Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > I'll never let you leave, never let you breathe.

Things that go bump in the night.

by DisenchantedEnding 3 Reviews

The plan is in action. But... what plan?

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst - Characters: Frank Iero,Gerard Way - Published: 2011/08/03 - Updated: 2011/08/03 - 1697 words

I sit in my cell, staring into the blackness of the room, the grubby ceiling staring back at me. It's about two in the morning. The dark blanket outside, scattered with hundreds of twinkling, beautiful stars, told me that much. Inside was no different. The echoing emptiness, the eeriness and gloomy atmosphere that had been created in my cell make it easy to get lost in my thoughts; the silence even scares me a little. I feel like eyes are always watching me.. But I keep telling myself it's all in my imagination, that prisons, at night, can screw with your head. Which, under normal circumstances, I would have been right.

"Gerard." I jolt upwards, heart pumping like mad. Beads of sweat start to form on my body, and my brow was furrows. "Gerard!" The hurried whisper was back, and I begin to shake, staring out the cold bars of my cell.

"Hello?" I say cautiously, sitting up straight. I glue my eyes to the door. I gulp, listening to the sound of muffled footsteps, quickened breaths and the scraping of skin on metal.

"Gerard, it's me."

"Marty?" I ask, pushing myself up from my rock-solid bed and tiptoeing over to the cell door. I place my hands on the bars, shivering as the smooth, icy texture scalds my hands. Anyone would say it's impossible to be scalded by something cold.. I beg to differ.

"No. Who's Marty?" I shiver at their surprised tone. It's male; not a voice I'm familiar with either. As I blink sleepily, I gasp; making out a figure hunched over the barrier of the ledge.
"Who're you?!" I frantically whisper. "Why are you here?"

"Gerard, cool it, man. Fuck. I see five years of prison has really put you on edge." I scoff melodramatically, rolling my eyes.

"Obviously. You would be too." I inwardly shake my head. I still don't know who this is, but I'm talking to them like I do. Well, I obviously do... From what they last said, they knew me before prison. For some reason, something inside of me, something deep inside, makes me want to trust this man. Some part of me already does, and another part of me wants to pull him into a hug and ask how he's doing.

There's a silence for a few minutes, filled with our heavy breathing. Quietly clearing his throat, he begins. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. I can't imagine what it's like to rot in this place."
"You have no idea. It's boring, repetitive, and to top it off, everyone's fucking scares shitless of me!"

The man laughs quietly, and I barely notice that he shakes his head. He pulls his body weight from the barrier and stumbles over to me, grinning. "It's nice to hear your voice again, man."
"Uh-huh.." I mumble cluelessly. "And whose voice am I missing?"

For a second, the man looks physically hurt and completely baffled, but then he just smiles and nods. There's still a look of sadness in his expression, but if you didn't know him, you'd be none the wiser. However, I don't know this man.. Well, not that I can remember.

"It's Bob, man. Bob Bryar." I frown. Fuck! His name is so familiar.

"Shit, Bob! Hey man, fuck.. How've you been?"

Bob chuckles softly, swiping a hand through his hair. "Pretty good, actually." His piercing blue eyes shoot past me, staring into the cell. "I can see they treat you well?"

"Fucking fantastically." I say sarcastically, peeping behind me. The bed looks old and worn, and is incredibly uncomfortable, the tap looks a faded, grungy color with it's faucet's rusty, and the toilet matches the same bleak shade of yellow that the tap is. "So, why're you here? Wait, fuck, how'd you get in?"

Sniffing casually, Bob stands up straight, jiggles from foot to foot, and grins. "I got a job here, they need someone to watch your cell. The other police officers hate you, and they've got other things to do." I scoff. "Plus, with my incredible experience and flawless record, they couldn't say no." Bob laughs a little, shaking his head. "Well, flawless from what they know. But we know what I've done. Don't we, Gerard?"

I nod slowly, trying to mask my confusion. "So.. Are you going to tell me why you're here yet?" I whisper, still grasping the bars firmly.

"Bob?" Comes the muffled voice of another officer, surely below us, but then his footsteps grow closer as he climbs the metal stairs..

"The plan is in action, Gerard." Bob whispers hurriedly, before jogging off to the police officer and leaving me with my thoughts.


"The plan is in action." I mumble to myself. "The plan is in action."

I'm hunching over, sitting on my bed with pains of discomfort shooting up my back. What did Bob mean, 'the plan is in action?' What plan? Is it something I arranged before being held in prison? I've completely lost memory of everything that happened.. I could just tell him, I suppose. He might understand.

Or he could completely flip, and ask you why the hell you talked to him like you knew him? He could blame himself for associating himself with someone who doesn't remember their life, someone who has turned into a good guy? Or how about the fact that you have no right getting involved in business that used to involve you, but doesn't anymore? How you lied to him? How you'll keep lying to him? How if you commit another crime, your soul will probably split and you'll just be a zombie? Or Gerard, there's the little fact that you don't remember anything. Anything at all. You know your likes and dislikes. You know Frank and Marty. You know your mum, your dad and Mikey. You know your grandma, Elena. But you know nothing else. Nothing at all. So Gerard, how do you think he'll cope with being told that his friend doesn't remember him? Or, when he does spill the beans, how he gave up their mastermind plot to you, an outsider?

I shiver. Yes, they are all suitable questions.. and situations I'll probably end up in. That's not fair though, I can't help it. I didn't make me lose my memory. Who the fuck would?

"Gerard." I gasp, looking up to Bob again. "Get up.. It's breakfast." I nod, rub the sleep from my eyes and then pull on my baggy uniform. It's orange: a yellow orange with the prison logo, if you will, on the chest. Bob tugs open the door and makes me follow him into the cantine, winking at me before leaving me to got some food.

"What'll it be today then, Gee?" I look up to Marty and smile. At least today's menu looks slightly more appetizing.

"I'll have two pieces of toast, and er.. a small bowl of that liquidy soup looking thing." Smiling very slightly, Marty obeys, sloshing the chicken(?) soup into a bowl, puts a small packet of butter on the side, then piling two pieces of toast next to it.

"Enjoy." She says kindly, sniggering a little.

I scoff. "I'm sure I will. Seen Frank?"

Nodding, she smiles. "He's at your table already. He's a sweetheart, aint he?"

"Sure Marty. Okay, I'll see you later.. hopefully with some less mushy looking food." Marty nods and laughs, waving me goodbye before moving on to the next prisoner. I walk over to the slouched figure that's sitting at my table, and make myself comfy opposite him.

"Hey." He says gruffly, looking up from his toast and smiling.

"Hey, how was your first night here?" I tear open the slightly soggy butter, and then spread it evenly across my toast.

"Interesting.." He says distractedly, nodding. I bite into my toast, feeling the soft crunch as the bite filled my mouth, crumbs falling to the plate. "Did you know my cell is next to yours?"
I stop chewing, sucking little crumbs to the back of my throat as I gasp, coughing. Frank's eye widen, and he hurriedly passes me his water, which I gulp down eagerly, relaxing.

"Thanks." I say weakly, "you were saying?"

He nods. "Yeah, well I suffer from insomnia and last night, it was particularly bad.. I didn't get to sleep."

"You and I both." I mumble.

"So, when I heard you start talking to someone, I was surprised to say the least." He raises his eyebrows, leaning forward and whispering. "What's the plan?'"

"If only I knew!" I reply, taking another bite of my toast. I keep eating, ignoring Frank's inquisitive and confused gaze.

"Alright." He says at last, leaning back. "But why don't you know?"

"I think it was planned before I came to prison. I didn't remember who Bob was. Although, his name sounded familiar."

"Bob Bryar," Frank states, nodding, "yes.. I think I knew him." As he stares into space, I notice Bob walking towards our table.

"Speaking of the devil." I mutter, snapping Frank out of his line of thought.

"Gerard." Bob says, nodding. I nod back at him, smiling slightly. Frank just gasps and snaps his fingers.

"Bob!" He exclaims, grinning like an idiot, "I haven't seen you in months, dude!"

Bob looks surprised for a moment, but then he recognizes his old pal and lights up, smiling widely. "Fuck! Hey dude. I can't talk right now, I'm afraid.. Urm." He chews his lips thoughtfully, "what's your cell?"

"The one next to Gerard's."

"You didn't hear last night?"

"Oh, but I did. You know my insomnia, man!"

"Sure, sure. But I checked all the cell's on the row, everyone was asleep."

"It's my skill!" Frank winks, smirking. "Anyway, you'll pay me a visit tonight?"

"Course, dude.." He looks back to me, "you stay up too. I'll talk to both of you." He coughs, trying to cover up the conversation some how. "Anyway Gerard, you've got visitors."

"I don't get visitors. You're mistaken." I reply, my heart dropping. Bob just shakes his head.

"Do the names "Mikey" and "Donna" mean anything to you?"

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