Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
When your heart begins to break.
8 reviewsCosmicZombie's Music and Words.“Someone once told me, “Y-you only hear the m-music when your heart b-begins to break” and... and I th-think I hear the m-music now. I g-get it, all the l-lyric...
2Original
A/N: This is for CosmicZombie’s thingamabob. Yep, that is a word. Microsoft didn’t spell check it :L So the song is Kids From Yesterday and this is my interpretation :D And I have two days to get this complete... D: So, Onwards and downwards!
XoxoxoDetonaterGirlxoxoxO
Ps from now on I’ll be signing my stories as Megan. You know, my name? Jack does it for hers....
If someone were to look in the first window to the right on the upper story of the little white two story that belonged to the Iero family, they would see something so strange, yet so heart breaking.
If someone did look in the window, they would see a small, white-tiled bathroom, with pretty ornaments and flowers and pastel colours. The room was square, with white ceramic sink, toilet and bath. Over the bath was an electric shower, and a floral print shower curtain was attached to a rail that ran around the bath to provide privacy to whomever would be in the shower. In the bath was a young boy.
The boy was roughly fifteen years old, although he looked twelve due to his tiny stature, with a dark, chocolate coloured hair do that was longer in the middle with a fringe, so that it could be worn as a small Mohawk. The boy had clear, pale skin, the colour of ivory, and large, doe-like eyes- also a brown colour. He wore dark eyeliner, which had ran down his face and left streaks, along with grimy tracks, from tears. The black drops collected at his lightly pointed chin, and dripped onto his tear- and eyeliner- stained tee-shirt, where they made a wet, darker patch. The tee-shirt was black, as was his second-skin like skinny jeans. Both tee-shirt and jeans were adorned with pins, chains and assorted rips. He wore white socks on his feet, but no shoes.
His small, lithe body was curled up in the tub, his legs pulled as close to his chest as the constricting space would allow, one hand under his head to save him from the hard surface of the bath hurting his head- instead causing his hand pain, pain that he ignored.
The boy’s chin trembled as he sucked on two fingers, his index and middle finger, as a way of comforting himself. His fingers tasted salty from the tears, and slightly metallic from the hoop that decorated his lower lip.
He was sniffling, his breath hitching as he gulped and whimpered, trying to stop the tears but only making them worse, causing his thin chest to heave, as he gasped between heart-wrenching sobs.
His eyes were puffy from the tears, and red. His nose was runny, and his hair and clothing were dishevelled, the latter being creased. He had red marks on the parts of his body that had pressure put on them against the bath tub.
Outside the white bathroom door, lying on the ground, was another boy of similar age, maybe two or three years the senior to the one in the tub. The boy outside the door was sitting, pressed against the white-painted wooden door, his ass painful from sitting on the pale wooden floor for nearly three hours. He was also dressed exclusively in black, wearing a hoodie that was at least two sizes too large, a plain black wife beater and a pair of fading black jeans. On his feet he wore scruffy black converse all stars that were in dire need of a wash, or better, being chucked, no pun intended.
He, too, was pale, yet pale in a more sickly fashion. His jewel-green eyes, surrounded by long feathery black lashes, were rimmed with red eyeliner, giving him the appearance of someone who had spent their day crying- which he had. His unkempt mop of black hair fell to his shoulders, tangled and wanting a good wash. He was long and lanky, and thin.
The boy outside the door raised a fist and rapped the door softly with his knuckles.
“Frankie? Frankie, d’you think you can open the door now? Please?” He whispered, yet loud enough for the boy on the other side of the wood to hear.
“G-g-gee, I ca-can’t. I juh-just c-can’t. I-I’m suh-sorry.” He sobbed, breath hitching, causing him to stutter.
“Please Frankie? Please!” The elder said desperately. “Just, so I can help you! I need to know what happened!” He said, louder this time. The bathroom was silent for a few minutes, causing the green-eyed boy’s heart to stop, but he then heard a weak reply.
“O-okay... I’ll open it.”
Gerard stood up and turned to the door. He heard Frank clamber out of the bath and across the tiled floor. Frank opened the lock, the brass squealing and grinding against its self. He then swung open the door, which creaked, and stood back for Gerard to enter. Once the taller boy was inside, he closed and locked the door again.
Gerard sat on the ground, back against the bath, and motioned to Frank to sit beside him. Frank did as he was indicated to do, curling into a ball and leaning his head on Gerard’s shoulder. He started crying softly on his friend’s shoulder.
“What happened Frankie? Who made you cry?” Gerard asked. He, along with Frank’s mother, had no idea what was wrong with Frank. He had been waiting outside school for him, as per usual, when the boy had come running out of the building, crying his heart out, and had run home and locked himself into the bathroom. Gerard had been begging and pleading with him to open the door for three hours, getting little or nothing as reply, until now.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Frank whispered, his eyes glassy as he stared at the radiator, not seeing it.
“Okay, we don’t have to. We can just sit here for a while,” Gerard whispered back to him. They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, broken only by Frank’s sniffles until Gerard handed him a hanky, until-
“Gerard?”
“Yeah?”
“Someone once told me, “Y-you only hear the m-music when your heart b-begins to break” and... and I th-think I hear the m-music now. I g-get it, all the l-lyrics about p-pain and heart break and st-stuff. I hear them, p-properly. I... I w-wish I d-didn’t.” Frank whispered.
“I wish you didn’t too. Frank, will...” he trailed off, hesitating.
“What is it Gee?” Frank asked.
“Will you tell me why you were upset?” Gerard whispered, holding his breath.
Sorry for interrupting, but... my six year old half brother thinks chicken is a vegetable -_- I have no hope for him. Okay, back to what made Frank cry.
“Because.... they found my diary.”
“Who’s ‘they’ Frankie?” Gerard said, puzzled.
“The jocks, Mark and Raavi and Jordan and them.”
“Oh. And, erm, what happened?”
“They read some of it and.... and... Gee?”
“Yeah Frankie?”
“What’s your opinion on homosexuals?” Frank said, barely audible.
“Frank, a person’s a person, no matter how sma- well. No matter their sexuality. If you love someone, everything about them, for who they are, for their personality, for their habits and their traits, then gender shouldn’t matter. It, erm, it doesn’t for me.” Gerard said, a slight blush creeping into his cheeks.
“You mean- ? Oh! That’s, that’s great! Cos, cos, well... my, em, diary entry... well, it was about a boy.” Frank said, raising his head so that he was looking in Gerard’s eyes. “By the way, Doctor Seuss?” Frank said, raising an eyebrow. He felt more comfortable now, although he was practically lying on his best friend.
“Shuddup, Seuss’s a genius!” Gerard said. Frank chuckled at his childish tone, then sobered up when he caught sight of his mother’s razor, the metal glinting in the fading evening light. It was fast approaching half seven.
“Gee, did you ever consider... you know... ending your life?” Gerard’s previously soft eyes hardened at the suggestion.
“Frank, you shouldn’t have thoughts like that. Ever. Suicide is a long term solution to a temporary problem. Besides, if you were to... you know... I would be the one hearing the music.” Gerard said, whispering the last sentence, gazing into his best friend’s chocolate eyes.
“You, you would?”
“Of course. I... I love you,” Gerard whispered, leaning in to kiss a very shocked Frank on the lips gently. He pulled back, afraid he had overstepped some invisible line, sure the boy would hate him, but-
Frank clambered around so he was straddling Gerard, and tilted his face up so the two were looking into each other’s eyes.
“Gee, my diary entry, the one they read... It was about you. About how much I love you, and your hazel eyes, and your inky glossy hair and how small I feel when I’m wi-“
Frank was cut off by Gerard capturing his lips in another sweet kiss, one that turned passionate fast.
Outside the first window to the right on the upper story of the little white two story that belonged to the Iero family, perched on a wooden ladder, Mrs. Iero wiped a tear from her eye and smiled broadly. She descended the ladder and put it back in the shed at the back of the house. She hadn’t been spying, merely checking her little baby was okay.
Only, he wasn’t her baby any more, he was a handsome young teenager, and he made her feel like a kid from yesterday.
~fin~
Well... laughs nervously... you liked it? I kind a wrote this in a rush, but I got it done! :D* Also, I like the name Raavi. Also (number 2), what did you think of Frank's mom being a creeper? ]
[*Megan
XoxoxoDetonaterGirlxoxoxO
Ps from now on I’ll be signing my stories as Megan. You know, my name? Jack does it for hers....
If someone were to look in the first window to the right on the upper story of the little white two story that belonged to the Iero family, they would see something so strange, yet so heart breaking.
If someone did look in the window, they would see a small, white-tiled bathroom, with pretty ornaments and flowers and pastel colours. The room was square, with white ceramic sink, toilet and bath. Over the bath was an electric shower, and a floral print shower curtain was attached to a rail that ran around the bath to provide privacy to whomever would be in the shower. In the bath was a young boy.
The boy was roughly fifteen years old, although he looked twelve due to his tiny stature, with a dark, chocolate coloured hair do that was longer in the middle with a fringe, so that it could be worn as a small Mohawk. The boy had clear, pale skin, the colour of ivory, and large, doe-like eyes- also a brown colour. He wore dark eyeliner, which had ran down his face and left streaks, along with grimy tracks, from tears. The black drops collected at his lightly pointed chin, and dripped onto his tear- and eyeliner- stained tee-shirt, where they made a wet, darker patch. The tee-shirt was black, as was his second-skin like skinny jeans. Both tee-shirt and jeans were adorned with pins, chains and assorted rips. He wore white socks on his feet, but no shoes.
His small, lithe body was curled up in the tub, his legs pulled as close to his chest as the constricting space would allow, one hand under his head to save him from the hard surface of the bath hurting his head- instead causing his hand pain, pain that he ignored.
The boy’s chin trembled as he sucked on two fingers, his index and middle finger, as a way of comforting himself. His fingers tasted salty from the tears, and slightly metallic from the hoop that decorated his lower lip.
He was sniffling, his breath hitching as he gulped and whimpered, trying to stop the tears but only making them worse, causing his thin chest to heave, as he gasped between heart-wrenching sobs.
His eyes were puffy from the tears, and red. His nose was runny, and his hair and clothing were dishevelled, the latter being creased. He had red marks on the parts of his body that had pressure put on them against the bath tub.
Outside the white bathroom door, lying on the ground, was another boy of similar age, maybe two or three years the senior to the one in the tub. The boy outside the door was sitting, pressed against the white-painted wooden door, his ass painful from sitting on the pale wooden floor for nearly three hours. He was also dressed exclusively in black, wearing a hoodie that was at least two sizes too large, a plain black wife beater and a pair of fading black jeans. On his feet he wore scruffy black converse all stars that were in dire need of a wash, or better, being chucked, no pun intended.
He, too, was pale, yet pale in a more sickly fashion. His jewel-green eyes, surrounded by long feathery black lashes, were rimmed with red eyeliner, giving him the appearance of someone who had spent their day crying- which he had. His unkempt mop of black hair fell to his shoulders, tangled and wanting a good wash. He was long and lanky, and thin.
The boy outside the door raised a fist and rapped the door softly with his knuckles.
“Frankie? Frankie, d’you think you can open the door now? Please?” He whispered, yet loud enough for the boy on the other side of the wood to hear.
“G-g-gee, I ca-can’t. I juh-just c-can’t. I-I’m suh-sorry.” He sobbed, breath hitching, causing him to stutter.
“Please Frankie? Please!” The elder said desperately. “Just, so I can help you! I need to know what happened!” He said, louder this time. The bathroom was silent for a few minutes, causing the green-eyed boy’s heart to stop, but he then heard a weak reply.
“O-okay... I’ll open it.”
Gerard stood up and turned to the door. He heard Frank clamber out of the bath and across the tiled floor. Frank opened the lock, the brass squealing and grinding against its self. He then swung open the door, which creaked, and stood back for Gerard to enter. Once the taller boy was inside, he closed and locked the door again.
Gerard sat on the ground, back against the bath, and motioned to Frank to sit beside him. Frank did as he was indicated to do, curling into a ball and leaning his head on Gerard’s shoulder. He started crying softly on his friend’s shoulder.
“What happened Frankie? Who made you cry?” Gerard asked. He, along with Frank’s mother, had no idea what was wrong with Frank. He had been waiting outside school for him, as per usual, when the boy had come running out of the building, crying his heart out, and had run home and locked himself into the bathroom. Gerard had been begging and pleading with him to open the door for three hours, getting little or nothing as reply, until now.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Frank whispered, his eyes glassy as he stared at the radiator, not seeing it.
“Okay, we don’t have to. We can just sit here for a while,” Gerard whispered back to him. They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, broken only by Frank’s sniffles until Gerard handed him a hanky, until-
“Gerard?”
“Yeah?”
“Someone once told me, “Y-you only hear the m-music when your heart b-begins to break” and... and I th-think I hear the m-music now. I g-get it, all the l-lyrics about p-pain and heart break and st-stuff. I hear them, p-properly. I... I w-wish I d-didn’t.” Frank whispered.
“I wish you didn’t too. Frank, will...” he trailed off, hesitating.
“What is it Gee?” Frank asked.
“Will you tell me why you were upset?” Gerard whispered, holding his breath.
Sorry for interrupting, but... my six year old half brother thinks chicken is a vegetable -_- I have no hope for him. Okay, back to what made Frank cry.
“Because.... they found my diary.”
“Who’s ‘they’ Frankie?” Gerard said, puzzled.
“The jocks, Mark and Raavi and Jordan and them.”
“Oh. And, erm, what happened?”
“They read some of it and.... and... Gee?”
“Yeah Frankie?”
“What’s your opinion on homosexuals?” Frank said, barely audible.
“Frank, a person’s a person, no matter how sma- well. No matter their sexuality. If you love someone, everything about them, for who they are, for their personality, for their habits and their traits, then gender shouldn’t matter. It, erm, it doesn’t for me.” Gerard said, a slight blush creeping into his cheeks.
“You mean- ? Oh! That’s, that’s great! Cos, cos, well... my, em, diary entry... well, it was about a boy.” Frank said, raising his head so that he was looking in Gerard’s eyes. “By the way, Doctor Seuss?” Frank said, raising an eyebrow. He felt more comfortable now, although he was practically lying on his best friend.
“Shuddup, Seuss’s a genius!” Gerard said. Frank chuckled at his childish tone, then sobered up when he caught sight of his mother’s razor, the metal glinting in the fading evening light. It was fast approaching half seven.
“Gee, did you ever consider... you know... ending your life?” Gerard’s previously soft eyes hardened at the suggestion.
“Frank, you shouldn’t have thoughts like that. Ever. Suicide is a long term solution to a temporary problem. Besides, if you were to... you know... I would be the one hearing the music.” Gerard said, whispering the last sentence, gazing into his best friend’s chocolate eyes.
“You, you would?”
“Of course. I... I love you,” Gerard whispered, leaning in to kiss a very shocked Frank on the lips gently. He pulled back, afraid he had overstepped some invisible line, sure the boy would hate him, but-
Frank clambered around so he was straddling Gerard, and tilted his face up so the two were looking into each other’s eyes.
“Gee, my diary entry, the one they read... It was about you. About how much I love you, and your hazel eyes, and your inky glossy hair and how small I feel when I’m wi-“
Frank was cut off by Gerard capturing his lips in another sweet kiss, one that turned passionate fast.
Outside the first window to the right on the upper story of the little white two story that belonged to the Iero family, perched on a wooden ladder, Mrs. Iero wiped a tear from her eye and smiled broadly. She descended the ladder and put it back in the shed at the back of the house. She hadn’t been spying, merely checking her little baby was okay.
Only, he wasn’t her baby any more, he was a handsome young teenager, and he made her feel like a kid from yesterday.
~fin~
Well... laughs nervously... you liked it? I kind a wrote this in a rush, but I got it done! :D* Also, I like the name Raavi. Also (number 2), what did you think of Frank's mom being a creeper? ]
[*Megan
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