Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
So Long and Goodnight
2 reviewsGerard never thought he’d see Frank like this, at least, not for another sixty years or so, but here he is, holding back tears as he is faced with the hardest thing he has ever had to do.
2Moving
Just a little something I wrote for my creative writing class.
We were asked to write a fan fiction (I know, right?)
and I also had the word "Loss" as my inspiration.
Warning: Extremely depressing.
But really, that's nothing new to me.
-ASMx3
The beat up, white tour van that is usually filled with blaring music and easy conversation, has fallen uncomfortably quiet. The only sounds flowing through the vehicle, currently filled with four teary eyed young men, all clad in black and red suits, is the steady roar of the engine and the occasional defeated sigh. Nothing feels right, and Gerard is doubtful that things will ever truly feel right ever again.
Ray is sat in the driver's seat to his left, and Gerard is relieved that at least one of them is together enough to drive. If Gerard were the one driving, the van would have been at the bottom of the West Hudson Park Lake by his house long ago. When Gerard looks around at his band mates and best friends, they are all wearing similar expressions. Eyes glazed over with unshed tears, heads bowed, bodies hunched up.
Gerard imagines that he looks no different, and when he's met with his reflection in the window beside him, he realizes that he looks even worse. There are dark circles under his eyes, his usually glowing, emerald orbs are dim with despair, the dark waves that almost brush his shoulders are a tangled mess, and his thin lips are set in a stubborn frown. Considering that Gerard hasn't slept for the past 48 hours, it's no wonder that he looks like such a wreck. He'd be falling asleep in his seat if it weren't for the ridiculous amounts of coffee he consumed earlier.
48 hours since he last slept. 48 hours since he was last able to ingest anything besides coffee and water. 48 hours since he's had a decent conversation with any human. 48 hours since he last saw his face, smiling and alive. 48 hours of disbelief. 48 hours of crying. 48 hours of asking himself, Why him? Why now?
Before Gerard knows it, they're parked in front of the ancient church. The place that will serve as the beginning of the end for many things. Ray unbuckles his seat belt, but doesn't make an attempt to get out of the van. Everyone is still sat in silence, avoiding eye contact with one another.
No one is looking forward to the impending funeral that will surely be filled with tears, but Gerard thinks he's the most reluctant of all. Not to say that he cared about their beloved rhythm guitarist and long-time friend more than the rest of his band mates, he just had a unique relationship with him and Gerard is known to crack under pressure. Already, his hands are shaking and his breath is coming in short, labored breaths, and they haven't even set foot inside the ceremony yet. Things can only go downhill from here.
"Gee?" Mikey whispers timidly, from the seat behind Gerard's, "We should go inside. It's about to start."
Gerard had been so lost in thought that he hadn't noticed that the rest of his friends had exited the van and are now entering the building. He looks back at his younger brother, emotions hidden behind his ever present poker face, shielding his pain from onlookers. Gerard's always been able to see past the carefully set jaw and the distant gaze, though. He knows Mikey is suffering, just like everyone else.
Gerard doesn't trust his voice enough to speak, so he settles for a tense nod. It's now or never.
The atmosphere inside the church is similar to what he had expected. Relatives and close friends are hovering around, some speaking to each other in hushed voices, others sat alone, spread out on the pews, whipping their eyes. Gerard spots the deceased's mother, Linda, near a statue of the Virgin Mary, and decides to go over and give his condolences to the woman who has taken the role as a second mother to him throughout the years.
The exchange is grueling and toilsome in the worst way possible, the pair trying, and failing, to keep their composure. Thankfully, Mikey comes to Gerard’s rescue moments later, keeping him grounded before he loses all sense of control right there on the marble flooring of the Catholic Church. The last thing Gerard wants to do is draw attention to himself, especially now that a considerable amount of people have arrived at the wake.
Mikey steers his distraught brother over to a pew near the front, where a priest is patiently waiting to lead the mourners in prayer. Bob and Ray are already there, heads bowed, more as a show of respect than anything else, since Gerard knows neither of them are very religious. Gerard would usually never attach the word “religious” to his name under any circumstances, but he is fairly certain that he has prayed more during the past few days than any person in this room.
Gerard did nothing but pray to any and every God that may exist to give his best friend the strength to recover. The doctors kept telling him the chances were slim, but Gerard never lost hope. That is, until he heard the shrill beep of the guitarist’s heart monitor flatlining, mapping out his final beats of his weakened heart. Gerard doesn’t think he’ll be able to muster much hope for anything after that.
The rest of the mass passes in a blur of blessings and hymns, Gerard being too lost in his thoughts to pay much attention. He doesn’t notice the worried glances his brother and close friends shoot him every couple of minutes or the occasional supportive shoulder-squeeze. Gerard hates making the people around him so anxious, but he can’t help the grief that is flowing out of every pore in his body. Maybe he’ll be able to put up a front in a week or so, just like he always does, but there’s no way he could look like anything less than a miserable puppy who has lost its favorite toy for the time being.
The reverberating sound of a unified “Amen” is what successfully pulls Gerard back into reality. As soon as he sees the line forming near the far left of the church, in front of a casket that holds the cause of all his sorrow, he pales with the realization of what he must now do. Mikey eyes him warily as he avoids the crowd of people and makes his way out the side door of the church, but makes no attempt to stop him. Mikey knows when Gerard needs to be left alone.
Gerard pushes the side door shut, a bit harder than necessary, and walks a few paces down the alley before he collapse onto the concrete, back against the wall and knees folded up to his chest. He grabs his half empty pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and slips one between his lips as he fumbles around in his other pockets in search of a lighter. After a minute, he comes to the conclusion that he must have left it at home and that thought alone almost brings him to tears.
Gerard is notorious for always having cigarettes on him but constantly forgetting to keep track of a lighter. It was never much of a problem because his vertically challenged friend was always there with a light and a half assed joke about Gerard being the most absent minded person he’s ever known. But now, in the absence of the short brunette, Gerard needs to face a lifetime without his smoking buddy and his smart aleck remarks.
With anger that he hadn’t even know he’d been harboring until right now, Gerard throws the unlit cigarette across the alleyway and quickly rises to his feet. Gerard has all this pint up frustration vibrating under his skin and he doesn’t know what to do with it. He settles for kicking the brick wall before him, making his toes throb in pain but he barely notices in his outburst of rage.
“You’re supposed to be here,” he says, the words coming out as more of a growl than actual English, “We’re supposed to be half way across Jersey right now, setting up for the show we were meant to play tonight.”
Gerard’s never been one to talk to himself, but it’s giving him something to focus on and no one is around to hear his mindless ranting, so he figures, why not?
“What the hell were you thinking, going off on your own in the middle of the night? It was pouring outside. I’m not surprised you didn’t see that tree through all the stupid rain.”
Gerard doesn’t know if it’s just his luck or if someone up there is taking pleasure in seeing him at his lowest, but it begins to drizzle. It’s only tiny droplets that stain the front of his shirt at the moment, but the dark rain clouds looming over head promise more to come.
“Now what?” he asks the humid air surrounding him, “I’m supposed to go in there, say goodbye, and continue on with my life like everything’s okay? I can’t. You can’t expect me to do that when I’m nowhere near being o-fucking-kay!”
Gerard focuses all the emotional pain he’s feeling into his fist and turns it into physical pain by punching the wall. The brick cuts and scrapes the skin covering his knuckles, making him bleed slightly. The blood is quickly washed away as the rain picks up, soaking Gerard’s dark hair and making his suit stick to him like a second layer of skin. He had thought that the careless punch would release some of this emotion brewing inside him, but he was wrong. All he has now is a sore hand.
Somewhere from behind, Gerard hears a person clear their throat. When he turns around, he sees that it’s Ray. Gerard’s not sure how much Ray has seen while standing there in the doorway of the church, but going by the look on his face, he saw enough.
After sharing a brief conversation, Ray informs Gerard that they will be moving the casket soon, signaling Gerard’s last chance to say goodbye. Gerard tells Ray he won’t be long and re-enters the church alone.
The crowd of people are now gathered outside, huddled under umbrellas, giving Gerard the pleasant surprise of having the church all to himself. His anxiety grows with each step he takes towards the dark stoned casket. A large part of him would rather hold on to the memory of his friend’s smiling face, full of life, as opposed to the lifeless corpse he is about to lay eyes on, but he knows that if he doesn’t go through with this he’ll regret it for the rest of his days.
Gerard stops in his tracks once he’s as close as physically possible to the casket, forcing his eyes up from the ground to where his friend lays, unnaturally pale against the deep, red velvet of the fabric surrounding him.
Frank.
He knows it’s Frank because of the sharp jaw line he’s known the majority of his life and the stitched up cut on his right eyebrow he received the day of the accident, but if it weren’t for those details, he never would have recognized him. The absence of never ending energy and the fiery passion behind his hazel eyes takes away the very essence of what made Frank, Frank.
Gerard never thought he’d see Frank like this, at least, not for another sixty years or so, but here he is, holding back tears as he is faced with the hardest thing he has ever had to do.
“You’d be laughing your ass off at me if you could see me right now,” he says to the pair of closed eyes. “Maybe you can…” he adds, secretly hoping that wherever Frank is right now, that he can hear what he is about to say.
“I’m not gonna stand here and give you a lengthy speech. I’m sure you’re dying to go find Freddie or Kurt and sneak your way into the group of rock gods up there,” Gerard jokes, actually managing a small laugh at the memory of a conversation Frank and him once had about the afterlife.
“I don’t know what’s gonna happen to the band,” he admits, a worry that has been eating away at the back of his mind, “I know you’d want us to just find a new guitarist, hell, you even told me yourself, but I don’t know if I can do that. No one’s ever going to be able to replace you, Frankie.”
Gerard finds himself at a loss for words after that, content with just standing there and letting himself be consumed with fond memories surrounding the guitarist. More than a decade filled with laughs and smiles, broken hearts and struggles. Frank was right beside him through it all and he can’t imagine making new memories without him there.
Gerard must stay in his reminiscing state for longer than he thought, because soon he hears the entrance of the church being opened, his band mates waiting on him.
He turns to the casket, and in a last minute idea, takes off a chain from around his neck. Gerard made this necklace many years ago, back when Frank was still a new presence in his life.
It’s a simple silver chain holding what Frank used to refer to as his lucky guitar pick. Frank gave it to Gerard before their first show as a band, claiming that it would ease his jittering nerves. Gerard’s not superstitious, but the pick did serve as a comforting weight against his chest throughout the performance and has kept him grounded while on stage ever since. Gerard holds the pick in his hand for a moment, swiping his thumb against it one last time, before placing it inside one of the closed fists on Frank’s chest.
“You have no idea how much I’m going to miss you, Frankie.” He whispers, giving his friend a watery smile.
Gerard looks at Frank’s tranquil face for one last time before forcing himself to walk away from the person who has impacted his life so greatly and left him with nothing more than fond memories and a heavy heart.
Reviews make me happy ~
We were asked to write a fan fiction (I know, right?)
and I also had the word "Loss" as my inspiration.
Warning: Extremely depressing.
But really, that's nothing new to me.
-ASMx3
The beat up, white tour van that is usually filled with blaring music and easy conversation, has fallen uncomfortably quiet. The only sounds flowing through the vehicle, currently filled with four teary eyed young men, all clad in black and red suits, is the steady roar of the engine and the occasional defeated sigh. Nothing feels right, and Gerard is doubtful that things will ever truly feel right ever again.
Ray is sat in the driver's seat to his left, and Gerard is relieved that at least one of them is together enough to drive. If Gerard were the one driving, the van would have been at the bottom of the West Hudson Park Lake by his house long ago. When Gerard looks around at his band mates and best friends, they are all wearing similar expressions. Eyes glazed over with unshed tears, heads bowed, bodies hunched up.
Gerard imagines that he looks no different, and when he's met with his reflection in the window beside him, he realizes that he looks even worse. There are dark circles under his eyes, his usually glowing, emerald orbs are dim with despair, the dark waves that almost brush his shoulders are a tangled mess, and his thin lips are set in a stubborn frown. Considering that Gerard hasn't slept for the past 48 hours, it's no wonder that he looks like such a wreck. He'd be falling asleep in his seat if it weren't for the ridiculous amounts of coffee he consumed earlier.
48 hours since he last slept. 48 hours since he was last able to ingest anything besides coffee and water. 48 hours since he's had a decent conversation with any human. 48 hours since he last saw his face, smiling and alive. 48 hours of disbelief. 48 hours of crying. 48 hours of asking himself, Why him? Why now?
Before Gerard knows it, they're parked in front of the ancient church. The place that will serve as the beginning of the end for many things. Ray unbuckles his seat belt, but doesn't make an attempt to get out of the van. Everyone is still sat in silence, avoiding eye contact with one another.
No one is looking forward to the impending funeral that will surely be filled with tears, but Gerard thinks he's the most reluctant of all. Not to say that he cared about their beloved rhythm guitarist and long-time friend more than the rest of his band mates, he just had a unique relationship with him and Gerard is known to crack under pressure. Already, his hands are shaking and his breath is coming in short, labored breaths, and they haven't even set foot inside the ceremony yet. Things can only go downhill from here.
"Gee?" Mikey whispers timidly, from the seat behind Gerard's, "We should go inside. It's about to start."
Gerard had been so lost in thought that he hadn't noticed that the rest of his friends had exited the van and are now entering the building. He looks back at his younger brother, emotions hidden behind his ever present poker face, shielding his pain from onlookers. Gerard's always been able to see past the carefully set jaw and the distant gaze, though. He knows Mikey is suffering, just like everyone else.
Gerard doesn't trust his voice enough to speak, so he settles for a tense nod. It's now or never.
The atmosphere inside the church is similar to what he had expected. Relatives and close friends are hovering around, some speaking to each other in hushed voices, others sat alone, spread out on the pews, whipping their eyes. Gerard spots the deceased's mother, Linda, near a statue of the Virgin Mary, and decides to go over and give his condolences to the woman who has taken the role as a second mother to him throughout the years.
The exchange is grueling and toilsome in the worst way possible, the pair trying, and failing, to keep their composure. Thankfully, Mikey comes to Gerard’s rescue moments later, keeping him grounded before he loses all sense of control right there on the marble flooring of the Catholic Church. The last thing Gerard wants to do is draw attention to himself, especially now that a considerable amount of people have arrived at the wake.
Mikey steers his distraught brother over to a pew near the front, where a priest is patiently waiting to lead the mourners in prayer. Bob and Ray are already there, heads bowed, more as a show of respect than anything else, since Gerard knows neither of them are very religious. Gerard would usually never attach the word “religious” to his name under any circumstances, but he is fairly certain that he has prayed more during the past few days than any person in this room.
Gerard did nothing but pray to any and every God that may exist to give his best friend the strength to recover. The doctors kept telling him the chances were slim, but Gerard never lost hope. That is, until he heard the shrill beep of the guitarist’s heart monitor flatlining, mapping out his final beats of his weakened heart. Gerard doesn’t think he’ll be able to muster much hope for anything after that.
The rest of the mass passes in a blur of blessings and hymns, Gerard being too lost in his thoughts to pay much attention. He doesn’t notice the worried glances his brother and close friends shoot him every couple of minutes or the occasional supportive shoulder-squeeze. Gerard hates making the people around him so anxious, but he can’t help the grief that is flowing out of every pore in his body. Maybe he’ll be able to put up a front in a week or so, just like he always does, but there’s no way he could look like anything less than a miserable puppy who has lost its favorite toy for the time being.
The reverberating sound of a unified “Amen” is what successfully pulls Gerard back into reality. As soon as he sees the line forming near the far left of the church, in front of a casket that holds the cause of all his sorrow, he pales with the realization of what he must now do. Mikey eyes him warily as he avoids the crowd of people and makes his way out the side door of the church, but makes no attempt to stop him. Mikey knows when Gerard needs to be left alone.
Gerard pushes the side door shut, a bit harder than necessary, and walks a few paces down the alley before he collapse onto the concrete, back against the wall and knees folded up to his chest. He grabs his half empty pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and slips one between his lips as he fumbles around in his other pockets in search of a lighter. After a minute, he comes to the conclusion that he must have left it at home and that thought alone almost brings him to tears.
Gerard is notorious for always having cigarettes on him but constantly forgetting to keep track of a lighter. It was never much of a problem because his vertically challenged friend was always there with a light and a half assed joke about Gerard being the most absent minded person he’s ever known. But now, in the absence of the short brunette, Gerard needs to face a lifetime without his smoking buddy and his smart aleck remarks.
With anger that he hadn’t even know he’d been harboring until right now, Gerard throws the unlit cigarette across the alleyway and quickly rises to his feet. Gerard has all this pint up frustration vibrating under his skin and he doesn’t know what to do with it. He settles for kicking the brick wall before him, making his toes throb in pain but he barely notices in his outburst of rage.
“You’re supposed to be here,” he says, the words coming out as more of a growl than actual English, “We’re supposed to be half way across Jersey right now, setting up for the show we were meant to play tonight.”
Gerard’s never been one to talk to himself, but it’s giving him something to focus on and no one is around to hear his mindless ranting, so he figures, why not?
“What the hell were you thinking, going off on your own in the middle of the night? It was pouring outside. I’m not surprised you didn’t see that tree through all the stupid rain.”
Gerard doesn’t know if it’s just his luck or if someone up there is taking pleasure in seeing him at his lowest, but it begins to drizzle. It’s only tiny droplets that stain the front of his shirt at the moment, but the dark rain clouds looming over head promise more to come.
“Now what?” he asks the humid air surrounding him, “I’m supposed to go in there, say goodbye, and continue on with my life like everything’s okay? I can’t. You can’t expect me to do that when I’m nowhere near being o-fucking-kay!”
Gerard focuses all the emotional pain he’s feeling into his fist and turns it into physical pain by punching the wall. The brick cuts and scrapes the skin covering his knuckles, making him bleed slightly. The blood is quickly washed away as the rain picks up, soaking Gerard’s dark hair and making his suit stick to him like a second layer of skin. He had thought that the careless punch would release some of this emotion brewing inside him, but he was wrong. All he has now is a sore hand.
Somewhere from behind, Gerard hears a person clear their throat. When he turns around, he sees that it’s Ray. Gerard’s not sure how much Ray has seen while standing there in the doorway of the church, but going by the look on his face, he saw enough.
After sharing a brief conversation, Ray informs Gerard that they will be moving the casket soon, signaling Gerard’s last chance to say goodbye. Gerard tells Ray he won’t be long and re-enters the church alone.
The crowd of people are now gathered outside, huddled under umbrellas, giving Gerard the pleasant surprise of having the church all to himself. His anxiety grows with each step he takes towards the dark stoned casket. A large part of him would rather hold on to the memory of his friend’s smiling face, full of life, as opposed to the lifeless corpse he is about to lay eyes on, but he knows that if he doesn’t go through with this he’ll regret it for the rest of his days.
Gerard stops in his tracks once he’s as close as physically possible to the casket, forcing his eyes up from the ground to where his friend lays, unnaturally pale against the deep, red velvet of the fabric surrounding him.
Frank.
He knows it’s Frank because of the sharp jaw line he’s known the majority of his life and the stitched up cut on his right eyebrow he received the day of the accident, but if it weren’t for those details, he never would have recognized him. The absence of never ending energy and the fiery passion behind his hazel eyes takes away the very essence of what made Frank, Frank.
Gerard never thought he’d see Frank like this, at least, not for another sixty years or so, but here he is, holding back tears as he is faced with the hardest thing he has ever had to do.
“You’d be laughing your ass off at me if you could see me right now,” he says to the pair of closed eyes. “Maybe you can…” he adds, secretly hoping that wherever Frank is right now, that he can hear what he is about to say.
“I’m not gonna stand here and give you a lengthy speech. I’m sure you’re dying to go find Freddie or Kurt and sneak your way into the group of rock gods up there,” Gerard jokes, actually managing a small laugh at the memory of a conversation Frank and him once had about the afterlife.
“I don’t know what’s gonna happen to the band,” he admits, a worry that has been eating away at the back of his mind, “I know you’d want us to just find a new guitarist, hell, you even told me yourself, but I don’t know if I can do that. No one’s ever going to be able to replace you, Frankie.”
Gerard finds himself at a loss for words after that, content with just standing there and letting himself be consumed with fond memories surrounding the guitarist. More than a decade filled with laughs and smiles, broken hearts and struggles. Frank was right beside him through it all and he can’t imagine making new memories without him there.
Gerard must stay in his reminiscing state for longer than he thought, because soon he hears the entrance of the church being opened, his band mates waiting on him.
He turns to the casket, and in a last minute idea, takes off a chain from around his neck. Gerard made this necklace many years ago, back when Frank was still a new presence in his life.
It’s a simple silver chain holding what Frank used to refer to as his lucky guitar pick. Frank gave it to Gerard before their first show as a band, claiming that it would ease his jittering nerves. Gerard’s not superstitious, but the pick did serve as a comforting weight against his chest throughout the performance and has kept him grounded while on stage ever since. Gerard holds the pick in his hand for a moment, swiping his thumb against it one last time, before placing it inside one of the closed fists on Frank’s chest.
“You have no idea how much I’m going to miss you, Frankie.” He whispers, giving his friend a watery smile.
Gerard looks at Frank’s tranquil face for one last time before forcing himself to walk away from the person who has impacted his life so greatly and left him with nothing more than fond memories and a heavy heart.
Reviews make me happy ~
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