.