Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > I've been made BL/ind to the wrong...

I don't wanna live anymore!

by Unicorns-are-real 2 Reviews

Poor, poor, Kobra.... :( (possibly a tiny amount of self-harm)

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: G - Genres: Angst,Drama - Characters: Mikey Way,Ray Toro - Warnings: [V] - Published: 2011/02/24 - Updated: 2011/02/24 - 666 words

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I don't wanna live anymore!

(Kobra Kid)

Kobra lay on the floor, a pool of blood spooling from the three small gashes on his wrist. His eyes were sore from his tears, he had been crying for over two hours now. He heard the front door unlock and he shoved himself up from the floorboards and mopped up the blood with a cloth, then covered it over with the rug. He heard voices in the hallway and someones heavy footfalls thud up the stairs.

The door was knocked,
"Kobra?" Came Jet's voice. "You okay in there? You better not have done sommat stupid like messing with those sleeping pills again!"
Kobra winced as he pulled on his jacket, the sleeve scraping harshly along his cuts.
"I-I'm fine!" He called as he unlocked the door. He felt a pang of guilt having to lie to Jet Star. Kobra had never been the same since....since his brother was taken. They had presumed Party Poison and Fun Ghoul dead the other day. No one ever survived in the evil hands of Korse.

And Kobra blamed himself for it all. He had become suicidal, not being able to cope with constantly knowing his brothers presence no longer existed. His first suicide attempt had been an utter faliure and had resulted Dr Deathdefying having to pump his stomach until it was completely emptied of toxins. His second had been him trying to jump out of the window and fall three stories onto the concrete below....Until he had ralised he had a fear of hieghts and just couldn't bring himself to do it. So Kobra had resolved to self-harm. If he couldn't commit suicide then he would hurt himself. It was all the same to him.

Under Deathdefying's orders, Kobra was only allowed in his room so long as it was free of sharp objects, pills, ropes or cables and all windows locked. But they didn't know about the loose floorboard under the bed, where he stashed the razor and the photo of his brother.
Jet walked in. "Mikes." he said. Kobra stiffened, Jet only used his real name when he was in for a serious talk. "Mikey. What ayou are doing to yourself....your brother wouldn't have wanted that and you know it." Kobra's eyes prickled, and he knew he was gonna cry. "I came up with an idea actually, Mikey." Kobra looked up, curious. "Why don't we make a memorial for Party and Ghoul? That way they will never be truly gone, not that they ever left our thoughts to begin with."

Kobra smiled, a real genuine smile; the first grin he had smiled in days.
"I'm sure they'd like that. Thanks, Ray-man."
Jet and Kobra made their way down the three flights of stairs, spray paint cans in their hands. They went round the back of the old, abandoned building and began to spray a message on the wall;

Party Poison
9th April 1996 - 23 September 2019
Aged 23.
Never forgotten, always loved. Until the day we meet again, I'll fight in your honour. Keep your boots tight Gerard; I'll be with you sooner than you think.
Brotherly love always,
Mikey Way (Kobra Kid) xxxx


Ray wrote out Fun Ghoul's;

Fun Ghoul
31st October 1999 - 23 September 2019
Aged 20.
We'll miss you, Fun. How could anyone forget you? We'll take good care of Gunpowder for you. We know how much that dog meant to you. We'll miss you, always.
Group hugs and kisses,
Jet Star, Kobra Kid, Inked Afterlife, Detonator Static Monster, Repo Lover, Gracie and slobbery kisses from Gunpowder xxxxx



The two formed a bright and colourful pattern around the messages until they could be seen a mile off. Ray sprayed pawprints all over Fun Ghouls, whilst Kobra sprayed his brother's lazer gun.

Kobra and Jet admired their handiwork, tears in their eyes.
"Goodbye, Gee. I hope this makes up for it." Kobra whispered. His voice strained. They turned to leave, freezing as two dracs pulled up on motorbikes, guns raised.
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