Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Greasy Black, Ugly White

Personal Jesus

by OhmyGee 1 review

Someone to hear your prayers. Someone who cares..

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG - Genres: Angst - Characters: Gerard Way - Warnings: [V] - Published: 2012-10-05 - Updated: 2012-10-06 - 4033 words

2Ambiance
Heyyoo!!

Just thought you should know, whilst writing this I am currently
-watching 2012 (end of the world movie)
-eating Takis (if you know what that is and you like them…I fucking love you)
-re-reading The Outsiders (not really)
-and blasting Green Day in my earballs…

Aslo, I had started my Halloween special frerard fanfiction…I don’t know when I’ll upload it though…

I’m thinkin’ 31st of October….

-L.V.C

Greasy Black, Ugly White
V: Personal Jesus
“You had to go slash his tires…like- like with a knife?”

ring.
Naturally, Frank jumped at the sudden noise of the telephone ringing. He was enjoying his nice book, and then it annoyingly interrupted him. The telephone was really going to get it one of these days. It was around six at night, the house was completely dark, and then it rings again. Frank looked fiercely at it, hoping to find out who it was without answering- there is only one person who knows Franks number, and that was Patrick. So it must be for his mother.

Gerard and Mikey don’t have Frank’s number because- well it hadn’t occurred to him- he spent most or all his time at the Way’s house so why would they really call?

Linda walks into the room, wearing her best ‘Friday outfit’. That includes poodle pumped heels, white fluffy buttoned up shirt, heavy blue jeans jacket –the one that Frank loved so much- a grape fountain skirt, and nice, elegant make up. She didn’t look like a dirty greaser; she didn’t look like and ugly soc either. She just looked like a beautiful, young women.

“Ya’ know you can answer that too.” She said dully, telephone in her grasp. “Hello!” She says hurriedly, then when no answer comes form the other end she says, “Who is this?”

“Who is this?” She said again. Frank just stared at his mother blankly, closing his book. “You’re looking for who?” Frank could only hear low, male mumbles. He couldn’t actually make out any sentences. “Frank? Why?” Frank perked up immediately at the mention of his name. “Oh, Okay…” Linda said a bit skeptical, she also looked at Frank as she spoke. “Frank,” Linda move the telephone away from her ear and covered it with her hand. “Some damn greaser. For you.” She even said greaser like a natural. Greaseaa’.

Frank adjourned from his spot on the couch and strode over to answer the telly. Linda left the room, heading straight out the main door that leads outside. “Hello?” Frank was surprised that someone wanted to talk to him on the phone.

“Frankie?” Frank clutched the phone hard, squeezing his eyes shut tightly, smiling in relief of hearing his dearest’ voice.

“Gerard!” Frank shouted into the telephone.

“Frankie. Who was that? Are you okay?” Gerard said after a minute. He sounded quieter, yet manlier on the telephone, Frank thought.

“I’m fine. That was my mother. How are you?” Frank twisted the curly cord around his pointer and middle fingers.

“Good, what did you do today?” Gerard sounded happy but exhausted too.

“I went home, Mikey and I had some coffee. Then I continued reading Gone with the Wind. What did- what did you do today?” Frank said, and as usual, Gerard took forever to respond.
Don’t you just love it when Frank stutters like that?...what ever.

“I had to go slash Patrick’s fat car tires.” Gerard said like that was normal. Like he slashes tire for a living. Frank silently questioned that.

“You had to go slash his tires… like- like with a knife?” Frank was a bit shocked. He had heard of people doing that before, but never actually seen it; even though Richard just would never shut up about slashing some poor kid’s tires, then kicking the poor kid’s ass in an un-fair rumble.

“Yeah…With a knife. He probably won’t be driving for a while.” Was the calm, sly response from Gerard. Frank’s voice was the opposite, high pitched and full of worry.

“Why did you do that? What if he hurts you?” Frank remembered why his mother hates the greasers- and why he hates the socs with a fiery passion.

“Baby, he will not hurt me at all. Because, first, I don’t go to school, so he can’t jump me there…I wouldn’t be caught going back there. I will never, ever go back to the damn school.”

“But you were there yesterday…” Frank reminded, un-convinced.

“True, but that was because I was picking you up. I didn’t actually step foot on the school territory. Did I?” Frank felt a bit better once he recalled the memory of yesterday in his head.

“No. No, I guess not.”

“Exactly. He can’t get me at school then. And he can’t drive over to my house. If he did spot me then, all we have to do is rumble” Then he added quickly, “Then I will win. Fair and square. Because I’m much, much stronger than he is…” Gerard sighed and added,

“Remember the day we vary first met?” Frank nodded, but Gerard could tell he understood. “That day I was there because we were on a surprise rumble. We kicked their sorry asses, remember?”

“But then you got shot up with Andy’s heater.” Frank responded stubbornly.

“…yes, but I didn’t die, that barely hurt.” Lies, it actually did hurt. “And that was a surprise rumble. Normally, I fight my fights fair skin. There should be no use for weapons.” Gerard said, and yes, he was totally correct.

“Oh, I guess so. So does that mean you get weapons this time?” Frank, after four years of slapping grease into his hair, he still didn’t know the second thing to being a greaser. But he did know the first: ‘Always stick together’. That was part of the greaser’s motto.
That meant he always had to stick up for his gang, and try his best to protect one another. The other part was ‘Never get caught’. You just don’t let the fuzz see you because then, people go to jail. Every loyal greaser fallowed that motto, no ifs, ands, or buts. That was just mandatory.

“No. I simply do not need weapons. I could kill him with my eye balls shut closed.” Not that he would. Gerard was secretly beeming on the inside; he was very proud of his fighting ability, and being head of his gang. Even if being a greaser was illicit and frowned upon, he was still proud.

“Yeah. You’re right. Just, just don’t get hurt, okay?” Frank knew that Gerard certainly would never get hurt. Especially in a skin fight. But he could still worry, and he was small and scrawny, so that was his best way of protection.

“I promise I won’t…” Gerard said then added in a cheerier voice, “So that wasn’t the real reason on why I called…” The thing with Gerard was that he never liked to finish his sentences; he sometimes, leaves you in…suspense.

“Oh, so why did you call?” For absolutely, no apparent reason what so ever, he felt a bit worried again. When Frank is kept in suspense, he gets worried, that’s just how he ticked. Probably from reading so many books, or watching so many movies. Gerard was totally aware of his ‘Keeping you in suspense’ habit. Gerard chuckled lightly.

“I called because I don’t want to talk about where I put my knives.” Frank adjusted his feet and un-twisted the cord around his fingers, then re-twisting it again.

“Oh, so what do you want to talk about?” Frank asked.

“You.” Gerard bluntly said.

“Y-me?” Frank asked because no one just calls him on the telly and says “Oh, hey you arrogant person. Im going to talk about you and knives.”

“Yeah…I meant I want to talk to you.” That made more sense to Frank, again, people don’t call him- let alone call him, people don’t call him that often. By now, Frank was blushing so freaking hard.

“I want to talk to you too. I really miss you Gerard.” Frank said and he totally meant it; he just hoped Gerard did too. Frank is silly.

“I miss you too sugar…Wanna know why I call you ‘sugar’”? Gerard was just as silly as Frank.

“Mmm… ‘Cos you like sugar?” Frank’s naive little mind took the best of him. Gerard giggled like a teenage girl, and so did Frank.

“No.” Frank melted a bit. “Well sorta. I love sugar. But that’s not why. I call you that because sugar is sweet. Call me a sucker, but so are you.”

Sucker

It was seriously impossible to even force Frank to stop blushing; you couldn’t pay him. When Frank didn’t respond, Gerard said, assumed, “You’re blushing, aren’t you?” And you couldn’t shove a fucking missile up Gerard’s ass to make him stop smiling.

“…No.” Frank obviously lied.

“Yes you are. I can totally tell when you blush. Your cheeks get redder than my fucking car. Your eyes just sparkle and-“ Gerard was interrupted by Frank, being embarrassed.

“I do not. What’s your point?” Frank was flustered with hot embarrassment, blushing red all over, and Gerard. Gerard loved doing that to Frank.

“My point is…well, I don’t have one…im just listing one of the many various reasons on why I love you.” Gerard smirked. Frank thought that Gerard was really good on being a romantic and also with words.

“Are you a poet or something? You seem to know a lot of linguistics in the right place.” Frank said. Frank was highly educated and smart, but Gerard seemed to be amazing with his words and had better adjectives.

“Sister, I’m not a poet. Just a criminal who works too hard.”

See what I did there

“Did ya’ just call me your sister?” Frank found his hands tied up in the telephone cord again, but this time, stuck.

“Hmm,” Gerard said as if he was actually over thinking his answer. “I guess I did.”

“…Okay then.”

“Now this horn is irritating me,-“ Gerard said and was again, interrupted by Franks naïve mind.

“Do you want me to go?”

“No! I meant to say is that I’d much prefer to speak to you in person. To see your pretty face.” Gerard said it as if he were saying ‘duh’. “Wanna come over?” He knew the answer to that.

“Like…at night. In the dark?” Gerard strongly felt that Frank was way too adorable.

“Yes, is that a problem?” Even though nobody could see him, Gerard cocked his left eyebrow up and made a questioning gaze at his hand.

“No no. it’s not a problem. I just thought since its night time, it’s more dangerous and-“

“Well, would you be in trouble if you spent the night?” Frank hadn’t thought about that. Would he be in trouble by his mother who would not return until early morning.

“No. I wouldn’t be in trouble.”

“Super! Then I will pick you up in half hour?” Gerard may have implied a question, but it was a demand.

“Okay!” And Frank wasn’t complaining about that, he desperately wanted to see Gerard. “**
I’ll see you then! Love you!” Frank was so excited to see Gerard that he slammed the telly on the base, catching his hand on the way. He made a quiet moan and un-hooked his hand from the telephone mess.

**

Gerard arrived at Frank’s house exactly thirty minutes later. Frank could’ve hurt himself he was so hyper to see Gerard. Frank didn’t want to stay at his home any longer, so Gerard drove him downtown. Not to Gerard’s house, but down in the socs’ territory. When Frank asked where they were going Gerard just said, “Horse race.”

“Horse race? I’ve never been to one before. Isn’t this Soc territory? Won’t we be in trouble? Won’t they jump us?” Frank asked and Gerard drove too fast in a full parking lot. Frank had to grip the sides of the seat to prevent tumbling.

“No they won’t jump us. Look how many people are here… Never get caught…And plus I got money on Lucky Seven, Bryar.” Gerard slammed on the brakes once he found a mid-way parking space. He almost hit a street lamp in front of him.

“Who’s that?” Gerard didn’t wear seatbelts, but Frank did, so Frank unbuckled.

“My man Bob’s horse. He’s real good too.” It was cold outside, and Frank could feel chills swarm up his spine. That was because one, it was chilly outside, and his leather jacket was fake leather- he didn’t have money for real leather, and Gerard stole his real leather. Two, was because he had never been to a race and was a bit nervous to see the socs’ there, even though Gerard had assured him that it would be fine.

“And who’s Bob?”

“Bob, he is a good friend of mine. He dropped out of school when he was sixteen so he could work here…He don’t need to worry about the socs’. So neither do you.” Gerard said and locked his hand with Frank’s. He could sense that Frank was worried, and he knew how to calm him.

“Oh, so is he the jockey? Does he win a lot?” Frank asked and Gerard signaled with his free hand to get out of the car. Once Frank stepped out into the even colder air, he started to shiver violently. Gerard threw his arm around Frank’s shoulder.

“He wins fair yes. But sometime he doesn’t win a lot. But he doesn’t cheat either so it’s okay.” Gerard slowly steered Frank in the long dirt path that leads to the entrance gates of the stadium.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I wasn’t implying that he cheats.” Frank said.

“I know that weren’t. It’s alright…The last guy who did suggest that got his two front teeth knocked straight out.” Gerard symbolized an air punch with his other hand. Frank winced at the air, because he imagined that would hurt a lot. They arrived at a very small line of like a group of four or five people. After like, a second the group left into the stadium and Gerard pulled out a dollar from his back pocket and tipped the man working.

The two walked up to the benches to find some other fellow greasers. Ray, Mikey, Billie, Dally, and Mike, Jimmy, and Jimmy’s girlfriend Susan. Susan was very pretty; no one would argue that, she had short curly brown hair, a blue denim jacket- Dally, Johnny, and Susan weren’t part of Gerard’s gang, they were part of another greaser gang. The Curly’s outfits. They were good alliances with Gerard’s outfits too.

“S’up my man. How’s it hanging?” Bille Joe. People didn’t call him by that; they called him Fink or Wilhelm Fink. They called him that for so long people sometime forgot that he even had a name.

“Hey Fink, you remember Frankie here, no?” Gerard introduced frank to his friend. Fink had on a white T-shirt and some neat jeans. He must have been freezing but it showed off his tattoos, and Frank thought he looked really tuff. As a matter of fact, none of the men really had on jackets, not even Gerard. He had taken it off and threw it on Frank’s shoulders.

“No I don’t. Well, hello Frank, you got a tuff lookin’ jacket on there. You must be burnin’ up by now?” Actually, Frank was, he was really hot under the jacket. It felt like the temperature had changed because Frank was either standing or moving around, or because he had on two jackets.

“Oh, it’s not mine, its Gerard’s.” Frank removed the jacket to reveal his bare arms and handed it over to Gerard.

“Oh, damn where that hell you get money for somethin’ as expensive as that?” Wilhelm Fink mocked. “Don’t you work at that stupid place with Toro?” Ray Toro worked at that one diner where Frank and Gerard went. Ray shouted a “what” from the stand he was sitting at but everyone completely ignored it. Every one else had sat down beside him to watch the race; Gerard, Fink, and Frank were all standing, ignoring the race.

“I don’t have the money. I just swiped it.” Gerard loved to swipe anything that wasn’t bolted down. It was just really fun to him; he swiped stuff that he didn’t even need. When he stole his car, and went to jail, the retards down at the station didn’t even bother to return it. That’s why he has such a sweet car. That’s also why he enforces the greaser motto so much, and why Mikey was so fast.

“Of course you did.” Fink said and the three all sat down on the bench once the second whistle went off. That meant it was Lucky Seven, Bryar was up. The house, Lucky, was real good, Frank thought. It looked pure, tamed, and just beautiful. It ran vary fast; it was tied up with another horse though.

A few of the Socs’ walked straight past the greasers. Everyone shared dirty looks at each other. Frank even recognized a couple of them, like Alicia was here with them. She had just as evil eyes as every one else. Then Frank noticed another soc was the one riding the horse that was tied up with Bob’s. He didn’t know his name but he’s seen him before.

“Bryar better not loose to them damn socs’. I put thirty dollars on him.” Gerard said a bit irritated.

“Shit!” Jimmy shouted from right next to Gerard. “I put fifty!”

“Hey, Frank you packing man?” Ray Toro was sitting right next to Frank. Frank pulled out an almost empty pack of cigarettes and handed them to Ray. “Thanks man.” Ray pulled out a cancer stick and shoved it into is mouth, and then handed the pack back to Frank. Ray looked at Frank for a minute then said, “Got a light?”

“Oh, sorry.” Frank then pulled out a tiny flash lighter from his pocket and shoved it into Ray’s hands as fast and rough as he could. Ray light his cig, and took a huge, satisfying breath of smoke, and then blew a perfect smoke ring. Frank could never do that, make a smoke ring. He had always tried but failed. But then again, he didn’t really smoke a lot, maybe once a day- barely.

“Ahh, that’s good stuff. I owe you one man.” Ray said to Frank but he was studying the cigarette closely.

“Nah its fine.” Frank knew that Ray wasn’t going to actually pay for a cigarette from him, he was just being polite. By now, every one was smoking, so Frank decided like now would be a perfect time for a smoke too.

“FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU, MOTHER FUCKING DIRT GREASE!” Gerard shouted once the horses had finished racing. Bob Bryar’s horse named lucky had lost to second place, thus costing Gerard thirty dollars. Calling a greaser a ‘dirt grease’ was also a big deal. It was sort of offensive to them. Once when a Soc called Gerard that, he pounded him into a bloody pulp. You just don’t call Gerard that, and you just don’t loose him money to the socs’.

Gerard screaming to the top of his lungs startled Frank for a second- like any sudden noise does. “Gerard?” Gerard sighed and turned to Frank like nothing happened.

“I’m sorry hun. I guess that was a bit un-called for.” Gerard had a very calm voice. It was a huge difference from his previous one. Next Gerard twisted his fingers back with Frank’s so they were holding hands. Frank saw that Jimmy had also screamed loudly, and then he walked off and punched a light pole very hard.

“Nah, its fine. I would be screaming too if I lost money.”

Back then, thirty dollars was a big deal, especially for poor people. That’s why they’re freaking out.

After that, the boys all walked down to the dirt parking lot, so they could all smoke, and talk. Frank saw the socs’ leaving in their corvairs and mustangs. He saw Patrick with them, and he was giving a dirty look that said “Ha-ha! We won.” Frank just ignored it though, mainly because Bob Bryar had just now arrived by them.

“Hey.” He said, he looked and sounded very exhausted too. Jimmy gave him a mean look, and so did Gerard.

“You owe us money!” Gerard shouted and then he punched Bob in the face. It wasn’t as hard of a punch he normally would; but it was hard enough to knock him off his feet. Bob rubbed his cheek and didn’t say anything. He knew that would happen. He lost fair and square.

Jimmy would go for his own punch, but his knuckles were already bruised and bleeding- he even had his girlfriend Susan massaging them. After that, everyone had taken about fifteen minutes to clear out. Gerard and Frank had driven back to Gerard’s house, but Mikey hadn’t come yet.

Once they were back, Frank was cuddling with Gerard in his bed. It was nearing midnight, and they were both pretty tired.

“Did you have fun today?” Gerard whispered into Frank. They were both wearing only pajama bottoms and no shirts- wrapped up in a nice, big, warm, fuzzy quilt.

“Yes. Thank you. I had a lot of fun…Did you have fun?” Frank asked back. Gerard did look pretty flustered on the whole car ride home- right when he got back home with Frankie, he seemed totally calm and has acted like he forgot about what happened before.

“I did have fun. I’m glad you did too. Would you like to go again sometime?” Gerard placed a small kiss on Frank’s cheek before he answered.

“I would love too. Have you ever ridden a horse?”

“Yes. I actually used to work there with Bob. But I had to quit because I broke my foot.” Frank gasped really quietly.

“What happened to your foot?” His voice was as worried as he really was. He wouldn’t have guessed that Gerard did that. He walks perfectly fine.

“My horse was acting up. Started bucking around, then it kicked me off and I landed on my foot. It was so bad that the doctors couldn’t even wrap it. Bones were all mashed up.” Gerard shrugged like it was no big deal, it happens all the time.

“Oh my goodness. Im so sorry. That musta hurt somethin’ terrible.” Gerard shrugged again.

“Nah. It didn’t hurt that bad. It was nothin’ really.” But, in reality, it hurt like hell. It hurt worse than being shot up. Gerard wasn’t going to say that to Frank because he didn’t want to worry him- even thought that happened like almost five years ago.

“But you broke your foot…Are you sure you’re okay?” Frank loosened up.

“Yeah, of course.” Frank made a small yawn, and Gerard did too. “Are you tired?”

“Yeah…Just a bit…” Frank was so sleepy. Just a bit was an under statement.

“Let’s go to sleep. We can talk in the morning.”

“Okay… Good night.” Frank was already half asleep, he barely understood what Gerard said.

“I love you.” Gerard was also half asleep.

“I love you too, Gee.” Frank was too tired and too lazy to finish saying Gerard’s name so he just left it at that.
Sign up to rate and review this story