Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance

Demolition Lovers

by CrimsonRevenge 6 reviews

A Demolition Lovers One Shot. Would you end your days together in a hail of bullets? Bonnie and Clyde worthy!

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: R - Genres: Angst,Drama - Characters: Gerard Way - Warnings: [V] - Published: 2011-05-20 - Updated: 2012-11-11 - 1187 words

Demolition Lovers One Shot based on the song by My Chemical Romance

And like the cracked mirror in my old life at home, everything shattered. I held Tristan at my side, her body tense, flat against the wall as bullets cried passed us. I tried to hold my breath; count the burning seconds that dropped down to one, telling us, begging us, to just give up already. They had us cornered, the cops, I mean, trapping us back up against a wall as they waited, daring us to turn the corner so they could take us away; cut our hair, dress us up, gag and bore us. 'Yeah, in Hell', I sneered to myself, almost smirking in real life. But only one thought could settle deep in my skull, the beating, breathing pain crying out to me, 'What about Tristan?'

What about Tristan? I was so lost in the moment, the excitement of barely getting away after each heist, I forgot to stop and think. I forgot the aftermath of the whole situation, I forgot to think about her and not myself, I forgot the possibility that if I went down; she'd go down, too. Maybe she can escape? Can she run off without me, cope without me? 'She could, since obviously the cops can't tell a child from a pedophile' I tried to let the humor settle in my head, but nothing could wash away what was right in front of me.

"Gee," She trembled, my nickname barely making its way off her tongue. "I... I think they're gonna---"

I cut her off with a finger on her lips, "No one likes a spoiler," I forced a laugh passed my pursed lips, knowing that humor was the last thing we needed, but I needed it. To let her know I was still there, still the anonymous color I always have been, running jokes and laughing any time I had the chance. But now wasn't the time. And I wasn't in the mood for a smile. Not a laugh. Not a joke or a snapped conversation to divert the situation we were in.

Just drowning in a hail of bullets. What I needed-what WE needed was a miracle, but there was nothing left. No hope, no glowing embers in the fireplace or that last spark of belief, no scarecrow to fuel the flame. It was gone.

"You're so funny," She tried a laugh, too, but it only choked, like a secret caught in your throat. All she could manage was a little less than a half-hearted smile.

I tuned everything out, everything but her, and I fought myself for words, my famous last words still breaking at the lips, spilling out into a crushed sentence. What I was saying, is what I was saying. And what I was saying, I didn't even know.

"Tristan, I promise you, we're gonna make it out of this. Me and you, we can run away together, we can find a new place, we can change our names, we can change our ways, we can-we can-" I felt the tears that stung my eyes, mixing with the hazel that was held within them, and I looked over at her, watching as her smile was almost convincing.

"Gerard," She started, "I don't want to run away. I don't want to pretend this never happened, I don't want you to change and I know you feel the same, I like you the way you are, I like the way you make me smile and laugh when God knows the situation, I love the way you jump into the thrill instead of dodging for safety. I love you. And I would end my days with you, in a rain of daggers, or a flood of bombs, a hail of bullets; as long as it's with you." She gripped the gun in her left hand, and her right one pulled out of mine, she watched me with her icy blues, her being herself was a miracle, as if snow on desert skies. I had no idea what she was doing until it was too late, time stopped, and I could no longer move.

I watched as her hands pushed me back, and she whipped passed me, rounding the corner and breaking out into open fire. I tried to manage words, as if words could possibly stop a bullet, as if words could save a life. As if I myself could save a bloody life. Her name screamed from my throat as I watched scarlet erupt from her skin; the first shot was enough to cast me into flames, but it just kept coming. And once she had collapsed, I was already at her side, shaking her violently as I waited for her eyes to open. They didn't.

"TRISTAN! TRISTAN! WAKE UP. PLEASE, TRISTAN! WAKE UP!!!" I almost screamed, the gunshots stopped for only a second as they watched me erupt into flames of despair. Fatality was washed up on the shore, reaching its next victim.

I repeated myself, almost sounding angry as I demanded she wake up, demanding she stopped playing possum; perhaps they just knocked her out? Maybe she was just asleep? Did she hit her head too hard? All the possibilities imploding inside my mind, the way each one quaked with hope as if perhaps it could be true, that just maybe, in some way, Tristan was still alive. But she wasn't.

I couldn't believe that after everything we've put each other through, after everything we've proven, how long we've kept running, how many times I've told her how much she meant; it came to the end, in this pool of blood. I leaned down, my tears washing with her blood as I kissed her lips, coming to the realization that all we were were bullets. And this time I mean it. We're just bullets, a tool for this bloody gun, weapons, defense, a toy. I just can't believe...

We once told ourselves that we'd show them all, we'd show them all how much we meant. And like a bed of roses, there's a dozen reasons in my gun, in their guns, and we're falling. Falling as I break the kiss, and there's a buzzing sting in the back of my head, not knowing whether it was because of a faint headache that was coming on from all the crying I'd done, or because I had been shot. My hand moved to the back of my head, to me it felt like I was moving slowly, almost calm as if I was saying, "It's only a shot to the back of the head... what could be worse?" but really I moved faster than I ever had, and when my vision gained on my hand, I realized it was my own blood that rested there. My stare grew dull, as I threw my last glance at Tristan, barely throwing her limp body a smirk before collapsing next to her. And we rested there, falling, forever. We rested there, in this pool of blood, forever.

The days faded, and nights grow, and we grow cold.
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