Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > If You Look in the Mirror and don't Like What You See
If You Look in the Mirror and don't Like What You See
3 reviewsGerards your typical good-looking teenage dude; designer clothes, girls crawling to him but theres somethin missin in his life. A mysterious Londoner walks gracefully into his life and changes ever...
2Ambiance
PING
Gerard Way pulled his Blackberry from his Hollister hoodie and checked the message.
FROM: ANDREA SIMPSON
Gee, babes u free this fri 8pm?
party at mine xxxxx
He sighed exasperatedly and typed back a quick reply
TO: ANDREA SIMPSON
yo i'm kinda busy. @ a friend's house
tnks anyways (:
He rubbed the heels of his palms into his sore eyes and chucked his phone onto the plain blue sheets of his bed. Geez... shes scary he thought. Andrea had been constantly texting him since their fling at Sandra's last month. He had told her it meant nothing, that they were both drunk, but some people will just never listen.
He sat down heavily at his desk and pulled out his A3 sketchbook. Gerard spread his drawing pencils across the scratched wooden tabletop and stared blankly at the creamy white perfection in front of him before picking up a hard pencil and began to sketch the outline of a dragon.
~TIME LAPSE~
01:12 am
After six hours of absent minded drawing, Gerard sat back in his chair and admired the completed piece of work in front of him.
Even though it was a greyscale sketch, the contours and lines that formed the dragon made it jump out at the viewer, a powerful image against the plain white sheet beneath it.
Each scale of the dragon's menacing body was shaded, huge tendrils of fire unfolding onto the paper through the beast's gaping mouth. Its eyes gleamed with a bloodthirsty glow. Gerard hunched over the page for a few seconds at the time, rubbing out, re-shading, finishing it to perfection.
Finally, he tore it out of the sketchbook and stashed it in his draw, among many other sketches, pastel works and paintings.
Locking the draw carefully, he stumbled over to his bed and fell asleep immediately.
06:58 am
"GERARD ARTHUR WAY GET YOUR LAZY, GIRL-OBSESSED ASS UP NOW!" screamed Mikey into his brother's ear.
"Whasgoinon- Aw, Mikes fuck'n hell go'way," he mumbled back, burying his head into the soft blankets.
"NO WAY IN HELL GET UP OR YOU DON'T GET NO COFFEE!" he yelled.
Gerard's eyes flew open. "WHAT THE FUCK?! NO COFFEE?!"
Mikey grinned devilishly "Well that got you up," he chuckled, " Oh and by the way, your still wearing the stuff you were in yesterday dipshit."
Gerard looked down and groaned. His hoodie was all crumpled and his face probably had red lines from leaning on the sleeves of the jacket.
"I'll be down in about twenty minutes," he muttered, turning towards his wooden closet.
"Sure thing. I'll tell mum to make some more coffee for ya when you're done."
"Cheers Mikes."
"No problem-o bro."
Gerard walked over to his window that looked out onto the quiet residential street that he had live all his life. He slouched by the window, his face pressed up on the stone cold glass. He watched as people walked down the road; respectable businessmen talking rapidly on their shiny company phones, countless groups of teenagers chatting and walking together to school. Everyone he saw looked confident within themselves; they all had the spark in their faces that Gerard had long lost.
There was something missing in his life; it felt as though there was a gaping hole in his chest, a lost piece.
He had looked for it, there was no denying that. But he remained clueless.
So he gave up. Made do with being content rather than happy. He had friends, a good life and a queue of girls waiting to be his girlfriend.
Hell, even the jocks respected him.
But there was definitely something wrong and that thing, Gerard could not put his finger on.
He sighed and turned away from the window, just as a vibrant burst of colour caught his eye.
He whipped back round to face the window. Across the street, a girl was walking by herself. No, not a girl, a fucking walking rainbow.
She had candyfloss blue, waist length hair with a Little Mermaid style side fringe (A/N American translation: bangs) topped with bright orange Skullcandy headphones. She was wearing black and read striped tights and a pair of high waist black shorts, covered in what looked like chains and badges from a distance. She wore knee-height black converse and a multi-coloured, sleeveless corset-y top reaching the top of her red studded belt. Her skin was ghostly pale and was often interrupted by swirling black tattoos.
From what he could make out of her face, she was extremely pretty.
Gerard watched her with wide eyes as she strolled gracefully past his window. She had a bounce in her step even though he was sure she was aware of the disgusted looks people cast her as she passed them. She didn't fucking care. Because she knew who she was. And wasn't gonna let anyone take her alive.
Something deep inside Gerard's stomach stirred. He jumped with shock at the feeling he hadn't felt inside himself for so long. A little butterfly at the pit of his stomach.
The longer he watched her, the more prominent this sensation became. One butterfly, then two, then four, eight, sixteen...
And then she was gone.
Gerard sighed and turned back to his closet. He wrenched open the doors and mountains of clothes poured out on top of him. He gasped and stumbled back, throwing a green hoodie off his head.
He grabbed a pair of grey skinny jeans and held up three or four hoodies, debating between the red, blue, green... Black.
He threw off the baggy, baby-blue jeans he donned yesterday and pulled on his old skinnies. Before changing his shirt, he ran to his bedroom door and shut it tight. He listened through the wood for a moment or two. When he was sure no-one was coming, he ripped off his burgundy Hollister sweater and pulled on the plain black one as quickly as possible, so no-one caught a glimpse of the ugly red lines that stained his wrists.
He breathed in the familiar smell of the black hoodie, not realising how much he missed wearing it.
Before all his shit started, Gerard wore it every. fucking. day.
He smiled to himself as he made his way down the stairs to the welcoming aroma of coffee, knowing Mikey would be pleased that the real Gerard could possibly be returning...
Someone get me to the doctor, someone get me to a church
Where they can pump this venom gaping hole
And you must keep your soul like a secret in your throat
And if they come and get me
What if you put the spike in my heart
Gerard Way pulled his Blackberry from his Hollister hoodie and checked the message.
FROM: ANDREA SIMPSON
Gee, babes u free this fri 8pm?
party at mine xxxxx
He sighed exasperatedly and typed back a quick reply
TO: ANDREA SIMPSON
yo i'm kinda busy. @ a friend's house
tnks anyways (:
He rubbed the heels of his palms into his sore eyes and chucked his phone onto the plain blue sheets of his bed. Geez... shes scary he thought. Andrea had been constantly texting him since their fling at Sandra's last month. He had told her it meant nothing, that they were both drunk, but some people will just never listen.
He sat down heavily at his desk and pulled out his A3 sketchbook. Gerard spread his drawing pencils across the scratched wooden tabletop and stared blankly at the creamy white perfection in front of him before picking up a hard pencil and began to sketch the outline of a dragon.
~TIME LAPSE~
01:12 am
After six hours of absent minded drawing, Gerard sat back in his chair and admired the completed piece of work in front of him.
Even though it was a greyscale sketch, the contours and lines that formed the dragon made it jump out at the viewer, a powerful image against the plain white sheet beneath it.
Each scale of the dragon's menacing body was shaded, huge tendrils of fire unfolding onto the paper through the beast's gaping mouth. Its eyes gleamed with a bloodthirsty glow. Gerard hunched over the page for a few seconds at the time, rubbing out, re-shading, finishing it to perfection.
Finally, he tore it out of the sketchbook and stashed it in his draw, among many other sketches, pastel works and paintings.
Locking the draw carefully, he stumbled over to his bed and fell asleep immediately.
06:58 am
"GERARD ARTHUR WAY GET YOUR LAZY, GIRL-OBSESSED ASS UP NOW!" screamed Mikey into his brother's ear.
"Whasgoinon- Aw, Mikes fuck'n hell go'way," he mumbled back, burying his head into the soft blankets.
"NO WAY IN HELL GET UP OR YOU DON'T GET NO COFFEE!" he yelled.
Gerard's eyes flew open. "WHAT THE FUCK?! NO COFFEE?!"
Mikey grinned devilishly "Well that got you up," he chuckled, " Oh and by the way, your still wearing the stuff you were in yesterday dipshit."
Gerard looked down and groaned. His hoodie was all crumpled and his face probably had red lines from leaning on the sleeves of the jacket.
"I'll be down in about twenty minutes," he muttered, turning towards his wooden closet.
"Sure thing. I'll tell mum to make some more coffee for ya when you're done."
"Cheers Mikes."
"No problem-o bro."
Gerard walked over to his window that looked out onto the quiet residential street that he had live all his life. He slouched by the window, his face pressed up on the stone cold glass. He watched as people walked down the road; respectable businessmen talking rapidly on their shiny company phones, countless groups of teenagers chatting and walking together to school. Everyone he saw looked confident within themselves; they all had the spark in their faces that Gerard had long lost.
There was something missing in his life; it felt as though there was a gaping hole in his chest, a lost piece.
He had looked for it, there was no denying that. But he remained clueless.
So he gave up. Made do with being content rather than happy. He had friends, a good life and a queue of girls waiting to be his girlfriend.
Hell, even the jocks respected him.
But there was definitely something wrong and that thing, Gerard could not put his finger on.
He sighed and turned away from the window, just as a vibrant burst of colour caught his eye.
He whipped back round to face the window. Across the street, a girl was walking by herself. No, not a girl, a fucking walking rainbow.
She had candyfloss blue, waist length hair with a Little Mermaid style side fringe (A/N American translation: bangs) topped with bright orange Skullcandy headphones. She was wearing black and read striped tights and a pair of high waist black shorts, covered in what looked like chains and badges from a distance. She wore knee-height black converse and a multi-coloured, sleeveless corset-y top reaching the top of her red studded belt. Her skin was ghostly pale and was often interrupted by swirling black tattoos.
From what he could make out of her face, she was extremely pretty.
Gerard watched her with wide eyes as she strolled gracefully past his window. She had a bounce in her step even though he was sure she was aware of the disgusted looks people cast her as she passed them. She didn't fucking care. Because she knew who she was. And wasn't gonna let anyone take her alive.
Something deep inside Gerard's stomach stirred. He jumped with shock at the feeling he hadn't felt inside himself for so long. A little butterfly at the pit of his stomach.
The longer he watched her, the more prominent this sensation became. One butterfly, then two, then four, eight, sixteen...
And then she was gone.
Gerard sighed and turned back to his closet. He wrenched open the doors and mountains of clothes poured out on top of him. He gasped and stumbled back, throwing a green hoodie off his head.
He grabbed a pair of grey skinny jeans and held up three or four hoodies, debating between the red, blue, green... Black.
He threw off the baggy, baby-blue jeans he donned yesterday and pulled on his old skinnies. Before changing his shirt, he ran to his bedroom door and shut it tight. He listened through the wood for a moment or two. When he was sure no-one was coming, he ripped off his burgundy Hollister sweater and pulled on the plain black one as quickly as possible, so no-one caught a glimpse of the ugly red lines that stained his wrists.
He breathed in the familiar smell of the black hoodie, not realising how much he missed wearing it.
Before all his shit started, Gerard wore it every. fucking. day.
He smiled to himself as he made his way down the stairs to the welcoming aroma of coffee, knowing Mikey would be pleased that the real Gerard could possibly be returning...
Someone get me to the doctor, someone get me to a church
Where they can pump this venom gaping hole
And you must keep your soul like a secret in your throat
And if they come and get me
What if you put the spike in my heart
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