Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Arctic Flower


by writingechelon 3 reviews

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Drama,Romance - Characters: Frank Iero,Gerard Way - Published: 2012-05-01 - Updated: 2012-05-01 - 1019 words

Author's Note: This chapter was written while listening to Duke Ellington's Mood Indigo, which I advise to listen to while reading. Enjoy!

It was raining.
Gerard sighed as he glanced through the window of the faculty cafe and noticed it. He didn't like the rain - rainy days smelled of Bert's skin against his, they smelled of fingers running through long matted hair, they smelled of things he didn't want to - or know - how to remember.
He didn't like rainy days, they made the sadness that always burrowed under his skin feel heavier, stickier, harder to handle.
He ran a hand through his hair and slipped the book he'd been flipping through absentmindedly back into his briefcase. He rested the palms of his hands against the cool surface of the table and stared at it for a second, before resting his cheek against it too, and shutting his eyes.
He wondered why he'd taken Frank in. The boy with the lost bag and the sad, angry eyes, and he'd recognized himself in him, or maybe thought he'd had.
It had been a little over two months since he'd taken Frank in - a cold and unmerciful December evening - and yet he knew nothing at all about the boy.
He knew he had a sister called Sam who called regularly and always made him cry, although Gerard had no idea how she'd gotten his home phone number.
He knew he was a drug addict.
He knew he stole to feed the habit - he'd noticed the couple of hundred dollar bills missing from his wallet every now and then.
He knew that some little part of him hated the drugs. He knew some little part of him wanted to get better.
He'd caught glimpses of the boy's bare back whenever he'd leave the bathroom door ajar and seen a heavily tattooed body. He knew the kid was seventeen but had no idea of when his birthday was.
He knew he was gay.
A thunderclap, a bolt of lightning. The power went out for a few minutes (surprised squeals from students and teachers alike), and then the lights flickered back to life.
Gerard decided to walk to the subway station without an umbrella.


"You're wet."
"I didn't expect to find you home."
Frank was smoking, head tilted to the side.
"Bernadette let me go earlier."
Gerard noticed the bottle of wine.
"A little."
The professor shook his head and put some music on, preferred to push disappointment and regret aside. The boy was simply drunk: at least he hadn't been shooting up in the bathroom, or snorting coke off of his coffee table. He was drunk.
He'd numbed the pain the only way he could, and Gerard decided to do the same.
He poured himself a glass of wine, as old jazz standards started to fill the air.
"Why did you take me in, professor?"
"Good intentions?"
"You know nothing about me."
"Well about you tell me something?"
Frank smirked.
"How about we trade?"
"A fact for a fact, sir. You tell me something about yourself and I'll share one of my dirty little secrets."
Frank gestured towards the pictures on a bookshelf.
"Who's that?"
Gerard glanced at where he'd pointed, and Bert smiled back. Mikey did, too.
It was a picture taken a long time before, when everything had been, for a split second, crystal-clear and perfect.
Gerard swallowed, uneasy, as he sat cross-legged on the floor.
"Bert. A friend. An old friend."
"Just a friend?"
"No, of course not." He sighed. "He was, as hopeless romantics say, the love of my life."
"And what happened?"
"I guess I was wrong."
"And the kid with the glasses?"
"Michael. He was my brother."
He didn't mind Frank prying, actually. It made him breathe, as strange as that sounded.
Gerard's mouth suddenly went dry.
"He killed himself."
The temperature in the room dropped abruptly. The boy's stomach seemed to cave in.
"I'm sorry." Frank awkwardly mumbled.
"It's OK."
Gerard took another sip of the wine.
"My turn. I want one fact about your childhood."
"When I was a little boy, my Dad used to take me to Central Park zoo for my birthday."
It was a simple memory, and yet it was something that reeked of lost innocence, of boys growing up too fast, of wanderlust and melancholia.
"Did you like it?"
"I looked forward to it every year." Frank chuckled, and wondered when all that love had been lost along the way. He longed for it.
In the background, Duke Ellington hummed.
They were quiet for a while, savoring the wine and the vaguely surrealistic situation.
"Can you dance, Frank?"
The words passed Gerard's lips before he could stop them.
It could've been the alcohol, or the emptiness left by Bert that was on the verge of drowning him completely.
Maybe, probably, it had been both.
"Excuse me?"
"Dance. Can you dance?"
"I guess?"
"Let me teach you."
He stood up, and dragged Frank along with him. He placed one hand on Frank's hip, the other on his shoulder. Their bodies touched, his heartbeat quickened.
Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the emptiness.
Frank blushed, uneasy, and looked at his feet. Tiny, scared, lost boy. An angry boy. A pained boy.
"Like this..."
Gerard gently started moving, as the calm, delicate notes of "Mood Indigo" filled every fiber of his body, every breath, every gesture.
He smiled, and let the music guide him as he felt Frank move against him, maybe a little uneasy at first.
The boy smiled back, and licked his lips.
Maybe it was the emptiness, or the alcohol, or cold winter winds that made their bones rattle, but Gerard's lips pressed against Frank's almost automatically, before he could stop it, before he could even think of stopping it.
And Frank kissed him back without objecting, without making a sound.
Duke Ellington played on, and the rain outside poured, and nothing mattered except them kissing, and old wounds began to heal, emptinesses began to be filled.
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