Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > By the beating of our hearts is how we live. *Frikey*
Chapter 10: Give me a reason not to shoot.
6 ReviewsLove brings pain to those who fall... And fall hard.
GUYS, I've updated! Thank God, eh? Alright, only about.. three or two more chapters. Let's just see how it goes, eh? XD
I hope you enjoy this one. Oh, and have you noticed how I NEVER really rate these things correctly? Ah well, s'my story.
WARNING, THOUGH: contains self-harm and talk of suicide.
She hadn't believed her eyes when she first saw it; it was so surreal, so impossible. But it was so, tragically real. So real it hurt her to her core.
Though she had witnessed the act on other people - well, seen the remains of the act - never had she expected her brother..
"Frank!" she gasped, tears dropping from her eyes. "Frank, please stop!"
She thought her voice was strong - a loud plead - but in truth it was feeble. It was weak and dubious and breakable and.. and liberated. As if even the voice wanted to escape the current situation but wasn't allowed to; it was part of Miss. Caines and it would remain so for the rest of her life. That was.. if she didn't have to witness this again.
She feared then her voice would succeed in it's escape.
The boy didn't seem to hear her; he kept at it.
And you, so far, might not know what exactly he was doing. But, it was tragically, horribly simple; he was hurting himself.
Not tugs at the hair or scratches to the skin, but a knife to his wrist as he sliced, making scarlet life crawl to the surface and spill down his pallid skin like perpetual, morose raindrops on the window, the gloom of the outside world as forlorn as the inside.
Not only was he hurting himself, cuts cluttering his wrist, but he was.. he was crying. And that upset Miss. Caines more than anything; she had came to have a.. a stern word with him, ask him what happened with Mikey.. and there he was, ripping at his own flesh, his own skin, and letting thousands of tears drop from his sunken cheeks and chin, falling to his wrists and mingling with the blood.
Miss. Caines brought a hand to her mouth and stifled a sob; teardrops of sadness now clogged her eyes, covered and glistened in lines on her cheeks and jumped from her chin like desperate souls retreating from this bleak world.
At least, that's what it was of recent: a bleak, dejected, inconsolable world.
"F-Frank!" the woman broke again, voice the crack of a sob.
The boy's head snapped up, and the pain caught in his clouded eyes hurt the woman more than she'd ever expected. His eyes widened as he dropped the blade to the floor, trickles of blood still remaining, and let his chestnut hair - the dye had started to fade - drop into his desolate-crowded mind.
"Oh, Lucy.." he mumbled, looking down to his wrist. "I didn't think you'd come round. Thought you were at work."
He was strangely calm, and that scared the older woman more than anything.
"I.. I needed to talk to you about a patient but I.. You're.."
Another tear drop fell from her helplessly staring eyes as she gasped, slowly walking over to the bed.
"Oh Frank," she whispered, sitting tenderly on the bed next to him. The covers creased beneath her, and she turned even more worried as the boy remained still - not moving or trying to blot the cuts. "You've.. why?"
The boy visibly gulped, stiffening slightly.
No one spoke for a matter of minutes. Lucy simply pulled out a packet of tissues and started cleaning up the cuts as Frank just sat there and took, feeling drained.
He watched the rain patter on the window, pit pat pit pat, and let his mind become still and empty and clear - well, as clear as it could get. The injuries stung, but they were starting to blot as he remained staring out the window, no tears left now. He was simply slouching there, letting the sadness stay with him, ripping and eating at his heart, gnawing at the remains of sunny happiness and thumps of scarlet flesh.
He didn't know why he did it - it seemed like the right thing at the time.. but now, for him, it felt stupid; he wasn't depressed. He didn't have a... a disease or an abusive family.
But he did have a dysfunctional family, a dead sister and he was in love with someone he didn't want to be - someone that made it hurt to love, because to love something so much made it.. made it so painful he was afraid one day his heart would thump so hard he'd go out cold and never wake up. Someone that, whilst lighting up his day, made him want to rip out his own eyes to block out the astounding beauty that was Mikey Way, or stab his own heart for beating so hard in his chest. Some that made him want to shout at his soul, poison his mind...
But most of all, someone that made Frank so, fantastically in love that he was the happiest he had ever been in his life. Someone that made Frank want to cry with joy and hug and kiss every inch of the amazing boy. Someone that made Frank so hopelessly in love his pulse hummed and sang - so hopelessly in love Frank wanted to burst into tears whenever he saw the boy. Someone that made Frank so crazy he wanted to murder anyone that had ever brought the perfect creature pain. Someone that made Frank love so much he often thought his heart didn't belong to himself anymore.
Some that made Frank so irrevocably, unjustifiably, shockingly, painfully in love that he found himself blinded by anyone but him.
Anyone but Mikey Way - the boy that made Frank believe he no longer belonged to himself.
And that scared him.
"I hurt him, didn't I?" the boy whispered, voice a crackle of remains as he ripped his vision from the window to Miss. Caines. "I did, didn't I?"
She looked torn; say yes, and he might amount to tears. Say no, he might accuse her of lying and get angry.
However, lying would be best for him.
But, ambiguously, she nodded. "Yes.." she mumbled, the tracks of dried tears still evident. "You did. But I need to know how, Frank. He wont write anymore - not even to insult me - and he wont look up or.. or do anything the remotely indicates feelings. He just sits there, a vacant look in his eyes, looking as if he.. as if he.."
Frank shook his head sadly, squeezing his eyes shut as tears fell down his cheeks. "Don't say it," he muttered. "Please don't say it.."
But she did.
"As if he wants to die."
Frank's inner man told him not too, but his heart screamed at him with all he had.. and, he let it happen: he let the monstrous blub of haunting pasts and dampened spirits escape him, knowing that he broke the one person that could ever hurt him to an extent that his life, truly, would be over, saddened him more than anything on earth.
"He's.. he's not alone, is he?" the boy asked, voice horse with oppressed emotions, all spiking his still heart.
Upon hearing the gasp next to him, his head snapped up and his tragically disheartened eyes widened. "Lucy, he's not alone.. right?!" he asked, panic smearing his voice with havoc as he let tears escape him, more and more falling down his anemic face, staining the whiteness of his cheeks. He got up suddenly and shook his sister's shoulders, heart thudding in his chest as he felt suffocated, lump and lump filling his throat, the rope around his heart getting righter and tighter..
"Right?!" he sobbed.
Miss. Caines shook her head sadly. "I.. I left him alone," she said. "I didn't think- he.. Oh God, Mikey.."
Her voice was just as hoarse as her brother's as she got up and pulled down Frank's sleeve now the blood had cleared.
"We g-gotta go!" the boy gasped, grabbing Lucy's hand. "Now."
"After you promise me, Frank," the woman mumbled, staring sadly into the teenager's eyes. "After you promise me you wont... you wont do it again. Please."
He smiled - it was weak, it was feeble, it was sad.. but it was a smile no less.
"I promise, Lucy. And I'm sorry.. for everything."
The woman's smile was identical to his as a tear dropped down her face, mascara painting on her cheeks.
"I'm sorry, too," she said. "For everything and anything I've ever done."
And then, as two hearts found agreement and became more whole than before, Frank could feel a new start was imminent..
But only if Mikey was still there to see it.
Dammit, those feelings of love are too true. It hurts, doesn't it? haha.
Thanks for reading, ficwaddians! R&R? :)
I hope you enjoy this one. Oh, and have you noticed how I NEVER really rate these things correctly? Ah well, s'my story.
WARNING, THOUGH: contains self-harm and talk of suicide.
She hadn't believed her eyes when she first saw it; it was so surreal, so impossible. But it was so, tragically real. So real it hurt her to her core.
Though she had witnessed the act on other people - well, seen the remains of the act - never had she expected her brother..
"Frank!" she gasped, tears dropping from her eyes. "Frank, please stop!"
She thought her voice was strong - a loud plead - but in truth it was feeble. It was weak and dubious and breakable and.. and liberated. As if even the voice wanted to escape the current situation but wasn't allowed to; it was part of Miss. Caines and it would remain so for the rest of her life. That was.. if she didn't have to witness this again.
She feared then her voice would succeed in it's escape.
The boy didn't seem to hear her; he kept at it.
And you, so far, might not know what exactly he was doing. But, it was tragically, horribly simple; he was hurting himself.
Not tugs at the hair or scratches to the skin, but a knife to his wrist as he sliced, making scarlet life crawl to the surface and spill down his pallid skin like perpetual, morose raindrops on the window, the gloom of the outside world as forlorn as the inside.
Not only was he hurting himself, cuts cluttering his wrist, but he was.. he was crying. And that upset Miss. Caines more than anything; she had came to have a.. a stern word with him, ask him what happened with Mikey.. and there he was, ripping at his own flesh, his own skin, and letting thousands of tears drop from his sunken cheeks and chin, falling to his wrists and mingling with the blood.
Miss. Caines brought a hand to her mouth and stifled a sob; teardrops of sadness now clogged her eyes, covered and glistened in lines on her cheeks and jumped from her chin like desperate souls retreating from this bleak world.
At least, that's what it was of recent: a bleak, dejected, inconsolable world.
"F-Frank!" the woman broke again, voice the crack of a sob.
The boy's head snapped up, and the pain caught in his clouded eyes hurt the woman more than she'd ever expected. His eyes widened as he dropped the blade to the floor, trickles of blood still remaining, and let his chestnut hair - the dye had started to fade - drop into his desolate-crowded mind.
"Oh, Lucy.." he mumbled, looking down to his wrist. "I didn't think you'd come round. Thought you were at work."
He was strangely calm, and that scared the older woman more than anything.
"I.. I needed to talk to you about a patient but I.. You're.."
Another tear drop fell from her helplessly staring eyes as she gasped, slowly walking over to the bed.
"Oh Frank," she whispered, sitting tenderly on the bed next to him. The covers creased beneath her, and she turned even more worried as the boy remained still - not moving or trying to blot the cuts. "You've.. why?"
The boy visibly gulped, stiffening slightly.
No one spoke for a matter of minutes. Lucy simply pulled out a packet of tissues and started cleaning up the cuts as Frank just sat there and took, feeling drained.
He watched the rain patter on the window, pit pat pit pat, and let his mind become still and empty and clear - well, as clear as it could get. The injuries stung, but they were starting to blot as he remained staring out the window, no tears left now. He was simply slouching there, letting the sadness stay with him, ripping and eating at his heart, gnawing at the remains of sunny happiness and thumps of scarlet flesh.
He didn't know why he did it - it seemed like the right thing at the time.. but now, for him, it felt stupid; he wasn't depressed. He didn't have a... a disease or an abusive family.
But he did have a dysfunctional family, a dead sister and he was in love with someone he didn't want to be - someone that made it hurt to love, because to love something so much made it.. made it so painful he was afraid one day his heart would thump so hard he'd go out cold and never wake up. Someone that, whilst lighting up his day, made him want to rip out his own eyes to block out the astounding beauty that was Mikey Way, or stab his own heart for beating so hard in his chest. Some that made him want to shout at his soul, poison his mind...
But most of all, someone that made Frank so, fantastically in love that he was the happiest he had ever been in his life. Someone that made Frank want to cry with joy and hug and kiss every inch of the amazing boy. Someone that made Frank so hopelessly in love his pulse hummed and sang - so hopelessly in love Frank wanted to burst into tears whenever he saw the boy. Someone that made Frank so crazy he wanted to murder anyone that had ever brought the perfect creature pain. Someone that made Frank love so much he often thought his heart didn't belong to himself anymore.
Some that made Frank so irrevocably, unjustifiably, shockingly, painfully in love that he found himself blinded by anyone but him.
Anyone but Mikey Way - the boy that made Frank believe he no longer belonged to himself.
And that scared him.
"I hurt him, didn't I?" the boy whispered, voice a crackle of remains as he ripped his vision from the window to Miss. Caines. "I did, didn't I?"
She looked torn; say yes, and he might amount to tears. Say no, he might accuse her of lying and get angry.
However, lying would be best for him.
But, ambiguously, she nodded. "Yes.." she mumbled, the tracks of dried tears still evident. "You did. But I need to know how, Frank. He wont write anymore - not even to insult me - and he wont look up or.. or do anything the remotely indicates feelings. He just sits there, a vacant look in his eyes, looking as if he.. as if he.."
Frank shook his head sadly, squeezing his eyes shut as tears fell down his cheeks. "Don't say it," he muttered. "Please don't say it.."
But she did.
"As if he wants to die."
Frank's inner man told him not too, but his heart screamed at him with all he had.. and, he let it happen: he let the monstrous blub of haunting pasts and dampened spirits escape him, knowing that he broke the one person that could ever hurt him to an extent that his life, truly, would be over, saddened him more than anything on earth.
"He's.. he's not alone, is he?" the boy asked, voice horse with oppressed emotions, all spiking his still heart.
Upon hearing the gasp next to him, his head snapped up and his tragically disheartened eyes widened. "Lucy, he's not alone.. right?!" he asked, panic smearing his voice with havoc as he let tears escape him, more and more falling down his anemic face, staining the whiteness of his cheeks. He got up suddenly and shook his sister's shoulders, heart thudding in his chest as he felt suffocated, lump and lump filling his throat, the rope around his heart getting righter and tighter..
"Right?!" he sobbed.
Miss. Caines shook her head sadly. "I.. I left him alone," she said. "I didn't think- he.. Oh God, Mikey.."
Her voice was just as hoarse as her brother's as she got up and pulled down Frank's sleeve now the blood had cleared.
"We g-gotta go!" the boy gasped, grabbing Lucy's hand. "Now."
"After you promise me, Frank," the woman mumbled, staring sadly into the teenager's eyes. "After you promise me you wont... you wont do it again. Please."
He smiled - it was weak, it was feeble, it was sad.. but it was a smile no less.
"I promise, Lucy. And I'm sorry.. for everything."
The woman's smile was identical to his as a tear dropped down her face, mascara painting on her cheeks.
"I'm sorry, too," she said. "For everything and anything I've ever done."
And then, as two hearts found agreement and became more whole than before, Frank could feel a new start was imminent..
But only if Mikey was still there to see it.
Dammit, those feelings of love are too true. It hurts, doesn't it? haha.
Thanks for reading, ficwaddians! R&R? :)
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