Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > ~X~ Fix Your Eyes ~X~
Chapter Eight: How It Feels to Date a Sex God
0 reviewsGerard is voted Sex God of the Year by Spin Magazine, and Frankie decides he can't take it anymore.
0Unrated
Author's Note: Okay, just a quick thing - the song is "Slide Along Side" by Shifty. It's a really great song, look it up on YouTube and check it out. Oh, and I don't own it.
Chapter 8. How It Feels to Date a Sex God
Frankie
“Hey, Frank!” Gerard entered the house, grinning. “I just got voted Sex God of the year by Spin!”
I sighed inwardly. “And?”
Gerard’s smiled faded, and I felt terrible for not being excited. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I answered. I sat up and walked over to give him a hug. I nuzzled his chest. “I’m happy for you.”
Gerard held me. For a second, I wished I could rewind to our first CD, before Gerard’s drinking, when he was still awkward about putting his arm around me, about holding my hand. When he looked terrified at the prospect of a kiss. When his hair was still long and soft, when he had a dorky comic book store where I would bring him coffee and we would talk for hours about the Green Lantern and Spiderman. Lately, he barely even looked at me. He seemed to only talk to me to discuss his latest interview.
I never had an interview. Not alone.
I knew I should be happy for him. His talent and good looks were finally being recognized, and people would stop him on the street, giggly girls begging for a picture and an autograph. He’d always oblige, walking away from me, leaving me standing by the wall. The most I ever got was, “You look like that one guy from My Chem… Like, Fred, I think he’s called.”
So there was Gerard, a recovering addict and alcoholic, getting interviews and marriage proposals, and then there was the rest of us, sitting in the back. I was always on Gerard’s right side, always close by, but he never held my hand anymore. Not in public. When I asked him why, his mouth had fallen open in horror.
“What would people say, Frank?” he gasped. “I couldn’t let them know about my… Thing.”
His homosexuality was now his “thing”.
He’d never minded before. Like in the “I’m Not Okay (I Promise)” video when I kissed him. He was excited about it. If anyone had asked for a date then, he would’ve answered, “Sorry, I’ve got a boyfriend.” Now it would be, “Sorry, I’m not dating right now.”
No, you’re not dating right now. You’re practically married, you dick.
I should’ve been happy for him. But how could I? If I had kissed him in any new videos, he would’ve gone berserk. At least when he was drinking, I knew he didn’t mean what he said. But now…
“Frank, you can’t just hold my hand! The fans…”
“You can’t say we’re a couple! The media…”
“What would people say if they saw me with… You?”
That last one hurt the most. It was like he was saying I wasn’t worth it.
He never called me Frankie anymore. It was always “Frank” or “Hey you”. Like he didn’t know me. Like I was some fucking roadie. Like I was one of those groupies behind the scarlet ropes, grabbing at his clothes, hoping he’d cast his beautiful gaze on me. He used to talk to me so kindly. “You’re so beautiful.” “I love you so much.” “You’re so wonderful.” Now, if I ever said, “I love you,” he answered with a sullen grunt. If I gave him a kiss, he waved me away. If I gave him a hug, he’d usually snap about how busy he was.
Even the sex wasn’t the same. It’s not that I thought he was cheating on me, but he seemed to be thinking of something else, someone else. Like he’d rather be anywhere else. Like it was a chore. And if he did enjoy it, it wasn’t the same deep connection it used to be. It used to be romantic. He used to be so vulnerable, so passionate. Now it was purely carnal. We used to snuggle afterwards, talking for hours. Now he usually left to do something right after, like work out or shower. The showering pissed me off, like he was trying to wash me away.
He couldn’t lie to himself. He was gay. And he was sensitive and vulnerable. I liked that side of him. He used to be so soft and gentle. But each day he got a little harder, a little more plastic, a little more manufactured. The only time he ever shared his heart was on stage, in the studio, with his music. But that wasn’t just mine - he now belonged to everyone.
I didn’t want to share him. I wanted him to be mine.
Maybe I wasn’t being fair, but what right did he have to use me like that? I wasn’t there to satisfy his primal urges. I was there for him to love and talk to, there to be his rock.
How dare he? How fucking dare he? After all I did for him! After I stayed with him every fucking night! After he put me through hell, and after I still loved him the whole time! After I went against every one of my instincts, after I went against my friends, after I ignored every bruise he’d put on me! How dare he go and treat me like this? No had ever loved him as much as me, and no one, no one, ever would!
I pushed Gerard away.
“What?” he asked.
I shook my head. “It’s nothing, really. I’m just…” I stared at my feet. “I’m just not all here right now.”
I felt his arms slide around me, inflexible like a doll. “What say I bring you all here?” He licked at my neck.
He never used to do that. He used to ask permission. Now he never did. It’s like it didn’t matter what I wanted, like I was lucky to ever be able to get into bed with the great Gerard Way. He used to be so gentle. Now he was rough and painful. Whenever I mentioned it to Ray, the only person I could truly talk to, he snapped that it wasn’t fair. That Gerard was practically raping me at this point. That if I wanted him to leave me alone, he should. Ray warned that it would get worse.
I tried to shrug Gerard off. That used to be enough for him to get the hint, but I had to snap, “Gerard, not now.”
“Why not?” he rasped in my ear. He held me tighter. I hated him for it.
“Please, just not right now.”
He was disgusting. He wouldn’t let up.
Sure enough, an hour later, I lay in bed while he showered. But I didn’t feel that coziness I once did. Now I just felt empty.
I wished Gerard wasn’t in the shower. I wanted to wash him away.
I got dressed and left. I drove for hours, not knowing where I was going or what I was doing. I just drove away, numb. I took out our CD (Gerard always listened to our music) and popped in one of my own.
“One love, one shot
It’s all we ever got
Girl you got me started now I’m not gonna stop
Now slide along side
Yeah baby that’s right
I’m gonna show you the time of your life
Oh girlie, girlie come and dance with me
Move your naughty body come close to me
Now slide along side
Yeah baby that’s right
I’m gonna show the time of your life…”
Tears were streaming down my cheeks. I barely understood why, I was so lost. But then a wave of memories rose and tried to drown me. I broke into sobs.
That’s when I realized I was in Ray’s driveway.
Author's Note: Reviews for hugs.
Chapter 8. How It Feels to Date a Sex God
Frankie
“Hey, Frank!” Gerard entered the house, grinning. “I just got voted Sex God of the year by Spin!”
I sighed inwardly. “And?”
Gerard’s smiled faded, and I felt terrible for not being excited. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I answered. I sat up and walked over to give him a hug. I nuzzled his chest. “I’m happy for you.”
Gerard held me. For a second, I wished I could rewind to our first CD, before Gerard’s drinking, when he was still awkward about putting his arm around me, about holding my hand. When he looked terrified at the prospect of a kiss. When his hair was still long and soft, when he had a dorky comic book store where I would bring him coffee and we would talk for hours about the Green Lantern and Spiderman. Lately, he barely even looked at me. He seemed to only talk to me to discuss his latest interview.
I never had an interview. Not alone.
I knew I should be happy for him. His talent and good looks were finally being recognized, and people would stop him on the street, giggly girls begging for a picture and an autograph. He’d always oblige, walking away from me, leaving me standing by the wall. The most I ever got was, “You look like that one guy from My Chem… Like, Fred, I think he’s called.”
So there was Gerard, a recovering addict and alcoholic, getting interviews and marriage proposals, and then there was the rest of us, sitting in the back. I was always on Gerard’s right side, always close by, but he never held my hand anymore. Not in public. When I asked him why, his mouth had fallen open in horror.
“What would people say, Frank?” he gasped. “I couldn’t let them know about my… Thing.”
His homosexuality was now his “thing”.
He’d never minded before. Like in the “I’m Not Okay (I Promise)” video when I kissed him. He was excited about it. If anyone had asked for a date then, he would’ve answered, “Sorry, I’ve got a boyfriend.” Now it would be, “Sorry, I’m not dating right now.”
No, you’re not dating right now. You’re practically married, you dick.
I should’ve been happy for him. But how could I? If I had kissed him in any new videos, he would’ve gone berserk. At least when he was drinking, I knew he didn’t mean what he said. But now…
“Frank, you can’t just hold my hand! The fans…”
“You can’t say we’re a couple! The media…”
“What would people say if they saw me with… You?”
That last one hurt the most. It was like he was saying I wasn’t worth it.
He never called me Frankie anymore. It was always “Frank” or “Hey you”. Like he didn’t know me. Like I was some fucking roadie. Like I was one of those groupies behind the scarlet ropes, grabbing at his clothes, hoping he’d cast his beautiful gaze on me. He used to talk to me so kindly. “You’re so beautiful.” “I love you so much.” “You’re so wonderful.” Now, if I ever said, “I love you,” he answered with a sullen grunt. If I gave him a kiss, he waved me away. If I gave him a hug, he’d usually snap about how busy he was.
Even the sex wasn’t the same. It’s not that I thought he was cheating on me, but he seemed to be thinking of something else, someone else. Like he’d rather be anywhere else. Like it was a chore. And if he did enjoy it, it wasn’t the same deep connection it used to be. It used to be romantic. He used to be so vulnerable, so passionate. Now it was purely carnal. We used to snuggle afterwards, talking for hours. Now he usually left to do something right after, like work out or shower. The showering pissed me off, like he was trying to wash me away.
He couldn’t lie to himself. He was gay. And he was sensitive and vulnerable. I liked that side of him. He used to be so soft and gentle. But each day he got a little harder, a little more plastic, a little more manufactured. The only time he ever shared his heart was on stage, in the studio, with his music. But that wasn’t just mine - he now belonged to everyone.
I didn’t want to share him. I wanted him to be mine.
Maybe I wasn’t being fair, but what right did he have to use me like that? I wasn’t there to satisfy his primal urges. I was there for him to love and talk to, there to be his rock.
How dare he? How fucking dare he? After all I did for him! After I stayed with him every fucking night! After he put me through hell, and after I still loved him the whole time! After I went against every one of my instincts, after I went against my friends, after I ignored every bruise he’d put on me! How dare he go and treat me like this? No had ever loved him as much as me, and no one, no one, ever would!
I pushed Gerard away.
“What?” he asked.
I shook my head. “It’s nothing, really. I’m just…” I stared at my feet. “I’m just not all here right now.”
I felt his arms slide around me, inflexible like a doll. “What say I bring you all here?” He licked at my neck.
He never used to do that. He used to ask permission. Now he never did. It’s like it didn’t matter what I wanted, like I was lucky to ever be able to get into bed with the great Gerard Way. He used to be so gentle. Now he was rough and painful. Whenever I mentioned it to Ray, the only person I could truly talk to, he snapped that it wasn’t fair. That Gerard was practically raping me at this point. That if I wanted him to leave me alone, he should. Ray warned that it would get worse.
I tried to shrug Gerard off. That used to be enough for him to get the hint, but I had to snap, “Gerard, not now.”
“Why not?” he rasped in my ear. He held me tighter. I hated him for it.
“Please, just not right now.”
He was disgusting. He wouldn’t let up.
Sure enough, an hour later, I lay in bed while he showered. But I didn’t feel that coziness I once did. Now I just felt empty.
I wished Gerard wasn’t in the shower. I wanted to wash him away.
I got dressed and left. I drove for hours, not knowing where I was going or what I was doing. I just drove away, numb. I took out our CD (Gerard always listened to our music) and popped in one of my own.
“One love, one shot
It’s all we ever got
Girl you got me started now I’m not gonna stop
Now slide along side
Yeah baby that’s right
I’m gonna show you the time of your life
Oh girlie, girlie come and dance with me
Move your naughty body come close to me
Now slide along side
Yeah baby that’s right
I’m gonna show the time of your life…”
Tears were streaming down my cheeks. I barely understood why, I was so lost. But then a wave of memories rose and tried to drown me. I broke into sobs.
That’s when I realized I was in Ray’s driveway.
Author's Note: Reviews for hugs.
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