FicWad: fresh-picked original and fan fiction

I remember when him and I would walk silently hand-in-hand down the beach every Sunday morning, the sand quishing in between are bare, pale feet. It became a tradition, a silent declaration of our never-ending love for one another. We'd walk from the foot of our New York home to the little, familiar restaurant we'd go to everyday. The chairs a bright red, the walls a contrasting black, compacting the minimum space even more, adding a more sensual arora around us. We ordered the same thing everytime, not allowing ourselves to explore what didn't need exploring, mimiking the possible love we could have for someone else. We'd sit on the same side of the table, shoulder-to-shoulder and thigh-to-thigh, cuddling our faces against the one another's necks. I remember his soft lips grazing over my cheek when he'd say he'd pay this time, as it had always been my treat. I argued, but instantly refused when he planted his lips on mine. Walking back was even better, stopping to sit and stare out to the ocean. Our heartfelt kisses were intensified with the flavor of our meals along with the natural taste nicotine so firmly planted within both our mouths.

I remember like it was yesterday.

I remember the old, antique rollercoaster that he'd always beg me to ride with him, despite my utter fear of heights. His large, puppy dog eyes never allowed me a chance to say no. He was so beautiful that I couldn't turn him down. Although I had been on the ride, each time I would shake, clinging on to him for dear life. And he'd laugh. Not at my expense, but as an apology for making me ride this over and over again. He'd calm me, rubbing small circles along the small of my back, never once embarrased with my hysterics. The fear was more than worth it to see the smile of happiness upon his small face and the joy in his hazel eyes. I would do anything to see him happy.

He's so sewn into the pieces of my life.

I remember the night my grandma died, the call from my dad sending shockwaves down my body. I ran. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me to his front door. And almost as if he knew, he opened the door and enveloped me in a tight hug. "Frank...," I whimpered, my tears staining his white shirt. He nodded, knowing what happened. He didn't have to ask, my tears spoke for me. He led me inside, sitting me on the black couch in his living room. Slowly, he carressed my cheek, removing the drops of salty water with his thumb. He put his finger under my chin, urging me to meet his eyes. Reluctantly I did, his lips pressing into mine gently, comforting me. He wrapped his small arms around me as I buried my face in his chest. We stayed like that all night, curled up in one another, quiet cries muffled by soft kisses.

I can't remember why.

I remember a few weeks back when I tried to call him, his phone saying that his number had been changed. My eyes closed in disbelief. He were gone, with no way for me to contact him. I was slowly losing it. I needed him back, in my arms, with me. I was nothing without him, nothing. I tried to do it: suicide. My body shaking hard as I swallowed the first of the pills. Half a bottle later, my door bell rang, quite incessantly I might add. Too weak to move, the door was opened dilberately. Him. He stood in my bedroom doorway, key in hand, eyes wide in shock. "Gerard!" he croaked. I smiled warily at him, trying to make him feel guilty for this. "Babe...," he said, walking over to my bed where I lay stupidly. God, that pet name. Why was he using it? I didn't speak. Neither did he. Everything I did brought me back to him.

I can't remember why we said goodbye.

a/n: i must say i was a bit high when i wrote the end. that's why it's so fucked up. haha. i don't even know how it ends. haha. so use your imagination! R&R please :)

Xo caitmo.

Log in to rate and review this story

You won't see stories with a lower score when you browse or search. Log in to adjust filter.