Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > If You Think That I'm Wrong, This Never Meant Nothing To You
Just Like The Hearse You Died To Get In Again
Lonely and struggling to get back into an art career, 21 year old Gerard Way unexpectedly stubbles upon the boy of his dreams. There's a problem though; Frank is only 17 and still in High School. ...
?Blocked
Gerard’s POV
It’s strange but if you think about it, when was the last time you saw an undertaker under the age of 50? That’s right, not many of them are there? Well not here in Belleville, New Jersey anyway, I can assure you of that.
Well I guess that’s just another thing you could add to the list of why Gerard Way is a freak. Here I am, 21 years old, and already sick of a career that no healthy, normal person in their right mind would have gotten into in the first place. Why work at a funeral parlour anyway, you may ask. Well the answer is simple; art teaching vacancies are not in huge supply around here. Yeah ok, I could have moved but the tiny flat I’ve lucked into renting cheap is the only thing I can afford and my pathetic lack of cooking abilities makes my life depend heavily on my mom’s plastic tubs of home cooking. And if I’m being brutally honest here, then I’ll just say that I’m not exactly the most sociable, easy to get on with type of guy. It may be completely pathetic but without my one childhood friend Ray, who’s always working, and my younger teen brother, Mikey, I would be a complete loner.
So anyway, here I am, trapped in this crummy little office sorting out all the paperwork necessary for yet another funeral.
At first there was something almost romantic and mysterious about this job, hell I even enjoyed it for a while. I guess as I grew up I developed an unhealthy obsession with my ideas of death. It completely consumed me, and dragged me into a dark world filled with fear and wonder rolled into one. Let me tell you that even the few months of this job that was knocked out of me. Through dealing with the heartbroken and abandoned souls of the living as they watched the broken, empty bodies of their loved ones being lowered into the ground, I lost all interest in the subject. The mystery was gone. Nothing remotely fascinating or exciting, only the reality that 95% of all the corpses died unsatisfied and 100% of their loved ones inconsolable and hurt beyond physical pain.
All I ever wanted was to just have a simple life writing and drawing comics, was that really too much to ask? Even after I gave up on that idea all I really hoped for was a job teaching art at one of the local high schools, maybe even to have someone special to share that life with. But no, here I was making preparations for yet another funeral. Just a sweet old lady of 84, a good age to die apparently. She had a caring family who had been expecting her death for a number of years. Nothing to really phase me, I'll tell you that.
They had warned me to never get too involved with a mourning family, that this was a business and it wasn't professional to get attached to a client. Actually they were so serious about this that if you were found to be having 'relations' with anyone you had met during a funeral, you would immediately lose your job. They even put it in your resume so that your next employer would be sure to know that the reason you were fired was for 'seducing' a vulnerable mourner! This I had brushed off as quickly as anything, I don't mean to be cruel but a weeping, whimpering mourner wasn't exactly the type that would get me going!
To be honest, I wasn't entirely sure if I even had a type. I had only had a few partners in my life, if you could even call them that. I wasn't blind; I knew that they cared little for me, just as I never truly loved them. I wasn't arrogant, but I knew that I was good looking; I could see it in the eyes of many every day. It hurt that people were so shallow though, they could never see past my looks and I had grown tired of being used. Still, I missed that level of adoration, even if it was only for my body
It’s something you can never quite explain, because you never really realise that you’re missing something. It’s like a deep emptiness, a hollow space somewhere within your body that no means of science or medicine can get near. It’s so hard to detect because, as people generally go, we don’t like to face up to our problems and issues. It’s really only until that space is filled that you realise the nothingness your life was before. For me, it was the second I first laid eyes on him that I finally realised just how meaningless my life had become. And of course, it was only when I saw him that I recognised the true potential life has to offer. I could be happy. I could mean something.
He was dressed all in black, with his black fringe draping down his face yet somehow light just seemed to shine out of him. Honestly, he was easily the most beautiful person I had ever seen.
Being around mourners on a daily basis, meant that I had grown rather immune to the painful weeping of people. But somehow just seeing this boy from afar with pain running down from his hidden eyes tore my heart into hopeless pieces.
That normal part of being a human where your brain sends signals to your limbs for them to move or not, somehow that part of me simply stopped working. I just couldn't help but walk over to standby his side. And oh, he was so much more up close. Even though my head was spinning trying to find the right words to say to comfort him and my stomach was in knots with nerves, the burning need I had to make him better made my arms slowly wrap around his skinny waist.
He automatically latched his small frame onto me and sobbed lightly onto my thick black coat.
"Thank you" he whispered softly into my ear before carefully pressing his full, plump lips to jaw. As he pulled away he looked up and our eyes locked intensely. I have never seen anything more beautiful in all my life.
He had the most captivating eyes I had ever seen, only shining brighter by his pure, pale skin and jet black hair. Dark swirls of a deep, inspiring brown, penetrating the entrancing mix of greens. I just fell right in and lost myself in his eyes; so much was in them, such a powerful blend of emotions and colours that it made the .
This would have been that perfect moment when we slowly leant forward locking our lips together passionately. But please, this is me we’re talking about. Just as I start to feel a hint of happiness, which I hadn’t felt in a long time, slowly creep into my cold heart there is a clearly disapproving cough from behind us. I look back to find a strange mix of emotions written all over a middle age woman's face.
Sadness.
Disgust.
Loss.
Confusion.
I recognised her as being the daughter of the old lady who had passed away so that at least explained the sadness tinting her cold, harsh eyes and the drying tears of loss smeared down her cheeks. But there was something in the way that she glared between my face and my arms wrapped around the smaller boy’s waist that sent a chill straight through my heart.
“I-i...I’m so sorry for your loss” I quickly muttered, more to the crushed leaves scattered underneath my feet than to the intimidating woman or the beautiful boy now standing next to me. There was not much I could do to save the awfully awkward situation I had put myself in so, like the coward I was, made a run for it.
I don’t know what has come over me but as I walk hurriedly back to the office all I can think about is the look of loss and loneliness on that boy’s face and how my heart swelled at how it was me that, even for a split second, sparked hope in those incredible eyes of his. This is completely ridiculous but I feel that I need to see him again. I’ve never felt like this before, but it’s pathetic I don’t even know the boy’s name!
A/N
Hey guys, I'm not really sure about this so please rate/review that would be great! Updates should be fairly regular depending in the response I get for it ;) Thanks for reading, CarronXxx
It’s strange but if you think about it, when was the last time you saw an undertaker under the age of 50? That’s right, not many of them are there? Well not here in Belleville, New Jersey anyway, I can assure you of that.
Well I guess that’s just another thing you could add to the list of why Gerard Way is a freak. Here I am, 21 years old, and already sick of a career that no healthy, normal person in their right mind would have gotten into in the first place. Why work at a funeral parlour anyway, you may ask. Well the answer is simple; art teaching vacancies are not in huge supply around here. Yeah ok, I could have moved but the tiny flat I’ve lucked into renting cheap is the only thing I can afford and my pathetic lack of cooking abilities makes my life depend heavily on my mom’s plastic tubs of home cooking. And if I’m being brutally honest here, then I’ll just say that I’m not exactly the most sociable, easy to get on with type of guy. It may be completely pathetic but without my one childhood friend Ray, who’s always working, and my younger teen brother, Mikey, I would be a complete loner.
So anyway, here I am, trapped in this crummy little office sorting out all the paperwork necessary for yet another funeral.
At first there was something almost romantic and mysterious about this job, hell I even enjoyed it for a while. I guess as I grew up I developed an unhealthy obsession with my ideas of death. It completely consumed me, and dragged me into a dark world filled with fear and wonder rolled into one. Let me tell you that even the few months of this job that was knocked out of me. Through dealing with the heartbroken and abandoned souls of the living as they watched the broken, empty bodies of their loved ones being lowered into the ground, I lost all interest in the subject. The mystery was gone. Nothing remotely fascinating or exciting, only the reality that 95% of all the corpses died unsatisfied and 100% of their loved ones inconsolable and hurt beyond physical pain.
All I ever wanted was to just have a simple life writing and drawing comics, was that really too much to ask? Even after I gave up on that idea all I really hoped for was a job teaching art at one of the local high schools, maybe even to have someone special to share that life with. But no, here I was making preparations for yet another funeral. Just a sweet old lady of 84, a good age to die apparently. She had a caring family who had been expecting her death for a number of years. Nothing to really phase me, I'll tell you that.
They had warned me to never get too involved with a mourning family, that this was a business and it wasn't professional to get attached to a client. Actually they were so serious about this that if you were found to be having 'relations' with anyone you had met during a funeral, you would immediately lose your job. They even put it in your resume so that your next employer would be sure to know that the reason you were fired was for 'seducing' a vulnerable mourner! This I had brushed off as quickly as anything, I don't mean to be cruel but a weeping, whimpering mourner wasn't exactly the type that would get me going!
To be honest, I wasn't entirely sure if I even had a type. I had only had a few partners in my life, if you could even call them that. I wasn't blind; I knew that they cared little for me, just as I never truly loved them. I wasn't arrogant, but I knew that I was good looking; I could see it in the eyes of many every day. It hurt that people were so shallow though, they could never see past my looks and I had grown tired of being used. Still, I missed that level of adoration, even if it was only for my body
It’s something you can never quite explain, because you never really realise that you’re missing something. It’s like a deep emptiness, a hollow space somewhere within your body that no means of science or medicine can get near. It’s so hard to detect because, as people generally go, we don’t like to face up to our problems and issues. It’s really only until that space is filled that you realise the nothingness your life was before. For me, it was the second I first laid eyes on him that I finally realised just how meaningless my life had become. And of course, it was only when I saw him that I recognised the true potential life has to offer. I could be happy. I could mean something.
He was dressed all in black, with his black fringe draping down his face yet somehow light just seemed to shine out of him. Honestly, he was easily the most beautiful person I had ever seen.
Being around mourners on a daily basis, meant that I had grown rather immune to the painful weeping of people. But somehow just seeing this boy from afar with pain running down from his hidden eyes tore my heart into hopeless pieces.
That normal part of being a human where your brain sends signals to your limbs for them to move or not, somehow that part of me simply stopped working. I just couldn't help but walk over to standby his side. And oh, he was so much more up close. Even though my head was spinning trying to find the right words to say to comfort him and my stomach was in knots with nerves, the burning need I had to make him better made my arms slowly wrap around his skinny waist.
He automatically latched his small frame onto me and sobbed lightly onto my thick black coat.
"Thank you" he whispered softly into my ear before carefully pressing his full, plump lips to jaw. As he pulled away he looked up and our eyes locked intensely. I have never seen anything more beautiful in all my life.
He had the most captivating eyes I had ever seen, only shining brighter by his pure, pale skin and jet black hair. Dark swirls of a deep, inspiring brown, penetrating the entrancing mix of greens. I just fell right in and lost myself in his eyes; so much was in them, such a powerful blend of emotions and colours that it made the .
This would have been that perfect moment when we slowly leant forward locking our lips together passionately. But please, this is me we’re talking about. Just as I start to feel a hint of happiness, which I hadn’t felt in a long time, slowly creep into my cold heart there is a clearly disapproving cough from behind us. I look back to find a strange mix of emotions written all over a middle age woman's face.
Sadness.
Disgust.
Loss.
Confusion.
I recognised her as being the daughter of the old lady who had passed away so that at least explained the sadness tinting her cold, harsh eyes and the drying tears of loss smeared down her cheeks. But there was something in the way that she glared between my face and my arms wrapped around the smaller boy’s waist that sent a chill straight through my heart.
“I-i...I’m so sorry for your loss” I quickly muttered, more to the crushed leaves scattered underneath my feet than to the intimidating woman or the beautiful boy now standing next to me. There was not much I could do to save the awfully awkward situation I had put myself in so, like the coward I was, made a run for it.
I don’t know what has come over me but as I walk hurriedly back to the office all I can think about is the look of loss and loneliness on that boy’s face and how my heart swelled at how it was me that, even for a split second, sparked hope in those incredible eyes of his. This is completely ridiculous but I feel that I need to see him again. I’ve never felt like this before, but it’s pathetic I don’t even know the boy’s name!
A/N
Hey guys, I'm not really sure about this so please rate/review that would be great! Updates should be fairly regular depending in the response I get for it ;) Thanks for reading, CarronXxx
Sign up to rate and review this story