FicWad

Memories Make Us



Memories.

The most precious thing that a human mind can possess. Those tiny flickers of gold and coal dotting our souls, deciding whether we turn out as a sparkling gem or as a worthless piece of dirt buried under the ground that nobody cares about. They shape who we are, how we react, what we think.

For example, if I see a dog I think that it’s cute and immediately want to cuddle it because dogs remind me of my childhood, of memories associated with the kind of fun that us teenagers rarely ever feel. But if my next door neighbour catches sight of a dog, the odds are she’ll scream because she has memories of being attacked by a German Shepherd at age eight.

See? Two very different reactions to the same thing all because of memories. A life’s worth of yesterdays forming an eternity of tomorrows.

Everything that happens creates a new memory and every new memory starts working it’s devious way into our mind, forming thoughts that will end up spawning more memories and thus the cycle continues.

It was a memory that led me, Frank Iero, to the boy who I hope to be forming all of my tomorrows with. Gerard Way.

I can remember when I first saw him at school. It was a Wednesday in April, rain pattering on the roof like a thousand dancers twirling to the rhythm of a Jersey traffic jam, and it was in the morning, before the first bell had even rang out through the bustling corridors of serpent-like students waiting to pick their prey. It was my first day and, after having seen the head of the football team eying my homemade “homophobia is gay” t-shirt as though he was taking personal offence, I had decided to hide in the boys’ restroom. An action that was founded on memories of why I had moved schools in the first place; bullying. And I wasn’t about to let it start all over again, I couldn’t put my mom or myself through that. Gee had been in there, a pre-school cigarette hanging from his lips and he offered me one. A memory of how much I liked my first a few months ago spurring me on to take it and for me to introduce myself.

I can remember when Gee took me to his house for the first time, a house that now seems more like a home than my own is because of the memories I have built inside those sturdy walls of all that I love. It was that same Wednesday I met him, he invited me over after spending the day basically being my bodyguard, apparently liking the fact that I’m always the so-called “lovable underdog”. Turned out we have the same taste in music thanks to memories of our parents playing old records to us from an early age and also, as I found out that same night, turned out that we’re both gay. A fact that neither of us were aware of until we decided to play Truth or Dare with Gerard’s little brother, the younger Way using memories of other games for inspiration and daring Gee to kiss me. It only had to be a peck. It was electric, fusing a new favourite memory to the front of my mind; one that influenced me catch him off-guard and swallow up his mouth just as he started to pull away.

I can remember when we had a pillow fight in his basement bedroom at three o’clock in the morning on a Saturday. I was too scared to sleep, thanks to the memories of some stupid horror movie Gee had insisted on watching, and so Gerard had decided that the best way to combat the problem was to have a pillow war. It worked too, the energetic game both wearing me out and the way his face lit up every time he scored a hit making me too happy to care about Freddie Krueger coming to get me in my sleep. The fact that he was cuddling me when I fell to sleep, proclaiming that he’d protect me from even a giant spikey needle, just made sleep seem even sweeter because I’d wake up with the memory of having slept in Gee’s arms.

I can remember when he asked me to be his and I agreed, on the condition that he would be mine. It was two months and five days, I remembered to keep count, after we first met each other in the grotty restroom that gleamed with the opportunity for a million new memories. We were armed with memories of night-time cuddles and shy kisses telling us that we belong together. He took me to the pond by the park to ask me, saying that the place was full of so many happy memories that he couldn’t think of a better place for the happiest yet to take place. Needless to say, I agreed without any form of hesitation, and he told me that I was his first ever kiss. That first ever memory of lips on lips, sealing an everlasting promise of first love. He wasn’t my first, but he was definitely the first to make an effective memory that changed my future.

I can remember when he won me a goldfish at a travelling fair in the heat of a sweltering summer night. He knew from memory that I hated the idea of animals being caged up, used for amusement, as a money-making gimmick on some cheap side-stall. So he played the game, picked the most golden goldfish there was and took me back to that pond. The pond that became ours because it holds the first memory of us being Us. And we set the goldfish free in it, giving it it’s first memory of true life outside of a small plastic bag.

I can remember all of the times that he’s told me he loves me. Just like he can remember all of the times I’ve said it back, the both of us meaning it every single time.

Because it’s what our memories have taught us.







A/N: Thanks for reading, I hope that this was alright. I wrote it based around the word “memories” and tried my hardest to make it as interesting as possible, even if it did turn out as one big cliché. Oh well, I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews and rates make me smile! :) :D :)