Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Trying To Escape The Inevitable

Chapter Seventeen

by CosmicZombie 20 reviews

But memories don't burn as easily as flesh.

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst,Drama,Romance - Characters: Frank Iero,Gerard Way - Warnings: [!] [V] - Published: 2012-04-02 - Updated: 2013-03-20 - 4171 words

A/N; Bet you guys weren’t expecting an update today, were you? Thank you all so much for your incredible support, seriously. You’re all so sweet and thoughtful. I’m kinda amazed, actually. Anyway, I haven’t decided what I’m doing with this story yet, but I suddenly really, really felt like writing it, sat down, and wrote all of this straight. I really enjoyed it, actually. I hope you enjoy reading it- please let me know your thoughts!

Chapter Seventeen

The only sound audible in the greasily lit grey corridors is the brooding hush of bleak winter rain. It trickles listlessly down the grimy windowpanes and needles its bitter way into the cracked tarmac of the yard, unheard tears of the shadows.

Other than that, the school is silent. Peaceful, almost- if only I could block out all soured tang of memories laced thickly through the air. Memories I wish I could burn at the stake until they’re nothing but charred smithereens that I can’t even begin to interpret.

Then, perhaps, I could feel peaceful in this place.

But you can’t burn memories like you can burn flesh, so I guess this is the closest I’ll ever get to feel safe in school.

It’s just me.

Just me and the rain and the silence.

The way I like it best.

No one else is in evidence; it must be nearly thirty minutes since the final school bell shrilled brashly through the corridors and seas of students churned their way out of the building. It’s a Friday, so their jostling and jeering was even more raucous than normal in their haste to leave school for the weekend.

I hung back from that tide with too many tainted white horses. I always wait until the masses have diminished slightly, but today I hung back for even longer- I’m waiting for Mikey to finish his first bass lesson. I’m keeping my promise.

I thought I’d mind; having to stay even longer in school isn’t exactly my idea of fun, but strangely, it’s actually okay. Well, as okay as a hellhole like school could be, anyway. And even more strangely, I’m kinda looking forward to hanging out with Mikey after he’s out of his lesson- even though it’s spitting with rain outside and the air is so cold it feels like it’s tearing the top layer of your skin right off.

Despite all my moody pretences, I actually like Mikey. I thought I’d hate his guts, but I don’t at all. He’s the kind of person I need right now, the kind of friend I think would be good for me- although whether I’d be good for him or not is a completely different story.

He’s the complete opposite of Ocean- mousy hair rather than violent indigo, thoughtful instead of rash, shy as opposed to overly confident, but I think that maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe I’ve let Ocean overshadow me for too long. I know she means well, but sometimes I think I let her walk all over me.

I sigh softly into the silence of the corridor and shifting slightly so as I’m sitting cross-legged. I’m slouched on one of the decrepit wooden benches that’s tucked into a dingy little alcove just off the main corridor, and Bullet for My Valentine is screaming something about bittersweet memories into my eardrums, but for once, I’m not really listening.

I’m listening to the silence, because I don’t think I listen to it enough anymore.

The silence tells the truth.

It suddenly strikes me as seriously weird that I’m not being hounded by Danny right now. I mean, right now is like, perfect picking on Frank time- I’m alone and unprotected and there’s no one to hear me scream. It’s not like Danny to miss an opportunity like this. So where is he?

Not that I’m not pleased about his absence- but it’s more than a little unnerving. After all, I don’t think there’s been a school day for months and months that hasn’t ended in him taunting me at the very least.

It’s almost as if he can read the angry scars he’s created on my face like some kind of gnarled foretelling.

…Don’t waste your feelings and your hopes…on love…don’t waste your feelings and your hopes…

I almost jump out of my skin as my mobile starts ringing, and ‘Blood is sharp’ jangles out into the silence of the corridor, making my heart leap and start violently pumping the vivid red adrenaline round my body. It comes far too easily now.

I’m too used to being scared.

“H-hello?” I stammer into the receiver, fingers shaking as I fumble with the ‘accept call’ button.

“You’re avoiding me.” A slightly irritated female voice accuses me.

I inwardly groan at the familiar tone of my blue-haired friend. In my startle, I’d forgotten to check the caller ID before picking up, although really, I should have known it was her anyway- who the fuck else would be calling me? I’m not exactly Mr. Popular- not to mention the fact Ocean has been trying to get hold of me for the past twenty four hours.

And she is not one to give up easily.

“I know you are, Frankie,” she sighs when I don’t say anything. “I just wanted to apologise, okay?”

I blink. “W-what?”

Ocean doesn’t apologise, even if I know she wants to.

“For being insensitive,” Ocean clarifies. “I shouldn’t have been so matey with Gerard when I knew you didn’t like him and when I was meant to be hanging out with you. I’m sorry, honestly Frank.”

“It’s okay,” I hear myself say, still in shock.

“Are you sure?” Ocean sounds as though she’s biting her lip.

I nod, and then remember she can’t see me. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

“Oh,” Ocean sounds relieved. “Great. I know I don’t say it a lot, Frankie, but you’re really important to me, you know that, right? You’re my best friend and I don’t know where the fuck I’d be without you. I’m not just gunna ditch you for some pretty-boy Goth I’ve only known five minutes, okay?”

Pretty boy?” I repeat, but there’s a small smile starting to tug at the corners of my lips.

Maybe Ocean can hear it, because she doesn’t sound at all offended. “Oh, come on Frankie. Wake up and smell the hormones- the guy could be a fucking underwear model!”

“Been fantasising about that, have you?” I ask, but the sardonic effect is marred slightly by the smile taking over my face.

“No, but I bet you have,” Ocean says, and I can practically hear her grin.

“I have not!” I yelp indignantly.

Ocean’s giggles spill over the phone line, crackly and comfortingly familiar.

“Sure, Frankieboy. Whatever you say,” she says sceptically. Then, slightly more seriously; “I’m not going to lie to you, Frank- I think Gerard’s cool.”

The warm giggly feeling drains out of me a little. “You do?”

Ocean seems to hear the tension invade my voice- having known me for over eight years, she could read me blindfolded; she knows every little mannerism or quirk I have and equally what it means.

“Yeah,” she says, and the way she says it sounds almost like an apology, which mollifies me slightly. “I know you think he’s the devil or something, but just because you don’t like him doesn’t mean I can’t,” she points out reasonably.

“I guess,” I concede grudgingly.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gunna suddenly become Gerard’s best friend rather than yours.” I can tell Ocean’s rolling her eyes. “I just don’t want you to kill me if I say ‘hi’ to him when I’m over at yours or something.”

“Fair enough,” I groan.

“Good stuff. Thanks Frankie- you’re awesome,” Ocean says brightly. “So. How was your day?”

I shrug. “Okay, I guess.”

There’s a small, shocked silence.

“…Okay?” Ocean repeats slightly faintly.

“Yeah,” I feel the smile gently tugging at my lips again.

“Have you turned to drugs?” Ocean exclaims.

“No,” I roll my eyes.



“Then what the hell are you on?!” Ocean demands incredulously.

“Nothing,” I attempt biting back the smile. “I just kinda have a…friend…I think.”

“Who?” Ocean persists, sounding interested.

“Mikey,” I tell her, smiling slightly.

“Oh, the terrified looking guy with the funny knees?” Ocean asks bluntly.

“He doesn’t have funny knees,” I protest, because I can’t deny that Mikey spends most of his time looking scared.

“Sure, Frankie. Isn’t he a little…boring, though?” Ocean sounds vaguely disappointed at my choice of friend. “He seemed kinda dull.”

“No,” I say, feeling slightly annoyed. “He’s cool, Ocean.”

“He seemed twitchy when I met him.”

“Yeah, but once you get to know him, he gets less scared and stuff,” I say. “Don’t judge, O- he’s really nice, okay?”

“Okay. Sorry, Frank.”

“Its fine,” I sigh. “You should-” I break off abruptly.

A horrible, tortured howl is splintering its defiled way through the silence of the corridor, gnarly and knotted with nightmares. My blood turns to dust and I feel my fingers tremble around the grip of my phone in fear and horror.

“What was that?” Ocean’s voice sounds alarmed. “Frankie, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, but-” I stop.

The howl shatters through the school again, followed by an ominous crash of metal that sounds like the sickening combination of lockers and flesh. I know that combination all too well. I know how much it hurts.

“I’ve got to go, O,” I say hurriedly; it suddenly occurs to me that it could be Mikey making the horrible, blood-curdling noises.

What if he got ambushed by Danny on his way to meet me? My blood turns colder still, curdling nauseously in my veins as a nastily vivid image of Mikey being slaughtered by Danny’s zombie-like eyes. In my mind, I see my stepbrother’s knock-kneed, skinny figure crumple into a broken heap of bruises and blood and bones, and I know I have to do something.

“I’ll talk to you later,” I tell Ocean, glancing anxiously up and down the deserted corridor.

“But, Frank-”

“Later,” I hiss, jabbing the ‘end call’ button and shoving my phone into my pocket.

Silence slathers the air around me for several more palpitations, unnervingly thick; almost as if it’s cloaking something, hiding something that needs desperately to be heard.

I listen hard, ears straining, heart thumping anxiously. The silence reminds me horribly of my own silences. Screaming silences that need to be heard, but never, ever are.

Because no one wants to hear them.

Suddenly, an even worse noise claws its way into my ears and I freeze, as if the cold in my veins has numbed my whole body. It’s a low, choking, broken noise, fortified with darkness and violence and it makes my blood run to congealed crimson.

I know there’s nothing for it; I have to do something. Almost without thinking, I stuff my iPod- which is still blaring Bullet for My Valentine- into my pocket, sling my schoolbag over my shoulder and take off down the artificially lit corridor, my beat-up converse squeaking loudly in the unnerving silence.

A strangled scream throttles the silence again, agonisingly honest and raw.

I feel my heart stutter in my chest, and hurtle towards the sound which seems to be coming from the sixth form locker room. It feels completely weird to hear those kind of terrified sounds coming from a mouth other than my own. I’m usually Danny’s prime victim.

I feel my heart stutter in my chest, and hurtle towards the sound which seems to be coming from the sixth form locker room. It feels completely weird to hear those kind of terrified sounds coming from a mouth other than my own. I’m usually Danny’s prime victim.

My heart’s pounding a violent rhythm of fear against my trembling ribs, and every time I blink, I can see the spattering of silent red trickle down my closed eyelids.

I feel almost detached from my stumbling body; I can practically smell the lethal aroma of metallic fear churning off me and see the sheen of greasy white sweat shimmering repulsively under the harsh artificial lights; I can almost see the pound pound pound of my frantic heart shaking my whole body as I stumble this way and that, trainers squeaking, breath gasping, pulse fluttering sickeningly as I hurtle blindly towards the noise. I feel as though I’m wading through thick, black tar and it’s gelatinous tentacles keep slithering round my shaky legs and holding me back.

I spend a whole load of time being scared. Most of the time I run away from it, but this time I won’t, because it’s different. I’m not scared for me.

I’m scared for someone else.

That someone who’s choking and spluttering and silently screaming their lungs dry; that someone whose blood and bones are being shattered against the lockers, being crushed so much they twist into splintered, brittle daggers, ready to gouge out everything honest and human and make everything far too human.

That someone who’s just around the corner…footsteps away, only a couple of gasped lungfuls of trapped air away, closer, closer, closer…

I stagger to a stop at the archway from the corridor into the dark, grotty locker rooms and I feel my heart shudder to a stop.

That someone who’s….Gerard?

I blink in pure shock. I’ve come to a complete standstill, peering round the side of the corner, into the dark, dingy locker rooms, eyes searching for Mikey’s tufts of mousy hair and geeky glasses and trembling eyes.

And instead, they find Gerard, sprawled in defeat against the greasy linoleum floor, a mass of tangled hair and torn black leather and his own spattered blood.

At least, I think its Gerard. It doesn’t look anything like the self-satisfied Gerard I’ve grown to loathe.

He could be a whole different person, as Danny’s merciless fists punch, pummel, pound into the vulnerable soft of his flesh. As I watch the impact of those brutal knuckles in Gerard’s wild jade eyes, it’s so vivid and so raw I can almost feel the impact rupturing through me as if I’m the one being beaten.

I feel sick to my stomach.

The boy crushed on the floor doesn’t look like the cool, casual Gerard I know with those empty green eyes and the rebellious black leather shell; the Gerard who seems almost unreal.

This Gerard is all too real.

I can taste the salt from the tears seeping from his ruptured green eyes.

I can feel the uncontrolled shakes of fear that wrack his broken body.

I can’t hear anything but his tortured howls that no one’s there to listen to.

The reason Danny wasn’t beating me up was because there was someone else. I remember the bone-chilling look of hate laced revenge he gave Gerard earlier today after the incident at break time, and I know he’s going to make Gerard pay a lot more than this. Danny doesn’t relent. He has no pity or empathy. He’s just cold. Empty inside, like a zombie with those dead, cold eyes like the sea.

Danny won’t ever stop. Not until the eyes of his victim are as dead as his own.

Gerard looks painfully alive right now; his arm is bent at a funny angle, his hair matted, his porcelain skin stained in blood, his face contorted in agony and fear.

He reminds me of a broken marionette; as though he’s lost control of the strings that usually keep him so calm and collected with that smug exterior.

Now the strings of his marionette are mangled and tangled, and he’s let go completely, letting his body fall from control into a distorted heap of jumbled limbs and broken fallacy on the floor.

I want to look away. I feel like I shouldn’t be looking. Watching Gerard like this feels uncomfortable; seeing him without his shell. It’s almost like seeing all his wounds and scars on a naked body.

But I still can’t tear my eyes away from the horror unfolding right in front of my eyes. Danny’s tiring now; I can tell- from months of experience I wish I’d never had.

“…That’s…that’s what you get if you cross me, Goth-boy,” Danny spits, panting slightly as he relinquishes his fists from Gerard’s shuddering body and steps back slightly, shark-like eyes dark with rage. “So think. Before you decide to show me up, maybe you should think.”

Gerard whimpers, trying to say something in retaliation, and fuck, I have admire him for that, although fear is still throbbing through me. I’d never have the guts to talk back to Danny in that state.

In response Danny grabs him viciously by the collar and slams him up against the lockers- so forcefully that the impact of Gerard’s skull against the grotty metal ruptures through the whole school. It’s so loud that his yelp of agony goes unheard.

But that kind of scream always does. No one wants to hear that. No one wants to admit they belong to a species that could inflict such horrors. So they pretend none of the angst exists, and we’re left to scream and howl and cry in a silence that can’t be broken; a silence that isn’t ours.

“You’re nothing, fag boy,” Danny hisses poisonously, letting go of Gerard’s collar so as he slithers limply down the lockers, lip spurting violent ruby blood, dark and tainted and spattering the floor beneath his trembling feet in metallic nightmares. “Nothing.”

With one last vindictive sneer at Gerard’s bleeding, defeated form, Danny spits in his face and takes off down the corridor with a repulsively self-satisfied swagger. I feel fury bubble up inside me at his stance, and have a sudden urge to run after him, yelling.

I don’t, though. I’m too scared. Seconds later, he’s out of sight, the double doors to the yard swinging shut loudly behind him and leaving the school in a silence that’s punctuated by small, strangled gasps.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t like Gerard, and I’m sure as hell he doesn’t like me, but I can’t bring myself leave someone like that.

And sure, I might loathe the black-leather Gerard with the overly confident strut, but this Gerard, the crumpled, bleeding boy on the floor…how is he any different to me?

I take a deep breath of the air swamped in fear, and then, without properly thinking about it, I start across the locker room towards Gerard, heart pounding, knees trembling.

He doesn’t notice my presence until I kneel down beside him, trembling slightly.

He jumps wildly, and looks round. The second he sees me, his eyes flash with anger and he seems to struggle with himself, almost like he’s trying to put the cool mask back on. But he can’t.

“Gerard,” I hear myself whisper. My stomach’s churning horribly as I realise there are still tear trails streaked down his cheeks.

“Go away,” Gerard hisses, face contorted. “Leave me alone.”


“Leave me ALONE!” He screams suddenly, the sound shattering everything between us and shattering his angry façade viciously.

He covers his face with trembling hands and starts to choke.

I feel a little like my ribs are crumbling.

“…Gerard?” I appeal gently, feeling incredibly uncomfortable.

A heart-tugging little snuffle leaks out from between the long, delicate fingers clouding his bruised face.

Suddenly, I’ve never hated anyone less.

I swallow and slide down the lockers to sit beside him. My heart’s thumping in my throat, but I’m determined not to let my nerves get the better of me. So I edge closer, feeling my hands shaking slightly.

“Gerard?” I murmur again, biting my lip awkwardly as I inhale the familiar smug smell of leather and cigarettes. Mingled with the salty scent of tears and blood, it suddenly becomes incredibly pitiful.

Gerard tries to shuffle away from me, sniffing furiously, but I manage to slide a violently shaking arm round his convulsing shoulders.

He stops trying to escape then, and just sits there, shaking violently and choking back the horrible sounds issuing from his lips.

I just sit there until the noises have subsided, feeling extremely awkward until he finally uncovers his face and glances up at me from between tangled strands of raven hair that I remember being so carefully styled this morning.

His churning green eyes flash with humiliation, but he doesn’t even attempt to get up. He looks as if he’s decided he’s too defeated to care.

“Are-are you okay?” I hear myself stammer, and then mentally slap myself because that has to be the most stupid question I’ve ever asked- of course he isn’t fucking okay- he’s lying, bleeding and crying on the floor.

A ghost of something flickers across his lips. “Yeah, I’m just fucking dandy,” he says faintly, attempting to stem the thickly flowing stream of crimson that’s spewing from his lip.

I bite my lip. “Sorry. Uh.” I take my arm away from his shoulders, suddenly feeling very aware of the heat coming off them.

There’s an awkward silence, during which Gerard sniffs furiously several times.

“Well…” he mumbles eventually, wincing. “This is what the world is like from your height, eh?”

Something very much like relief shoots through me at this flicker of a comment that’s typically the mask-like Gerard. I might dislike him, but I’m relieved to see he’s still there.

“Yeah,” I manage shakily. “It sucks, doesn’t it?”

He turns to look at me, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his leather jacket.

It’s a peculiar expression, and I can’t read it at all; it’s lingering and lamenting and riddled with tear-stained emerald questions, raw and honest and nothing like the usual Gerard.

“Yeah,” he whispers, sniffing and turning back towards the floor after a moment. “Too right. No wonder you’re so grumpy all the time.”

“I am not grumpy,” I protest stupidly. “And, uh…are you gunna be alright? Your lip’s still bleeding, you know.”

“Really?” Gerard says sarcastically. “Quite the little detective, aren’t you?”

“Emphasis on ‘little’,” I add bitterly.

Something that might be a smirk ghosts across his bloodstained lips.

There’s another silence.

“Listen, seriously- are you okay?” I ask quietly. “Shall I call Steve or-”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Gerard snarls, grabbing my sleeve aggressively and making me jump wildly at his rapid change from vulnerable and almost approachable to vicious. “Just don’t okay?”

“But Gerard, you’re-”

“I’m fine,” Gerard growls, struggling to his feet and wincing horribly. “I don’t need any help and I don’t need anyone to find out about this. Got that, midget?”

I blink. “But…”

“No fucking arguments,” Gerard spits, jerking his hand impatiently across his face once more and grimacing. “Just go. Forget. It never happened, okay? Just go back to living your midget filled little life and forget all about it. This isn’t me.”

“But you can’t let him get away with this!” I protest.

Gerard whirls round and faces me grimly. “Why not?” he whispers. “You do.”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I blink, shocked.

Gerard shoots me another unreadable look, and before I can do anything, he turns away and starts limping furiously down the corridor, towards the doors.

I don’t stop him. Instead, I just stand there, feeling completely and utterly perplexed as I survey my retreating stepbrother who seems to have far more dimensions than I thought.

Hmm, plot movement xD I’d love love love to know what you guys made of this? Like I said, I still haven’t decided what I’m doing with this story, but I feel a lot more positive now (: …what do you think? Thanks so much again for your amazing support. I hope you liked this chapter…R&R? Your support would be especially helpful right now (: Love you guys!

CosmicZombie xo
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