Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
Hell Above and Heaven Below
The nightmare you've always dreamed of... This is just some sexy supernatural Ryero (Frank Iero/Ryan Ross). You shall love it. Rated for language and some other stuff.
?Blocked
A/N: Hi, folks. So this is my sexy sexy vampire story. Before you ask, no, they won't sparkle. Um... Ryero. It's a hot pairing. You should go write some. Also, I'm going to be updating this entirely through my cell phone, seeing how I don't have proper internet. Call it stupid, call it daring. Whatever. Just keep in mind that if the formatting sucks, that's why. Um... R&R please, and enjoy.
P.S. I don't think there'll be another chapter to Brightside. Not working.
A little crystal glass sat in front of me, scuffed with age, the red liquid inside it completely untouched. It was disgusting stuff, that liquid. I don't know how Gerard expected me to drink it. I never did - instead, I just stared at it like it had eyes, or something, and it was staring back. Glaring, in fact. It really pissed me off.
I swear, if it wasn't just a glass of blood I'd fucking cut it.
"Frank, can you please just drink it?" Gerard growled at me as he whisked through the living room of our apartment, which was full of all the furniture we still had from his childhood in, like, 200 b.c. or something. It had all been bugging me ever since I first got stuck with him. I really wished he would just get new shit, but nooo, he had to do everything the old-fashioned way, unless it was the modern way that annoyed me more. He insisted on raiding blood banks nowadays, which was the cource of the pure fucking evil in a glass that kept staring at me, and he owned this shiny new foreign car that I considered way too flashy, but still. This was basically the full extent of his modernization; In every other imaginable way, he was like someone's super strict grandmother. Fuck only knows how he managed to live for his five centuries (it may be more, don't quote me on that) without getting bored, but I wasn't like him. I was sick of absolutely everything and I'd only been undead since the late 70's. And I really, really, really hate drinking packaged blood.
"No, Gerard, I can't drink it." I snarled back at him, pushing the glass as far across the mahogany tabletop as I possibly could."You know I hate it."
"Well that's what you're getting. Either drink it, or waste away. Your choice entirely. I hear we're all the rage these days, if I have to replace you as my companion I can do so in about two minutes flat." He walked around the kitchen as he said this, tossing dishes around and opening and closing the refrigerator, which was next to empty besides the packets of vile, cold, diluted blood. I mocked him like some little kingdergartener every time his back turned, although he could probably see me anyways. Not like I cared.
"You know what?" I asked after a few minutes, "Why don't you go do that then. I'll just split, and you can get some shiny new teenage boy to keep you company, and you can be rid of my terrible presence forevermore." I stood, shoving my chair into the table and knocking the glass of imitation blood on its side. The liquid ran across the table as I scowled at Gerard, who looked horrified. "I'm leaving now, don't try to stop me."
"Frank, wait, you know I didn't mean-" Ignoring him, I dashed through the apartment to the front door, grabbing a jacket from the hat stand thing. Gerard followed me. "I didn't mean that, Frank, just listen. You don't have to drink the blood. Just--"
"I don't have to do shit, Gerard. You're better off without me, and I'm better off not feeling like I'm living with my damn grandmother." I left him with that, slamming the door shut in his face and striding away from the complex in the cold, midwinter air.
It wasn't really my fault that Gerard had such a giant stick up his ass. He'd been like that since the day we met, or rather the night, when he'd decided it was a grand old idea to turn me into one of the walking dead. My guess was that he just came from an uptight sort of era. He couldn't really help it. I think. No, wait. He could.
Either way, since that night in Jersey, he'd taken it upon himself to be my fucking jailor or something. It had been getting to be too much for quite a while now, and tonight was as good as any to ditch him. I kind of wished I had thought to grab some clothes first. I had a couple hoodies I would probably miss. Whatever, I'd go find them tomorrow.
But tonight, I desperately needed some fun... and some blood.
P.S. I don't think there'll be another chapter to Brightside. Not working.
A little crystal glass sat in front of me, scuffed with age, the red liquid inside it completely untouched. It was disgusting stuff, that liquid. I don't know how Gerard expected me to drink it. I never did - instead, I just stared at it like it had eyes, or something, and it was staring back. Glaring, in fact. It really pissed me off.
I swear, if it wasn't just a glass of blood I'd fucking cut it.
"Frank, can you please just drink it?" Gerard growled at me as he whisked through the living room of our apartment, which was full of all the furniture we still had from his childhood in, like, 200 b.c. or something. It had all been bugging me ever since I first got stuck with him. I really wished he would just get new shit, but nooo, he had to do everything the old-fashioned way, unless it was the modern way that annoyed me more. He insisted on raiding blood banks nowadays, which was the cource of the pure fucking evil in a glass that kept staring at me, and he owned this shiny new foreign car that I considered way too flashy, but still. This was basically the full extent of his modernization; In every other imaginable way, he was like someone's super strict grandmother. Fuck only knows how he managed to live for his five centuries (it may be more, don't quote me on that) without getting bored, but I wasn't like him. I was sick of absolutely everything and I'd only been undead since the late 70's. And I really, really, really hate drinking packaged blood.
"No, Gerard, I can't drink it." I snarled back at him, pushing the glass as far across the mahogany tabletop as I possibly could."You know I hate it."
"Well that's what you're getting. Either drink it, or waste away. Your choice entirely. I hear we're all the rage these days, if I have to replace you as my companion I can do so in about two minutes flat." He walked around the kitchen as he said this, tossing dishes around and opening and closing the refrigerator, which was next to empty besides the packets of vile, cold, diluted blood. I mocked him like some little kingdergartener every time his back turned, although he could probably see me anyways. Not like I cared.
"You know what?" I asked after a few minutes, "Why don't you go do that then. I'll just split, and you can get some shiny new teenage boy to keep you company, and you can be rid of my terrible presence forevermore." I stood, shoving my chair into the table and knocking the glass of imitation blood on its side. The liquid ran across the table as I scowled at Gerard, who looked horrified. "I'm leaving now, don't try to stop me."
"Frank, wait, you know I didn't mean-" Ignoring him, I dashed through the apartment to the front door, grabbing a jacket from the hat stand thing. Gerard followed me. "I didn't mean that, Frank, just listen. You don't have to drink the blood. Just--"
"I don't have to do shit, Gerard. You're better off without me, and I'm better off not feeling like I'm living with my damn grandmother." I left him with that, slamming the door shut in his face and striding away from the complex in the cold, midwinter air.
It wasn't really my fault that Gerard had such a giant stick up his ass. He'd been like that since the day we met, or rather the night, when he'd decided it was a grand old idea to turn me into one of the walking dead. My guess was that he just came from an uptight sort of era. He couldn't really help it. I think. No, wait. He could.
Either way, since that night in Jersey, he'd taken it upon himself to be my fucking jailor or something. It had been getting to be too much for quite a while now, and tonight was as good as any to ditch him. I kind of wished I had thought to grab some clothes first. I had a couple hoodies I would probably miss. Whatever, I'd go find them tomorrow.
But tonight, I desperately needed some fun... and some blood.
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