Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Bullets
We could be perfect one last night
Frank leaned carefully over the hood of his car and dropped the smoldering cigarette butt on the ground, stomping the pile of ash out with his foot. Leaning back onto the windshield of his Camaro, he closed his eyes and, not for the first time that day, wished that he hadn’t gotten hammered the former night.
Frank was what you called ‘bisexual’, attracted to both genders, both a unique blessing and a curse. Without going into too much detail, he and his boyfriend, Mikey, had visited a seedy dive bar which had a serious infestation of sluts looking for a quick buck. Seeing as he had been thoroughly intoxicated before long, Frank spent the remainder of his money (forty dollars) on half an hour. As fate would have it, a still-sober Mikey had seen the whole escapade, and broke off outside the bar by throwing a pair of shoelaces at him- the ones that they had written on in ultrafine Sharpie ‘TOGETHER FOR-FUCKING-EVER, BIOTCHES’ on. The shoelaces that were currently tied around his neck in a desperate attempt to hold onto the past. He fingered the jute string, the stiff aglets and sighed.
“Idiot.” he told himself. “You’re an idiot, Frank.”
Another cigarette ignited by the cheap, drugstore lighter. The smoke billowed from the end, the nicotine doing nothing to soothe the ache of guilt. Frank leaned backwards, closing his eyes against the chill of the hood’s metal. A few minutes of peace was all he could hope for...
Loud coughing was heard and Frank’s eyes snapped open, seeing a less-than-pleased Gerard towering over him. Frank took the cigarette out of his mouth and blew on it, watching Gerard wave the remaining rings of smoke out of his face.
“What do you want?” he said, harsher than intended. Gerard’s gaze only intensified. Frank guessed it was about Mikey.
“I want you to apologize. Mikey’s refusing to come out of his room, hell, he won’t even talk to anyone.”
At that, Frank felt another stab of guilt. Mikey was sensitive. He knew that, but still that didn’t seem to quell his momentary madness with the damn hooker. The damn hooker! Now he was blaming everything on the hooker.
“What makes you think I could help with that?”
Gerard grabbed the shoestring necklace. “That’s why.” He pulled up violently, not choking Frank but bringing him to his level. “Look. I, for one, don’t want you anywhere near my little brother. I’d kick you out of the band, too, if we didn’t need you so much. But Mikey asked for you, and damn it, you’re going to see him.”
He released his grip on Frank’s neck and let him drop to the ground, shocked to silence. Normally, Gerard was pretty calm about these things. Except when Mikey was concerned, of course.
Frank picked himself up off the ground and clambered into his car, started the engine, and briefly contemplated running over Gerard before pulling out of the driveway.
~0.*.0~
Gerard had left the front door unlocked.
As Frank turned the rusted knob, he could hear the gears disengaging and, just barely, he heard faint keening, like a banshee.
That can’t be Mikey. he told himself. It can’t be.
He repeated that to himself that phrase as the door slowly opened, as he ascended the rough wood steps, knocked on the door of Mikey’s bedroom. He was lying to himself, as the horrible sound was emitting directly from the room that he stood in front of.
Waiting a minute or two with no answer, Frank opened the door himself to a room darkened from the lack of lighting.
He heard a muffled cry from a Mikey-shaped lump in the corner of the room by the en suite- “Go away Gerard!”
“I’m not Gerard.” he said, closing the door behind him, but not turning the lights on- several days in the dark would leave Mikey blind as a mole and he’d rather talk face-to-face.
He sat down by the convulsing pile of blankets and peeled back one of them, revealing a mop of brown hair. Another blanket taken off showed Mikey’s face, tearstained and looking more like a young boy than a young adult.
“F-fuck off, Frank.” he said quietly.
For some reason, Frank suddenly wanted to replace Mikey under the cavern of blankets and cry for the rest of his life.
Shit. I fucked up so badly... he thought. Wallowing in his grief, he stood and was about to walk away when he heard Mikey speak again.
“Wait.” he turned seeing Mikey peeling himself out of the multitude of random quilts. “I-I didn’t mean that. Stay.”
The pressure on his left shoulder was Mikey’s hand, holding him in place. Slowly, he turned around.
“I’m sorry.” he said.
“I know,” Mikey answered. “That’s the worst part.”
Frank took on a confused expression.
“It’d be easier to hate me if you weren’t sorry. But you’re not. So I can’t.” Mikey explained, removing his hand from Frank’s shoulder.
“I’m an idiot.” Frank mumbled for the third time.
“You are.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“I wish I could go back in time.”
“So do I.”
“It’s killing me.”
“Filling you with sorrow?”
“...Something like that.”
Suddenly, the whole situation reminded Frank of a song that Gerard had been in the process of writing.
“Our Lady of Sorrows.” he said.
“You’re sorry?”
Frank almost felt like leaving. Almost.
“I thought we went through this-“
“Are. You. Sorry?” Mikey repeated slowly, enunciating every syllable.
“As sorry as I’ve ever been.” he said finally.
In an instant, Mikey pulled him into a hug.
“You’re forgiven.”
Somehow, Frank sensed there was a catch.
“I’ll forgive, but not forget.” he continued.
Mikey walked over to his dresser, opened the top drawer and pulled out a blank shoelace and a black marker. He stretched the shoelace out on the floor and started writing on it. Frank leaned over to see what he wrote, but Mikey pushed him away before he got a good look.
“Not ‘til I’m finished.” he said.
A few minutes later, he stood up with the shoelace, which now read in thick black lettering: ‘I AM AN IDIOT.’
“No.”
“Yes.” Mikey smirked and tackled him, pinning him to the ground just as Gerard opened the door.
“Mikey? Are you okay? I left the door unlocked and- woah.” the accidentally suggestive scene splayed out before him.
As Frank froze and went limp from embarrassment, Mikey finished tying the offensive shoelace around his neck. He climbed off of him and admired his handiwork, as Gerard did as well.
“’I am an idiot’, huh?” Gerard smirked, nearly identical to his brother’s. “Fitting.”
The sheer ridiculousness of the situation struck them, and soon they were all laughing together and cracking jokes...
Just like normal.
Just like it was supposed to be.
And we can settle this affair
I LOVE FRIKEY.
Just thought I'd let everybody know.
Frank leaned carefully over the hood of his car and dropped the smoldering cigarette butt on the ground, stomping the pile of ash out with his foot. Leaning back onto the windshield of his Camaro, he closed his eyes and, not for the first time that day, wished that he hadn’t gotten hammered the former night.
Frank was what you called ‘bisexual’, attracted to both genders, both a unique blessing and a curse. Without going into too much detail, he and his boyfriend, Mikey, had visited a seedy dive bar which had a serious infestation of sluts looking for a quick buck. Seeing as he had been thoroughly intoxicated before long, Frank spent the remainder of his money (forty dollars) on half an hour. As fate would have it, a still-sober Mikey had seen the whole escapade, and broke off outside the bar by throwing a pair of shoelaces at him- the ones that they had written on in ultrafine Sharpie ‘TOGETHER FOR-FUCKING-EVER, BIOTCHES’ on. The shoelaces that were currently tied around his neck in a desperate attempt to hold onto the past. He fingered the jute string, the stiff aglets and sighed.
“Idiot.” he told himself. “You’re an idiot, Frank.”
Another cigarette ignited by the cheap, drugstore lighter. The smoke billowed from the end, the nicotine doing nothing to soothe the ache of guilt. Frank leaned backwards, closing his eyes against the chill of the hood’s metal. A few minutes of peace was all he could hope for...
Loud coughing was heard and Frank’s eyes snapped open, seeing a less-than-pleased Gerard towering over him. Frank took the cigarette out of his mouth and blew on it, watching Gerard wave the remaining rings of smoke out of his face.
“What do you want?” he said, harsher than intended. Gerard’s gaze only intensified. Frank guessed it was about Mikey.
“I want you to apologize. Mikey’s refusing to come out of his room, hell, he won’t even talk to anyone.”
At that, Frank felt another stab of guilt. Mikey was sensitive. He knew that, but still that didn’t seem to quell his momentary madness with the damn hooker. The damn hooker! Now he was blaming everything on the hooker.
“What makes you think I could help with that?”
Gerard grabbed the shoestring necklace. “That’s why.” He pulled up violently, not choking Frank but bringing him to his level. “Look. I, for one, don’t want you anywhere near my little brother. I’d kick you out of the band, too, if we didn’t need you so much. But Mikey asked for you, and damn it, you’re going to see him.”
He released his grip on Frank’s neck and let him drop to the ground, shocked to silence. Normally, Gerard was pretty calm about these things. Except when Mikey was concerned, of course.
Frank picked himself up off the ground and clambered into his car, started the engine, and briefly contemplated running over Gerard before pulling out of the driveway.
~0.*.0~
Gerard had left the front door unlocked.
As Frank turned the rusted knob, he could hear the gears disengaging and, just barely, he heard faint keening, like a banshee.
That can’t be Mikey. he told himself. It can’t be.
He repeated that to himself that phrase as the door slowly opened, as he ascended the rough wood steps, knocked on the door of Mikey’s bedroom. He was lying to himself, as the horrible sound was emitting directly from the room that he stood in front of.
Waiting a minute or two with no answer, Frank opened the door himself to a room darkened from the lack of lighting.
He heard a muffled cry from a Mikey-shaped lump in the corner of the room by the en suite- “Go away Gerard!”
“I’m not Gerard.” he said, closing the door behind him, but not turning the lights on- several days in the dark would leave Mikey blind as a mole and he’d rather talk face-to-face.
He sat down by the convulsing pile of blankets and peeled back one of them, revealing a mop of brown hair. Another blanket taken off showed Mikey’s face, tearstained and looking more like a young boy than a young adult.
“F-fuck off, Frank.” he said quietly.
For some reason, Frank suddenly wanted to replace Mikey under the cavern of blankets and cry for the rest of his life.
Shit. I fucked up so badly... he thought. Wallowing in his grief, he stood and was about to walk away when he heard Mikey speak again.
“Wait.” he turned seeing Mikey peeling himself out of the multitude of random quilts. “I-I didn’t mean that. Stay.”
The pressure on his left shoulder was Mikey’s hand, holding him in place. Slowly, he turned around.
“I’m sorry.” he said.
“I know,” Mikey answered. “That’s the worst part.”
Frank took on a confused expression.
“It’d be easier to hate me if you weren’t sorry. But you’re not. So I can’t.” Mikey explained, removing his hand from Frank’s shoulder.
“I’m an idiot.” Frank mumbled for the third time.
“You are.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“I wish I could go back in time.”
“So do I.”
“It’s killing me.”
“Filling you with sorrow?”
“...Something like that.”
Suddenly, the whole situation reminded Frank of a song that Gerard had been in the process of writing.
“Our Lady of Sorrows.” he said.
“You’re sorry?”
Frank almost felt like leaving. Almost.
“I thought we went through this-“
“Are. You. Sorry?” Mikey repeated slowly, enunciating every syllable.
“As sorry as I’ve ever been.” he said finally.
In an instant, Mikey pulled him into a hug.
“You’re forgiven.”
Somehow, Frank sensed there was a catch.
“I’ll forgive, but not forget.” he continued.
Mikey walked over to his dresser, opened the top drawer and pulled out a blank shoelace and a black marker. He stretched the shoelace out on the floor and started writing on it. Frank leaned over to see what he wrote, but Mikey pushed him away before he got a good look.
“Not ‘til I’m finished.” he said.
A few minutes later, he stood up with the shoelace, which now read in thick black lettering: ‘I AM AN IDIOT.’
“No.”
“Yes.” Mikey smirked and tackled him, pinning him to the ground just as Gerard opened the door.
“Mikey? Are you okay? I left the door unlocked and- woah.” the accidentally suggestive scene splayed out before him.
As Frank froze and went limp from embarrassment, Mikey finished tying the offensive shoelace around his neck. He climbed off of him and admired his handiwork, as Gerard did as well.
“’I am an idiot’, huh?” Gerard smirked, nearly identical to his brother’s. “Fitting.”
The sheer ridiculousness of the situation struck them, and soon they were all laughing together and cracking jokes...
Just like normal.
Just like it was supposed to be.
And we can settle this affair
I LOVE FRIKEY.
Just thought I'd let everybody know.
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