Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > You’re My Phobia
~Third Person/P.O.V~
Chapter Eleven: Now Or Never
Song: Bush – Letting The Cables Sleep
The crimson flames amalgamated into a hue of orange and yellows as the flames dances across the long match stick, the glistening paper reflected the bright lights as the flame slowly began to travel down the stick. The raven haired boy brought the flame close to the glistening paper as the all too familiar face looked at him, smiling happily as is daring him to do it.
Burn me, go on. It seemed to mock as the boy held the image with shaken hands.
He was having second thoughts. Something bad was going to come from this, and he new it. But there he sat, counting down the minutes until the crimson haired nurse came to fetch him, and accompany him to his first therapy lesson. He wasn’t looking forward to it, as a matter of fact he was dreading every passing second that brought him closer and closer to that overly small office with the strong smell of newly bought leather.
He hated therapy, and he always had. His mother had somehow influenced him in talking to a shrink way back, when he was freed from this hellhole of a place. The woman who always wore to much makeup and had blood red lips that blinded the young boy as he squirmed in his set and watched as she pursed her lips, and still he waited for her to say something, anything.
“And how are you feeling today Mr. Way?”
The younger boy would always scratch at his knees and mutter a small. “I’m fine, yourself?”
And just like before she would purse her lips and say, “I’m very well Mr. Way thank you, but lets keep these sessions about you.”
He would always shiver at the sound of her voice, and clearly her telling him to ‘fuck off’ in other words didn’t help the situation. Gerard Way clearly didn’t give to fucks about the stupid counselor, he was only being polite.
But being polite didn’t get you anywhere in life did it kids?
The young boy snapped out of his daze as the crimson flames neared his fingertips once more, he blew furiously before the sweltering flame could touch his delicate flesh. Grey smoke fluttered through the air, and Gerard’s nostrils were filled with the familiar smell of wasted wood once more as he dropped the matchstick in a pile of 10-12 burnt and wasted charcoal that once held the mighty flame that laughed deviously in his face.
And just like so many times previous, he was left with the hideous feeling of remorse. He needed to do this, and he needed to do it soon.
”Hurry the hell up! Just do it, just do it!” He muttered to himself as he slid open the packet of matches, and there it lay, the single unlit match.
With a quick flick of the fingers, a small spark was made but still it did not light. The young boy swatted away the black locks as he tucked them behind his ear, and tried once more.
Nothing.
Gerard Way sat helplessly holding the single match as if a burden, he felt somewhat like Frodo from Lord Of The Rings. The golden ring that was placed into his care to be destroyed. But in Gerard Way’s case, the small match that his fingers held firmly as he twirled it around in his palm. He couldn’t find the power in himself to try once more, but he new he had to.
It was now or never.
With quivering fingers he lifted the small 5 centimeter match stick, and shut his eyes.
You can do it. He repeated, those four words burning his mind as he continued to think. But who was he kidding, he couldn’t do it. That was the problem, but he didn’t have a choice that was another problem.
The boy flicked his finger and quivered as the bud of the match maid contact with the rough marone sandpaper. His eyes widened as the match took alight and the red flame erupted from the small wooden stick. The room was transfixed with dancing silhouettes as the flame illuminated the entire room.
Gerard watched as the flames swayed in the non-existent breeze. The blue glow that surrounded the orange and yellow flame sent Gerard in an awe of bewilderment. It amazed him as the fire grew and vacillated side to side.
He was controlled it seemed as he automatically lifted the crumbled image and aloud the flame to catch the small corners until it began to grow and spread. The black smoke whipped its way around the room as Gerard watch as the face soon turned a vivid red and was soon consumed entirely by the red flames.
It amazed the young boy as the fire grew and continued to grow until it spread entirely across the white paper, and Gerard had no choice but to let go, or risk getting bunt. The yellow flame with the blue glow somewhat reminded Gerard of himself, of his Aphephobia.
Was this how it was going to be?
His Aphephobia?
Something that started so small, growing and growing until it completely consumed everything in its path. Was his Aphephobia going to do the same thing? Grow and grow until it destroyed everything, and maybe just maybe it would even destroy him, destroy the very person it controlled?
The flames soon began to die down, and there looking back at Gerard was no longer smiling faces, but ash. The very substance his heart had become, cold and dead. He no longer felt love for his brother, or his mother, not even his Grandmother.
He was numb.
He was dead.
….He was alone.
Gerard Way didn’t hate his family, god no. He simply felt detached. As if they didn’t exist anymore.
He especially felt numb. The tingling feeling that ran through your veins as your hand lost all color and began to feel as cold as ice. Frozen and still, that what he felt like.
Part of him blamed Frank, this was his doing. But the other half blamed himself, for what he did to Frank.
He didn’t know why, he didn’t know how..
He just did, and it was driving him fucking crazy.
His hands touched the cold floor, making his entire body to tingle with unexplainable sensation as he slowly and carefully scraped the burnt ashes into a small used plastic bag he had found fluttering around the hospital courtyard. He placed all the ashes together, grinning sadly as the black charcoal stained his hands as he scraped the burnt and used matches into the bag also.
“He can see how many time I tried, until I finally did it.” The boy whispered to himself as he rubbed at the black stains on the floor and on his pail hands.
It didn’t come off, but maybe it was meant to stay.
The soft dirty plastic crumbled and crinkled as he ran my fingers over it. If there was ever a time when Gerard Author Way felt angry, scared, anxious and nervous it was at that very moment.
The nurse was coming, and he could hear it. The soft tapping of her slippers against the cold floor. He tied a farley lose knot around the clear plastic, and slipped into the pocket of his grey sweatpants. The soft plastic felt abnormally heavy, as if weighting him down. He still had to do the most difficult part of his task, and that was handing it to Frank Iero himself.
The feeling of reluctance began to grow more and more egger. He didn’t want to do this, and he didn’t know why.
But he didn’t have a choice did he?
He didn’t seem to have a say, or a choice in anything anymore, and he hated it. He fucking hated it with a passion to be exact. But worst of all, he was to blame; he put himself in this situation.
Frank lay, silent and dreamless knocked out by a high dosage of morphine, wrapped in bandages, stained red with his blood, sheets crinkled, room dirty, all because of Gerard.
The younger boy hated himself for that, but worst of all, he hated himself because he had hurt Frank and he was regretting it, he was worrying about it, about him. Yet he felt heartless towards everything else, towards his family, even his dead grandmother.
Why was his life suddenly revolving around Frank, and only Frank?
The loud screech of the white door opening brought the young boy out of his trance as he gazed up emotionless at the red headed nurse, she smiled and waved him over.
Gerard’s legs felt limp, his body felt sore and tired as he lifted himself of the cold floor.
“What were you doing down there kiddo?” She asked as she held open the door and aloud the younger man to walk through avoiding her gaze at all costs he swiftly walked past her and muttered a small “nothing.”
The red headed nurse grinned sadly, “poor kid” she thought as she walked beside Gerard Way who’s head was bowed. He dragged his feet as she led the way down the sky blue halls. Doctors, patents, nurses brushed past them, avoiding touching Gerard, he had grown quiet a reputation at Newark’s Local Hospital. Everyone seemed to know about the boy with raven locks and pail skin who always wore black, was not to be touched.
Gerard had it bad.
But others had it worse.
Across the long hallways, opposite to were the young boy Gerard Way and the red head nurse Cathy walked, lay a boy.
He wasn’t tall, far from it as a matter of a fact. He was short, and had a small frame. His hair hung messily over his soft face witch was stained with tears and smelt of disinfectant.
“P-Please don’t c-clean my cuts w-with that, it s-stings!”
“I’m sorry Frankie, we have to. It’ll only sting for a moment okay? Then it’ll go away, I promise.”The young boy snorted at the thought. The nurse was a liar, and he new it. It did sting, and it didn’t just last for a “moment” it lasted for hours.
Why was it that people made promise, but always broke them? Wasn’t it easier to just say the truth. Why did everyone have to lie?
“Mummy, why does Daddy always go away on Mondays?”
“Because Daddy has to go do grown up things sweetie.”
Grown up things my ass. He was sent to the hospital every Monday to have check ups, to see if the Cancer was spreading. And it was.
My father had promised me things also, he promised me that everyday I awoke, he would be downstairs waiting for me, with a fresh patch on pancakes. He would smile and laugh as I ran into his arms, and while I ate he would strum away at his guitar.
Much like Frank, Alfred Iero was a great Misfits and Black Flag fan. He started listening to them in his late teenager years, and was soon introduced into the Punk culture.
That was the main thing that brought Frank Iero and Anthony Iero together. Music.
And then.. as fast as he had clamed it, he had lost it. It was always true when people said, you don’t know what you go until its gone.
“I don’t want you to make the same mistake Gerard Way... And i never did, why dont you understand?” Frank whispered, as he ran his fingertips over the white sheets, small cringles began to form, but for the first time they didn’t disturbed Frank.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This chapter was kinda a filler. Soo, sorry if you didnt like it, im just not in a writting mood today, so sorry guys =/
Your reviews would be nice at the moment.
Write what you guys think, i love reading them, they make my smile. :)
Chapter Eleven: Now Or Never
Song: Bush – Letting The Cables Sleep
The crimson flames amalgamated into a hue of orange and yellows as the flames dances across the long match stick, the glistening paper reflected the bright lights as the flame slowly began to travel down the stick. The raven haired boy brought the flame close to the glistening paper as the all too familiar face looked at him, smiling happily as is daring him to do it.
Burn me, go on. It seemed to mock as the boy held the image with shaken hands.
He was having second thoughts. Something bad was going to come from this, and he new it. But there he sat, counting down the minutes until the crimson haired nurse came to fetch him, and accompany him to his first therapy lesson. He wasn’t looking forward to it, as a matter of fact he was dreading every passing second that brought him closer and closer to that overly small office with the strong smell of newly bought leather.
He hated therapy, and he always had. His mother had somehow influenced him in talking to a shrink way back, when he was freed from this hellhole of a place. The woman who always wore to much makeup and had blood red lips that blinded the young boy as he squirmed in his set and watched as she pursed her lips, and still he waited for her to say something, anything.
“And how are you feeling today Mr. Way?”
The younger boy would always scratch at his knees and mutter a small. “I’m fine, yourself?”
And just like before she would purse her lips and say, “I’m very well Mr. Way thank you, but lets keep these sessions about you.”
He would always shiver at the sound of her voice, and clearly her telling him to ‘fuck off’ in other words didn’t help the situation. Gerard Way clearly didn’t give to fucks about the stupid counselor, he was only being polite.
But being polite didn’t get you anywhere in life did it kids?
The young boy snapped out of his daze as the crimson flames neared his fingertips once more, he blew furiously before the sweltering flame could touch his delicate flesh. Grey smoke fluttered through the air, and Gerard’s nostrils were filled with the familiar smell of wasted wood once more as he dropped the matchstick in a pile of 10-12 burnt and wasted charcoal that once held the mighty flame that laughed deviously in his face.
And just like so many times previous, he was left with the hideous feeling of remorse. He needed to do this, and he needed to do it soon.
”Hurry the hell up! Just do it, just do it!” He muttered to himself as he slid open the packet of matches, and there it lay, the single unlit match.
With a quick flick of the fingers, a small spark was made but still it did not light. The young boy swatted away the black locks as he tucked them behind his ear, and tried once more.
Nothing.
Gerard Way sat helplessly holding the single match as if a burden, he felt somewhat like Frodo from Lord Of The Rings. The golden ring that was placed into his care to be destroyed. But in Gerard Way’s case, the small match that his fingers held firmly as he twirled it around in his palm. He couldn’t find the power in himself to try once more, but he new he had to.
It was now or never.
With quivering fingers he lifted the small 5 centimeter match stick, and shut his eyes.
You can do it. He repeated, those four words burning his mind as he continued to think. But who was he kidding, he couldn’t do it. That was the problem, but he didn’t have a choice that was another problem.
The boy flicked his finger and quivered as the bud of the match maid contact with the rough marone sandpaper. His eyes widened as the match took alight and the red flame erupted from the small wooden stick. The room was transfixed with dancing silhouettes as the flame illuminated the entire room.
Gerard watched as the flames swayed in the non-existent breeze. The blue glow that surrounded the orange and yellow flame sent Gerard in an awe of bewilderment. It amazed him as the fire grew and vacillated side to side.
He was controlled it seemed as he automatically lifted the crumbled image and aloud the flame to catch the small corners until it began to grow and spread. The black smoke whipped its way around the room as Gerard watch as the face soon turned a vivid red and was soon consumed entirely by the red flames.
It amazed the young boy as the fire grew and continued to grow until it spread entirely across the white paper, and Gerard had no choice but to let go, or risk getting bunt. The yellow flame with the blue glow somewhat reminded Gerard of himself, of his Aphephobia.
Was this how it was going to be?
His Aphephobia?
Something that started so small, growing and growing until it completely consumed everything in its path. Was his Aphephobia going to do the same thing? Grow and grow until it destroyed everything, and maybe just maybe it would even destroy him, destroy the very person it controlled?
The flames soon began to die down, and there looking back at Gerard was no longer smiling faces, but ash. The very substance his heart had become, cold and dead. He no longer felt love for his brother, or his mother, not even his Grandmother.
He was numb.
He was dead.
….He was alone.
Gerard Way didn’t hate his family, god no. He simply felt detached. As if they didn’t exist anymore.
He especially felt numb. The tingling feeling that ran through your veins as your hand lost all color and began to feel as cold as ice. Frozen and still, that what he felt like.
Part of him blamed Frank, this was his doing. But the other half blamed himself, for what he did to Frank.
He didn’t know why, he didn’t know how..
He just did, and it was driving him fucking crazy.
His hands touched the cold floor, making his entire body to tingle with unexplainable sensation as he slowly and carefully scraped the burnt ashes into a small used plastic bag he had found fluttering around the hospital courtyard. He placed all the ashes together, grinning sadly as the black charcoal stained his hands as he scraped the burnt and used matches into the bag also.
“He can see how many time I tried, until I finally did it.” The boy whispered to himself as he rubbed at the black stains on the floor and on his pail hands.
It didn’t come off, but maybe it was meant to stay.
The soft dirty plastic crumbled and crinkled as he ran my fingers over it. If there was ever a time when Gerard Author Way felt angry, scared, anxious and nervous it was at that very moment.
The nurse was coming, and he could hear it. The soft tapping of her slippers against the cold floor. He tied a farley lose knot around the clear plastic, and slipped into the pocket of his grey sweatpants. The soft plastic felt abnormally heavy, as if weighting him down. He still had to do the most difficult part of his task, and that was handing it to Frank Iero himself.
The feeling of reluctance began to grow more and more egger. He didn’t want to do this, and he didn’t know why.
But he didn’t have a choice did he?
He didn’t seem to have a say, or a choice in anything anymore, and he hated it. He fucking hated it with a passion to be exact. But worst of all, he was to blame; he put himself in this situation.
Frank lay, silent and dreamless knocked out by a high dosage of morphine, wrapped in bandages, stained red with his blood, sheets crinkled, room dirty, all because of Gerard.
The younger boy hated himself for that, but worst of all, he hated himself because he had hurt Frank and he was regretting it, he was worrying about it, about him. Yet he felt heartless towards everything else, towards his family, even his dead grandmother.
Why was his life suddenly revolving around Frank, and only Frank?
The loud screech of the white door opening brought the young boy out of his trance as he gazed up emotionless at the red headed nurse, she smiled and waved him over.
Gerard’s legs felt limp, his body felt sore and tired as he lifted himself of the cold floor.
“What were you doing down there kiddo?” She asked as she held open the door and aloud the younger man to walk through avoiding her gaze at all costs he swiftly walked past her and muttered a small “nothing.”
The red headed nurse grinned sadly, “poor kid” she thought as she walked beside Gerard Way who’s head was bowed. He dragged his feet as she led the way down the sky blue halls. Doctors, patents, nurses brushed past them, avoiding touching Gerard, he had grown quiet a reputation at Newark’s Local Hospital. Everyone seemed to know about the boy with raven locks and pail skin who always wore black, was not to be touched.
Gerard had it bad.
But others had it worse.
Across the long hallways, opposite to were the young boy Gerard Way and the red head nurse Cathy walked, lay a boy.
He wasn’t tall, far from it as a matter of a fact. He was short, and had a small frame. His hair hung messily over his soft face witch was stained with tears and smelt of disinfectant.
“P-Please don’t c-clean my cuts w-with that, it s-stings!”
“I’m sorry Frankie, we have to. It’ll only sting for a moment okay? Then it’ll go away, I promise.”The young boy snorted at the thought. The nurse was a liar, and he new it. It did sting, and it didn’t just last for a “moment” it lasted for hours.
Why was it that people made promise, but always broke them? Wasn’t it easier to just say the truth. Why did everyone have to lie?
“Mummy, why does Daddy always go away on Mondays?”
“Because Daddy has to go do grown up things sweetie.”
Grown up things my ass. He was sent to the hospital every Monday to have check ups, to see if the Cancer was spreading. And it was.
My father had promised me things also, he promised me that everyday I awoke, he would be downstairs waiting for me, with a fresh patch on pancakes. He would smile and laugh as I ran into his arms, and while I ate he would strum away at his guitar.
Much like Frank, Alfred Iero was a great Misfits and Black Flag fan. He started listening to them in his late teenager years, and was soon introduced into the Punk culture.
That was the main thing that brought Frank Iero and Anthony Iero together. Music.
And then.. as fast as he had clamed it, he had lost it. It was always true when people said, you don’t know what you go until its gone.
“I don’t want you to make the same mistake Gerard Way... And i never did, why dont you understand?” Frank whispered, as he ran his fingertips over the white sheets, small cringles began to form, but for the first time they didn’t disturbed Frank.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This chapter was kinda a filler. Soo, sorry if you didnt like it, im just not in a writting mood today, so sorry guys =/
Your reviews would be nice at the moment.
Write what you guys think, i love reading them, they make my smile. :)
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