Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > I Never Told You What I Do For A Living
Headfirst For Halos
3 reviewsGerard has some intense mood swings, but being with his love makes everything better.
2Exciting
The chapter title is Headfirst For Halos because of the mood swings Gerard goes through in this chapter. "The red ones make me fly, and the blue ones help me fall." There's no drugs in this chapter, but I thought it was slightly relevant...I'm ruining it. XD I've been writing away like crazy for the past two hours. Turns out hitting your head and spending three hours in the emergency room can really get your creative juices flowing. I've written two oneshots in the past hour. Yes, I have a minor concussion, but nothing too serious. ANYHOOZLES, here's what my confusing and slightly damaged mind has conjured up.
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Chapter 7
2 Days Later
Frank turns off the TV with a sigh and turns to me. “Gerard, we need to talk.”
I sink deeper into the mattress. “I was watching that!” I complain.
“You can’t possibly want to watch The Shining 3 times in a row.”
“It’s a good movie!” I retort. Suddenly, Cherub Rock begins to play from my cell phone.
Frank gestures to his bedside table. “Your phone is ringing.”
I glance at the glowing screen. It’s my mom. “Uggh.” I groan, throwing it across Frank’s bedroom. It hits the wall near his closet, causing the battery to pop out. The song stops instantly.
“Gerard!” Frank cries. “What the hell was that?” He looks at me in bewilderment. He’s recovered from shock, but his eyes still have that vulnerable, shattered look about them.
“She can leave a voicemail.” I say dismissively.
Frank throws his hands into the air. “I give up.”
“Frankie-” I begin, but he’s already left the room.
First I lose my brother, now I’m probably going to lose my boyfriend, too. I stare at the cracks in the ceiling and run my hands through my messy hair. The feeling I get when I’m about to cry washes over me, but tears don’t come. I’ve emptied my tear ducts countless times throughout the past week. It wouldn’t surprise me if I never shed a tear again.
I have a guilty, hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach. I haven’t been home for nearly two days, and my parents don’t know where I am. I can’t be in that house. I just can’t. I can’t pass that horrible empty bedroom again. I can’t sit through another silent meal across from the vacant chair, trying to ignore my mother’s sniffling. I can’t go into the bathroom and pretend like I don’t notice the empty bottles in the trash can.
I know my silence and irritability is making everything harder for Frank, but I can’t cheer up. He’s nearly as depressed as I am, but at least he puts on a happy face. I can’t bring myself to smile and act like everything’s perfect. I try, but then I’ll turn on the TV or the radio and my world will come crashing down again. It’s not just the media coverage that gets to me, it’s everything. Every song reminds me of a happy memory with my brother. Every word I hear reminds me of something he said. I hate all the newscasters and talk show hosts on TV. I hate them. They talk about the incident and pretend like they’re oh-so-sad about it, but they could care less. Belleview is far away from Hollywood. Nobody they know was involved in the incident. Their brothers didn’t wake up one morning and come to school with a gun in his backpack. They didn’t watch the person they love cough up blood, sprawled on the concrete steps…
I leap from Frank’s bed and sprint down the stairs, knowing I’m about to break. I find him in the living room reading a book. Without saying a word, he stands up and opens his arms. A small squeak escapes my throat as I throw myself into his arms. I crash into him so hard that we both fall down onto the couch behind us.
Frank strokes my hair and murmurs reassuring words. But I can barely hear them over the screaming in my head.
--
I can hear birds chirping outside as the sun rises. But in my mind, it’s still nighttime. Frank’s blackout curtains are shut tight, prohibiting any light from streaming into the room. The only light is the eye-watering brightness of the computer monitor I’ve been glued to for God knows how long. My eyes are so glazed over that I don’t even know what’s on the screen. Last time I checked, I was “reading” about Russian politics.
“Gerard…” Frank practically meows my name, it’s so soft and high-pitched.
I swivel the desk chair around. “What is it, baby?” I ask.
Frank doesn’t respond. I can only see a few tufts of his black hair peeping out from underneath the blankets. He must be asleep. I’m about to turn back to the computer when I hear my name again.
“Gerard!” Frank cries softly. He sounds like he’s crying. I quickly cross the room and slide into bed next to him.
“Are you okay, Frankie?” I whisper. Again, he doesn’t respond. He’s shaking like a leaf.
He’s having another nightmare. I pull him into my arms. It kills me to see my baby like this, but all I can do is kiss his cheek and wait it out.
As soon as Frank is settled into my arms, he calms down. His breathing becomes slow and regular, and his beautiful sleeping face relaxes into a slight smile. Frank and I seem to alternate between being comforted and comforting. Frank held me for nearly two hours this afternoon, and now it’s my turn to protect him. He nestles his head against my chest and makes a little happy sound of contentment. My heart swells with love.
My eyes still sting from staring at the computer for so long. The monitor is still glowing, reflecting off of the mirror hanging on the closet door. I should turn it off and go to sleep. I gently re-arrange Frank and walk back to the desk. His eyebrows furrow and his chin begins to quiver as he realizes I’m not next to him anymore. “Ger…Gerard…” he fusses, moving his head from side to side.
I quickly shut the computer off and rush back to Frank. I need to save him from his nightmare. I kneel next to the bed and take his hand. “Frankie!” I whisper loudly. “Wake up!”
Frank’s unconscious fingers curl around mine and he smiles again. That little angelic nose of his scrunches up, like a bunny. He murmurs something unintelligible. It sounded a little like “baby.”
My heart does that swelling thing again. Is it possible to fall in love with someone over and over again, like a song on loop? I fell for Frank nearly a year ago, but my heart still does erratic flips every time I see him. And now, as I swathe him in a blanket and cocoon him in my arms, my heart is having a sugar rush. Like somebody poured Pixy Stix straight into my bloodstream. I can almost taste the giddy love as I press my lips against Frank's soft forehead.
I’m finally, finally happy for the first time in a week. I feel bulletproof in this moment. No worries or fears can penetrate the walls of my mental sanctuary. All thanks to the angel nuzzling my neck. I drift off to sleep without tears and a smile to match Frankie’s.
---
Chapter 7
2 Days Later
Frank turns off the TV with a sigh and turns to me. “Gerard, we need to talk.”
I sink deeper into the mattress. “I was watching that!” I complain.
“You can’t possibly want to watch The Shining 3 times in a row.”
“It’s a good movie!” I retort. Suddenly, Cherub Rock begins to play from my cell phone.
Frank gestures to his bedside table. “Your phone is ringing.”
I glance at the glowing screen. It’s my mom. “Uggh.” I groan, throwing it across Frank’s bedroom. It hits the wall near his closet, causing the battery to pop out. The song stops instantly.
“Gerard!” Frank cries. “What the hell was that?” He looks at me in bewilderment. He’s recovered from shock, but his eyes still have that vulnerable, shattered look about them.
“She can leave a voicemail.” I say dismissively.
Frank throws his hands into the air. “I give up.”
“Frankie-” I begin, but he’s already left the room.
First I lose my brother, now I’m probably going to lose my boyfriend, too. I stare at the cracks in the ceiling and run my hands through my messy hair. The feeling I get when I’m about to cry washes over me, but tears don’t come. I’ve emptied my tear ducts countless times throughout the past week. It wouldn’t surprise me if I never shed a tear again.
I have a guilty, hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach. I haven’t been home for nearly two days, and my parents don’t know where I am. I can’t be in that house. I just can’t. I can’t pass that horrible empty bedroom again. I can’t sit through another silent meal across from the vacant chair, trying to ignore my mother’s sniffling. I can’t go into the bathroom and pretend like I don’t notice the empty bottles in the trash can.
I know my silence and irritability is making everything harder for Frank, but I can’t cheer up. He’s nearly as depressed as I am, but at least he puts on a happy face. I can’t bring myself to smile and act like everything’s perfect. I try, but then I’ll turn on the TV or the radio and my world will come crashing down again. It’s not just the media coverage that gets to me, it’s everything. Every song reminds me of a happy memory with my brother. Every word I hear reminds me of something he said. I hate all the newscasters and talk show hosts on TV. I hate them. They talk about the incident and pretend like they’re oh-so-sad about it, but they could care less. Belleview is far away from Hollywood. Nobody they know was involved in the incident. Their brothers didn’t wake up one morning and come to school with a gun in his backpack. They didn’t watch the person they love cough up blood, sprawled on the concrete steps…
I leap from Frank’s bed and sprint down the stairs, knowing I’m about to break. I find him in the living room reading a book. Without saying a word, he stands up and opens his arms. A small squeak escapes my throat as I throw myself into his arms. I crash into him so hard that we both fall down onto the couch behind us.
Frank strokes my hair and murmurs reassuring words. But I can barely hear them over the screaming in my head.
--
I can hear birds chirping outside as the sun rises. But in my mind, it’s still nighttime. Frank’s blackout curtains are shut tight, prohibiting any light from streaming into the room. The only light is the eye-watering brightness of the computer monitor I’ve been glued to for God knows how long. My eyes are so glazed over that I don’t even know what’s on the screen. Last time I checked, I was “reading” about Russian politics.
“Gerard…” Frank practically meows my name, it’s so soft and high-pitched.
I swivel the desk chair around. “What is it, baby?” I ask.
Frank doesn’t respond. I can only see a few tufts of his black hair peeping out from underneath the blankets. He must be asleep. I’m about to turn back to the computer when I hear my name again.
“Gerard!” Frank cries softly. He sounds like he’s crying. I quickly cross the room and slide into bed next to him.
“Are you okay, Frankie?” I whisper. Again, he doesn’t respond. He’s shaking like a leaf.
He’s having another nightmare. I pull him into my arms. It kills me to see my baby like this, but all I can do is kiss his cheek and wait it out.
As soon as Frank is settled into my arms, he calms down. His breathing becomes slow and regular, and his beautiful sleeping face relaxes into a slight smile. Frank and I seem to alternate between being comforted and comforting. Frank held me for nearly two hours this afternoon, and now it’s my turn to protect him. He nestles his head against my chest and makes a little happy sound of contentment. My heart swells with love.
My eyes still sting from staring at the computer for so long. The monitor is still glowing, reflecting off of the mirror hanging on the closet door. I should turn it off and go to sleep. I gently re-arrange Frank and walk back to the desk. His eyebrows furrow and his chin begins to quiver as he realizes I’m not next to him anymore. “Ger…Gerard…” he fusses, moving his head from side to side.
I quickly shut the computer off and rush back to Frank. I need to save him from his nightmare. I kneel next to the bed and take his hand. “Frankie!” I whisper loudly. “Wake up!”
Frank’s unconscious fingers curl around mine and he smiles again. That little angelic nose of his scrunches up, like a bunny. He murmurs something unintelligible. It sounded a little like “baby.”
My heart does that swelling thing again. Is it possible to fall in love with someone over and over again, like a song on loop? I fell for Frank nearly a year ago, but my heart still does erratic flips every time I see him. And now, as I swathe him in a blanket and cocoon him in my arms, my heart is having a sugar rush. Like somebody poured Pixy Stix straight into my bloodstream. I can almost taste the giddy love as I press my lips against Frank's soft forehead.
I’m finally, finally happy for the first time in a week. I feel bulletproof in this moment. No worries or fears can penetrate the walls of my mental sanctuary. All thanks to the angel nuzzling my neck. I drift off to sleep without tears and a smile to match Frankie’s.
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