Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
Okay, um well first of all i'm sorry for not updating my other fic, but i've been really busy with exams, etc :/ i'll update it when i next get the inspiration. i don't know when that'll be, eh. but um, this is just a oneshot i wrote whilst being a loner at school, while in a bad mood :') so i'm sorry if it's complete shit asjashd.
-georgie
I’m not sure how long I’ve been sitting here, holding a knife to my pale, skinny wrist; thinking, deciding, contemplating. I’m unsure to why this is such a difficult decision, I have no hope, no future, no one.
And then the doorbell wrings.
I’m confused. No one ever comes here. They know Dad hasn’t been here since I was 6- and Mom, she’s always “working”. That’s what she says anyway. She’s never home anymore. It is 11:46pm; why does anyone want to speak to me now. Isn’t that what a phone is for? I glance at my cell phone, 13 missed calls, all from him- Gerard. Why? He doesn’t want me. He made that clear when he pushed me away. When he called me a freak…
That’s what I am.
‘Frank!’ But that’s his voice; he’s banging wildly on the front door, hysterically screaming my name. I want to open the door to him, as I have done millions of times in the past. But something’s stopping me. The shame and the rejection, I guess. And the fear that his other friends are out there, ready to beat the shit out of me, even though I deserve it.
‘Frank, open the fucking door!’ He screams. As much as I want to end this all right now, I can’t. Gerard’s voice is stopping me. Reluctantly, I drag my feet down the stairs, and open the door. Gerard stands there. He looks frustrated, and I can see his white face is flushed through the glow of the streetlights. He is leaning against the wall, his raven black hair falling over his face.
‘Frankie…’ He whispers.
‘Come in.’ I breathe, shaking.
He does. He walks softly, and slowly, and it’s awkward. I’m not sure why he’s here, and he doesn’t look like he knows either. I was sure he never wanted to see me again. I still am. So why is he here?
We stand in my hallway silently. ‘I’m sorry.’ I suddenly blurt out, my voice cracking. Then I realize, I’m not completely sorry. I’m not. I won’t apologize for my feelings, even if they are wrong. Because they are; he’s a boy, I’m a boy, feelings like mine. They aren’t right; but I still won’t apologize.
There is another short silence, but then Gerard breaks it by laughing shakily. What the fuck? Oh god, this is the bit where he calls me a freak again, or worse, and beats the shit out of me.
‘Sorry for what?’ He sounds genuinely confused, and he’s still smirking at me, like he knows something I don’t.
‘For-‘ I hesitate. ‘K-Kissing you…’
Because, I guess I am; I’m not sorry for what I feel for him- love, or lust, or whatever the fuck it is. But I am sorry for ruining our lifelong friendship, for letting him find out his best friend is gay, because now everything will be awkward and different, and that’s my fault.
Gerard still looks amused as he says ‘Don’t apologize, Frankie.’
Suddenly, anger flares inside me. He doesn’t want me to apologize? What the fuck? I still remember the night I kissed him. We were sat, in his backyard. It was dark and the rain had just stopped pouring, leaving the grass damp. We sat on it in silence anyway, but not an awkward silence- it was a comfortable, friendly silence. And then I just couldn’t take it anymore. Our faces were so close together, his lips just inches away from mine… So I closed the gap between us, and for a few seconds, he kissed me back. Then he pushed me away, a look of horror showing in his eyes. He gaped at me, his mouth hanging open. He touched his lips shakily, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.
‘I..’ I whispered. I wanted to lie; to tell him it was a joke, I was messing with his head. But the words in my head just rotted and fell away.
‘What did you do that for?’ Shouted Gerard desperately; anger and confusion taking over his face.
‘I don’t know.’ I replied shaking. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Sorry? You’re sorry? What the fuck, man?’
‘… I don’t know! Just listen to me! I’m so fucking sorry!’ I cried, and I knew my voice was high-pitched and desperate, and shaking with apologies and regret. I fucked it all up.
‘Just leave me alone.’ Gerard looks like he’s about to cry or pinch me, or both. ‘You- you fucking freak, Frank!’
His voice had quietened, but his sharp words, they cut through the air, they cut through me, deeper than any blade ever could.
Back in the present, I’m still glowering at him, and an uneasy look has replaced the smirk on his mouth. The mouth that I was kissing, just days ago, I can still feel them, the way they worked against mine.
‘Don’t apologize?’ I scream at him? ‘What the fuck do you mean ‘Don’t apologize?’ I thought you fucking hated me. You called me a fucking freak, you-‘
But then I stop in my tracks, because Gerard’s lips are pressed to mine, softly at first, but then desperately. And I’m kissing him back, meshing my lips against his in the only way that seems possible. His tongue slides onto my bottom lip, as if asking for entrance, and I grant it. Our mouths fit together perfectly, our tongues dancing, and I’ve never felt more alive. Because Gerard is kissing me, his arms are snaked around my waist and mine are hanging desperately around his neck; I never want to let go.
But then I do, I push him away, the same way he did me and I stare at him in disbelief.
‘Gerard.’ I choke out. ‘Why-‘
But he cuts me off.
‘Frankie.’ He whispers. ‘I’m sorry.’
He turns around, and he runs.
-georgie
I’m not sure how long I’ve been sitting here, holding a knife to my pale, skinny wrist; thinking, deciding, contemplating. I’m unsure to why this is such a difficult decision, I have no hope, no future, no one.
And then the doorbell wrings.
I’m confused. No one ever comes here. They know Dad hasn’t been here since I was 6- and Mom, she’s always “working”. That’s what she says anyway. She’s never home anymore. It is 11:46pm; why does anyone want to speak to me now. Isn’t that what a phone is for? I glance at my cell phone, 13 missed calls, all from him- Gerard. Why? He doesn’t want me. He made that clear when he pushed me away. When he called me a freak…
That’s what I am.
‘Frank!’ But that’s his voice; he’s banging wildly on the front door, hysterically screaming my name. I want to open the door to him, as I have done millions of times in the past. But something’s stopping me. The shame and the rejection, I guess. And the fear that his other friends are out there, ready to beat the shit out of me, even though I deserve it.
‘Frank, open the fucking door!’ He screams. As much as I want to end this all right now, I can’t. Gerard’s voice is stopping me. Reluctantly, I drag my feet down the stairs, and open the door. Gerard stands there. He looks frustrated, and I can see his white face is flushed through the glow of the streetlights. He is leaning against the wall, his raven black hair falling over his face.
‘Frankie…’ He whispers.
‘Come in.’ I breathe, shaking.
He does. He walks softly, and slowly, and it’s awkward. I’m not sure why he’s here, and he doesn’t look like he knows either. I was sure he never wanted to see me again. I still am. So why is he here?
We stand in my hallway silently. ‘I’m sorry.’ I suddenly blurt out, my voice cracking. Then I realize, I’m not completely sorry. I’m not. I won’t apologize for my feelings, even if they are wrong. Because they are; he’s a boy, I’m a boy, feelings like mine. They aren’t right; but I still won’t apologize.
There is another short silence, but then Gerard breaks it by laughing shakily. What the fuck? Oh god, this is the bit where he calls me a freak again, or worse, and beats the shit out of me.
‘Sorry for what?’ He sounds genuinely confused, and he’s still smirking at me, like he knows something I don’t.
‘For-‘ I hesitate. ‘K-Kissing you…’
Because, I guess I am; I’m not sorry for what I feel for him- love, or lust, or whatever the fuck it is. But I am sorry for ruining our lifelong friendship, for letting him find out his best friend is gay, because now everything will be awkward and different, and that’s my fault.
Gerard still looks amused as he says ‘Don’t apologize, Frankie.’
Suddenly, anger flares inside me. He doesn’t want me to apologize? What the fuck? I still remember the night I kissed him. We were sat, in his backyard. It was dark and the rain had just stopped pouring, leaving the grass damp. We sat on it in silence anyway, but not an awkward silence- it was a comfortable, friendly silence. And then I just couldn’t take it anymore. Our faces were so close together, his lips just inches away from mine… So I closed the gap between us, and for a few seconds, he kissed me back. Then he pushed me away, a look of horror showing in his eyes. He gaped at me, his mouth hanging open. He touched his lips shakily, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.
‘I..’ I whispered. I wanted to lie; to tell him it was a joke, I was messing with his head. But the words in my head just rotted and fell away.
‘What did you do that for?’ Shouted Gerard desperately; anger and confusion taking over his face.
‘I don’t know.’ I replied shaking. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Sorry? You’re sorry? What the fuck, man?’
‘… I don’t know! Just listen to me! I’m so fucking sorry!’ I cried, and I knew my voice was high-pitched and desperate, and shaking with apologies and regret. I fucked it all up.
‘Just leave me alone.’ Gerard looks like he’s about to cry or pinch me, or both. ‘You- you fucking freak, Frank!’
His voice had quietened, but his sharp words, they cut through the air, they cut through me, deeper than any blade ever could.
Back in the present, I’m still glowering at him, and an uneasy look has replaced the smirk on his mouth. The mouth that I was kissing, just days ago, I can still feel them, the way they worked against mine.
‘Don’t apologize?’ I scream at him? ‘What the fuck do you mean ‘Don’t apologize?’ I thought you fucking hated me. You called me a fucking freak, you-‘
But then I stop in my tracks, because Gerard’s lips are pressed to mine, softly at first, but then desperately. And I’m kissing him back, meshing my lips against his in the only way that seems possible. His tongue slides onto my bottom lip, as if asking for entrance, and I grant it. Our mouths fit together perfectly, our tongues dancing, and I’ve never felt more alive. Because Gerard is kissing me, his arms are snaked around my waist and mine are hanging desperately around his neck; I never want to let go.
But then I do, I push him away, the same way he did me and I stare at him in disbelief.
‘Gerard.’ I choke out. ‘Why-‘
But he cuts me off.
‘Frankie.’ He whispers. ‘I’m sorry.’
He turns around, and he runs.
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