Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > But No One Sees the Gnashing Teeth of My Heart [Frerard]


by eccentricpaige 1 review

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Drama - Characters: Frank Iero,Gerard Way - Warnings: [?] - Published: 2012-05-29 - Updated: 2012-05-30 - 2127 words

"Well?" Gerard asks, his eyes wide and expecting while I'm at a loss for words. I take a moment to sneak my usual peek at the boy in front of me. Beautiful is really the only word worth using, which scares me somewhat because so many people in the surrounding area would probably send me to church for it. I need to stay focused and stop looking at those eyes. Those fucking flawless eyes with the small freckle just beneath the bruised skin surrounding the one on the left. Those honest eyes that lie to everyone.

I shake away my thoughts and pay closer attention to the issue at hand. "Uhm... Well, I'm seventeen. I'll be eighteen in just a few weeks, though. And my l-last name's Iero," I stop, for a moment to collect myself because all of this information will be worthless if he can't understand it anyway. "Italian." I say, answering the question he asked without words before going on. "I uh... well I pretty much just try to stay away from the school as much as possible - home, too. And I play guitar. Your turn." I say, hoping he won't back out because this very moment is probably the closest he's ever been to me at all.

"My last name's Way... I live here, obviously. Uhm, well I actually turned eighteen this past April... I draw a lot, and I kind of try to stay private." Gerard finishes, ironically. He utters a small laugh as I try and process all that's been said. Even when he opens up, he's still vague and hardly personable. It's hard trying not to call him out on it either, but I know I'm the same way.

"Gerard Way."

"Frank Iero." Gerard says, mocking me pleasantly. But his lips say my name differently than most I've heard. He's not scolding me, or trying to scare me off. He's just saying it, like it's a peculiar thing. Like it's handsome and worth saying again in contexts elsewhere. I start to wonder if the way I said his name was acceptable to him.

"So what do you believe in?" Gerard asks, taking a long swig of Pepsi as he waits for my answer. I study his throat and watch him swallow the gulp quickly, knowing how the air he took with his drink probably hurt going down.

"Not sure. Religion's pretty big in my house, so I kind of resent it, you could say. I guess I believe in a God, but I have a hard time distinguishing what's fact and what's stretched in the Bible." I say respectfully. Gerard blinks a time or two as if my answer has surprised him.

"I'm Catholic. But I haven't been to mass in God knows how long." he confesses, carefully running a hand through his mess of hair in embarrassment. We both chuckle in unison right before hearing a scene play out on the movie going on behind us. At least this way it isn't too quiet.

"Gotta girlfriend, Frank?" Gerard asks unexpectedly. I'm quick to shake my head No, but backtrack only slightly to provide him with a better explanation.

"I'm really not interested in people like that for the time being." I reply timidly. Here I go, probably proving myself to be the world's most eccentric teenager. So in order to escape the humiliation, I direct the same question back at Gerard. "So how about you?"

It's a long time before he answers, but when he does, I partly wish he'd just kept it to himself. Because this makes things complicated. This makes my mind go fucking crazy.

"I'm gay. And no, there's no one I'm seeing." he says simply. And I know that the shocked expression spreading over my face is both annoying and unattractive, but I can't help it. It's so rare that a boy of his age isn't ashamed of such a truth. And I admire it, even if the idea of him liking men scares me more than it should.

"C-cool." I say with little to no suavity. Gerard snorts for a moment, quietly laughing at my statement but in the sweetest of ways. I amuse him. And I'm unsure of how I feel about it.

"So... God, you must think I'm like the biggest slob in the world." Gerard says, breaking the tension and having me look around upon hearing his words. It occurs to me that to many, the living room we've been sitting in is actually a filthy place. But it really hadn't bothered me and probably never will.

"Oh, dude don't even worry about it. Just be lucky your mom doesn't make you clean like mine does." I try to say soothingly. Gerard looks uneasy for only a moment, and then brightens up with incredible recovery.

"Yeah, I really am I guess. Hey, so what're you doing when you get out of here? You're not staying, right?" Gerard asks, veering the conversation off topic once more. My first take on the question is that he means the very house we're in, but after waiting for a moment, it sinks in that he's actually talking about the town as a whole.

"I've not really figured that part out, yet. I'm pretty undecided on a lot of things, and my future just happens to be one of them. You? Where do you see yourself?"

Again, Gerard concentrates hard on the question as if it hadn't occurred to him that I might want to know what he's all about as well. With a sigh, he answers profoundly. "I see myself in a lot of different areas in theory, but the possibility of getting out of here alive is so far out of reach at the moment. I can't see it happening." and his words hit me hard. Because here I am, hoping for a better life and having the confidence in myself to achieve that much, while the shredded boy beside of me has lost hope already. Is it really so far-fetched? For people our age to successfully get away? I can feel the panic rise, and I know I need to leave for both personal reasons and because my mother would scream if I didn't. Fraternizing with a homosexual. She'd come and torch the house herself. Which is probably the appeal, in truth. Gerard: the spitting image of taboo, and my potential friend. Who knew rebellion could be so intriguing.

"I've really got to go. I have the same curfew I did the other night and it's almost time..." I trail off, sensing the reclusive side of Gerard as it takes over his system before I'm even out the door.

"Yeah, I knew that was coming up soon. C'ya around then, huh Frank?" Gerard asks, practically sobbing with his words, gripping my heart though I can't explain why.

"Of course."

I want to hug him. Or simply tell him that he's been more of a "friend" to me in the last week or so than anyone has been in years. But both options are just too deep for a couple of kids to fool with delving into. Which is bullshit, but true. I wave and follow my way out, wondering how long it will take for me to make it back when the sun's already started to set. Gerard traces my steps to the door and stands near the front as he sees me off, boring a heavy hole right through the back of my head and begging me to turn around and second-guess my choice to leave.

So he's free and he's talented. He's already so sure of his sexuality, and even his name's appealing. I continue to think about the boy I've learned about as I walk in the dark toward my home. It's hard to keep my thoughts from straying to a hazardous place where I dare to picture us together; where we're a couple and far more than friends. Because it's frightening to see myself as someone in a category so hated by the public, but even deeper, it's hard to see myself so happy in such an unexpected way. I'm scared of what he's started in me; what he's stirred to life and really impressed upon me. But it's the fear I could grow to like; a fear which holds the dull throbbing of curiosity rather than fright, and a fear that could very well morph into something so far from fear, it could almost be classified as joy instead.

"Nice to see you home almost five minutes late. Your privileges will be plucked away one by one if you don't start to follow the rules, Frank." my mother scolds as I walk through the door and over to the steps. I nod in acknowledgement before marching to my room to try and swim around in these thoughts once more. No such luck is found when I make it to the top though, because my father's home and scowling like I had just murdered the innocent before his eyes.

"What did I tell you about listening to your mother?! She starts speaking to you and you just walk away! God, Frank! Start acting like you're not the cold person we all see you as. Put a smile on your face every once and a while! Be happy!" my father yells, holding his hand back as if it has a mind of its own and would slap me if not for his other hand to harness its wrath. Second after second, I'm torn down just as quickly as Gerard had built me up. In this house, Gerard doesn't exist. And any happiness I could have hoped for is so far away that it's nearly impossible to picture in the midst of every painful jab to my personality.

"Sorry, dad. I'll do better." I mumble while willing his speech to be finished. He huffs somewhat loudly, but other than that it seems I'm free to go. He stomps over to his side of the hallway and slips back into his room, clearly upset but too enraged to talk about it as he's grunting to himself.

So I walk to my room and lock the door behind me before falling on the bed I've been practically dreaming of since the first step I took in the direction of home. The sting I need is calling for me to break down and let it rule me completely like it always has. And I'm too weak to put a stop to it as usual.

I sit up and rifle through my belongings, my hand finally resting on what I want more than anything else at this moment. I flip the blade backwards and stare at it long and hard, almost trying to picture how mangled and injured it will look once I'm done. I lift my sleeve and make a few thin cuts, but it's just not enough. My dad's yelling and my mother's anger all build up and spill over me while Gerard becomes a thing of the past - or possibly just the imaginary.

I make the decision so earnestly; so fluidly that it bothers me to know how right this all feels. Without further stalling, I swipe the blade vertically down my forearm and watch the specks of blood collect and trail down my arm, knowing I haven't gone deep enough to really need medical attention. And it feels so disgustingly good to have a new kind of pain. To feel this so much deeper than any emotion could ever travel. It's bliss.

I do it once more, just to really grasp the feeling of it all. I'm a bloody, ruined mess and I look like I've been attacked, but it's so tragically gorgeous that I couldn't look away if I actually wanted to. This is really all I have to look forward to, anymore. Because this feeling will never abandon me like happiness can and always has. This feeling is fresh and never old, and it will always be here to glue the shreds together in an imperfect but sufficient way.

A/N: Hey, so for anyone who's interested, I'm going to go ahead and post a link of the site that this story was originally posted on. It's slightly further along than it is here on ficwad. Don't feel obligated to go over there and read it instead of here if it's not your thing and you're content with the pace I'm going currently, but at the same time feel free to venture on and read the additional chapters if you're hungry for more. < 3

Also! If you guys decide to make accounts on said site, refer me! shameless self-promotion
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