Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Love, I'd Never Hurt You

Seventeen

by thatcrazedfan 1 review

I felt my heart explode in my chest. I had never had to do anything this painful, since the day I decided to throw Jimmy away.

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: R - Genres: Angst,Drama,Romance - Characters: Frank Iero,Gerard Way - Warnings: [V] [X] - Published: 2012-03-07 - Updated: 2012-03-07 - 1149 words - Complete

1Insightful
Gerard

I woke up, rolling over and looking at Frank. He was still sleeping. His hair was a mess. I smiled, remembering our night. It had been amazing. Lying here beside him, I realized that I wouldn't mind waking up next to him everyday. Maybe Frank was the one that could finally get me to settle down. I would even stop working to be with him.

I sighed, looking up at the ceiling. I would have to quit if I wanted to be with him. He could never know the truth. It would break him. God, Jimmy was right. Relationships were hard.

I sat up slowly, running a hand through my hair. Here I was, thinking about Jimmy again. Ever since I found out he was back and trying to kill me I couldn't keep my mind off him. I looked at Frank, still sleeping. He was so peaceful. He had no idea who I really was, and he never would. I could never tell him the truth. What kind of relationship is that, one full of secrets?

I stood up. This was never going to work out. As much as I hated thinking it, I knew it was true. I sighed, maybe if I could just get rid of Jimmy... No. Even then it would never work. Frank would still wonder why I was always out, why I could never tell him what I really do for a living. He would assume the worst.

Quietly, I walked around the bed to him and kissed his forehead softly. I waited a few seconds, watching him sleep. When I was sure he wasn't going to wake up, I left the bedroom. I felt my heart explode in my chest. I had never had to do anything this painful, since the day I decided to throw Jimmy away.

With tears in my eyes, I walked out of his apartment. I leaned against his door and put my head in my hands. I knew I was making a big mistake, but it was better this way. I shook my head, realizing what I had to do. I could never see Frank again. I had to get as far away from him as I could. It was for his own good.

I walked into my apartment and shut the door behind me, locking it. If Frank came over, I wouldn't answer. I would pretend like I wasn't here. At least until I got things figured out.

I headed into my bedroom, and searched for a box of photographs that I kept under my bed. Within seconds, I found it. I pulled it out and put the box on the bed. I sat down and opened the box. Inside was pictures of Jimmy and I, from when we were still friends. I hadn't looked at the pictures in forever, and I couldn't even remember why I still had them. I knew I should have thrown them out a long time ago, but something wouldn't let me.

As I flipped through all the pictures, I felt worse and worse about what happened to us. I was so stupid. All I cared about was being the best.

At the time, Jimmy was the best ever. Everyone wanted him, but he never stayed any where. He knew better than that. He taught me everything, and I would be forever grateful for that.

After living in his shadow for what felt like years, I had finally had enough. I planned on murdering him. I managed to lure him into an abandoned warehouse where I was going to shoot him. Then I could finally be the best. Unfortunately, he came too early. He caught me setting up. We fought. It was violent and bloody. It made me cringe just thinking about it.

It ended with me stabbing a knife into his neck. I watched him collapse on the ground, and I was sure he was dead. So, I left. Instead of heading to the hospital, like I should have, I went back to our apartment and started packing. I knew I had to get out of town.

The next morning, as I was leaving, Jimmy showed up. He was holding the same knife I tried to kill him with. I still have no idea how he survived. I could see that he had a bandage on his neck, where I tried to stab him. He told me that if he ever saw me again, he would kill me. And I knew he meant it. He was cold-blooded killer. I was surprised he didn't kill me where I stood.

Then I left. I never thought about him again until he showed up in my life again. Looking through the pictures made me think of how much I had cared for him, how much he meant to me. He was like my brother. I paused, no. He was much more than that.

I stopped on one picture. It was of the two of us after we arrived in Germany. It was the first time I had been out of the country, and I was glad I was with Jimmy. He had been to Germany many times before, for business and pleasure. He showed me everything, it was great.

The picture was of us standing in front of a hotel. It was the hotel we stayed at during our little vacation. I was looking at the camera, smiling. But Jimmy, he was staring at me. I never noticed before the look in his eyes. It was love.

I shook my head. It couldn't be. Never in all the time we were together did he ever act like he wanted to be anything other than friends. He never said anything about having feelings for me... but he was the same person who told me having a relationship was dangerous.

I couldn't believe it. All this time, the only reason he didn't kill me when he saw me leaving our apartment was because he loved me. He was probably waiting for me to say that I was sorry, and that I loved him. I wondered if he still felt that way.

I threw all the pictures back in the box and put them back under my bed. I had to be wrong. Jimmy never had feelings for me. He was a killer, that was all he cared about. I sighed, looking around my empty room. Thinking back to my time with Jimmy, I realized that maybe I loved him too. That was the only way I could explain why it hurt so much when I betrayed him.

I could kill anyone else in the world, and not think twice about it. But when I had to kill Jimmy, it was one the hardest things I ever had to do. I nodded, deciding what I was going to do. I needed to talk to Jimmy.
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