Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance

P.S. Don't Write

by emmaway 2 reviews

I still couldn’t quite make out where I was, or who I was exactly.

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Drama - Characters: Frank Iero,Gerard Way,Mikey Way,Ray Toro - Warnings: [!!] [V] - Published: 2012-07-01 - Updated: 2012-07-01 - 1008 words - Complete

April 12th, 1998

“Another rain filled day for Belleville, New Jersey. “ I thought, stepping out into the bitter cold and grey world around me. It was April 12th, school had just gotten out for Spring Break, thank god for that. If I had to take another quiz before 2nd quarter my D’s would be F’s and I would be fucked. I walked silently through the worn out streets of my neighborhood, my black converse getting more battered by the heavy rainfall. I took a left at the intersection, hoping somehow I remembered where the old baseball field was. I hadn’t been there for ages. The rain was still pouring, just getting heavier and heavier, but none of that mattered to me. This was just a normal day for New Jersey, but for me, not so much. It may have been ages since I have visited the baseball fields, but it had been forever since I saw my old friends Gerard and Ray. After what had happened, I’d never thought I would see them again. And If I could take it back, believe me, I would.
It had been yet another rainy night, but more dangerous then others. The temperatures were falling because of the arriving winter, and the rain on the ground was beginning to freeze. Ray and I had gone to Gerard’s house to play some video games and read comics. Mikey had been upset with me already from getting him suspended from school for a week and a half, even though it had been me who spray painted “FUCK SOCIETY” on the double-doors of the school. Mikey and I have never really gotten along before, but this was the breaking point. The moment I stepped through the Way’s front door, I knew things weren’t right. “What is he doing here?” were the first words spat in my direction by the youngest Way brother. I was usually someone who dealt with things in an easy way, but at the moment, I’d had enough to worry about. My mother getting fired from her job, and my new depression meds (that didn’t work) had stressed me out more then usual.
“You know what, Way? I’m sick of you holding this god-damn grudge on me for these little fucking accidents. Maybe if you could actually open your fucking eyes and see that I’m trying to be a fucking friend of yours here then you wouldn’t be so fucking uptight about this shit. I’ve had enough of it!” I had screamed at Mikey and ran back through the door and across the street towards my home, when something caught me. “You know what, Frank?” the little boy behind me said quietly, and I’d turned around to see him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you’re-“
Those were the last words I had heard from Michael Way. In that instant a drunk driver had floored his car onto the street where Mikey had been standing. He tried to get out of the way of the car but he just slipped and fell, because of the slick road beneath his feet. I knew it was my fault, but I couldn’t bring myself to stand there, and be forced to look at my friend, laying unconscious and dead in front of me. So I ran. I ran, and I kept running until I could barely breathe. I fell to my knees, collapsed, on a sidewalk somewhere I didn’t know. I had screamed at myself and cried and eventually fell asleep on the sidewalk, in the rain.
When I had woken up it was nearly light, but not quite. There was sort of a hazy blue in the air and it was close to dawn. I still couldn’t quite make out where I was, or who I was exactly. All I could remember is what had happened last night, and how I practically murdered one of my best friends. I reached my fingers to my head to try and calm the raging headache I had also woken up with, when I noticed the red marks on my wrists. I must have self harmed last night, when I wasn’t aware of anything. It had been years since I had self harmed and my mother found out, rushed me to the nearest therapist, and made me talk about all my problems. Like that worked. All I did was sit there and stare into the therapist’s eyes. Answering nothing. I didn’t really even hear what I was being asked, really. The therapist went out into the waiting room to tell my mother I could be dismissed, because of my lack of cooperation, and that he had called into the doctor to give me some depression medication. Ever since then things between my mother and I have been a speechless void, full of blank stares and too many things that couldn’t be put into words. My thoughts were rudely interrupted by a spray of frigid street water. “Real nice,” I thought, flipping off the driver of the beat up mustang. I crossed the street, carefully, getting nearer to the old fields where my old friends stand. Are they even my friends? I’m beginning to wonder why they’ve invited me here in the first place. Maybe they’re going to beat the shit out of me. Oh well, I guess I deserve it. For killing their brother/friend and not even attending the funeral. Maybe It’s because I wasn’t invited, but I still feel bad. I make the last turn towards the field and see the two dark figures standing in the distance, and through the fog, and I already know they are watching.

Thanks for reading! Please R&R, I'm still not sure If I'm going to go on with this story but If you want to, I most likely will, since I already (sort of) have a plot. Thanks again!

xoxox Emma.
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