Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Apples:Prologue:

Chapter 11: Cocoon

by Frerardpervert 3 reviews

Of course, fear is a weakness, even as a child I possessed that belief, and I soon exceeded it (As I often do with everything else).

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres:  - Characters: Frank Iero - Published: 2014-01-25 - Updated: 2014-01-25 - 1903 words

1Ambiance
Sorry guys, school and what not. SORRY. Any ways here's this.

Waking up with headaches is possibly the worst thing one can wake up with, regarding certain circumstances. It is not a headache caused from the consumption of copious amount of alcohol, but the dull pulse that resonates through out a night of restlessness caused by intrusive thoughts. I lay in the silent morning, warm light seeping through my curtains, illuminating my room. I feel calm, despite the throbbing of my head, I relish the vacancy of my thoughts, who are still persistent, but muted by the numb atmosphere of my cozy room. My breathing is shallow, my thoughts are hollow, the morning is much like a bright shining day after a rupturing storm. I don't know how long I lie there, cocooned in my sheets, but the feeling of laziness starts to bore me and I soon get up. I come outside my room with last night's clothes on, rumpled and skewed. Walking to the kitchen, the sound of something frying echoes and I am encompassed with the salty smell of cooking eggs.
"Hey baby." My mom says, addressing me with a bright smile, then returning to hunch over the pan with utmost concentration. I smile at her, my heart thuds with a longing and knowledge that only comes from not seeing her for what feels like ages.
"Hi mom." I reply quietly. I crowd inside my small kitchen and start preparing myself some coffee, looking towards my mom's empty coffee mug, I decide to prepare her some more.
"Have fun last night?" She asks,glancing towards my rumpled clothing, a question laced with genuine curiosity, not a note of sternness or anger that one would receive from sneaking out.
"I guess." I reply absentmindedly stirring both our coffees. Finished with frying the eggs, my mom turns the stove up and gathers the eggs on a plate, "You don't want any right?" She asks, all ready knowing the answer but just making sure.
"No." I reply, sitting on in front of her, our small table crowded with newspaper. She eats in silence, I sip my coffee in tranquility.

After we're both finished I wash our plates.
"I'm gonna go work in five hours, you wanna go anywhere?" She asks
"Um sure, where?"
"I don't know where ever you want to go."
"I don't care."
"Ok then, get ready, or something."

I obey, going to the bathroom and carrying out ordinary habits. Coming back down, I sit in the cozy couch and wait for my mom. She comes down in ten minutes and we head out.

The dull humming of the wheels treading the road resonates from under us. The warm sun encompasses us in heat and I roll down the window to let the breeze of the ride invade the car. Getting bored of the silence, as I often get bored with everything else, I turn on the radio, with no particular station in mind. The radio buzzes due to the lack of signal, every now and then the snake of static slithers on the radio, cutting between sentences. My mom drives closer to the city, and finally the snake disappears into the oblivion of signal.
"-The murders of the Tri-state area of obviously common, serial killers only exist in shows or books, these are obviously just random killings-"
"No but can't you see the pattern? Jerry it's quite obvious only an idiot would miss it."
"Please guys," A manly chuckle hums in the radio "Excuse Andrew, he's an enthusiast, he just wants to alarm you guys."

I roll my eyes at the petty excuse for a debate on the radio. I suddenly wish that snake would slither back and mute these idiots. Murder is ordinary.

"-Ok! so what if it is some sort of serial-killing maniac?" The exasperated voice, Jerry, exclaims, "The cops will obviously find this poor idiot."
"BUT THE PATTERNS!" A voice cuts through, followed by various chuckles in the background, most likely that Jerry idiot and co.
"Ok fine, tell us that damn pattern." The chuckles continue.
"Ok well first of all, it's in the tri-state area, the murders started in Jers-----"

I turn off the radio in annoyance. Mom turns her head from the road to give me a curious frown.
"Murder is common, especially in Jersey, these idiots don't know what they're talking about." I explain, I tap on the window to evade the silence from engulfing the car. My mother smirks at me with affection leaking out of her eyes, "People are idiots, don't mind them." She chuckles. I smile at her. The car parks at the mall. We get out and enter the world of fashion.

To be frank, I hate the mall. Everything about it. Yet, I don't complain because I'm here with my mom, haven't seen her in a long time and I don't wish to spoil the day. I find everything about the mall unbearable, the bright lights scorching my eyes, the cold air conditioning making them water. The annoying people, loud and stupid, walking about buying unecessary, expensive things, prancing with their snotty postures, noses in the air. Most of all though, I hate the stores, so advertised, over- fashioned, makes me feel sick, how we live in luxury. Buying expensive trash while other people starve and live in shit on other countries. How these stores sell shirts for fifty dollars, when in other places people would die for a buck. The company owners rich and selfish in their own greed, rotting with the trash they call money. How these stores burn clothing rather than donating it to the poor for fear of appearance. It makes me sick. I swallow a lump as I pass a perfume stand with my mom, and try to stop thinking.

It's incredibly hard, but for once, my brain obliges with my needs.

We walk store to store, my mom buying things for herself, (knowing I don't want anything) then in two hours (dreadfully boring hours) we retrieve back to the car. I don't really care where we're going, but I might as well suggest an idea before we go somewhere else dreadfully boring.
"Can we go to the park?" I ask, a hopeful tone lifting the question. I love the park. My mom starts the car, the engine rumbling to life, like a horse who snorts before the start of a race. She looks towards at me and smiles.
"Sure honey." She drives towards the park. We stop by an ice cream shop.


In the park, we sit on a wooden bench, scarred with shavings of names, shapes, the usual Jane + Harry shit. Some parts of the bench though, are covered in beautiful sharpie art, making me wonder who drew them and why. I glance around and see the occasional shaved portrait of a person, it makes me think of Gerard. I take a bite of my ice cream and swallow around the lump of the cold. I glance around the bench once more, then opt to stare up ahead. The slight, warm breeze plays with our hair, and we sit in a warm silence, that is interrupted every once in a while by the chirp of a bird, or the caw of a crow, the giggles of children or the wails of a baby. It makes me hate life a little bit less. Leaves fall from the ancient trees, showering us in the colors of October. I pluck the ones that fall on my mom's hair and play with them, ripping them to slowly to shreds.
I sigh, " Wish I could be a pirate." I state. My mom chuckles, "Wish I wouldn't have to grow old." She gives a somber smile at her reply.
"It's a little to late for that, don't you think?" I tease her.
"Aww you little devil, when I die, I want you to-"
I cut her off, "Yeah, yeah I know. Cremate you to ashes and scatter them over the sea." She smiles at me, often one would feel dejection upon hearing their moms talk about their inevitable deaths, I on the other hand embrace it, accept it. I would not wish for her to suffer an eternity on earth, this world is just made to make one suffer.
I drape an arm over her shoulder.

"So who's that friend that recited shakespeare to you last night?" My mom asks, the curious question leaked with mockery a mother possesses when they talk about their child's (nonexistent) love life. If the way she said friend was anything to go by..I wrinkle my nose and laugh.
"I don't really know. He's weird, met him at school. Only person so far that isn't an idiot besides Ray."
"I should meet him some time." I snort "Mom, it's not like that, dude trust me." She glares at me, well more at the use of the pronoun.
"Frankie.." She whines.
"Mom." I mock
She stays quiet for a contemplative silence, then-"You wan't condoms?" She asks abruptly. I choke on my ice cream.
"Mom you know I-"
"I don't believe that, I'm asexual bullshit." She cuts me off. I sigh, no one does.
"Maybe later.." I say, she stares at me, knows I'm lying.

We finish our ice creams and stay a while longer. I watch as the children rock on the swings. I use to be afraid of them. I remember as a child, I once held that curiosity to try everything amongst the playground (setting has changed, feeling hasn't) one of them was the swings, I asked my mom to help me climb the seat and push me, as I have often observed other parents do to their kids. She was reluctant, but conceeded, at first I liked how it felt, being gently pushed, the breeze flying past me, I asked her to push me harder, she did. I thought I was going to fall, my heart accelerated and my palms started sweating, no matter how prideful I was even as a child (even more so now) I begged her to stop. She stopped, I climbed down from the seat and never touched the swings, well until age six that is. The was the last thing I remember being afraid of, even until now. Barophobia, fear of falling.

Of course, fear is a weakness, even as a child I possessed that belief, and I soon exceeded it (As I often do with everything else).

I waited a year, playing in the park and not nearing the swings. I took me some time, but the day I swung again, I was alone. A six year old with a new sense of pride, ditched his friends to once again try to fly. He sat on the seat, pushed his legs, following the pattern of kicks he often sees children perform, to reach the right height. Higher, and higher, he swung, and he felt the air, and for once he did not feel his body, he felt his mind, eloping and flying, towards the vast ocean blue of sky.

I smile at the memory. I really wish I could fly. My mother looks at me and smiles.

We leave the park, our arms weaved together. She starts the park and drives us home.





I hoped you guys liked it, I just wanted you guys to have more insight on frank. Please R&R
Sign up to rate and review this story