Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > "You'll never fit in much, kid."
A/N: hey my wonderful readers! Thank you all so freaking much for the fucking AMAZING reviews!! Seriously, without all your support, I’d probably have given up on this. sorry haven’t updated sooner- I typed it out earlier in the week, but then the computer died and I lost it!! D: so I spent all of yesterday and today re-creating this chapter. Hope you all like it…it’s not exactly the most cheerful of chapters and it’s maybe a bit intense, but I kinda felt it needed to be that way. So…please R&R and ENJOY! xD
Chapter Twenty Two
Frank’s point of view:
I can’t feel the harsh, bitterly cold wind stinging my cheeks.
I can’t hear the ominous collisions of the onyx clouds overhead.
I can’t see the spindly silhouettes of the spiky branches trees ahead.
I can’t smell the muddy, rotting, mouldy smell of damp, decomposing leaves.
I can’t taste the salty rainwater of the lashing icy bullets that soak through the thin fabric of my hoodie.
All my senses are completely numb, eclipsed by the total shock and horrified disbelief, the ghost of Gerard’s warm, soft lips, and the irregular stuttering of my heart as I stumble frantically across the park, feeling ready to burst into tears, sing my heart out, rip my chest apart, laugh hysterically, and scream until my throat bleeds all at the same time.
I don’t know what to feel, what to think- all my thoughts and contrasting emotions are curdling together, making it near impossible to distinguish one from the other, to comprehend them, as they mesh together uncomfortably in my chest; too much to feel all at once, swelling and swelling, overwhelming me until I feel ready to combust. Writhing in utter turmoil, struggling in complete confusion, prickling in anger, I don’t know what to do.
So I just keep on running.
Away from the rain, away from the park, away from Gerard…away from me.
I start running more wildly, breath coming in panicky gasps as the rising collision of clashing emotions constrict my chest like there’s a thick band of rusty barbed wire knotted round my lungs. I splash through the overflowing puddles, stumble through the gnarled trees as their spidery branches scratch my face and snag my clothes, but I scramble on desperately, uncaring, unthinking, trying to escape the impossible.
I finally reach the artificial light of the grimy grey street and lean weakly against the wall of the park, heart thumping, trembling all over and gasping for breath as the coils of barbed wire tighten round my ribcage.
The complete chaotic confusion is overwhelming my chest, rising in my gullet like vile, venomous vomit, and finally exploding out of me in a furious, irrational punch aimed at the wall.
I step back, panting and wide-eyed, hardly noting the blood trickling down my aching knuckles as I stare at the crumbling wall. The sudden burst of fury has made me feel more real and slightly less deranged with confusion, the energy momentarily drained from my body.
Shaking slightly, I heave myself up onto the wall and sit there in the dark and the pouring rain for a few moments, finally feeling the icy bullets make contact with my skin, letting them wash over me like icy reality, suddenly getting a flashback of seeing Gerard walking out of the dusky gloom towards me as I sat here, less than half an hour ago. His startling, unique greeny-hazel eyes shimmered in the in the dull light of the flickering street lamps, alive and smiling as he approached me.
I imagine how those eyes must look now; raw, wide and brimming with salty hurt as he hides behind his raven black hair, biting his lip in embarrassed shame.
Guilt splinters inside me, thousands of tiny shards puncturing my innards.
Horrible, nagging guilt mixing with the helpless confusion, the frustrated anger, and the disbelieving denial that curdle in my veins, making me shudder. But why should I feel guilty? It wasn’t my fault he kissed me, it wasn’t my fault I ran away- what else could I have done? I’m straight. I am. However, I can’t let the tiny little voice in the back of my mind that whispers ‘why did you kiss back then?’ go unnoticed.
Truthfully, I have no idea what the fuck came over me. But I’m not going to find out; I’m going to lock this whole thing away in a tiny black box as ebony as Gerard’s hair in the back of my mind, never to be opened again. I’ll jus have to hate him. It’s easier to hate him. To pour all the wild confusion into hatred.
I should hate him.
I don’t know how long I wander the streets aimlessly, numb and seemingly unfeeling on the surface, when inside, despite all my efforts to keep them at bay, my emotions are raging and writhing in turmoil, not letting me block out the events I’m trying so hard to forget and just focus on hating Gerard. But it’s not working; they’re gnawing relentlessly at my chest, the clashing feelings feeding off the raw flesh and hurt, growing and growing with the millions of black bats swooping round and round my head, confusing me even more by blurring my thoughts.
There’s almost so much going on inside, that it hasn’t quite connected with the outside, so to a passer by, it probably wouldn’t look as if I has internal warfare raging inside me. I gradually just let the bats destroy me from the inside as my shabby converse pound the dreary grey streets endlessly, repeating ‘I hate him!’ over and over again in my befuddled mind.
“Frank?”
I jump and look up from the damp, chewing gum speckled pavement for the first time since I left the park, but staying well hidden behind my fringe as I realise I’ve wound up by the car park of the local supermarket, and Bee and a blonde, smartly dressed woman are standing before me, both clutching plastic shopping bags.
I force a smile.
“Mom, this is Frank, a friend from school. Frank, this is my M- Frank?!” Bee breaks off worriedly as I shake back my fringe, no doubt catching the expression in my eyes. “What’s wrong?”
I open my mouth to reply, but to my horror, all that comes out is a strangled, choking, sob-like sound, and I cover my eyes in horrified shame as I feel hot, salty tears leaking out from under my closed lids, constricting my throat and making it ache.
“Frank?” Bee sounds appalled, and seconds later, I feel the gently pressure of her arm round my shoulder and the faintly familiar scent of her jasmine perfume tickles my nose.
“Mom, can you take the shopping back to the car?” I hear her ask quietly. “I can get the bus back later.”
There are murmured voices for a couple of moments, then Bee gently steers me down the road until we find a bench, where she sits us both down.
“Frankie, what’s wrong?” She whispers tentatively, arm still comfortingly round my shaking shoulders.
I try to reply, but all that comes out is another weird, choking sound that wracks my body, and more hot, salty tears spill down my stinging cheeks: all the complex emotions I can’t put into words, the emotions that tear, gnaw, puncture and needle my chest.
After a while, I manage to look up, wiping my cheeks ashamedly. “…Sorry Bee.”
“Don’t be sorry!” Bee shakes her head bemusedly. “But what’s wrong?”
I take a deep, shuddering breath. “Gerard…Gerard…uhh…”
“Gerard what?” Bee prompts, looking worried. “Is he okay?”
“Umm…no, probably not…” I sigh, picking at the fraying hem of my sleeve.
“Why?” Bee frowns.
“He…He..uh…He kissed me..” I whisper, hanging my head and flushing, almost feeling like I’ve betrayed Gerard by saying it out loud, for some irrational reason. I have to remember; I HATE him.
Bee’s eyes widen. “Seriously? Oh shit, what happened?!”
…I don’t know…one minute we were just sitting in the park and I’d given him the mended painting, and then the next…it just happened. Then I-uh-pulled back and-um-ran away…I’m not gay- I’m NOT. That’s why I pulled back. I don’t like him like that.” I say determinedly, but for some reason, I can’t quite meet Bee’s perceptive chocolate brown eyes.
“Oh.” Bee says, and I look up, seeing what could be a hint of scepticism in her eyes.
“I hate him!” I burst out, but even to my own ears, it sounds weak.
Bee raises her eyebrows. “No you don’t Frank- you’re just really confused and pissed at him.”
“No, I don hate him! It’s disgusting! HE’S disgusting” I insist, but she merely looks sceptically at me and I have to drop my gaze.
“Don’t you dare speak about Gerard like that.” She says quietly, and there’s a steely coldness in her expression now. “Especially when we both know you don’t really feel like that.”
“But I do!” I persist, not looking up at Bee, but concentrating on the frayed hem of my hoodie.
“Whatever, Frank.” Bee says, and I can practically hear her rolling gher eyes. “Look, I really have to go and see if Gerard’s okay…will you be alright now?”
I nod. “Thanks for being…well, just thanks Bee.”
Bee smiles wanly at me. “It’s okay. Text me if you need me, okay?”
I nod wordlessly, not daring to open my mouth in case the truth comes spewing out; I don’t want her to leave me…when she’s gone, when I’m alone once again, the flesh-eating bats will descend again, blurring my thoughts, eating at my already mangled chest, slowly and painfully destroying me from the inside.
“See you Monday, Frank.” She gets up and pulls up the hood of her Slipknot hoodie. “And don’t even THINK about skipping, okay?”
“Okay.” I sigh, defeated, not having the energy to argue back.
Bee’s halfway down the deserted, rainwashed street when my mouth suddenly opens of my own accord. “Bee!”
She turns round. “Yeah?”
“Uh…let me know if he’s okay?” I hear myself blurt out.
Bee rolls her eyes to the heavens, shakes her head and smiles. “Sure Frank.”
Then she carries on down the endless street and the bats descend.
*
It must be approaching midnight, but I’m still sitting numbly on the window seat in my darkened room, just gazing out into the ebony endlessness of the night’s sky and wondering what happened with Gerard and Bee. Gazing out of the same window I did when I watched Gerard stroll dreamily towards the horizon what must have only been yesterday afternoon, but feels a lifetime away, his shadow long in the golden autumn sunset, hair flying out behind him, as black as the night, like a thousand of the midnight wishes I used to make up until last week, when I didn’t need to anymore.
It was stupid and totally unrealistic, but since I was young, I always believed if you made a wish right on the dot of midnight, it would come true. I used to make them every night for years- I’d usually be wide awake anyway, tossing and turning, and dreading the approaching dawn. I never wished for stupid things, just stuff I really longed for; true friends, happiness, confidence, love, somewhere I would belong and people would genuinely care for me.
I stopped wishing at some point last week for the first time I can remember- I didn’t need to anymore- I had true friends, I had happiness, I almost even had confidence. And no matter how much I dreamed about it, the friends I made are so much better than I ever imagined.
I had Gerard as a friend; someone who stood up for me, who was on my side, who talked and laughed with me, who understood me, who wanted me to be myself, who liked me for who I really am. He is the first person in years who has made me truly happy, who’s made my life worth living again, who’s filled the raw, gaping hole of loneliness in my chest; and as I think about his startling greeny-hazel eyes, his clumsiness, his loyalty, his dishevelled raven hair, his morbid imagination and his sincerity, I realise.
No matter how much I tell myself I do, no matter what happens, for whatever unclear reason, I know I can never, ever hate him.
Was it okay? Like I said, I wondered if this was too intense, but I kinda wanted to show that Frank totally overreacted about it all…hope it wasn’t too bad, but let me know what you think please :) also wanted to ask you if you’d mind having a chapter in Bee’s point of view? Please tell me if you think it would be a good/ bad idea so I know who’s POV to do the next chapter in :) thank you all so much for sticking with this and please please R&R- the more I get, the sooner I’ll update xD love you all so much! Keep on rocking xD
CosmicZombie xo
Chapter Twenty Two
Frank’s point of view:
I can’t feel the harsh, bitterly cold wind stinging my cheeks.
I can’t hear the ominous collisions of the onyx clouds overhead.
I can’t see the spindly silhouettes of the spiky branches trees ahead.
I can’t smell the muddy, rotting, mouldy smell of damp, decomposing leaves.
I can’t taste the salty rainwater of the lashing icy bullets that soak through the thin fabric of my hoodie.
All my senses are completely numb, eclipsed by the total shock and horrified disbelief, the ghost of Gerard’s warm, soft lips, and the irregular stuttering of my heart as I stumble frantically across the park, feeling ready to burst into tears, sing my heart out, rip my chest apart, laugh hysterically, and scream until my throat bleeds all at the same time.
I don’t know what to feel, what to think- all my thoughts and contrasting emotions are curdling together, making it near impossible to distinguish one from the other, to comprehend them, as they mesh together uncomfortably in my chest; too much to feel all at once, swelling and swelling, overwhelming me until I feel ready to combust. Writhing in utter turmoil, struggling in complete confusion, prickling in anger, I don’t know what to do.
So I just keep on running.
Away from the rain, away from the park, away from Gerard…away from me.
I start running more wildly, breath coming in panicky gasps as the rising collision of clashing emotions constrict my chest like there’s a thick band of rusty barbed wire knotted round my lungs. I splash through the overflowing puddles, stumble through the gnarled trees as their spidery branches scratch my face and snag my clothes, but I scramble on desperately, uncaring, unthinking, trying to escape the impossible.
I finally reach the artificial light of the grimy grey street and lean weakly against the wall of the park, heart thumping, trembling all over and gasping for breath as the coils of barbed wire tighten round my ribcage.
The complete chaotic confusion is overwhelming my chest, rising in my gullet like vile, venomous vomit, and finally exploding out of me in a furious, irrational punch aimed at the wall.
I step back, panting and wide-eyed, hardly noting the blood trickling down my aching knuckles as I stare at the crumbling wall. The sudden burst of fury has made me feel more real and slightly less deranged with confusion, the energy momentarily drained from my body.
Shaking slightly, I heave myself up onto the wall and sit there in the dark and the pouring rain for a few moments, finally feeling the icy bullets make contact with my skin, letting them wash over me like icy reality, suddenly getting a flashback of seeing Gerard walking out of the dusky gloom towards me as I sat here, less than half an hour ago. His startling, unique greeny-hazel eyes shimmered in the in the dull light of the flickering street lamps, alive and smiling as he approached me.
I imagine how those eyes must look now; raw, wide and brimming with salty hurt as he hides behind his raven black hair, biting his lip in embarrassed shame.
Guilt splinters inside me, thousands of tiny shards puncturing my innards.
Horrible, nagging guilt mixing with the helpless confusion, the frustrated anger, and the disbelieving denial that curdle in my veins, making me shudder. But why should I feel guilty? It wasn’t my fault he kissed me, it wasn’t my fault I ran away- what else could I have done? I’m straight. I am. However, I can’t let the tiny little voice in the back of my mind that whispers ‘why did you kiss back then?’ go unnoticed.
Truthfully, I have no idea what the fuck came over me. But I’m not going to find out; I’m going to lock this whole thing away in a tiny black box as ebony as Gerard’s hair in the back of my mind, never to be opened again. I’ll jus have to hate him. It’s easier to hate him. To pour all the wild confusion into hatred.
I should hate him.
I don’t know how long I wander the streets aimlessly, numb and seemingly unfeeling on the surface, when inside, despite all my efforts to keep them at bay, my emotions are raging and writhing in turmoil, not letting me block out the events I’m trying so hard to forget and just focus on hating Gerard. But it’s not working; they’re gnawing relentlessly at my chest, the clashing feelings feeding off the raw flesh and hurt, growing and growing with the millions of black bats swooping round and round my head, confusing me even more by blurring my thoughts.
There’s almost so much going on inside, that it hasn’t quite connected with the outside, so to a passer by, it probably wouldn’t look as if I has internal warfare raging inside me. I gradually just let the bats destroy me from the inside as my shabby converse pound the dreary grey streets endlessly, repeating ‘I hate him!’ over and over again in my befuddled mind.
“Frank?”
I jump and look up from the damp, chewing gum speckled pavement for the first time since I left the park, but staying well hidden behind my fringe as I realise I’ve wound up by the car park of the local supermarket, and Bee and a blonde, smartly dressed woman are standing before me, both clutching plastic shopping bags.
I force a smile.
“Mom, this is Frank, a friend from school. Frank, this is my M- Frank?!” Bee breaks off worriedly as I shake back my fringe, no doubt catching the expression in my eyes. “What’s wrong?”
I open my mouth to reply, but to my horror, all that comes out is a strangled, choking, sob-like sound, and I cover my eyes in horrified shame as I feel hot, salty tears leaking out from under my closed lids, constricting my throat and making it ache.
“Frank?” Bee sounds appalled, and seconds later, I feel the gently pressure of her arm round my shoulder and the faintly familiar scent of her jasmine perfume tickles my nose.
“Mom, can you take the shopping back to the car?” I hear her ask quietly. “I can get the bus back later.”
There are murmured voices for a couple of moments, then Bee gently steers me down the road until we find a bench, where she sits us both down.
“Frankie, what’s wrong?” She whispers tentatively, arm still comfortingly round my shaking shoulders.
I try to reply, but all that comes out is another weird, choking sound that wracks my body, and more hot, salty tears spill down my stinging cheeks: all the complex emotions I can’t put into words, the emotions that tear, gnaw, puncture and needle my chest.
After a while, I manage to look up, wiping my cheeks ashamedly. “…Sorry Bee.”
“Don’t be sorry!” Bee shakes her head bemusedly. “But what’s wrong?”
I take a deep, shuddering breath. “Gerard…Gerard…uhh…”
“Gerard what?” Bee prompts, looking worried. “Is he okay?”
“Umm…no, probably not…” I sigh, picking at the fraying hem of my sleeve.
“Why?” Bee frowns.
“He…He..uh…He kissed me..” I whisper, hanging my head and flushing, almost feeling like I’ve betrayed Gerard by saying it out loud, for some irrational reason. I have to remember; I HATE him.
Bee’s eyes widen. “Seriously? Oh shit, what happened?!”
…I don’t know…one minute we were just sitting in the park and I’d given him the mended painting, and then the next…it just happened. Then I-uh-pulled back and-um-ran away…I’m not gay- I’m NOT. That’s why I pulled back. I don’t like him like that.” I say determinedly, but for some reason, I can’t quite meet Bee’s perceptive chocolate brown eyes.
“Oh.” Bee says, and I look up, seeing what could be a hint of scepticism in her eyes.
“I hate him!” I burst out, but even to my own ears, it sounds weak.
Bee raises her eyebrows. “No you don’t Frank- you’re just really confused and pissed at him.”
“No, I don hate him! It’s disgusting! HE’S disgusting” I insist, but she merely looks sceptically at me and I have to drop my gaze.
“Don’t you dare speak about Gerard like that.” She says quietly, and there’s a steely coldness in her expression now. “Especially when we both know you don’t really feel like that.”
“But I do!” I persist, not looking up at Bee, but concentrating on the frayed hem of my hoodie.
“Whatever, Frank.” Bee says, and I can practically hear her rolling gher eyes. “Look, I really have to go and see if Gerard’s okay…will you be alright now?”
I nod. “Thanks for being…well, just thanks Bee.”
Bee smiles wanly at me. “It’s okay. Text me if you need me, okay?”
I nod wordlessly, not daring to open my mouth in case the truth comes spewing out; I don’t want her to leave me…when she’s gone, when I’m alone once again, the flesh-eating bats will descend again, blurring my thoughts, eating at my already mangled chest, slowly and painfully destroying me from the inside.
“See you Monday, Frank.” She gets up and pulls up the hood of her Slipknot hoodie. “And don’t even THINK about skipping, okay?”
“Okay.” I sigh, defeated, not having the energy to argue back.
Bee’s halfway down the deserted, rainwashed street when my mouth suddenly opens of my own accord. “Bee!”
She turns round. “Yeah?”
“Uh…let me know if he’s okay?” I hear myself blurt out.
Bee rolls her eyes to the heavens, shakes her head and smiles. “Sure Frank.”
Then she carries on down the endless street and the bats descend.
*
It must be approaching midnight, but I’m still sitting numbly on the window seat in my darkened room, just gazing out into the ebony endlessness of the night’s sky and wondering what happened with Gerard and Bee. Gazing out of the same window I did when I watched Gerard stroll dreamily towards the horizon what must have only been yesterday afternoon, but feels a lifetime away, his shadow long in the golden autumn sunset, hair flying out behind him, as black as the night, like a thousand of the midnight wishes I used to make up until last week, when I didn’t need to anymore.
It was stupid and totally unrealistic, but since I was young, I always believed if you made a wish right on the dot of midnight, it would come true. I used to make them every night for years- I’d usually be wide awake anyway, tossing and turning, and dreading the approaching dawn. I never wished for stupid things, just stuff I really longed for; true friends, happiness, confidence, love, somewhere I would belong and people would genuinely care for me.
I stopped wishing at some point last week for the first time I can remember- I didn’t need to anymore- I had true friends, I had happiness, I almost even had confidence. And no matter how much I dreamed about it, the friends I made are so much better than I ever imagined.
I had Gerard as a friend; someone who stood up for me, who was on my side, who talked and laughed with me, who understood me, who wanted me to be myself, who liked me for who I really am. He is the first person in years who has made me truly happy, who’s made my life worth living again, who’s filled the raw, gaping hole of loneliness in my chest; and as I think about his startling greeny-hazel eyes, his clumsiness, his loyalty, his dishevelled raven hair, his morbid imagination and his sincerity, I realise.
No matter how much I tell myself I do, no matter what happens, for whatever unclear reason, I know I can never, ever hate him.
Was it okay? Like I said, I wondered if this was too intense, but I kinda wanted to show that Frank totally overreacted about it all…hope it wasn’t too bad, but let me know what you think please :) also wanted to ask you if you’d mind having a chapter in Bee’s point of view? Please tell me if you think it would be a good/ bad idea so I know who’s POV to do the next chapter in :) thank you all so much for sticking with this and please please R&R- the more I get, the sooner I’ll update xD love you all so much! Keep on rocking xD
CosmicZombie xo
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