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

Chapter 33

by xDescendingAngelx 6 reviews


Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres:  - Characters: Bob Bryar,Frank Iero,Gerard Way,Mikey Way,Ray Toro - Warnings: [V] - Published: 2009-06-15 - Updated: 2009-06-16 - 2955 words

Gerard’s POV

I thought I saw Bob fall to the ground in the corner of my eye, and I hoped it wasn’t so. I looked back and wish I hadn’t; it was true. Bob was on the ground, clutching his lower stomach while Mikey stood over him with a bloody knife in his hand. Oh, shit; bloody knives only meant one thing.

“Bob!” I yelled, throwing Alex off me and rushing over to Bob. “Oh, God, Bob, this was my fault.”

“Nah, he didn’t even touch me. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” he panted. “You just worry about you and Frank, okay?”

I turned to Mikey. “Y-you stabbed him!”

He nodded, holding the knife as if were a venomous snake. “I got someone else to do it for me once,” he said, looking back up at me. “I wanted a turn this time. He just wasn’t the one I wanted to…” His eyes shifted over to Frank.

Shit. “Frank, get the hell out of here,” I yelled desperately. He looked confused for a second, still fighting Alex. I was glad Eric was still out cold, and I hoped Bob would be okay.

Then, a door may have slammed somewhere, someone might have been yelling at us, or cars might have been driving past us, but if they did I barely heard them. All I was concerned about was getting Frankie out quickly. I would rather die than have him hurt in any way.

I lurched for Mikey out of instinct, not caring that he had a knife in his hand. Mikey raised his knife, ready to do the same to me as he had just done to Bob. I heard Frankie cry out my name in fear, and I somehow managed to dodge Mikey’s knife. I glanced over at Frankie to make sure he was okay, then to Bob to make sure he was still alive. Both were fine (for their circumstances), and I was immensely relieved.

My moment of happiness was interrupted by a cold, slicing feeling, followed by a rush of heat and liquid dripping down my chest. I looked down and saw blood soaking through my now ripped shirt. I realized Mikey had just slashed me, and I instinctively defended myself the first way I thought of: I slapped my brother’s hand away, causing him to fall backwards and the knife to fall out of his hand a few feet away.

I was about to pick it up and get my revenge, but I felt someone behind me holding me back.

“What the… hell are you doing?” I screamed, struggling to break free and grab the knife. Out of nowhere, Frankie came rolling in with Alex, knocking me and Eric, or whoever it was holding me back, over. Looking down, Frankie saw the knife lying on the ground and picked it up. Smart Frankie.

Wait. If Frank was in front of me with a losing Alex, Mikey was standing over a still unconscious Eric, and Bob was still on the ground, then who was holding me back? I spun around to see a kid I’d never seen before. He was taller than me and about my age, with big lips and even bigger hair.

“Hey,” he shouted, releasing me. “What the hell are you guys doing? I should call the cops! You can’t go around disturbing the peace like this.”

“You call this disturbing the peace? He stabbed my friend over there!” I said, pointing to Mikey and Bob. “Oh, shit; he’s still bleeding.”

“Gee, you’re bleeding too,” Frankie said, eyeing my torn shirt and slashed chest worriedly.

“Does he need a hospital?” the kid with the ‘fro asked, going over to Bob.

“Probably. He got stabbed, and another one got knocked unconscious,” Frankie said.

“He needs a hospital now. Can any of you drive?” the tall afro kid asked.

“Bob and Gerard drove us here. That’s Bob’s car,” Frank explained. “Alex over there can drive, too.”

“I’m not driving any of you anywhere,” Alex said. “I don’t drive fags. My intent was to let you die, and if that means leaving you here on the side of the road, so be it.”

“This isn’t over, Gerard,” Mikey said, shooting me one last Way family glare before helping Alex lift Eric into the car and hopping in himself. The four of us that remained didn’t watch the car speed off.

“That doesn’t help much. Okay, can either of you drive, or are we all screwed?” Big Hair Kid asked.

“I can drive,” I said, speaking for the first time in minutes. “Can you help us with Bob? We’re not from around here, and we need help.”

We gently lifted Bob into the backseat of the car, and Big Hair Kid stripped down to his undershirt and gave his t-shirt and told Bob to put it on his wound and put pressure on the bandage. I got in the driver’s seat and started the car as Frank sat in the back with Bob. Big Hair Kid got in the passenger’s seat to give me directions to the nearest hospital.

“Do you live around here?” I asked, pulling off the side of the road.

“Yeah, my house is back there, not far from where you guys were fighting. The nearest hospital is down this road and about a mile to the right,” Big Hair Kid directed.

“Do you think he’ll make it?” I asked quietly so Bob wouldn’t hear.

“If we hurry. What exactly happened?”

“He got stabbed by the knife the guys that drove off brought,” I explained.

“Which one stabbed him? The skinny dark-haired one?”

I didn’t answer for a second. “Yeah, that was… my brother.”

He hesitated. “Your brother? But he slashed you, too, didn’t he? Why would he do that to his own brother?”

“Long story,” I said, looking in the rear-view mirror at Frank. He was watching Bob, who seemed to be in a great deal of pain. Such a trooper.

“Turn right here,” Big Hair Kid said, and soon we were at a hospital. Thank God. We all got out and Big Hair Kid went to inform the emergency room people that we needed them.

“Gee…” Frankie said quietly, taking a step toward me.

“Frankie, I’m so glad you’re alright,” I said, touching my fingertips to his tired face.

“Sure I am. But you’re bleeding. Mikey took a knife to you,” he said, sounding like he was about to cry.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” I echoed Bob from earlier, and I found a jacket in the back of the car to wear over my bloody shirt. “Let’s just get Bob some help now.” Big Hair Kid came back out with some nurses as I zipped up the jacket.

“He’s lost a lot of blood,” one of the nurses said, examining Bob’s knife wound. “He needs to go in, now.” A group of nurses moved Bob from the backseat of the car onto a stretcher.

“Oh, God,” I muttered under my breath, watching Bob get wheeled up to the emergency room. “This is all my fault.”

Frank's POV

“It wasn’t your fault,” I said, pecking Gerard on the cheek. I didn’t care if ‘Fro Kid saw; he was looking the other way, anyway.

“Yes, it was. If I hadn’t have gotten drunk, I wouldn’t have dragged either of you into this. You and Bob would still be at home, unharmed.” He rubbed his eyes, tired and remorseful.

“No, don’t say that. We’re safe, and Bob’s gonna be okay. You’ll see.” I touched his shoulder and we made our way to the hospital waiting room.

“Bob’ll be fine. From the way he was putting up a fight, I know he’s gonna be strong enough to get through this,” ‘Fro Kid said, trying to cheer us up.

“Thanks for everything, man,” Gerard spoke to him as we found seats in the waiting room. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Ray Toro,” Ray answered with a nod.

“Thanks for everything, Ray,” Gerard repeated.

“By the way, where are we?” I asked, curious.

“You mean, what city? You’re in Monroeville,” Ray replied.

Just then, a nurse came out of the emergency room with a clipboard in hand. “Is there a party accompanying a Robert Bryar?” Gerard, Ray, and I stood up and walked toward the nurse.

“You boys look awful! What have you been doing? None of you are parents or guardians, I assume?” she asked, looking at each one of us. We all shook our heads.

“We don’t even have their phone numbers so you can call them,” I said.

“Well, we have their numbers on file. Are there any other numbers you want us to add so we can call with updates?”

“Yeah,” Gerard said, and wrote his number on the nurse’s clipboard.

“Thank you. Robert is in critical condition, so he’ll have to stay here overnight. We don’t permit visitors until we can be sure he’s well enough, so we’ll have to call you when it’s okay to visit.”

I heard Gerard gulp with nervousness; I felt like I was about to throw up. Critical condition? Oh, God…

“Okay,” Gerard said, finally speaking. As the nurse nodded and started to turn away, he blurted, “Wait. C-can you call the number I just gave you tonight? Just to let me know how he’s doing?”

“We can’t call you tonight, unless you’re in his family. I’m sorry.”

“No, I am in his family,” Gerard said, surprising me. “He’s my half-brother; we’re very close. Please call me tonight; I want to know he’s doing well.”

“And what is your name?”

“Gerard Bryar.” Sounded convincing to me.

“I’m sorry, but…” the nurse began.

“Look,” I said, stepping in. “It’s true; they’re related. If this hospital doesn’t have the decency to let Bob’s own family know how he’s doing, then—”

I didn’t know what made her change her mind. I wouldn’t hurt a fly, but I guess it was my tattoos on my arm, neck, and knuckles that intimidated the nurse. She nodded. “Okay. The hospital will call you tonight. Have a good day, boys,” she said to Gerard, and with that, she was gone.

“That was both amazing and awful at the same time. Thanks, Frankie,” Gerard said, reaching out to subtly touch my hand.

“And why did you feel like you had to lie to the nurse?” Ray asked.

“Well, if I had said my last name is Way—which it is—then that’s what the hospital would have searched for. Then she would have found Mikey and my parents or my grandma, and I can’t have a hospital calling any of them and telling them their half-son Bob Bryar lies dying in a hospital. What would they think then?” Gerard answered, sounding a little panicked.

“But now they’re going to search for Gerard Bryar, and he doesn’t exist,” Ray continued to question.

“That’s okay; I’d rather not exist than have my parents or grandma know about this. At least the hospital has my number; that’s all I care about.”

“Boys, I’m going to have to ask you to leave the emergency room. There are other patients here who need this space,” a doctor said out of nowhere. We left the ER, silently bidding Bob get well soon.

When we’d gotten back in the car, Ray asked Gerard if he could give him a lift back home. Gerard consented, and once we got back to Ray’s house, he asked if either of us wanted to come in for a while to clean up. We agreed, tired and messy from the day’s events.

I was the first to be led to a bathroom, and when I looked in the mirror, I flinched. I didn’t think I’d fought that hard, but apparently I did. There was blood all over my face; my lip was busted and I had a long gash on my cheekbone. Nothing a butterfly bandage wouldn’t fix, I thought as I splashed cold water on my face.

“Frank?” Ray entered the bathroom once I started to clean up. “I have a box of bandages here, in case you need them.” I took them gratefully and pulled out a butterfly bandage.

“Thanks, this’ll be great,” I said, carefully putting the bandage on my cheekbone. My lip would be okay with nothing on it, I decided. I left the bathroom and walked into the living room, where Gerard was standing. “You can go clean up now,” I told him.

“Come with me,” he said. “I think Ray went into the kitchen.”

“Okay,” I said, and I followed him to the bathroom to get cleaned up. Once we were in there, he unzipped the jacket he found in Bob’s car and I saw where Mikey had sliced his chest with the knife.

“Shit, Gerard. I feel so bad. Where was I when this happened?” I asked. What kind of a person was I for letting anything happen to him, especially by his own brother, whom he feared?

“You were doing something more important. It was my own fault, anyway,” he said, attempting to take off his shirt so I could clean his wound. It was a difficult feat for him, though, because the blood had hardened, making his shirt stick to his chest. I heard him breathe sharply in pain, and I felt bad again.

“Here, let me put some water on it to unstick it,” I said, finding a towel that Ray had given me beforehand. I pressed the wet towel to his chest and he hissed.

“It’s cold,” he whined. At this I laughed; he was just like a little kid. Pretty soon I got him unstuck from his torn shirt, and I saw the damage that had been done. Gerard had a super-long cut that went all the way from his left shoulder to his right rib. It was pretty deep, too; I’m surprised he got back up and kept going.

“This might sting a little,” I informed him as I got the towel wet again. I lightly tapped the cut with the towel, and Gerard let out small whimpers of pain. “Sorry, almost done. I just have to clean it out with some rubbing alcohol,” I said, and he nodded, eyes closed.

“I hope Bob’s okay,” he grunted after a while, taking his mind off the stinging.

“Bob’s gonna be just fine,” I said. “Mikey’s not gonna bother us anymore, and we’re safe now.” I didn’t believe it myself, but I had to let him know we were out of harm’s way. “And now I’m done cleaning you up.”

“Thanks, Frankie. I can do my face if you hand me one of the butterfly bandages.” I did, and left the bathroom. Blood had never been one of my favorite things at all. I stumbled across Ray in the living room. He was playing a guitar similar to mine.

“You all cleaned up?” he asked, still strumming the black guitar.

“Yeah,” I replied. “That’s a nice Gibson you got there.”

“Thanks. Been playing for a few years. Someone knows their guitars.”

“Yeah, I have a Les Paul myself. Her name’s Pansy.”

“Pansy? That’s cool. Do you play in a band?”

“No, I never really thought about it. Pansy’s more of my… therapy, I guess you could call it.”

Ray nodded. “Guitars are good therapy.”

I agreed. “Play something,” I said, and I watched as his fingers flew over the frets. His playing looked effortless, and it was the best I’d ever heard.

Soon Gerard came out of the bathroom, and we both listened to Ray’s guitar for a few good minutes. Then, looking at the clock on the wall, Gerard informed me that it was time to go. As we got up to leave, Ray said,

“Hey, it was good meeting you both. Whenever you visit Bob, will you come and pick me up? I know we only met today, but…”

“Sure,” Gerard said, smiling. “No problem, Ray. Thanks for everything; we couldn’t have gotten out alive without you.”

“You’re welcome. Be safe, okay?” After exchanging phone numbers, Gerard and I left Ray’s house and were in the car on the way to Gee’s house.

“So this is Monroeville,” I said. “Pretty hectic day for such a little town.”

Gerard took one hand off the steering wheel and laced his fingers in between mine. “I couldn’t have done this without you, Frankie. I’m so sorry. For everything.”

I squeezed his hand. “You don’t have to be. I’m the one that should be apologizing. I told you I would be there for you, but instead I got mad at you and refused to listen to what you had to say. I’m the one that’s sorry.”

“I love you, Frankie.” I smiled, glad Gerard wasn’t mad because of all this.

“I love you, too, Gee.”
sorry it took me so long to update, and sorry the last part was so cliche. i wrote this almost exactly a year ago =/ the update was pretty long, though, so hopefully it makes up for the suckiness...
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