Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > I Never Told You What I Do For A Living
Hey guys, okay I'm sorry if this chapter is really bad, I'm pretty ill at the moment and I'm not sure how long it will be till I can write a proper chapter so this ones kind of a filler! I'm not sure if im crazy about the ending so if you think there's a need for improvement please R&R and let me know? I'm sorry if its really bad, your opinions are always welcome! xo
Today was the first day Gerard had left the house since Mikey's visit. He wasn't sure how many days ago that had been- two? Three? All he knew was that he hadn't slept, showered or had any human contact since Mikey had left his flat, and that was all too apparent.
Gerard was used to living in his head. Even as a child, he was quiet and introverted, preferring to draw or listen to music while the others played in the sand pit or at football. It was just his nature- he wasn't anti-social, just not pro-people. He spent most of his time alone, and as long as everyone left him to it, he was fine with that. Gerard wondered what would happen if the people he had known back then found out what he did now. Would they blame themselves? For not paying more attention to quiet little Gerard, for not making an effort with him, for not encouraging his talents? His teachers, his family, Mikey? Gerard supposed they would. But it wasn't their fault- it wasn't anyones fault he had turned out the way he did. His obsession with murder didn't come from his sitting alone in his young life. His need to kill had nothing to do with him being 'the quiet one'. Gerard, quite simply, was a killer.
He imagined that if he ever was caught, if the police ever did track him down, with their badges and weapons and jagged metal handcuffs, the conclusion they would come to would be that they were revenge killings. That Gerard murdering these people was his way of kicking back at the world which had made him so uncomfortable, had set him apart, which had abandoned him.
Gerard smiled at these thoughts as he walked down the busy street, noticing the looks he got from passers by, either for his greasy hair, his tattered clothes or the smirk he currently wore on his face. Revenge. Gerard liked that word. He liked it a lot.
He could feel eyes on him as he walked, and gradually he became more and more uncomfortable. Was someone on to him? It could be the police, he supposed. Trying to act nonchalant, he threw a glance over his shoulder. A lady with a push chair who hadn't noticed him, and a young boy, possibly ages with Mikey, with soft brown hair and large hazel eyes. The only reason Gerard noticed this last part was because they were boring right into him. Turning back around, he felt the smirk creep back onto his face. Had he been checking Gerard out? He wiggled his hips slightly as he walked, conscious of how tight the jeans he was wearing were, and was pleased to see that the next time he looked around the kid was a delicate shade of pink and was delibaretly averting his gaze. In a better mood than before, Gerard turned right towards his appartment, still smiling to himself.
***
Frank wandered aimlessly down the main street, disinterested in the people around him and un-inticed by the shops placed bleakly on the sidewalk. He just wanted to walk, but instead of his usual jaunt around the park, Frank had taken a different turn today and ended up in the centre of Belleville, and was now stuck behind a woman with a large pushchair, who in turn was stuck behind a tall dark haired man in a leather jacket.
Frank was unsure why, but he took a sudden interest in this man. He tried to determine what age he might have been from his view of his back- he was tall, with quite broad shoulders, constrasting slightly with his thin legs. He had an odd, relaxed gait, as though he knew people were staring and didn't care. And they were. Woman walked by with their children, glancing at him suspiciously; men walked by and brought themselves to their full height as though sizing them up; girls walked by in groups, their eyes fixed on him until he had walked by, then bursting into secretive giggles. And now Frank was staring too.
Almost as soon as he had registered this thought, as though on queue, the man turned round and looked straight at Frank, and the younger boy felt a jolt like electricity cut through him. He was attractive-of course he was- with black hair and high cheekbones and a nose that flicked ever so slightly upward. But the first thing Frank noticed were his eyes- huge, hazel, and horribly familiar.
Frank felt his breath hitch in his throat and his chest tighten. He was standing only a few feet behind a murderer.
Desperately trying to avert his gaze, Frank looked around the busy street, panic building inside of him. This man was dangerous- there was no doubt about it. The idea of him wandereing the same streets as Frank was sickening and terrifying; but once again, Frank was of two minds as to turn to the police or not. When he plucked up the courage to take another glance, he saw that the was was still walking with the same steady gait, but now he was sashaying his hips ever so slightly, and most likely in full awareness of his figure hugging jeans. Despite himself, Frank blushed slightly and attempted to look away, feeling slightly like one of the giggling group of girls he had passed earlier. At this moment, the man chose to peer over his shoulder at Frank and smile infuriatingly when he saw he was blushing. Wonderful, Frank thought to himself, now I look like a schoolgirl with a crush.
He gave himself a mental shake- priorities, geez!- and went back to carefully watching where the man was heading. Suddenly, he took a sharp right turn and disappeared from view. Frank slowed his pace down so as not to be noticed, praying that when he reached the corner the man would not be standing with a sharp reckoning reserved for him. Upon reaching the alley he poked his head round cautiously, his breathing quick. He watched as the man fumbled for his keys, and took a tentative step forwards... CRACK. Frank's heart flew up into his mouth as he stood on something hard and plastic on the ground. Whipping his head around the corner, he took deep, steadying breaths and prayed that the man had heard nothing. The alley was silent now, and Frank took the opportunity to look down at his feet and see that he had stood on a lighter, the plastic surprisingly still intact. Three letters were written in sharpie on the purple casing; G.A.W.
Poking his head around the corner, he saw that the alley was deserted. Cursing himself for missing the man enter the building, Frank slunk around the wall and approached the porch, looking around to make sure the man was definitely inside the building. The paint on the door was peeling, and the rough casting on the outside of the flat was stained and grubby. There were 4 buzzers on the panel by the door, and only one had intials written on it.
G.A.W.
Today was the first day Gerard had left the house since Mikey's visit. He wasn't sure how many days ago that had been- two? Three? All he knew was that he hadn't slept, showered or had any human contact since Mikey had left his flat, and that was all too apparent.
Gerard was used to living in his head. Even as a child, he was quiet and introverted, preferring to draw or listen to music while the others played in the sand pit or at football. It was just his nature- he wasn't anti-social, just not pro-people. He spent most of his time alone, and as long as everyone left him to it, he was fine with that. Gerard wondered what would happen if the people he had known back then found out what he did now. Would they blame themselves? For not paying more attention to quiet little Gerard, for not making an effort with him, for not encouraging his talents? His teachers, his family, Mikey? Gerard supposed they would. But it wasn't their fault- it wasn't anyones fault he had turned out the way he did. His obsession with murder didn't come from his sitting alone in his young life. His need to kill had nothing to do with him being 'the quiet one'. Gerard, quite simply, was a killer.
He imagined that if he ever was caught, if the police ever did track him down, with their badges and weapons and jagged metal handcuffs, the conclusion they would come to would be that they were revenge killings. That Gerard murdering these people was his way of kicking back at the world which had made him so uncomfortable, had set him apart, which had abandoned him.
Gerard smiled at these thoughts as he walked down the busy street, noticing the looks he got from passers by, either for his greasy hair, his tattered clothes or the smirk he currently wore on his face. Revenge. Gerard liked that word. He liked it a lot.
He could feel eyes on him as he walked, and gradually he became more and more uncomfortable. Was someone on to him? It could be the police, he supposed. Trying to act nonchalant, he threw a glance over his shoulder. A lady with a push chair who hadn't noticed him, and a young boy, possibly ages with Mikey, with soft brown hair and large hazel eyes. The only reason Gerard noticed this last part was because they were boring right into him. Turning back around, he felt the smirk creep back onto his face. Had he been checking Gerard out? He wiggled his hips slightly as he walked, conscious of how tight the jeans he was wearing were, and was pleased to see that the next time he looked around the kid was a delicate shade of pink and was delibaretly averting his gaze. In a better mood than before, Gerard turned right towards his appartment, still smiling to himself.
***
Frank wandered aimlessly down the main street, disinterested in the people around him and un-inticed by the shops placed bleakly on the sidewalk. He just wanted to walk, but instead of his usual jaunt around the park, Frank had taken a different turn today and ended up in the centre of Belleville, and was now stuck behind a woman with a large pushchair, who in turn was stuck behind a tall dark haired man in a leather jacket.
Frank was unsure why, but he took a sudden interest in this man. He tried to determine what age he might have been from his view of his back- he was tall, with quite broad shoulders, constrasting slightly with his thin legs. He had an odd, relaxed gait, as though he knew people were staring and didn't care. And they were. Woman walked by with their children, glancing at him suspiciously; men walked by and brought themselves to their full height as though sizing them up; girls walked by in groups, their eyes fixed on him until he had walked by, then bursting into secretive giggles. And now Frank was staring too.
Almost as soon as he had registered this thought, as though on queue, the man turned round and looked straight at Frank, and the younger boy felt a jolt like electricity cut through him. He was attractive-of course he was- with black hair and high cheekbones and a nose that flicked ever so slightly upward. But the first thing Frank noticed were his eyes- huge, hazel, and horribly familiar.
Frank felt his breath hitch in his throat and his chest tighten. He was standing only a few feet behind a murderer.
Desperately trying to avert his gaze, Frank looked around the busy street, panic building inside of him. This man was dangerous- there was no doubt about it. The idea of him wandereing the same streets as Frank was sickening and terrifying; but once again, Frank was of two minds as to turn to the police or not. When he plucked up the courage to take another glance, he saw that the was was still walking with the same steady gait, but now he was sashaying his hips ever so slightly, and most likely in full awareness of his figure hugging jeans. Despite himself, Frank blushed slightly and attempted to look away, feeling slightly like one of the giggling group of girls he had passed earlier. At this moment, the man chose to peer over his shoulder at Frank and smile infuriatingly when he saw he was blushing. Wonderful, Frank thought to himself, now I look like a schoolgirl with a crush.
He gave himself a mental shake- priorities, geez!- and went back to carefully watching where the man was heading. Suddenly, he took a sharp right turn and disappeared from view. Frank slowed his pace down so as not to be noticed, praying that when he reached the corner the man would not be standing with a sharp reckoning reserved for him. Upon reaching the alley he poked his head round cautiously, his breathing quick. He watched as the man fumbled for his keys, and took a tentative step forwards... CRACK. Frank's heart flew up into his mouth as he stood on something hard and plastic on the ground. Whipping his head around the corner, he took deep, steadying breaths and prayed that the man had heard nothing. The alley was silent now, and Frank took the opportunity to look down at his feet and see that he had stood on a lighter, the plastic surprisingly still intact. Three letters were written in sharpie on the purple casing; G.A.W.
Poking his head around the corner, he saw that the alley was deserted. Cursing himself for missing the man enter the building, Frank slunk around the wall and approached the porch, looking around to make sure the man was definitely inside the building. The paint on the door was peeling, and the rough casting on the outside of the flat was stained and grubby. There were 4 buzzers on the panel by the door, and only one had intials written on it.
G.A.W.
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