Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > "Be My Detonator."

Chapter Four

by CosmicZombie 20 reviews

The conspiracy of dream catchers, mind-reading siblings, and the daughter of Satan....please R&R! xD

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Humor,Romance - Characters: Frank Iero,Gerard Way,Mikey Way - Published: 2011-06-18 - Updated: 2011-06-23 - 2357 words

A/N: OMG, thank you all SO SO fucking much for all the amazingly awesome reviews!! You guys rock! :D sorry it’s taken me so long to update…I posted a note yesterday explaining why…here’s the link
I’m on my computer at home right now cause both my parents are out :D
You can thank the wonderful album that is The Black Parade that I’ve got this up today- I was feeling really shitty earlier, and I didn’t even want to write or anything…but I listened to that album and it really cheered me up- I can safely say without it, this wouldn’t be posted right now.
Anyways, thank you all for being so patient- here’s chapter four…hope it’s okay! Remember to R&R, and ENJOY! xD

Chapter Four

Thin rays of warm, golden sunlight poke through the folds in my blood red bedroom curtains, illuminating the haphazardly strewn room with early morning summer sun, and gently rousing me from a restless sleep involving a seriously unnerving dream during which I was for some reason put in charge of a bright green steamroller, and consequently accidentally squished Frank Iero.
Who the hell put me in charge of a steamroller anyway?! I mean seriously, they’d have had to have been either mentally unhinged or in favour of world destruction. Or both- the two seem to go together.
I groan into the warm, still silence of my room as the disasters of the previous twenty four hours finally dawn on my slow, fucked-up, Frank obsessed little brain cells; music shop. Frank Iero. Flying plectrums. Doorbell. Frank Iero. Flying coke. Hall rug. Frank Iero. Flying Gerard.
I groan again and close my eyes in humiliation, burrowing back into the comforting warmth of my midnight black duvet, as if staying in their long enough will erase my stupidity, or I’ll actually have enough time while I’m waiting for that to happen to work out how to build a time machine, so I can go back in time and reverse my actions, become an utterly cool, calm, collected, co-ordinated Gerard.
Yeah, dream on, fuckface.
I seriously hope to god I never have to face him again, but seeing as he now seems to be dating the daughter of Satan (more commonly known as my oh-so-lovely stepsister, Jamie), it seems likely I’ll have to…unless she somehow mysteriously dies.
I yawn sleepily and roll onto my side, golden beams of sunlight streaming through my hastily drawn curtains onto my pillow and making me wince in the bright light as I fiddle absent-mindedly with the black dream catcher that hangs over my bed.
It obviously doesn’t work, as my squished Frank steamroller dream demonstrated, unless it just takes away all the good dreams instead of the bad ones. Ughh, I’ve had enough accidents concerning him in reality, let alone in my subconscious.
Clearly my dream catcher is plotting against me.
But maybe I’m just overreacting? Maybe yesterday wasn’t actually as bad as I think it was?
I actually let out a snort of derision at that, and consequently feel even more deranged. I mean, c’mon, how much worse could it have been?! He was only in the house for like, ten minutes, and in that short space of time, I managed to shower him with coke, have a nasty mishap with the hall rug, revert to only speaking in the language of idiotic, co-ordinationally challenged morons, and spent the whole time with a face redder than a tomato on red nose day.
Seriously, how much more of an idiot can I become?!
Not much…
Oh great, now I have voices in my head.
Oi! Who said you could comment on my idiocy?!
It’s my idiocy too, so I think I’m allowed to comment on it, fuckface.
You callin’ me fuckface?!
Then you’re calling you fuckface too, cause I am you, numbskull.
Realise what you did there?
Oh shit.
Yep, exactly the same as me.
Well that’s hardly surprising, is it? considering we’re the SAME PERSON!
Did you say ‘sane person’? cause I think you got that wrong…
The oh-so-mature voices in my head are suddenly rudely interrupted by a loud yelp and the sound of a small explosion from the direction of the kitchen.
Forgetting all about my inner insanity, the fact I seem to have several nutters living inside my head, and the fact I’m the most moronic, clumsy, retarded, Misfits loving teenager in existence, I leap out of bed, chuck on a random crumpled black t-shirt from the endless supply of unwashed clothes shrouding the floor, and hurtle downstairs, missing my footing at the bottom and narrowly avoiding a collision with the hat stand, doing an embarrassingly feminine pirouetting leap to avoid it.
But hey, that’s one embarrassing thing I managed not to do yesterday.
The second I stumble into the kitchen, the overwhelming scent of burnt toast and Mikey filling my nostrils; the kitchen is thick with smoke that makes my eyes water as I make my way across the room, coughing, until the source of the mini explosion comes into view.
Mikey is standing over the toaster, the end of his carefully straightened fringe smoking slightly as he holds an extremely burnt thing that barely resembles a piece of toast and a singed looking fork.
“Mikes!” I sigh exasperatedly, leaning over the smoking toaster and flicking the switch to off. “What have I told you about electrical appliances and metal?”
Mikey rolls his eyes. “My toast got stuck, okay?”
“That doesn’t mean you have to stick a fork in it!” I cry, flailing my arms about in the cloud of smoke before finding the window latch and shoving it open, letting the balmy summer breeze and smells of sunshine and cut grass drift into the smoky kitchen.
“Honestly, Mikes,” I sigh, getting a bowl and spoon out of the cupboard. “How much more retarded can you get?!”
“Well one thing’s for sure- no one, not even me, can beat YOU on retardedness, Gee.” Mikey grins.
I flush bright pink. “Oi! That’s not true!”
“Oh, so last night was just a figment of my imagination?” Mikey smirks knowingly.
“It wasn’t that bad!” I lie, getting a pack of cheerios out of the cupboard.
“Sure Gerard- spilling coke all over, tripping up in front of Jamie’s date, and not even being able to construct a simple sentence in his presence…I mean, god, I was embarrassed FOR you!”
“Shut up!” I snap, blushing. “I don’t wanna talk about it!”
Mikey smirks in that infuriating way only Mikey can smirk, but stays silent.
I stare out of the window as I wait for the kettle to boil, breathing in the clear summer air and staring out at the garden; the lush, bright green grass and abundant, leafy trees, the sunlight filtering through their green canopies, making the shade beneath them dappled and calming. The sky is a clear blue, stretching endlessly overhead, like a vast ocean of turquoise, dotted intermittently with fluffy white clouds that drift dreamily across it’s vastness, swept by the warm, balmy breeze, golden from the sun that’s shining higher than the perfect clouds and the endless blue, it’s bright rays beating down on the green of the grass and the griminess of the pavement.
It looks like it’s gunna be even hotter than yesterday…I wonder what Frank Iero will wear…maybe another tight, sleeveless top that shows of his slim torso and smooth, muscular tattooed arms, or-
Wait, why the hell am I fantasising about this guy?! I hardly know him, not to mention he’s dating my stepsister. I mean, he could be an insane, sadistic mass murderer for all I know, which actually, now I think of it, would kinda fit with him going out with Jamie…
However, insane, sadistic mass murder or not, he’s seriously fucking hot. In fact, I’d probably still want to snog his face off even if he tortured small, furry, baby animals as a hobby.
Wow, my fucked-up little brain cells are even more fucked up than I though.
“So,” Mikey says conversationally, breaking through my thoughts. “What’s it like have such an utterly pathetic crush on your stepsister’s boyfriend?”
I drop the box of cheerios I’m holding. Jeez, can this kid read minds as well as blow up toasters?!
“W-what? No I don’t!” I protest, not meeting Mikey’s eyes.
Mikey chuckles.
“I don’t!” I repeat. I mean, sure, it’s a lie, but I really, really don’t want Mikey to know.
“You’ve gone all high-pitched, Gee.” Mikey grins.
“Have not!”
“You’re just proving my point.”
“No I’m not!”
“Gee, you sound like a male version of Justin fucking Beiber right now!”
“I don’t fucking like him, okay?!”
“I’m glad to hear it- if you liked Justin Beiber I’d disown you.”
“No, not Justin fucking Beiber! I don’t fucking like Frank fucking Iero!”
“Suuuuure…” Mikey smirks, munching on his burnt toast.
“I don’t!”
“Frank and Gerard sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G! fist come love, then comes marriage, then comes…” Mikey trails off suddenly, a look of horror spreading over his features.
I follow his gaze too the doorway and nearly drop my bowl of cereal in utter horror.
Standing, fuming more than Mikey after the incident with the toaster, in the doorway wearing designer pyjamas and a scowl that could turn sour milk radioactive, is my stepsister/daughter of satan/the bitch that is Frank Iero’s girlfriend.
“What?!” she growls at us, eyes narrowed.
Mikey visibly gulps.
“Umm…uhhh….um…how was your-uh-date?” is the fist stupid thing that slips of my mouth.
Behind me, Mikey sniggers, and Jamie and I both shoot him evil glares of death, for once untied about something.
“Why do you care?” she asks suspiciously, getting a pineapple smoothie out of the fridge.
I try for a nonchalant shrug, which I’m pretty sure I totally fail to pull off.
“And why were you sucking up to him last night anyway?” she snarls.
“At least he wasn’t sucking him off…” Mikey puts in helpfully.
Jamie whips round, livid. “Fuck you, Michael Way.”
“That’s not a very nice thing to say.” Mikey says innocently. “I was simply pointing out that it could have been a hell of a lot worse…for you anyway. Better for Frank and Gerard.” He grins, and I want to die.
However, Mikey soon looks like he’d like to join me in wishing for a quick, painless death, as Jamie advances towards him, brandishing her bottle of smoothie.
“You’re just a pathetic jealous GEEK!” She yells.
“Jealous of having a boyfriend that fancies Gerard?” Mikey grins, the skips out of the kitchen before Jamie can kill him but inserting a smoothie bottle into his body.
“Listen here, Gay Way,” Jamie snarls through gritted teeth, rounding on me. “Hand’s OFF my boyfriend, okay?! He’d never want you! Why would someone like him want someone like you when he could have me?”
“Oh, I don’t know- maybe cause I’m not a fake, plastic bitch with not even enough character to fill a teaspoon.” I smile brightly and dash from the kitchen before she stabs me with the breadknife.
She has a point though…someone like Frank Iero would never want someone like me.
After showering hurriedly and dressing in my black skinnies, scuffed red converse, sleeveless smashing pumpkins shirt and big black sunglasses which will hopefull prevent me from getting blinded by sunlight the second I set foot outside. Unfortunately, there’s nothing so effective for my poor, defenceless skin, so I slather myself in factor fifty sunscreen, making me look even paler than usually, which is saying something- I once got asked if I was part albino.
When I’ve given up on attempting to tame my dishevelled raven hair- which also seems to be plotting against me…it must be in league with my dream catcher- I dial Ray’s mobile number.
He answers after three rings.
“Hey Ray, it’s me.”
“Oh hey Geefreak, how’s it going? Attacked anymore innocent bystanders with guitar picks?”
“Shut the fuck up Toro, that was NOT funny!”
“Sorry, you’re right…it as fucking HILARIOUS!”
“Shut the fuck up! Listen, I called cause I need some of the wisdom you store in your ‘fro.”
“I don’t give it away.”
“Meanie. Look, I really need your help!
“Why, what’s up?”
“Something terrible has happened, Ray.”
“Meet me in the park in ten?”
“Oh, and Ray?”
“Promise not to laugh?”
“Oh no Gee, what have you done now? The last time you said that, you’d got pissed and accidentally snogged the captain of the football team at last years Christmas party.”
“It’s worse.”
“Oh God.”
“I’ll tell you when I see you.”
“Okay, see you soon then. Bye.”
“See you.”
I press the end call button, shove the phone in my pocket and stand up to go, sincerely hoping that these horrible coincidences of meeting Frank isn’t destined to be some kind of twisted fate that will lead me to see him again today…
I’m probably being ridiculously superstitious though…

Was it okay? Hope so! Please rate and review if you wanna find out what happens next, and I’ll update as soon as I possibly can :) your support means the world to me! Thanks for reading, hope you all liked it xD and thank you all once again for the fucking awesome reviews! Love you all!!

CosmicZombie xo

p.s. here’s the link to the next chapter of “You’ll Never Fit In Much, Kid”…it’d be great if you guys could rate and review it! thanks :)
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