Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > The Reprise of an Untitled Story
Gerard drove out of Egan's driveway and kept driving. He didn't stop, but he didn't mean to keep going; he was aimless. Purposeless. He didn't have any plans in his head at all. Everything in his mind was quiet. Egan had shut him down. The surprise of her had switched off all of his functions. At a stoplight he quietly lit a cigarette and cracked the windows, and then the sunroof for good measure.
He couldn't say he'd never thought about her in all these past five years. In the beginning, she was all he'd been able to see. When she left his house, she left it tainted, smelling like her, feeling like she was always just in the next room. But he hadn't mourned her like a lost lover--for one, because she wasn't lost. She plainly didn't want to be found. And, after all, she'd never been his lover. She'd been a crush, an infatuation, but he hadn't been in love. He'd just thought he was, a little. But after a year or so, he began to think of her less and less, and by the second year, she hardly crossed his mind at all. But then…there she was. Standing in a Starbucks, obviously not looking for him just like he clearly wasn't looking for her. And his entire mainframe had fizzled out. All logical thinking just out the window. He'd tried to tail her, for God's sake. It took a lot to resist the urge to apply his forehead to the steering wheel forcefully when he remembered that.
Trees flew by in gray-green mossy blurs as he sped farther and farther out of the heart of the city, finding his way by instinct towards the nearest highway. He needed to get outta Dodge, get somewhere new. Or, better, somewhere old. He needed to get home, to New Jersey. A long, long drive would be good for him. As he turned onto the interstate, his forgotten cigarette gave out, the cherry burning past the filter to smolder and die on his index and middle fingers.
"Motherfucker!" he yelped, and pitched the stub out of the window before waving his hand viciously to cool it. Despite the itching pain, he had to smile a little. It was a fitting goodbye. With nothing else to do, he flipped off the city behind him with an angry red finger.
Fuck you too, Nashville. Then he smiled again.
Author's Note: If I ever, ever return to a consistent updating routine...I don't even know. It's such an unfamiliar thought that I can't even comment on it. As for this little fluke of an update right here, all I can say is that Gerard and Egan still aren't done, and I have a lot of energy to deal with. R.E.V.I.E.W. Please. I ask, beg, plead, require it of you. It makes chapters longer, ideas better, and updates speedier.
Love from,
Me
He couldn't say he'd never thought about her in all these past five years. In the beginning, she was all he'd been able to see. When she left his house, she left it tainted, smelling like her, feeling like she was always just in the next room. But he hadn't mourned her like a lost lover--for one, because she wasn't lost. She plainly didn't want to be found. And, after all, she'd never been his lover. She'd been a crush, an infatuation, but he hadn't been in love. He'd just thought he was, a little. But after a year or so, he began to think of her less and less, and by the second year, she hardly crossed his mind at all. But then…there she was. Standing in a Starbucks, obviously not looking for him just like he clearly wasn't looking for her. And his entire mainframe had fizzled out. All logical thinking just out the window. He'd tried to tail her, for God's sake. It took a lot to resist the urge to apply his forehead to the steering wheel forcefully when he remembered that.
Trees flew by in gray-green mossy blurs as he sped farther and farther out of the heart of the city, finding his way by instinct towards the nearest highway. He needed to get outta Dodge, get somewhere new. Or, better, somewhere old. He needed to get home, to New Jersey. A long, long drive would be good for him. As he turned onto the interstate, his forgotten cigarette gave out, the cherry burning past the filter to smolder and die on his index and middle fingers.
"Motherfucker!" he yelped, and pitched the stub out of the window before waving his hand viciously to cool it. Despite the itching pain, he had to smile a little. It was a fitting goodbye. With nothing else to do, he flipped off the city behind him with an angry red finger.
Fuck you too, Nashville. Then he smiled again.
Author's Note: If I ever, ever return to a consistent updating routine...I don't even know. It's such an unfamiliar thought that I can't even comment on it. As for this little fluke of an update right here, all I can say is that Gerard and Egan still aren't done, and I have a lot of energy to deal with. R.E.V.I.E.W. Please. I ask, beg, plead, require it of you. It makes chapters longer, ideas better, and updates speedier.
Love from,
Me
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