Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Flawed
Flawed
18 reviewsJust a sad little one-shot. There will be a character death. Bring tissues. Frank/Gerard slash.
3Moving
One-shot Disclaimer- I write sins, not tragedi- I mean, not the truth.
A/N- Just a short little sad one-shot. Character death. Not related to "You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison?" Don't you love my Christmassy spirit? Enjoy...
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Flawed.
That six lettered word had meaning beyond meaning to him. He could stand in the bathroom for hours, counting them off on his wrist. One line for each flaw.
/Ugly/.
The razor skimmed his skin, raising a slight pink line.
/Stupid/.
The razor pierced the milky white flesh, drawing blood. The pain didn't register; a small smile ghosted his grim lips.
/Useless/.
Blood now flowed from the wound, dripping to the floor. Why wasn't anyone looking for him? Why didn't anyone care?
Mistake.
Sick.
Loser.
Greedy.
Waste.
Alone.
Helpless.
Lost
Undeserving.
Pathetic.
Loveless.
Broken.
Cold.
Uncaring.
Line after line after line. No one cared. No was looking. No one ever looked. Blood flowed down his arm, and he watched, entranced. He couldn't feel the cuts; all he felt was the cleanliness of purging his body of the dirtiness that was him/. Disgusting, old, /him.
A creature like him didn't deserve to live. He was dirt. Nothing.
He didn't notice the blade slip to the floor out of his fingers. The quiet clatter that it made didn't reach his ears.
He was deaf to the world; all that he could hear were his thoughts, swirling through his mind like a whirlwind. Angry, accusing thoughts that had finally led him to /this/.
The ultimate admission of his cowardliness.
As the floor rushed up to meet him, his last thought was, 'Forgive me, Frankie.'
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Frank frowned, looking around him. He was sitting on his couch of the apartment he shared with his boyfriend, Gerard. There was party going on, and about thirty people were milling around, laughing and talking.
Ray plopped down next to him, grinning.
"Awesome party, man. I love the way you only invite people we know intimately."
"I don't know you intimately...yet," Frank smiled, wiggling his eyebrows.
Ray slapped his arm, and said, "I'm gonna tell Gee on you. By the way, where'd he go?"
"I dunno. He went somewhere about an hour ago. I'm kinda worried. He hasn't been himself lately," Frank frowned, surveying the room again.
Ray nodded.
"Yeah, ever since he got diagnosed. I understand the way he's been depressed, but I mean, come on. He's been really distant."
Frank said, "I'm scared that he's gonna go back to the drugs and alcohol."
Ray nodded, and touched Frank's arm gently.
"Don't worry about it now, man. Just enjoy the party. That's why we threw it. To distract you two."
Frank smiled half-heartedly.
"Thanks. But for now, I gotta take a piss."
"You do that," Ray laughed, standing up and heading towards the kitchen for a drink.
Frank stood up too, and weaved his way through the small crowd to the bathroom.
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When Frank got there, the door was shut. It was quiet away from the crowd, so he knocked lightly.
There was no reply from the occupant, so he knocked a little harder.
"Hey, anyone in there?" he called. He tried the knob, and finding it to be unlocked, pushed it open.
"Hey, is there any-GERARD!!!!! NO!!!!!!!"
The repeated question broke off into a scream as the guitarist flew forward, falling to his knees beside the limp body of his lover.
"No, Gerard, please God, no," Frank sobbed, pulling Gerard into his arms. Gerard mumbled something incoherently into his chest, and Frank gasped.
"Oh my God, you're still alive!"
Gerard mumbled, "I'm so sorry, Frankie, 'm sosorry..."
His words slurred together as the severe blood loss finally caught up to him.
Frank felt Gerard's muscles slowly relax in his arms, and he let out an inhuman howl of protest.
"Don't you take HIM FROM ME, YOU SELFISH SON-OF-A-!!!!!!!" His voice trailed off as he broke down into anguish-filled cries.
Gerard Arthur Way died that night in Frank Iero's arms, of lack of confidence and self-hatred. Or maybe it was being diagnosed with terminal lung cancer.
Either way, yet another life was taken at a tragically young age. And preventabley so.
Frank Iero went on with life, eventually finding another true love, filling the space of the so-called irreplaceable Gerard. But maybe Gerard was right. Maybe he was useless. Maybe he was a waste of oxygen, food, and water.
Maybe he was right to take his life. But, hey. He would've just died six months later.
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A/N- I wrote this at an insanely late time. Sorry if it's a bit incoherent. It's funny. I always write at my best when I'm so tired I can barely keep my eyes open. REVIEW!!!!!!
A/N- Just a short little sad one-shot. Character death. Not related to "You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison?" Don't you love my Christmassy spirit? Enjoy...
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Flawed.
That six lettered word had meaning beyond meaning to him. He could stand in the bathroom for hours, counting them off on his wrist. One line for each flaw.
/Ugly/.
The razor skimmed his skin, raising a slight pink line.
/Stupid/.
The razor pierced the milky white flesh, drawing blood. The pain didn't register; a small smile ghosted his grim lips.
/Useless/.
Blood now flowed from the wound, dripping to the floor. Why wasn't anyone looking for him? Why didn't anyone care?
Mistake.
Sick.
Loser.
Greedy.
Waste.
Alone.
Helpless.
Lost
Undeserving.
Pathetic.
Loveless.
Broken.
Cold.
Uncaring.
Line after line after line. No one cared. No was looking. No one ever looked. Blood flowed down his arm, and he watched, entranced. He couldn't feel the cuts; all he felt was the cleanliness of purging his body of the dirtiness that was him/. Disgusting, old, /him.
A creature like him didn't deserve to live. He was dirt. Nothing.
He didn't notice the blade slip to the floor out of his fingers. The quiet clatter that it made didn't reach his ears.
He was deaf to the world; all that he could hear were his thoughts, swirling through his mind like a whirlwind. Angry, accusing thoughts that had finally led him to /this/.
The ultimate admission of his cowardliness.
As the floor rushed up to meet him, his last thought was, 'Forgive me, Frankie.'
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Frank frowned, looking around him. He was sitting on his couch of the apartment he shared with his boyfriend, Gerard. There was party going on, and about thirty people were milling around, laughing and talking.
Ray plopped down next to him, grinning.
"Awesome party, man. I love the way you only invite people we know intimately."
"I don't know you intimately...yet," Frank smiled, wiggling his eyebrows.
Ray slapped his arm, and said, "I'm gonna tell Gee on you. By the way, where'd he go?"
"I dunno. He went somewhere about an hour ago. I'm kinda worried. He hasn't been himself lately," Frank frowned, surveying the room again.
Ray nodded.
"Yeah, ever since he got diagnosed. I understand the way he's been depressed, but I mean, come on. He's been really distant."
Frank said, "I'm scared that he's gonna go back to the drugs and alcohol."
Ray nodded, and touched Frank's arm gently.
"Don't worry about it now, man. Just enjoy the party. That's why we threw it. To distract you two."
Frank smiled half-heartedly.
"Thanks. But for now, I gotta take a piss."
"You do that," Ray laughed, standing up and heading towards the kitchen for a drink.
Frank stood up too, and weaved his way through the small crowd to the bathroom.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When Frank got there, the door was shut. It was quiet away from the crowd, so he knocked lightly.
There was no reply from the occupant, so he knocked a little harder.
"Hey, anyone in there?" he called. He tried the knob, and finding it to be unlocked, pushed it open.
"Hey, is there any-GERARD!!!!! NO!!!!!!!"
The repeated question broke off into a scream as the guitarist flew forward, falling to his knees beside the limp body of his lover.
"No, Gerard, please God, no," Frank sobbed, pulling Gerard into his arms. Gerard mumbled something incoherently into his chest, and Frank gasped.
"Oh my God, you're still alive!"
Gerard mumbled, "I'm so sorry, Frankie, 'm sosorry..."
His words slurred together as the severe blood loss finally caught up to him.
Frank felt Gerard's muscles slowly relax in his arms, and he let out an inhuman howl of protest.
"Don't you take HIM FROM ME, YOU SELFISH SON-OF-A-!!!!!!!" His voice trailed off as he broke down into anguish-filled cries.
Gerard Arthur Way died that night in Frank Iero's arms, of lack of confidence and self-hatred. Or maybe it was being diagnosed with terminal lung cancer.
Either way, yet another life was taken at a tragically young age. And preventabley so.
Frank Iero went on with life, eventually finding another true love, filling the space of the so-called irreplaceable Gerard. But maybe Gerard was right. Maybe he was useless. Maybe he was a waste of oxygen, food, and water.
Maybe he was right to take his life. But, hey. He would've just died six months later.
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A/N- I wrote this at an insanely late time. Sorry if it's a bit incoherent. It's funny. I always write at my best when I'm so tired I can barely keep my eyes open. REVIEW!!!!!!
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