Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > The American Revenge Tour
Gerard
Frank won’t speak to me. He won’t even look at me. Each night for the past week he plays his part onstage, then goes straight to his bunk. He barely talks during interviews, and whenever we’re forced to interact, his replies are short and rude. But he’s only occupying half of my mind. The other half is the emerald eyed man we’re on tour with. The one, for some reason, I so desperately want to touch, to hold…to kiss. I can’t shake the dream from my thoughts. When he’s onstage, dancing with that damn red feather boa, I feel heat flood my cheeks and my mind takes it to a much dirtier level.
I jump when I feel someone’s breath on my neck, turning around to see Billie. We’ve become good friends recently, spending most of our time together. He has a lollipop in his mouth and his green eyes are flickering with curiosity. He’s not looking at me though, he’s looking at the drawing on my lap—the drawing of him onstage…with his ass showing and a feather boa around his neck…and he’s shirtless. I can’t help but blush and don’t meet his gaze when he joins me on the couch. I know he has that stupid smirk he always wears as he grabs for the sketch pad, which I eagerly attempt to get away from him. His eyes start shining with a mischevious glint and I’m worried as to what he’s going to do. Being the devious little man he is, he pushes me onto my back and sits on my hips, reaching for the notebook, but still, he’s still slightly too short to grab it.
“Bitch, let me see!” His voice had a childish tone to it so I stuck my tongue out at him, causing him to do the same to me. He attempts to reach it again, almost falling off of me, but quickly regaining his balance. Somehow, seconds later, he has the sketchpad in his hands and is sitting on my hips once more, his emerald gaze scanning the drawing. He looks adorable with a concentrated look on his features and the sucker in his mouth.
“You suck.” He smiles and glances down at me.
“Only if you want me too!” He giggles and climbs off of me, sitting on the ground. A dirty image flashes through my mind and I blink to get rid of it, blushing slightly. I sit up and look at him curiously, nervousness bubbling in my stomach.
“I uhm…I thought it was funny.” Billie looks up at me and smiles, handing me the sketch pad. I take it cautiously. You can only see his back and the arm that’s holding down the pants and he stands up, taking his jacket off. “What’re you doing?” I swallow nervously and he takes the lollipop out of his mouth.
“You didn’t draw my tattoos.” He replies simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. I look down at my drawing and back at him, seeing his shirt has been discarded too. I feel my breath hitch in my throat. Holy shit he has a nice body. He’s toned, but not too toned, and his skin is a beautiful olive color. Ink litters his chest and arms, and I look back up at him. “well?” I nod. There’s no way in hell I’m passing up this opportunity. He sits next to me on the couch, positioning himself so I can see the tattoos. We sit in silence as I draw them in as much detail as I could. His mind seems somewhere far off, and as I study his tattoos, I’m curious as to the meaning behind them.
“What do they mean?” He turns and looks at me, looking confused. I must’ve pulled him out of his dream world.
“Hm?”
“Your tattoos…do they have meanings?” I add, and he nods and smiles, explaining each and everyone and the story behind it. He pauses when he gets to the one of the photostrip of the woman on his forearm. “Billie?” I urge him on and he chews on his lip for a few seconds before opening his mouth to speak. He has tears in his eyes that he refuses to let fall as he speaks, and his voice was slightly shaky.
“This uh…this is –was—my wife. She was the greatest thing to ever happen to me, ya’know?...We fell in love so fast, and although we lived miles apart, we talked every minute we could. I loved her more than anything. She was the reason I woke up in the morning and the reason I went to bed at night…just so I could lie next to her and kiss her. She got pregnant and uhm…something went wrong during the pregnancy six months in. It took her and the baby… that was six years ago.” He explains quietly.
“Billie…”
His black locks fell infront of his eyes as he stood up and put his shirt back on and he didn’t meet my gaze as he headed towards the door. He pauses, looking down at his converse covered feet.
“Uh…thanks. Your drawing is great…” With that, he leaves, walking out into the cold night air to his own tour bus. I glance down at my drawing and run my fingers over it. The air around me was quiet and filled with an emotion I could only identify as sorrow. I have a feeling there’s more to his story than he’s tlling me, more than his lost wife and child, and part of me wanted so desperately to know what it is so I could help hip, but at the same time, I didn’t want to open old wounds that he may be trying to forget.
“He’s lying.” I jump at his voice and look up, seeing Frank in the door way. His arms are crossed and he’s drenched in shadows, making the hatred in his eyes flicker that much more.
“Shit, Frank…you scared me.” He walks out into the light, looking a lot bigger than he actually is. Anger is flowing off him in waves and I swallow.
“Stay away from him, Gerard.” His words confuse me.
“What’re-“
“She didn’t die because of pregnancy. He killed her. He slaughtered her. And he’ll do the same thing
to you, too.” I roll my eyes, turning back to my drawing and beginning to shade some more. “You don’t believe me.” I look up at him and nod.
“You’re right.” I smile and look back down, annoyed my friend would accuse Billie of something like that. Billie wouldn’t hurt anyone, let alone someone he loved.
“You have to believe me, Gerard. He will kill you. Mike told me what he and Billie did to his pretty little wife when he was drunk. They tortured her. They killed her and her child.” Franks voice is harsh and his words piss me off.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Frank? How can you accuse him of something like that? Just because I’m spending more time with him, doesn’t mean you have to do this to get me to hang out with you again.” I retort, jumping to my feet and looking down at Frank. He begins laughing, clutching his
stomach.
“Of course it’s all about you, Gerard! The perfect diva! When isn’t it about you?” His voice turns serious, “Get your head out of the fucking clouds…I’m just trying to warn you, when he tries to kill you…” He laughs once, looking me up and down, then walks away. I grab his wrist, causing his to turn around. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I am shocked speechless, where’s all this hatred coming from? Within seconds, he’s off the bus as well, leaving me alone again.
I collapse to the couch in confusion, looking over at my drawing of Billie. I flip the page and look at one I drew almost a year ago of Frankie and I. We were kissing and cuddling. Ah, frank… the boy I was in love with. The boy I was still in love with. The straight boy. At least Billie’s bi…maybe, maybe I’ll have a chance with him eventually.
Frank won’t speak to me. He won’t even look at me. Each night for the past week he plays his part onstage, then goes straight to his bunk. He barely talks during interviews, and whenever we’re forced to interact, his replies are short and rude. But he’s only occupying half of my mind. The other half is the emerald eyed man we’re on tour with. The one, for some reason, I so desperately want to touch, to hold…to kiss. I can’t shake the dream from my thoughts. When he’s onstage, dancing with that damn red feather boa, I feel heat flood my cheeks and my mind takes it to a much dirtier level.
I jump when I feel someone’s breath on my neck, turning around to see Billie. We’ve become good friends recently, spending most of our time together. He has a lollipop in his mouth and his green eyes are flickering with curiosity. He’s not looking at me though, he’s looking at the drawing on my lap—the drawing of him onstage…with his ass showing and a feather boa around his neck…and he’s shirtless. I can’t help but blush and don’t meet his gaze when he joins me on the couch. I know he has that stupid smirk he always wears as he grabs for the sketch pad, which I eagerly attempt to get away from him. His eyes start shining with a mischevious glint and I’m worried as to what he’s going to do. Being the devious little man he is, he pushes me onto my back and sits on my hips, reaching for the notebook, but still, he’s still slightly too short to grab it.
“Bitch, let me see!” His voice had a childish tone to it so I stuck my tongue out at him, causing him to do the same to me. He attempts to reach it again, almost falling off of me, but quickly regaining his balance. Somehow, seconds later, he has the sketchpad in his hands and is sitting on my hips once more, his emerald gaze scanning the drawing. He looks adorable with a concentrated look on his features and the sucker in his mouth.
“You suck.” He smiles and glances down at me.
“Only if you want me too!” He giggles and climbs off of me, sitting on the ground. A dirty image flashes through my mind and I blink to get rid of it, blushing slightly. I sit up and look at him curiously, nervousness bubbling in my stomach.
“I uhm…I thought it was funny.” Billie looks up at me and smiles, handing me the sketch pad. I take it cautiously. You can only see his back and the arm that’s holding down the pants and he stands up, taking his jacket off. “What’re you doing?” I swallow nervously and he takes the lollipop out of his mouth.
“You didn’t draw my tattoos.” He replies simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. I look down at my drawing and back at him, seeing his shirt has been discarded too. I feel my breath hitch in my throat. Holy shit he has a nice body. He’s toned, but not too toned, and his skin is a beautiful olive color. Ink litters his chest and arms, and I look back up at him. “well?” I nod. There’s no way in hell I’m passing up this opportunity. He sits next to me on the couch, positioning himself so I can see the tattoos. We sit in silence as I draw them in as much detail as I could. His mind seems somewhere far off, and as I study his tattoos, I’m curious as to the meaning behind them.
“What do they mean?” He turns and looks at me, looking confused. I must’ve pulled him out of his dream world.
“Hm?”
“Your tattoos…do they have meanings?” I add, and he nods and smiles, explaining each and everyone and the story behind it. He pauses when he gets to the one of the photostrip of the woman on his forearm. “Billie?” I urge him on and he chews on his lip for a few seconds before opening his mouth to speak. He has tears in his eyes that he refuses to let fall as he speaks, and his voice was slightly shaky.
“This uh…this is –was—my wife. She was the greatest thing to ever happen to me, ya’know?...We fell in love so fast, and although we lived miles apart, we talked every minute we could. I loved her more than anything. She was the reason I woke up in the morning and the reason I went to bed at night…just so I could lie next to her and kiss her. She got pregnant and uhm…something went wrong during the pregnancy six months in. It took her and the baby… that was six years ago.” He explains quietly.
“Billie…”
His black locks fell infront of his eyes as he stood up and put his shirt back on and he didn’t meet my gaze as he headed towards the door. He pauses, looking down at his converse covered feet.
“Uh…thanks. Your drawing is great…” With that, he leaves, walking out into the cold night air to his own tour bus. I glance down at my drawing and run my fingers over it. The air around me was quiet and filled with an emotion I could only identify as sorrow. I have a feeling there’s more to his story than he’s tlling me, more than his lost wife and child, and part of me wanted so desperately to know what it is so I could help hip, but at the same time, I didn’t want to open old wounds that he may be trying to forget.
“He’s lying.” I jump at his voice and look up, seeing Frank in the door way. His arms are crossed and he’s drenched in shadows, making the hatred in his eyes flicker that much more.
“Shit, Frank…you scared me.” He walks out into the light, looking a lot bigger than he actually is. Anger is flowing off him in waves and I swallow.
“Stay away from him, Gerard.” His words confuse me.
“What’re-“
“She didn’t die because of pregnancy. He killed her. He slaughtered her. And he’ll do the same thing
to you, too.” I roll my eyes, turning back to my drawing and beginning to shade some more. “You don’t believe me.” I look up at him and nod.
“You’re right.” I smile and look back down, annoyed my friend would accuse Billie of something like that. Billie wouldn’t hurt anyone, let alone someone he loved.
“You have to believe me, Gerard. He will kill you. Mike told me what he and Billie did to his pretty little wife when he was drunk. They tortured her. They killed her and her child.” Franks voice is harsh and his words piss me off.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Frank? How can you accuse him of something like that? Just because I’m spending more time with him, doesn’t mean you have to do this to get me to hang out with you again.” I retort, jumping to my feet and looking down at Frank. He begins laughing, clutching his
stomach.
“Of course it’s all about you, Gerard! The perfect diva! When isn’t it about you?” His voice turns serious, “Get your head out of the fucking clouds…I’m just trying to warn you, when he tries to kill you…” He laughs once, looking me up and down, then walks away. I grab his wrist, causing his to turn around. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I am shocked speechless, where’s all this hatred coming from? Within seconds, he’s off the bus as well, leaving me alone again.
I collapse to the couch in confusion, looking over at my drawing of Billie. I flip the page and look at one I drew almost a year ago of Frankie and I. We were kissing and cuddling. Ah, frank… the boy I was in love with. The boy I was still in love with. The straight boy. At least Billie’s bi…maybe, maybe I’ll have a chance with him eventually.
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