Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > And I'll End This Direst: a Frerard story

Chapter 16

by xDescendingAngelx 3 reviews

Banana pancakes.

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: G - Genres:  - Characters: Frank Iero,Gerard Way - Published: 2009-02-19 - Updated: 2009-02-19 - 2109 words

Frank's POV

I woke up early the next morning; the sun was not up yet. I growled in annoyance and attempted to get up, unsuccessful because something was in the way of the edge of the bed. I looked over to the other half of the bed, where I saw nothing but pieces of black hair from underneath the sheets. I smiled: of course, the Way was in the way. I lifted the sheet a little, so I could see his peaceful, sleeping face.

He looked melancholy; as if he was so peaceful in his sleep that it was making him forlorn and poignant. I smiled and pushed his hair out of his face, as I had done the night before. I grew restless after a while and decided it was time to get up before I woke him up. Carefully sliding down to the bottom of the bed, I got to where his feet didn’t quite reach the bottom and used that as my takeoff area, jumping off.

Putting on a shirt and making my way to the kitchen, I made myself some coffee and grabbed my math textbook from my bookbag, sitting down on the couch to do my homework that I had to do before the next day. Realizing that I didn’t have a pencil, I had to go back to Gerard’s room and look on his desk for one. shuffling through the papers on his desk, I searched for a pencil. How did he not have one?

I opened the first desk drawer, finding it completely empty. The second one down held a messy notebook and some oil pastels, but no pencils. I lifted the notebook up to see if a pencil could be hiding somewhere underneath, but I hadn’t realized not all of the pages were sewn in. papers spilled out everywhere, noisily covering the floor. And still no pencil.

Shit, I thought as Gerard stirred, breathing deeply in his sleep. At least he hadn’t woken up. I sighed, looking at the mess that had filed out from his notebook. I kneeled down on one knee, picked up some papers, and straightened them out. I looked down at some of them that I held in my hand: they looked like song lyrics.

Skylines and Turnstiles? I’d never heard that song before. Demolition Lovers? Hadn’t heard of that one, either. I looked at the lyrics of a song that apparently had no title. They were unfinished lyrics, by the looks of it, but I read them anyway, knowing that I was being nosy.

But does anyone notice?
But does anyone care?
And if I had the guts
to put this to your head…

And would anything matter
If you’re already dead?
And should I be shocked now
By the last thing you said?

Before I pull this trigger
You’re eyes vacant and stained
And in saying you loved me
Made things harder at best

And these words changing nothing
As your body remains

And there’s no room in this hell
There’s no room in the next
And our memories defeat us
And I’ll end this direst.

Whoa, I thought. These were good; I couldn’t wait to see the finished product. If I asked, maybe Gerard would let me write some chords or something, and I could help him finish the song.

Or I could surprise him with something. I found a nearby blank sheet of paper and began copying down the words.

Putting the rest of the papers somewhat neatly back into the notebook, I put it back in its proper desk drawer, groaning aloud when I found a pencil on the floor in plain sight in front of the desk. How the hell did I miss that? I exited the room and returned to the couch in the living room to start my homework.

About fifteen minutes later, I had nearly finished my homework when Elena walked out of her bedroom.

“Good morning, Ger—” She froze, wide-eyed, comprehending that I was clearly not her grandson. I didn’t mean to startle her, I was just not who she was expecting to see. “Frankie?! Sorry, doll, I thought you were sleeping in Gerard’s room,” she said, sounding confused.

“It’s okay, I let Gee have his room back last night,” I grinned at her. She didn’t have to know I was in it with him.

“You slept on that hard couch all night? I told Gerard…”

“I slept just fine, don’t worry,” I reassured her, still smiling.

“Well… okay. Do you want anything to eat, sweetheart? If you’re hungry, you can have cereal, but I’m about to make pancakes if you want to wait.”

I nodded. “I’ll wait. Do you want any help with the pancakes?”

“Oh, no, dear. You just relax; I’ll have them ready before you know it.”

“Are you sure? You’re turning down the best banana-pancake-maker you will ever meet,” I said, beaming at her. “I’d also be glad to help.”

“Banana pancakes? I’ll have you know that the last time I checked, I was the best banana-pancake-maker around here.” She returned my smile. “Just ask Gerard.”

“Well then, Ms. Elena Rush, I challenge you to a banana-pancake-making contest. Best reaction by Gerard wins.” I put on a pretend fight face, and nearly laughed out loud when Elena put on hers.

“It’s on then, Frank. You’re going down,” she said, breaking out the buttermilk and turning on the stove. I smiled: I really loved Elena, almost as much as Gerard did. I noticed, during our little “competition,” that Gerard had a lot of Elena's traits and qualities: they were both artistic; both very laid-back; and I felt, for both of them, as if I had known them forever, instead of just a few days. They both made me feel as if I were part of their family.

A little while later, the stove was cooling, and so were about thirty banana pancakes.

“I didn’t think we’d make that many,” I said, admiring our immeasurable number of pancakes.

“You put up a good fight, love,” Elena said, patting me on the back.

“So you admit defeat?” I asked with a playful smirk, already knowing what her response would be.

“Oh, no, sugar; you’ve got me all wrong. Elena Rush never admits defeat, even to sweet little boys like you,” she joked, pausing to see how I’d react to being called “little.”

I grinned mischievously at her. “We’ll just let Gerard be the judge of that, then.” I got the coffeemaker ready, turning it on after I put the coffee beans and water in it. I figured Gerard would be half-dead anyway when he woke up, so I decided to make him coffee just to be nice.

Elena smiled at me. “Gerard!” she screeched deafeningly. “Get up!”

An audible groan of noncompliance was heard from the back room, and then a loud, sudden thud. I winced as an “Ow!” confirmed my suspicion. I giggled; Gerard had fallen off of his bed and had hit the floor. Not a morning person at all, was he?

“That’s not funny, Frank,” he said as he walked out of his bedroom, struggling into a shirt.

“I didn’t say anything,” I shrugged with mock-innocence.

“I heard you. Your distinctive giggle can be heard from miles away,” he retorted, sitting down at the kitchen table. After a few seconds of silence, he whined, “Grandma, why am I up? It’s only eight-thirty.”

“Honey, stop griping,” she grinned at him, and I handed him the steaming hot coffee that I had just made.

“Thanks,” he mumbled to me, scalding his tongue shortly after with a quiet curse.

“Um, be careful. It just came out of the maker; it’s hot,” I warned.

He gave me a look that closely resembled a death stare. “Thanks a lot, Frank.” He then smiled to show that he was teasing, and I giggled back. “By the way, something smells good. And it’s not Frank,” he added, laughing.

“That would be the smell of banana pancakes, hon. Frankie volunteered to help me make breakfast. We accidentally made well over thirty, so eat all you can.”

“That I can do,” he said, eyeing the stacks of pancakes hungrily.

“Me too,” I said, getting three plates from the dishwasher. “I hope they taste as good as victory does,” I chuckled to Elena under my breath before taking a seat beside Gerard at the table.

“So do I, dear. But don’t you worry, I’ll let you know if it does or not,” Elena winked back.

“What, you don’t think I made good pancakes?” I asked, placing my hand over my heart dramatically and pretending to be heartbroken.

“No, honey, I’m sure you make marvelous pancakes. I just don’t think you can make better pancakes than me,” she retorted, putting a pancake on each of our three plates. “By the way, what’s on your hand?”

I looked down at my hand; there was nothing on it. “What?”

“You have something written on your hand, sugar. I hadn’t noticed it before; what does it say?”

“Oh!” She meant the tattoos on my fingers. It was true; she hadn’t seen them before, since I’d been wearing my hobo skeleton gloves over them these past two days. I didn’t know if she’d be the type to judge me by the tattoos, so I covered them up with my gloves. I hadn’t worn them today because I knew Elena wouldn’t judge anything.

“Grandma… wait, Frank, why are you up so early?”

Elena and I exchanged glances of hilarity, and she rolled her eyes playfully. “Never mind, Gee. Just eat.”

We all happily obliged. They were the best banana pancakes I’d ever tasted.

“Back to my question, honey. What do your hands spell out?” Elena asked again.

“They spell out ‘Halloween,’ that’s my birthday.”

“That’s a great day to be born, sweetheart; it must be nice to get lots of free candy on your birthday. Gerard would never get any tattoos or piercings; he’s afraid of needles.”

Gerard groaned, still rubbing his sleepy eyes awake. “Grandma… Frank, I didn’t know you had knuckle tattoos.”

Ten minutes of silent munching later, we had managed to overtake the pancake fortress and were now working on conquering the castle itself. We still had over twenty pancakes to go.

“Oh God, these are good,” Gerard commented, his mouth full.

I smiled boastfully at Elena. “You hear that, Elena? The pancakes are good,” I said, emphasizing ‘pancakes,’ and ‘good,’ as if it were some big inside joke that Gerard didn’t know about.

She looked at the stack of pancakes that was in front of Gerard, and her face fell. “Uh, Frankie? Who made that stack of pancakes, you or me?”

I looked, and Gerard suddenly stopped chewing, thinking Elena meant something was wrong with the stack he was eating.

Suddenly, it hit me. “You know what? I don’t know!” I said, smacking my fists down on the table. “Now we’ll never know whose pancakes are better! No!”

Elena looked up at the ceiling in mock-frustration. “Oh well, Gerard already knew that my pancakes were better anyway.” She smiled at me again.

“Well, you’ve only made normal pancakes for me, so I really don’t know,” he confessed, picking up his fork again.

“That’s not true, hon. I used to never make normal pancakes for you. I used to put stuff you didn’t eat in there: squash, carrots, beets…”

“You put beets in my pancakes?” he exclaimed, looking at her in horror.

“It was the only way I could get you to eat them! You never noticed anyway.”

“That’s so gross…”

I laughed silently at this little conversation. I had quickly found my two new favorite people.

“Anyway, Frankie,” Elena continued, looking back at me. “We’ll just have to see which one of us is better next time you come over, how about that?”

I felt like I was beaming from ear to ear just then. “I’d like that,” I told her, and Gerard grinned at me, is if sharing a secret. Adorable, I thought.
so, this will be one of the last overly-cliche, dumb, lovey-dovey chapters for a while. here comes the actual story. i didn't call it "and i'll end this direst" for no reason ;)
comments make my day =)
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