Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > 1991

Future

by wheresyourheart 4 reviews

morning, chemistry class

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: G - Genres: Drama,Romance,Sci-fi - Characters: Gerard Way,Mikey Way - Warnings: [!!!] [?] - Published: 2009-01-13 - Updated: 2009-04-12 - 1093 words

2Original
Someone was shaking me awake. "You need to get up."

I groaned, pulling the blanket over my head and curling into a ball.

"You're running thirty minutes late," she said softly. "Wake up."

"No, sleep. Bed," I spoke, my voice cracking. Then I remembered; and in hope that it was all a dream, I opened my eyes and sat up quickly, only to be filled with dissappointment. As I scanned the room, my heart sank. I was still Amanda.

But then my heart skipped and I got butterflies in my stomach. There was a major upside to this life; and I was going to see him soon.

"Your going to miss your ride with Jake," my mom told me.

"Well," I sighed, "I don't want anything to do with that kid. He's an asshole."

She gasped slightly, then regained her composure. Maybe the real Amanda didn't have much of a potty mouth. "Why don't you tell me what happened?"

I shrugged. "We just got into an argument. I don't like him very much."

She nodded. "Well," paused, "Get dressed, I guess I'll drive you."

"Okay," I said, then watched her walk out. Taking a deep breath, I walked to the bathroom and brushed my teeth. When I was finished, I took a better look through Amanda's wardrobe and found some skinny jeans that must have been a couple years old... but they fit... sort of. I also found a really interesting red shirt and some purple converse that looked as if they'd never even been worn.

I went back into the bathroom to do my hair. This morning it was kind of wavy, it looked soft and pretty. I didn't want to ruin it, but I couldn't stand going through the day without having brushed my hair. So I took a brush and began to run it through my hair.

"Amanda!" My mother yelled from downstairs.

Acting like I hadn't heard her, I began putting some eyeliner on, but it was the stupid pencil kind and it just wasn't working.

"Let's go!"

"Hold on!" I snapped. I began messing with my hair, putting some weird products in that I'd never heard of.

"AMANDA!"

I was liking how Amanda's hair seemed to always be so perfect. It still looked great, even after messing with it so much. I wish my real hair could be like this. Casey's hair, I mean.

"Are you coming or what?" My mom yelled, closer to my door this time. I took one last look in the mirror, then fast walked out the door.

"I'm coming!" I yelled.

On my way down the stairs, I grabbed my bag and threw it over my shoulder. Mom asked, "Why are you so snappy this morning?"

I shrugged, feeling a bit of regret.

She was silent, and I felt bad because I knew I'd hurt her feelings. Then I realized that this was just how I always have been in the morning--- as Casey, of course. The morning just turns me into a bitch.

At some point on the ride to school, we were sitting at a stop light, and I said, "Mom?" She didn't reply, so I said, "I'm sorry. I just got, like, no sleep last night."

Getting the nerve to look at her, I did so, and as I did I noticed tears in her eyes. "What?" I said nicely.

"You... you called my mom," she said, then we started moving again.

"Why wouldn't I call you mom?" I asked her, hoping she wasn't actually the maid or something.

"Just... I didn't think you liked me because of before."

I was silent, watching the trees and houses, so she continued.

"All of the fighting, I figured you hated me for marrying your father. I didn't want to replace your mother, which I told you that I wasn't trying to... but... I don't know. You don't hate me, do you?"

Deciding that she was a decent enough woman, I replied, "No, I don't hate you."

*

It was now Chemistry class, and I took my seat next to Gerard. He was silent.

"Hi," I said, feeling nervous.

Looking at me, he smiled and nodded politely.

"I'm, uh, sorry about lunch..."

He shrugged, "Don't be. It's not your fault everyone wants to be around you," he sneered. Ouch.

This was pretty childish of him, considering that I really was about to go sit with him, just like yesterday. I wanted to. Then all these people surrounded me... it was that Peter guy, that was all over me. And all of those people that are apparently my friends. They came out of nowhere. I tried to look over at Gerard apologetically, but he'd already left the table. He didn't even give me a chance.

I didn't want to dish back the attitude to Gereard because I didn't want to ruin any chances I have with him, so I cracked a joke.

Seeing the corner of his mouth twitch, I fed off of the disappearing tension and started talking about his crazy art teacher.

Ms. George yanked open the curtains in the classroom, and Gerard immediatly squinted, saying "Ow," while wincing like a vampire exposed to the sun.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked him.

He shrugged, then swallowed hard--- like a gulp. Then it hit me, hangover. Gerard must have already started with the alcohol. And this made me feel really wierd, sitting next to Gerard Way and knowing how his life is going to turn out. Atleast his life until he turns thirty. I know that he's going to struggle with drugs, alcohol and depression, become a comic book artist, witness 9/11, start a band, use the band name his brother came up with, the band will be big. He'll get engaged, then it will be off, and then he will marry a girl in another band. I know that his grandma will support his music career and she will die. I know too much, and now meeting him and being in the same room as him, even talking to him, made me feel really out of place.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked me.

"Huh?" I looked at him, "Oh, um, just stuff."

"Like what?" he asked.

Answering him honestly, I said, "The future." Then, without even thinking, I asked, "Will you remember me in the future?" As soon as I'd said it, I realized how strange it sounded. So I laughed.

"Hm..." he averted his gaze, then looked me in the eye and with a smile on his face, he nodded.
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