Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
Scars
The elder boy was hurting, he was hurting beyond belief. The pain was evident in his jade eyes, that burned like meteors when anyone asked if he was okay. He would paint on a smile and nod compliantly, but he wasn't okay, he hadn't been okay since Frank's words had hit him like a million knives in every part of his body.
"I like girls."
Those three words had killed Gerard, they had murdered the older boy and stolen the light behin his eyes. He laid in bed at night, insomnia once again winning the battle, forever replaying the conversation.
"Hey, Frankie?" Gerard had murmured, fingers threading through the spaces in Frank's tattooed hands. He held their entwined hands up, admiring the way his deathly-pale fingers set off the vibrant tattoos that inked Frank's skin.
"Yeah, Gee?" Frank's fingers stiffened, as if he was uncomfortable. Gerard didn't understand why; they had due this so many times before.
"Have you ever wondered about, um, us? Like, being more than friends?" And that's when the spark fell from Frank's eye, and his hand had jolted away from Gerard's.
"I like girls."
That night was the first night Gerard Arthur Way ever felt real, true anger. He had ran - full pelt - away from Frank, tears streaming from his eyes and hands clenched into fists. He had ignored everything around him until he reached his bedroom, where he let everything go. The cold, icy December rain played outside as a depressing soundtrack as the boy sobbed angrily, cursing the day he became infatuated with his best friend, cursing the moment he asked that question. His jade gaze fell on a portrait he had done of the shorter boy. A momentary smile flitted across his lips- Gerard's pale arms were wrapped around him, one hand tangled in the soft fabric of his shirt whilst the other held his waist securely. The smile faded, and anger grew beneath it. Gerard's blood boiled as he stood up, staying still for a moment before he yanked the portrait away from his sketchbook with a sickening rrrrrrip!
That night was also the first he felt self-inflicted pain. After faking a smile for Mom and Dad, and shooting a venomous glare that read "say a word and you're dead" at Mikey, he slunk away to his bedroom. With a screwdriver, he carefully broke apart a sharpener, undoing the screws to get to the real treasures- the blades. Pressing one up against the pale skin of his wrist, Gerard took a moment for thought. Was he going to attempt, or was he just going to make himself feel better? Shrugging the thought away, he pressed down, applying enough pressure, before dragging the small blade across his wrist. A shock of pain ran through his slender frame, before a wretched smile crossed his lips. He began to drag the little razor back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. It took a while, but spots began to dance in front of his eyes. The boy looked down at his wrist- blood was leaking from it, flooding like a waterfall. The cut was deep, puncturing a vein. A few moments passed, before everything went beautifully black.
-
When he awoke, he was alone.
I dunno. Just something I churned out.
The elder boy was hurting, he was hurting beyond belief. The pain was evident in his jade eyes, that burned like meteors when anyone asked if he was okay. He would paint on a smile and nod compliantly, but he wasn't okay, he hadn't been okay since Frank's words had hit him like a million knives in every part of his body.
"I like girls."
Those three words had killed Gerard, they had murdered the older boy and stolen the light behin his eyes. He laid in bed at night, insomnia once again winning the battle, forever replaying the conversation.
"Hey, Frankie?" Gerard had murmured, fingers threading through the spaces in Frank's tattooed hands. He held their entwined hands up, admiring the way his deathly-pale fingers set off the vibrant tattoos that inked Frank's skin.
"Yeah, Gee?" Frank's fingers stiffened, as if he was uncomfortable. Gerard didn't understand why; they had due this so many times before.
"Have you ever wondered about, um, us? Like, being more than friends?" And that's when the spark fell from Frank's eye, and his hand had jolted away from Gerard's.
"I like girls."
That night was the first night Gerard Arthur Way ever felt real, true anger. He had ran - full pelt - away from Frank, tears streaming from his eyes and hands clenched into fists. He had ignored everything around him until he reached his bedroom, where he let everything go. The cold, icy December rain played outside as a depressing soundtrack as the boy sobbed angrily, cursing the day he became infatuated with his best friend, cursing the moment he asked that question. His jade gaze fell on a portrait he had done of the shorter boy. A momentary smile flitted across his lips- Gerard's pale arms were wrapped around him, one hand tangled in the soft fabric of his shirt whilst the other held his waist securely. The smile faded, and anger grew beneath it. Gerard's blood boiled as he stood up, staying still for a moment before he yanked the portrait away from his sketchbook with a sickening rrrrrrip!
That night was also the first he felt self-inflicted pain. After faking a smile for Mom and Dad, and shooting a venomous glare that read "say a word and you're dead" at Mikey, he slunk away to his bedroom. With a screwdriver, he carefully broke apart a sharpener, undoing the screws to get to the real treasures- the blades. Pressing one up against the pale skin of his wrist, Gerard took a moment for thought. Was he going to attempt, or was he just going to make himself feel better? Shrugging the thought away, he pressed down, applying enough pressure, before dragging the small blade across his wrist. A shock of pain ran through his slender frame, before a wretched smile crossed his lips. He began to drag the little razor back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. It took a while, but spots began to dance in front of his eyes. The boy looked down at his wrist- blood was leaking from it, flooding like a waterfall. The cut was deep, puncturing a vein. A few moments passed, before everything went beautifully black.
-
When he awoke, he was alone.
I dunno. Just something I churned out.
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