Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Cherry Blossom
Gerard’s point of view
Dreams danced around in front of my eyes, beautiful, painful dreams. Colours and memories were all fading into one another; the same old movie of my life. Sometimes I could see angels singing a song I couldn’t quite make out, but it was so hauntingly familiar. The fact that I could hear sweet birdsong and feel soft cotton-like warmth beneath my fingertips added to the perfect scenario of what mortals deem heaven to be. But I knew, I knew that if I were to open my eyes I would be met with my hell; invisible, alone, and slowly being forgotten.
“That’s not how you play the strawberry, stupid.”
I tensed, that was Frank’s voice, but how? I cracked open my eyes, and saw above me not the blushing pink blossom, but a white washed ceiling. I sat up; I was on a bed pushed up to the wall of a small, cosy bedroom. Sunlight streamed in through the open window, which let in the quivering notes of birdsong. Beneath the window was a cluttered desk, and beside this desk sat Frank, curled up in a wheelie office chair.
He was the definition of adorable; muttering in his sleep and drooling slightly onto the back rest of the chair. His legs were drawn upon the chair and his arms were tucked between them, hands clasping at the ends of his jeans. He mewled and shifted slightly, muttering something about a candy dildo. I couldn’t help but let out a laugh, disturbing the sleeping angel from his dreams. His eyes fluttered open, looking bewildered around the room, finally resting on me.
I bit my lip, suddenly shy. After all, he had most likely found me in the bushes that I had been spying on him from. I blushed and looked down at the floor, embarrassed by myself. I heard him stretch, yawn, and get up off the chair and pad over to the bed, sitting beside me. My breath caught in my throat as he placed his hand under my chin, lifting it to make me look at him. He stared into my eyes for a second, his breath ghosting over my lips, all the way down my neck, causing me to shiver.
“Are you okay Gee?” He whispered, a worried frown etched across his face. “I found you screaming and I couldn’t get you to talk to me. What happened?”
I swallowed nervously and blinked a couple of times.
“It’s nothing.” I whispered, breaking the gaze to look away at the floor.
“Bullshit Gerard.” Frank spat, “You don’t pass out from pain and call it ‘nothing’, now tell me what that was.”
His harsh tone of voice made me wince, my eyes welling up a bit.
“I’m sorry.” I sobbed, “I just don’t want to talk about it.”
Frank let go of my face, sighing softly.
“Why not?”
“Cause, I got into that state ‘cause I was remembering how I died. When you remember your death you feel everything you did when you died.” I whimpered, letting the tears fall into the nothingness that they become.
Frank encircled his arms around me, pulling me into the most heartfelt hugs that I had had in years. He smelt of mint and strawberry shampoo, I smiled to myself as I recognised exactly which shampoo gave off that distinct aroma; L’Oreal kids, he must still appreciate the no tears formula. His breath tickled down my back, causing me to shiver in his arms. He pulled back a little, an amused frown on his sweet little face.
“Are you cold?” He asked, obviously doubtful that I was.
“Um, no,” I replied, “I-it’s just, y-your breath tickles.” I blushed.
“Oh.” He pulled farther away, “I’m sorry.” He blushed.
“No!” I yelped, “I mean, I don’t mind, its okay.”
There was an awkward pause as Frank raised his eyebrow, confusion etched across his face. I felt my face burn; I should have kept my mouth shut. I looked towards the floor to avoid his gaze, shuffling down the bed to distance myself from the ridicule I was surely about to face. Frank chuckled and I tensed, fearful of what he might say. I felt the bed dip slightly as he edged closer, resting his hand over mine. Shakily, I looked up.
“Gee, you are so fucking funny sometimes.” He giggled, squeezing my hand.
I broke a smile, then, impulsively leant forward and kissed him, pushing him down on the bed. He gasped and tensed underneath me, my right hand still lay in his gentle grasp, and I moved my other hand, which had been supporting me above him, up to his hair and ran my fingers through it. Frank slowly, timidly started kissing back, his free hand resting on the small of my back. Without the support of my arm, my body pressed down onto Frank’s.
The kiss deepened, Frank pushing himself into me gently, tongue darting around my own, tying it in knots. He squirmed and mewled beneath me as I left a trail of kisses from his jaw to his collarbone, pausing a moment there to suckle on the soft flesh, leaving a small purple mark. My lips returned to his, no tongue this time, just a gentle caress.
Suddenly, he flung me off of him, and launched himself from the bed. He scurried around his room, throwing books and pens into his backpack haphazardly. I propped myself up on my elbows as he struggled out of the shirt he had slept in, changing it for a clean one. He pulled a brush through his hair with one hand as he tried to zip up his backpack with the other.
“Frank?” I asked timidly, “What’s wrong?”
He spun round to stare at me, brush now dangling from his hair where it was stuck in a knot, finally zipping up his bag.
“I’m late for school!” He cried, waving his arms frantically.
He yanked the brush through the knot, and stuffed some gum into his mouth to ward of bad breath, running to the door, slamming it behind him. Downstairs, I could hear him call a hurried good morning to his mom and rush out of his front door. I sat on his bed until could no longer hear the patter of his footsteps down the street. Standing, I made my way down the stairs, looking into the kitchen; I could see Frank had left his lunch on the side; his mother did not seem to have noticed so I silently picked up Frank’s lunch and wafted through their front door.
The sun was warm and the birds were singing, and while walking to Frank and Mikey’s high school I thought about how complicated my life had become. I then realised I needn’t worry about my life, seeing as I was dead. It didn’t really improve my mood.
Dreams danced around in front of my eyes, beautiful, painful dreams. Colours and memories were all fading into one another; the same old movie of my life. Sometimes I could see angels singing a song I couldn’t quite make out, but it was so hauntingly familiar. The fact that I could hear sweet birdsong and feel soft cotton-like warmth beneath my fingertips added to the perfect scenario of what mortals deem heaven to be. But I knew, I knew that if I were to open my eyes I would be met with my hell; invisible, alone, and slowly being forgotten.
“That’s not how you play the strawberry, stupid.”
I tensed, that was Frank’s voice, but how? I cracked open my eyes, and saw above me not the blushing pink blossom, but a white washed ceiling. I sat up; I was on a bed pushed up to the wall of a small, cosy bedroom. Sunlight streamed in through the open window, which let in the quivering notes of birdsong. Beneath the window was a cluttered desk, and beside this desk sat Frank, curled up in a wheelie office chair.
He was the definition of adorable; muttering in his sleep and drooling slightly onto the back rest of the chair. His legs were drawn upon the chair and his arms were tucked between them, hands clasping at the ends of his jeans. He mewled and shifted slightly, muttering something about a candy dildo. I couldn’t help but let out a laugh, disturbing the sleeping angel from his dreams. His eyes fluttered open, looking bewildered around the room, finally resting on me.
I bit my lip, suddenly shy. After all, he had most likely found me in the bushes that I had been spying on him from. I blushed and looked down at the floor, embarrassed by myself. I heard him stretch, yawn, and get up off the chair and pad over to the bed, sitting beside me. My breath caught in my throat as he placed his hand under my chin, lifting it to make me look at him. He stared into my eyes for a second, his breath ghosting over my lips, all the way down my neck, causing me to shiver.
“Are you okay Gee?” He whispered, a worried frown etched across his face. “I found you screaming and I couldn’t get you to talk to me. What happened?”
I swallowed nervously and blinked a couple of times.
“It’s nothing.” I whispered, breaking the gaze to look away at the floor.
“Bullshit Gerard.” Frank spat, “You don’t pass out from pain and call it ‘nothing’, now tell me what that was.”
His harsh tone of voice made me wince, my eyes welling up a bit.
“I’m sorry.” I sobbed, “I just don’t want to talk about it.”
Frank let go of my face, sighing softly.
“Why not?”
“Cause, I got into that state ‘cause I was remembering how I died. When you remember your death you feel everything you did when you died.” I whimpered, letting the tears fall into the nothingness that they become.
Frank encircled his arms around me, pulling me into the most heartfelt hugs that I had had in years. He smelt of mint and strawberry shampoo, I smiled to myself as I recognised exactly which shampoo gave off that distinct aroma; L’Oreal kids, he must still appreciate the no tears formula. His breath tickled down my back, causing me to shiver in his arms. He pulled back a little, an amused frown on his sweet little face.
“Are you cold?” He asked, obviously doubtful that I was.
“Um, no,” I replied, “I-it’s just, y-your breath tickles.” I blushed.
“Oh.” He pulled farther away, “I’m sorry.” He blushed.
“No!” I yelped, “I mean, I don’t mind, its okay.”
There was an awkward pause as Frank raised his eyebrow, confusion etched across his face. I felt my face burn; I should have kept my mouth shut. I looked towards the floor to avoid his gaze, shuffling down the bed to distance myself from the ridicule I was surely about to face. Frank chuckled and I tensed, fearful of what he might say. I felt the bed dip slightly as he edged closer, resting his hand over mine. Shakily, I looked up.
“Gee, you are so fucking funny sometimes.” He giggled, squeezing my hand.
I broke a smile, then, impulsively leant forward and kissed him, pushing him down on the bed. He gasped and tensed underneath me, my right hand still lay in his gentle grasp, and I moved my other hand, which had been supporting me above him, up to his hair and ran my fingers through it. Frank slowly, timidly started kissing back, his free hand resting on the small of my back. Without the support of my arm, my body pressed down onto Frank’s.
The kiss deepened, Frank pushing himself into me gently, tongue darting around my own, tying it in knots. He squirmed and mewled beneath me as I left a trail of kisses from his jaw to his collarbone, pausing a moment there to suckle on the soft flesh, leaving a small purple mark. My lips returned to his, no tongue this time, just a gentle caress.
Suddenly, he flung me off of him, and launched himself from the bed. He scurried around his room, throwing books and pens into his backpack haphazardly. I propped myself up on my elbows as he struggled out of the shirt he had slept in, changing it for a clean one. He pulled a brush through his hair with one hand as he tried to zip up his backpack with the other.
“Frank?” I asked timidly, “What’s wrong?”
He spun round to stare at me, brush now dangling from his hair where it was stuck in a knot, finally zipping up his bag.
“I’m late for school!” He cried, waving his arms frantically.
He yanked the brush through the knot, and stuffed some gum into his mouth to ward of bad breath, running to the door, slamming it behind him. Downstairs, I could hear him call a hurried good morning to his mom and rush out of his front door. I sat on his bed until could no longer hear the patter of his footsteps down the street. Standing, I made my way down the stairs, looking into the kitchen; I could see Frank had left his lunch on the side; his mother did not seem to have noticed so I silently picked up Frank’s lunch and wafted through their front door.
The sun was warm and the birds were singing, and while walking to Frank and Mikey’s high school I thought about how complicated my life had become. I then realised I needn’t worry about my life, seeing as I was dead. It didn’t really improve my mood.
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