Gerard learns that you cant always control what you dream.
Enjoy, motorbabies :)
By the time I was walking home it was raining. I love rain, especially the smell.
I pulled my hood lower over my eyes, looking down at the cracked paving stones below me. My legs speeded up, quickly reaching my house. My house was average, not too big, not too small. I guess your average house. I opened the front door, first home, and made myself a coffee. Mikey wouldn’t be back for a good ten minutes.
I carefully carried my coffee upstairs, to my room. I placed it in between the rainbow pencils that covered my desk. I sat on my bed, flinging my school bag down beside me. My room was quite big, papered red with a jet-black carpet. My bed was underneath the window, looking out to a willow tree. My walls were covered in posters and drawings, and a single photograph. Me, Mikey and my Grandma, taken on holiday last year. I reached into my bag and unfolded my sketch of Frank.
I stood up, going to get some blu-tack from my desk. I could instantly see areas where the drawing could be improved but I didn’t care. I stuck the piece above the photo of me, Mikey and Grandma. Sitting down at my desk, I took a drink from my coffee. I took out my art book, deciding to finish annotating some photos I had taken. That was the thing I hated about art, everything needed a reason. Some things just happen with no explanation.
I heard the front door open, Mikey was home. I carried on working, the workload was ridiculous, but it had to be done. I heard Mikey make his way upstairs, opening my door.
“Gerard” I could hear a smile in his voice. “Art again?”
“Yup” I laughed, turning round to face my brother. Mikey was a younger than me, but he looked older. Maybe it was his glasses, balanced on the end of his nose? Or the hair, messy, hiding half his face?
“Anything new?” he said, coming into the room and sitting on my bed.
“Not really, a new kid” A strange squeezing sensation made itself known in my stomach. “He’s been put up a year”
“This him?” Mikey said, pointing to the drawing.
“Yep, he asked me to draw it for him” I ran a hand through my messy hair “he actually seems to like me”
“Freak” Mikey laughed, standing up “Gonna get something to eat, you gonna join me?”
“In a minute” I said, still thinking about Frank.
“Okay” Mikey left, going into his room.
Frank Iero was playing on my mind a lot that evening. His voice kept whispering to me while I was watching television. His face was in my minds eye when I was trying to draw. I don’t know if it was because he’d been nice to me but nothing I did seemed to get him out of my head. I went to have a shower around nine; I only ever showered at night. My hair took too long to dry. As I felt the hot water stream over my body, I swear I could feel Franks warm eyes on me. I shook my head; I was just obsessed because I had a friend. That is all, nothing more, nothing less. I got out of the shower, my thoughts still firmly on Frank. I found myself replaying events from today. The way he smiled, the way he smelled. The awful cuts all over his stomach.
I was in bed now; I punched a pillow thinking of the guy Frank had kissed. Why did he hurt Frank? I hated whoever had wounded him, knowing in a million years I wouldn’t hurt Frank.
Even if he kissed me.
Because I knew, deep down, I wanted him to.
I just couldn’t admit it.
----A few hours later----- Narrators P.O.V-----
Gerard was falling into a deep sleep. The sort of sleep when your dreams tell you what your waking self refuses to accept. He was restless, tossing and turning, his black hair become damp with sweat. His face was pressed into the pillow, muffling his snores. Snores that were gradually turning into moans.
He was in front of me, Frank, his smile making my heart stutter. He turned his head to the side, smiling softly at me. I mirrored him, turning my head towards his. He closed the distance, kissing me lightly. His lips were soft and warm, perfection. I kissed him back, deepening the kiss, needing it. Frank pulled away, and grinned cheekily. Making me want him more.
“Gerard” Frank said gently
“Yeah” I whispered back, dreamily.
“You know you want me” he looked down “Accept it”
He started to walk away, I chased after him, calling his name. Getting louder and louder.
Then I was falling, down, down, still screaming for Frank.
Was that Mikey?
“Gerard” Shaking my shoulder. Definitely Mikey “Gerard wake up”
“Huh… M’wake” I said, groggy from sleep.
“You fell out of bed; you were screaming,” Mikey hugged me, picking me up and putting me back onto my bed “Who’s Frank?”
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I have got some really cool ideas about where I could take this story; I'm looking forward to seeing how they work out.
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