Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Hero
I'm going to be honest. I though this would take longer to write, but the first bit flowed really easily and then... I had to re-write the rest of it four times. It's not the longest chapter, but it's over 2,000 words at least.
LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK OF THIS ONE - IF IT'S NOT SO GOOD, I CAN RE-DO IT. I'M QUITE TIRED RIGHT ABOUT NOW.
RATE/REVEIW? :3
ENJOY!
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The guy above Frank was shoving in and out of him, and Frank was listening to him moan. He knew he was supposed to be enjoying this, but he only felt dispassionate as the eyes above him were brown not the stupid brilliant fucking green he still couldn’t completely eradicate from his mind. It was beyond ridiculous.
The guy was hot though, and Frank had picked him up about an hour earlier in a club, and now they were at his place, and Frank knew he was supposed to be feeling a bit more than “is it nearly over yet?”. But he wasn’t, so he went through the motions and carried on listening to his partner groan in pleasure, Frank’s legs hooked around the other guy’s waist.
He finished, coming with a huge moan of Frank’s name – Frank hadn’t recalled telling the guy his name, and he sure as hell couldn’t remember his – and slumping on top of Frank. He realized if he bothered to poke into the guy’s head he’d get the name, but he didn’t really give a shit.
Frank pulled out from under him and trained his flirty expression on his face, winking at the latest guy in a very long string of guys, and shoving his clothes on.
“That was fun,” he said smirking at the spent guy on the bed. His mind objected to that, but Frank told it to piss off. “See ya round, sweetheart.”
“Can I get your number?” they guy on the bed asked lazily. “You were the best fuck I’ve had in a long time.”
And you’re one of the worst I’ve had, Frank thought to himself. He decided that would be pretty rude, and he prided himself on at least being civil to the guys he fucked (or who fucked him, he supposed) but he made a point of only sleeping with a guy once. He was still caught on – no, he wasn’t going to admit it, not even in his head, because that would be like admitting he was weak.
“I only fuck guys once,” Frank purred, feeling bile rise in his stomach at having to flirt with this substitute of whom he really wanted. “So, nope, honey.”
And with that, Frank sauntered back out of the guy’s apartment, swinging his hips slightly and pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it. Outside, the Belleville air was damp and cold and he shivered, pulling his black denim jacket a little tighter around himself and began to walk back towards the main part of town.
His watch told him it was only one in the morning, and he knew he had time to go back to the club and pick up someone else. He knew it wasn’t going to help, but he didn’t have a reputation as a man whore for nothing.
Once inside the dark club with it’s thudding beats and grinding guys, he scanned the crowd at the club, and began to use his head to check for guys that didn’t recognize him at all, and also saw him with lust tainting their brains. There were no more than twelve, and up until recently, that would of made him pretty happy, but today, he just swaggered up to the closet one and stuck his tongue in the guy’s mouth, whispering the infamous “your place or mine?”.
They made their way back to his house, stopping every couple of meters to make out until the random guy moaned and ground against Frank to show him how desperate he was. Frank smirked and pulled his latest fuck up the steps into his apartment, giving his new lover a show, wiggling his ass deliberately and dropping the key outside his door. Clothes were shed frantically, and soon Frank was under the other guy, tipping his hips up coyly, hoping that his guy could make him forget about those green eyes.
And as the guy pounded into him and filled him up, Frank couldn’t help but wonder about how fucking empty he felt inside.
=====================================================================
The next morning; Frank was pleased to find himself in his own home and only slightly hung over, but was a lot less happy with yet another mysterious guy in the bed next to him. He wasn’t surprised though, after all, it was Saturday and that meant that last night he’d been on the prowl. He vaguely remembered some other guy that didn’t look like the one next to him and realized he must of picked up two last night. Frank frowned; he’d been doing that more than once lately, or engaging in threesomes, something he’d never planned on doing. He was getting worse.
The banging on the door had woken him, another realization, and when he heard the familiar voice yell through the letterbox, Frank groaned and got out of bed slowly, his ass feeling a bit sore. That hadn’t happened in a while, both the guys the night before must have been pretty rough. He shrugged it off, nothing he couldn’t handle, and certainly not as bad as his first time with – not going down that route, Frank told himself and instead focused on the insistent banging on the door. He shoved on some boxers and shuffled to the door.
“Alright, Ray, I’m coming! Jesus dude!” He opened the door to his tall friend, and grinned at the exasperated look on Ray’s face at how he was moving. Apparently, it was obvious that his ass hurt. Ray shook his head and strode in the door, to be faced with a half naked guy in the kitchen.
“Er, who is this?” Ray inquired politely. Frank glared at him; Ray bloody well knew that Frank didn’t bother with names. And now he was going to look pretty fucking stupid. He was about to jump into the guy’s head but -
But the half naked guy answered.
“I kinda don’t know who you are, so I’m guessing it’s mutual… I’ll just be going… Oh,” turning to Frank, his tone of voice changed, becoming deeper and fluttering his eyelashes at the smaller man “Call me anytime you like, sweetie. You’ve a got a fucking fabulous ass.”
Frank rolled his eyes. He’d been hearing that way too much at the moment.
“Only do guys once. If you wouldn’t mind…” Frank gestured towards the door, and the guy left, but only after scrawling his number down on an open envelope and winking at Frank as he passed.
Ray watched the whole thing with an amused smirk on his face, and once the other guy had left, Frank groaned and collapsed into the wooden chair and slumped his head on the table. He lifted his head wearily to look at his lifelong friend, and scowled at him when he noticed Ray still had that smirk on his features.
“What?” he snapped at Ray, who only shook his head, before dropping himself lightly into the chair opposite, and leant forward towards his small tattooed friend, palms facing upwards and his face earnest.
“Frank, you have to stop with the whoring. It’s making you really unhappy.” When Ray saw Frank shaking his head, he sighed and stood up again, getting the tattooed man slumped at the table a glass of water and couple of tablets. He set them on the table next to Frank’s elbow, and tried again.
“Well, it clearly is. You’ve been weird since that bloody school in California! Which was four years ago!” Frank flinched at the mention of “that bloody school” and it didn’t go unnoticed by Ray. He crouched down next to his friend, and sighed again, and lightly started to rub Frank’s back soothingly.
“What happened out there Frankie?” Frank took several deep breaths, before lifting his head of his folded arms and looked Ray right in the eye, his expression completely blank. That told Ray that something had happened out there, and it also meant that Frank was beginning to dig through his head.
Ray sighed, knowing that all that was in his mind was honest concern for his friend, and a desperate longing for Frank to be happy, with a guy he honestly loved and cared about and was ready and willing to build a future with. Not some random he didn’t know for more than twenty minutes and just fucked.
He didn’t think that was even satisfying Frank anymore. His friend needed it to mean something. Frank always forgot that just because Ray couldn’t move shit with his head or mind-read didn’t mean he couldn’t read Frank like a book. Frank’s hazel eyes just looked worn out and sad, and Ray knew this cycle needed to end.
He could so clearly see Frank returning from California with something heavy and gloomy in his eyes, and that summer, his whoring began – he’d fuck every damn guy he’d get, and that had been four years ago.
And here he still was; that same broken look in his eyes and with a guy (or a few guys) between his legs every damn night.
“C’mon Frankie. You can tell me about anything, you know that. Did you meet a guy out in California?”
Frank’s jaw gritted and his eyes hardened, boring into Ray’s. After a second, the furious glare softened, and Ray felt awful for his friend as he watched the tears well up in Frank’s eyes. Frank let out a soft sob and buried his head in his hands.
“It’s so fucking stupid!” Frank bit out angrily. “I’ve been with so many other guys, over four fucking years, and I still can’t get over the guy! Four. Years. Not to mention he couldn’t even be openly gay!” Frank begins to cry, huge, heaving sobs making his whole back shake and Ray slides his hands round his friend’s shoulder and just holds onto him.
Frank pushes Ray’s arms of off him, and the chair clatters to the floor because of the way he stands up so abruptly. His tattooed shoulders are tense, and he looks furious. Ray knows that rage isn’t directed at him though – he’d know about it if Frank were mad at him. He’d end up with a broken jaw or similar.
The tears are still glittering in Frank’s hazel eyes and all he can feel is that desperate longing to be with the one guy he still loved, they guy he’d given everything too, and never bothered getting it back.
Well, he was paying for it now, wasn’t he?
He looks at Ray sadly and shakes his head.
“I could pretend nothing happened in California in an attempt to deceive you, but that would be an insult to your intelligence in regards to my mannerisms.” Ray winces; the sophisticated language whenever Frank got particular upset or angry was a trait he brought back with him from California. Before, he’d just swear at everyone in sight and try to kick the shit out of him or her.
He still tried kicking the shit out of them, to be fair (and often succeeded – Frank angry was not pretty), but now he became someone else whenever he was emotionally vulnerable. Someone with a steely glint in his eyes and a silver spooned tongue that made Ray feel a little helpless when dealing with him. But he supposed that whenever Frank did this, it made him feel a little closer to whomever he was missing like a limb.
It saddened Ray that Frank felt like the whole thing was hopeless. He opened his mouth to say so, but Frank just bored into his eyes and scowled slightly, implying he’d already heard the remark straight from Ray’s mind. Frank just looks at Ray, features blank and cold.
Frank can feel Ray’s longing for him to be happy trickle through his head, and it upsets him that he can’t seem to do that one thing for Ray. He wants to be happy, but he doesn’t know how to stop, and everyone he sleeps with just reminds him of the boy he’d rather forget. The way they moan, the way their skin glows in the dim light, the way their hair falls across their eyes – that one guy seems to be in everyone he fucks.
And Frank’s honestly not sure how much longer he can keep going with this downward spiral. It’s been worse lately; like a drug, he needs more than one rendezvous, as Ray’s taken to calling them, in a night to keep the memories or the urge to hunt those eyes down at bay.
Frank knows he’s not wanted by him – the guy made that clear when he ran out of that dorm – but part of Frank wants to find him, and ask him if he’s happy. If living that lie is enough for him, the way that Frank ignoring his feelings is (not) enough for himself.
He just misses him. And apparently, four years wasn’t enough to get over him. Frank feels slightly pathetic as Ray tries to coax the story out of him.
“Ray… just leave it. Okay?” Frank asks his oldest friend softly. He didn’t want to relive the horror story he’d been told, he didn’t want to picture that pale beautiful face and body disappear through the door after the best night of his life.
The tall afro haired man looks at his smaller tattooed friend for a moment, and Frank doesn’t have to open his telepathy to recognize Ray’s look of pity slide across his usually happy features. He doesn’t want Ray’s pity, but he understands how he must look to the other man; eyes weary and tired, tears in his eyes and only wearing the boxers he shoved on to open the door.
He rubs his eyes with tattooed knuckles and attempts to smile at Ray. He smiles back of course, and the simple happiness on Ray’s face makes Frank feel a little better and just about ready to face the day.
Until tonight, where that all consuming urge to forget would over take him and result in another night of drunken fucking outside some club. It disturbed Frank that one guy had dropped a stone into his life, and the ripple he caused didn’t seem to be ending anytime soon.
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Soooo. Yeah, I don't this chapter is particularly good, but this is the fourth re-write of it, so it's staying as this. It's now about 1 am, and I want sleep. But I also wanted to post it. There you go.
From now on, there's only a "end result" - I don't have anything planned about getting to that point, and therefore, all of this is literally just written ad lib[ (can you say that about written stuff? [For anyone who thinks I've staring making up words, ad libbing is just improvsing lines on stage because something went wrong]). Updates may be a little slower, but I'm trying. Not to mention all the shitty school work I'm getting.
MOVING ON. I fucking LOVED all your reveiws of the last chapter, especially because I was nervous as to whether you'd all think I'd gone mad, or that Geard was over reacting to it all, but you didn't and that made me ridiculously happy! AND IT WENT GREEN. THSI WHOLE DAMN STORY IS GREEN AND I JUST CAN'T EXPLAIN HOW AWESOME THAT IS TO HAVE SUCH AWESOME PEOPLE READING. Slight over use of the word awesome there.
I'm sorry to anyone who might be offended that Gerard's not here (odd thing to be offended about, but I did go slightly crazy went someone killed off Bandit in their story. You probably know who you are, cause I yelled at you in the reveiws a little bit... AKA quite a lot). He'll be around later. Promise.
UNTIL NEXT TIME :D
LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK OF THIS ONE - IF IT'S NOT SO GOOD, I CAN RE-DO IT. I'M QUITE TIRED RIGHT ABOUT NOW.
RATE/REVEIW? :3
ENJOY!
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The guy above Frank was shoving in and out of him, and Frank was listening to him moan. He knew he was supposed to be enjoying this, but he only felt dispassionate as the eyes above him were brown not the stupid brilliant fucking green he still couldn’t completely eradicate from his mind. It was beyond ridiculous.
The guy was hot though, and Frank had picked him up about an hour earlier in a club, and now they were at his place, and Frank knew he was supposed to be feeling a bit more than “is it nearly over yet?”. But he wasn’t, so he went through the motions and carried on listening to his partner groan in pleasure, Frank’s legs hooked around the other guy’s waist.
He finished, coming with a huge moan of Frank’s name – Frank hadn’t recalled telling the guy his name, and he sure as hell couldn’t remember his – and slumping on top of Frank. He realized if he bothered to poke into the guy’s head he’d get the name, but he didn’t really give a shit.
Frank pulled out from under him and trained his flirty expression on his face, winking at the latest guy in a very long string of guys, and shoving his clothes on.
“That was fun,” he said smirking at the spent guy on the bed. His mind objected to that, but Frank told it to piss off. “See ya round, sweetheart.”
“Can I get your number?” they guy on the bed asked lazily. “You were the best fuck I’ve had in a long time.”
And you’re one of the worst I’ve had, Frank thought to himself. He decided that would be pretty rude, and he prided himself on at least being civil to the guys he fucked (or who fucked him, he supposed) but he made a point of only sleeping with a guy once. He was still caught on – no, he wasn’t going to admit it, not even in his head, because that would be like admitting he was weak.
“I only fuck guys once,” Frank purred, feeling bile rise in his stomach at having to flirt with this substitute of whom he really wanted. “So, nope, honey.”
And with that, Frank sauntered back out of the guy’s apartment, swinging his hips slightly and pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it. Outside, the Belleville air was damp and cold and he shivered, pulling his black denim jacket a little tighter around himself and began to walk back towards the main part of town.
His watch told him it was only one in the morning, and he knew he had time to go back to the club and pick up someone else. He knew it wasn’t going to help, but he didn’t have a reputation as a man whore for nothing.
Once inside the dark club with it’s thudding beats and grinding guys, he scanned the crowd at the club, and began to use his head to check for guys that didn’t recognize him at all, and also saw him with lust tainting their brains. There were no more than twelve, and up until recently, that would of made him pretty happy, but today, he just swaggered up to the closet one and stuck his tongue in the guy’s mouth, whispering the infamous “your place or mine?”.
They made their way back to his house, stopping every couple of meters to make out until the random guy moaned and ground against Frank to show him how desperate he was. Frank smirked and pulled his latest fuck up the steps into his apartment, giving his new lover a show, wiggling his ass deliberately and dropping the key outside his door. Clothes were shed frantically, and soon Frank was under the other guy, tipping his hips up coyly, hoping that his guy could make him forget about those green eyes.
And as the guy pounded into him and filled him up, Frank couldn’t help but wonder about how fucking empty he felt inside.
=====================================================================
The next morning; Frank was pleased to find himself in his own home and only slightly hung over, but was a lot less happy with yet another mysterious guy in the bed next to him. He wasn’t surprised though, after all, it was Saturday and that meant that last night he’d been on the prowl. He vaguely remembered some other guy that didn’t look like the one next to him and realized he must of picked up two last night. Frank frowned; he’d been doing that more than once lately, or engaging in threesomes, something he’d never planned on doing. He was getting worse.
The banging on the door had woken him, another realization, and when he heard the familiar voice yell through the letterbox, Frank groaned and got out of bed slowly, his ass feeling a bit sore. That hadn’t happened in a while, both the guys the night before must have been pretty rough. He shrugged it off, nothing he couldn’t handle, and certainly not as bad as his first time with – not going down that route, Frank told himself and instead focused on the insistent banging on the door. He shoved on some boxers and shuffled to the door.
“Alright, Ray, I’m coming! Jesus dude!” He opened the door to his tall friend, and grinned at the exasperated look on Ray’s face at how he was moving. Apparently, it was obvious that his ass hurt. Ray shook his head and strode in the door, to be faced with a half naked guy in the kitchen.
“Er, who is this?” Ray inquired politely. Frank glared at him; Ray bloody well knew that Frank didn’t bother with names. And now he was going to look pretty fucking stupid. He was about to jump into the guy’s head but -
But the half naked guy answered.
“I kinda don’t know who you are, so I’m guessing it’s mutual… I’ll just be going… Oh,” turning to Frank, his tone of voice changed, becoming deeper and fluttering his eyelashes at the smaller man “Call me anytime you like, sweetie. You’ve a got a fucking fabulous ass.”
Frank rolled his eyes. He’d been hearing that way too much at the moment.
“Only do guys once. If you wouldn’t mind…” Frank gestured towards the door, and the guy left, but only after scrawling his number down on an open envelope and winking at Frank as he passed.
Ray watched the whole thing with an amused smirk on his face, and once the other guy had left, Frank groaned and collapsed into the wooden chair and slumped his head on the table. He lifted his head wearily to look at his lifelong friend, and scowled at him when he noticed Ray still had that smirk on his features.
“What?” he snapped at Ray, who only shook his head, before dropping himself lightly into the chair opposite, and leant forward towards his small tattooed friend, palms facing upwards and his face earnest.
“Frank, you have to stop with the whoring. It’s making you really unhappy.” When Ray saw Frank shaking his head, he sighed and stood up again, getting the tattooed man slumped at the table a glass of water and couple of tablets. He set them on the table next to Frank’s elbow, and tried again.
“Well, it clearly is. You’ve been weird since that bloody school in California! Which was four years ago!” Frank flinched at the mention of “that bloody school” and it didn’t go unnoticed by Ray. He crouched down next to his friend, and sighed again, and lightly started to rub Frank’s back soothingly.
“What happened out there Frankie?” Frank took several deep breaths, before lifting his head of his folded arms and looked Ray right in the eye, his expression completely blank. That told Ray that something had happened out there, and it also meant that Frank was beginning to dig through his head.
Ray sighed, knowing that all that was in his mind was honest concern for his friend, and a desperate longing for Frank to be happy, with a guy he honestly loved and cared about and was ready and willing to build a future with. Not some random he didn’t know for more than twenty minutes and just fucked.
He didn’t think that was even satisfying Frank anymore. His friend needed it to mean something. Frank always forgot that just because Ray couldn’t move shit with his head or mind-read didn’t mean he couldn’t read Frank like a book. Frank’s hazel eyes just looked worn out and sad, and Ray knew this cycle needed to end.
He could so clearly see Frank returning from California with something heavy and gloomy in his eyes, and that summer, his whoring began – he’d fuck every damn guy he’d get, and that had been four years ago.
And here he still was; that same broken look in his eyes and with a guy (or a few guys) between his legs every damn night.
“C’mon Frankie. You can tell me about anything, you know that. Did you meet a guy out in California?”
Frank’s jaw gritted and his eyes hardened, boring into Ray’s. After a second, the furious glare softened, and Ray felt awful for his friend as he watched the tears well up in Frank’s eyes. Frank let out a soft sob and buried his head in his hands.
“It’s so fucking stupid!” Frank bit out angrily. “I’ve been with so many other guys, over four fucking years, and I still can’t get over the guy! Four. Years. Not to mention he couldn’t even be openly gay!” Frank begins to cry, huge, heaving sobs making his whole back shake and Ray slides his hands round his friend’s shoulder and just holds onto him.
Frank pushes Ray’s arms of off him, and the chair clatters to the floor because of the way he stands up so abruptly. His tattooed shoulders are tense, and he looks furious. Ray knows that rage isn’t directed at him though – he’d know about it if Frank were mad at him. He’d end up with a broken jaw or similar.
The tears are still glittering in Frank’s hazel eyes and all he can feel is that desperate longing to be with the one guy he still loved, they guy he’d given everything too, and never bothered getting it back.
Well, he was paying for it now, wasn’t he?
He looks at Ray sadly and shakes his head.
“I could pretend nothing happened in California in an attempt to deceive you, but that would be an insult to your intelligence in regards to my mannerisms.” Ray winces; the sophisticated language whenever Frank got particular upset or angry was a trait he brought back with him from California. Before, he’d just swear at everyone in sight and try to kick the shit out of him or her.
He still tried kicking the shit out of them, to be fair (and often succeeded – Frank angry was not pretty), but now he became someone else whenever he was emotionally vulnerable. Someone with a steely glint in his eyes and a silver spooned tongue that made Ray feel a little helpless when dealing with him. But he supposed that whenever Frank did this, it made him feel a little closer to whomever he was missing like a limb.
It saddened Ray that Frank felt like the whole thing was hopeless. He opened his mouth to say so, but Frank just bored into his eyes and scowled slightly, implying he’d already heard the remark straight from Ray’s mind. Frank just looks at Ray, features blank and cold.
Frank can feel Ray’s longing for him to be happy trickle through his head, and it upsets him that he can’t seem to do that one thing for Ray. He wants to be happy, but he doesn’t know how to stop, and everyone he sleeps with just reminds him of the boy he’d rather forget. The way they moan, the way their skin glows in the dim light, the way their hair falls across their eyes – that one guy seems to be in everyone he fucks.
And Frank’s honestly not sure how much longer he can keep going with this downward spiral. It’s been worse lately; like a drug, he needs more than one rendezvous, as Ray’s taken to calling them, in a night to keep the memories or the urge to hunt those eyes down at bay.
Frank knows he’s not wanted by him – the guy made that clear when he ran out of that dorm – but part of Frank wants to find him, and ask him if he’s happy. If living that lie is enough for him, the way that Frank ignoring his feelings is (not) enough for himself.
He just misses him. And apparently, four years wasn’t enough to get over him. Frank feels slightly pathetic as Ray tries to coax the story out of him.
“Ray… just leave it. Okay?” Frank asks his oldest friend softly. He didn’t want to relive the horror story he’d been told, he didn’t want to picture that pale beautiful face and body disappear through the door after the best night of his life.
The tall afro haired man looks at his smaller tattooed friend for a moment, and Frank doesn’t have to open his telepathy to recognize Ray’s look of pity slide across his usually happy features. He doesn’t want Ray’s pity, but he understands how he must look to the other man; eyes weary and tired, tears in his eyes and only wearing the boxers he shoved on to open the door.
He rubs his eyes with tattooed knuckles and attempts to smile at Ray. He smiles back of course, and the simple happiness on Ray’s face makes Frank feel a little better and just about ready to face the day.
Until tonight, where that all consuming urge to forget would over take him and result in another night of drunken fucking outside some club. It disturbed Frank that one guy had dropped a stone into his life, and the ripple he caused didn’t seem to be ending anytime soon.
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Soooo. Yeah, I don't this chapter is particularly good, but this is the fourth re-write of it, so it's staying as this. It's now about 1 am, and I want sleep. But I also wanted to post it. There you go.
From now on, there's only a "end result" - I don't have anything planned about getting to that point, and therefore, all of this is literally just written ad lib[ (can you say that about written stuff? [For anyone who thinks I've staring making up words, ad libbing is just improvsing lines on stage because something went wrong]). Updates may be a little slower, but I'm trying. Not to mention all the shitty school work I'm getting.
MOVING ON. I fucking LOVED all your reveiws of the last chapter, especially because I was nervous as to whether you'd all think I'd gone mad, or that Geard was over reacting to it all, but you didn't and that made me ridiculously happy! AND IT WENT GREEN. THSI WHOLE DAMN STORY IS GREEN AND I JUST CAN'T EXPLAIN HOW AWESOME THAT IS TO HAVE SUCH AWESOME PEOPLE READING. Slight over use of the word awesome there.
I'm sorry to anyone who might be offended that Gerard's not here (odd thing to be offended about, but I did go slightly crazy went someone killed off Bandit in their story. You probably know who you are, cause I yelled at you in the reveiws a little bit... AKA quite a lot). He'll be around later. Promise.
UNTIL NEXT TIME :D
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