Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Arctic Flower


by writingechelon 5 reviews

"You need a job." Frank laughed. "You have high hopes for me, old man." "No, I have faith. It's different." He sat himself on a chair and started fanning through his address book. "This is why...

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Drama,Romance - Characters: Frank Iero,Gerard Way - Warnings: [?] - Published: 2012-03-10 - Updated: 2012-03-10 - 892 words

To those who are actually still reading this fic of mine: I'm sorry I'm so slow with updates, but I'm juggling school, this fic and two other chapter fics (over on my archiveofourown account. If you also like Homestuck and BBC Sherlock, you can find me "here":! Thanks for sticking around!

December 20th

The boy could feel the coldness of concrete against his cheek and a hand, somewhere, tugging him up and away from his own vomit.
Gerard helped him crawl inside: he was too stoned to reach the front door on his own and his knees collapsed all of a sudden. He'd never hid but never truly mentioned to his tenant (even though Gerard insisted on not having him pay half the rent) that he used. This had been a mess-up, a stupid slip-up on his part.
Gerard was supposed to be at work at that hour anyway.
He felt his sweaty body tremble - too many pills and too much fun could fuck your brain up in more ways than one.
"C'mon buddy--just a few more feet."
Gerard managed to drag him into the elevator. His gaze met the one of a neighbor staring apprehensively at both of them, his tiny dog barking murderously.
"Gerard, right?" he asked, tossing his peroxide blond hair to the side.
"Yep." the professor managed to grunt.
"Need any help?"
The elevator doors closed just as he gave the other man the best fake smile he could muster.
The horrendous smooth jazz that was playing as the elevator climbed higher and higher still couldn't manage to drown out Frank's rattling, hysterical breaths, and Gerard glared towards a tiny, sick Frank and sighed. He crouched next to him and slipped his arm behind his back, pulling him close, making it so he could rest his chin on the top of the boy's head. He cradled him, eyes shut tight.
"Christ, kiddo. What have you gotten yourself into?"
Frank gripped Gerard's shirt convulsively. He was finding it harder and harder to stay awake, and the bliss of oblivion was a sweet one.
"Nope. No you don't. Stay with me."
Gerard dragged him out, opened the door and literally slammed him on his knees, hanging over the bathtub.
He helped Frank vomit all he could, and the boy heaved and heaved until he was coughing up nothing but water and mucus. He kept on shuddering for a few minutes afterward, and Gerard almost without noticing pressed his body against his, resting his forehead against the back of Frank's neck.
"Okay." he said to himself, before helping Frank crawl onto the couch and covering him up with a blanket. He surprised himself slightly shaking, too.
Gerard slumped into a chair. It wasn't the first time this happened - he prayed to God it was going to be one of the last.


Frank awoke from dreams of little sisters and broken promises smelling something that was technically supposed to be food, but was now with no doubt reduced to charcoal.
"Shit!" he heard Gerard hiss, before seeing him rush towards the kitchen.
The sound of cold water cooling off hot metal.
Frank blinked a few times.
"Your sister called, by the way."
Gerard must've noticed him staring.
"When?" he managed to moan.
"About half an hour ago. Told her you were too stoned to talk."
Gerard sounded cold and mad and distant.
"What--what did she say?"
"Sam said nothing. Just what she usually says. 'Tell him I love him'. You know."
"The usual."
He finished rinsing the pan.
They were quiet for a while, and Frank's mind was still foggy, but not foggy enough to block out the tension building.
Gerard came back into the living room and glanced at him and his sunken eyes.
He opened his mouth to speak.
"Don't bother, Gerard."
The older man arched an eyebrow.
"I can bother all I want to."
"I fucked up."
"It's the sixth time since you moved in here."
"I know."
"This apartment building has rules, Frank. I can't drag you into the elevator every time you pass out on the steps."
"Then don't. I never asked you to."
Gerard shook his head.
"I wouldn't be so sure."
Frank tried to stand up, but his knees buckled. Gerard rushed to his side and helped him sit.
"What I'm saying is I'm sick of seeing you disappear for days at end and come back so out of it you can't even speak. The rare fucking times I do see you around the house, you're either drunk, stoned, or passed out. Ninety-nine percent of the times, you're all three."
"You barely even know me."
"Don't play the misunderstood idiot teenager card with me, kiddo, I know you enough to know that you're smarted than this."
He nudged toward the track marks on Frank's arms, towards his matted hair, towards his hands that always seemed to shake. The boy hugged himself, tried to disappear inside his t-shirt.
Gerard ran a hand through his hair.
"You need a job."
Frank laughed.
"You have high hopes for me, old man."
"No, I have faith. It's different."
He sat himself on a chair and started fanning through his address book.
"This is why you're coming to a Christmas party with me."
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