Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
This is one of my concussion-induced oneshots. I'll post the second one tomorrow. I'm tired, lazy, and Big Brother is on. Wil is my favorite. His hair is GORGEOUS. Does he highlight it? If that's his natural color, I'll die.
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Early Sunsets Over Monroeville
Will you marry me?
Those four words are simple. Not hard to pronounce, pretty easy to understand. We hear them in romantic movies and read them in books all the time. We’ve all watched funny proposal videos on YouTube.
But the only people who actually understand the meaning of those simple four words are married couples. When your significant other gets down on one knee and pulls out that black velvet box and looks you straight in the eye, they’re not just asking you to wear a shiny ring and change your relationship status on Facebook. They’re asking you to be with them for the rest of their lives, to love their flaws and mistakes, and see them in the morning and still think they’re beautiful. They’re asking you to commit every second of your waking day to your relationship with them. They’re asking you to love them forever.
When Gerard whipped out the cliché black velvet box and asked me to marry him, he was asking me to bury him. To carry him until the end. I flung myself into his arms and cried yes. The audience began to scream wildly, half with excitement for me and my new fiancé, and half with disappointment that Gerard and I were finally taken. Glitter and rice began to rain down on the crowd in celebration.
I’m watching the video of the proposal that somebody posted onto their MySpace page nearly six years ago. They titled it “GERARD AND FRANK ARE GETTING MARRIED OMG!!!!!” Their username is xFrerard3x. I remember how excited the fangirls were, creating websites that followed our engagement and writing fanfiction about our wedding. Some specific stories actually helped Gee and I plan the wedding, providing us with details and ideas for the ceremony and reception.
Our engagement had been short and sweet. We got married in a low-key outdoor wedding at a local park in Belleville, just two months after Gerard popped the question. It was a blissfully happy day. Our reception was like a rock concert. My Chem didn’t perform, but Gerard did sing. He sang a song he’d written for me, simply titled “Frank.” Mikey came out of his shell and had a blast with Ray, whose girlfriend kept dropping subtle hints that she would like to get married as well.
The 3 and a half minute long video comes to an end. I close out of the browser and lean back in my chair, trying to remember what it felt like to be me on that day. I know I was happy, but did it ever cross my mind that the marriage would fail? Did it ever cross my mind that one day, I would wake up next to my husband and not know who he was anymore?
I think about those four simple words every time Gerard lays a hand on me, and then four more when he leaves a bruise.
Will you marry me? Gerard’s words will float through my mind as he pins me to the wall with a hand around my neck. Who is this man? I’ll ask myself after his fist comes in contact with the side of my face. I guess it was him all along, hidden inside of the Gerard I fell in love with. The Gerard I fell in love with didn’t hit me or scream words of abuse.
My finger strokes the gun in my lap lovingly, as if it were a cat or a small dog. But cats and dogs aren’t made of cold, black metal. And you can’t load them with bullets. I take another swig from the bottle of spiced rum and set it back on the desk. Then I stand up. I need to do this now while I have the guts.
“Gerard?” I call in an almost singsong tune. I smile crosses my face, remembering a time when saying his name would fill me with giddy happiness. Now, saying his name makes me wince in pain.
He doesn’t answer. He never does. I climb the stairs, heading towards our bedroom. I know he’ll be in there, sitting on the bed or on the floor, nursing a bottle of alcohol. Gerard’s been like this ever since the band fell apart. When I open the door, he’s doing just that. Curled up by the foot of the king bed without a shirt on, half-heartedly pouring more alcohol into a glass.
“What.” Gerard grumbles, the word sounding more like a statement than a question. He doesn’t even look up at me. He just stares straight ahead, looking at nothing. His hazel eyes are vacant and stained. I find it hard to believe that there was ever a time when his eyes brought me joy or made butterflies in my stomach.
I don’t say anything. What is there to say? I love you? You can’t exactly tell someone you love them when you’re putting a gun to their head.
“What’re you…what the fuck!!!” Gerard cringes away from the gun, a panicked look taking over his usual blank one. I place my foot on his chest to keep him still. The end of the gun nuzzles his temple.
“Frank!” Gerard cries. “What the fuck are you doing??”
“What I should have done a long time ago.” I say quietly, smiling serenely. I see the sun setting outside the window. What a beautiful night to end something so ugly.
“Frank, no, please don’t do this. I-I love you.” he begs. Something fills Gerard’s eyes. Fear? Desperation? Or maybe… guilt? I hesitate for a second. Will you marry me? But the words change nothing. I bite my lip, close my eyes, and pull the trigger.
Gerard doesn’t scream. He doesn’t even make a sound. Something warm and wet is on my face. His blood. I open my eyes. My husband’s remains are spewed all over the carpet. Most people would gag, maybe even scream. But it makes me smile. Nothing shocks me anymore. I’ve seen blood on this carpet so many times before. He was already dead, anyways.
I lift his body and toss it onto the bed like it’s a doll. He lands on his back, his eyes still open though the top of his head is blown off. His eyes have returned to their typical vacant state.
Who is this man?
I kiss the gun, still warm from the gunshot, and place it on the pillow next to Gerard. Then I turn around and walk out of the bedroom, wondering if anyone will notice the corpse in the bed.
---
Early Sunsets Over Monroeville
Will you marry me?
Those four words are simple. Not hard to pronounce, pretty easy to understand. We hear them in romantic movies and read them in books all the time. We’ve all watched funny proposal videos on YouTube.
But the only people who actually understand the meaning of those simple four words are married couples. When your significant other gets down on one knee and pulls out that black velvet box and looks you straight in the eye, they’re not just asking you to wear a shiny ring and change your relationship status on Facebook. They’re asking you to be with them for the rest of their lives, to love their flaws and mistakes, and see them in the morning and still think they’re beautiful. They’re asking you to commit every second of your waking day to your relationship with them. They’re asking you to love them forever.
When Gerard whipped out the cliché black velvet box and asked me to marry him, he was asking me to bury him. To carry him until the end. I flung myself into his arms and cried yes. The audience began to scream wildly, half with excitement for me and my new fiancé, and half with disappointment that Gerard and I were finally taken. Glitter and rice began to rain down on the crowd in celebration.
I’m watching the video of the proposal that somebody posted onto their MySpace page nearly six years ago. They titled it “GERARD AND FRANK ARE GETTING MARRIED OMG!!!!!” Their username is xFrerard3x. I remember how excited the fangirls were, creating websites that followed our engagement and writing fanfiction about our wedding. Some specific stories actually helped Gee and I plan the wedding, providing us with details and ideas for the ceremony and reception.
Our engagement had been short and sweet. We got married in a low-key outdoor wedding at a local park in Belleville, just two months after Gerard popped the question. It was a blissfully happy day. Our reception was like a rock concert. My Chem didn’t perform, but Gerard did sing. He sang a song he’d written for me, simply titled “Frank.” Mikey came out of his shell and had a blast with Ray, whose girlfriend kept dropping subtle hints that she would like to get married as well.
The 3 and a half minute long video comes to an end. I close out of the browser and lean back in my chair, trying to remember what it felt like to be me on that day. I know I was happy, but did it ever cross my mind that the marriage would fail? Did it ever cross my mind that one day, I would wake up next to my husband and not know who he was anymore?
I think about those four simple words every time Gerard lays a hand on me, and then four more when he leaves a bruise.
Will you marry me? Gerard’s words will float through my mind as he pins me to the wall with a hand around my neck. Who is this man? I’ll ask myself after his fist comes in contact with the side of my face. I guess it was him all along, hidden inside of the Gerard I fell in love with. The Gerard I fell in love with didn’t hit me or scream words of abuse.
My finger strokes the gun in my lap lovingly, as if it were a cat or a small dog. But cats and dogs aren’t made of cold, black metal. And you can’t load them with bullets. I take another swig from the bottle of spiced rum and set it back on the desk. Then I stand up. I need to do this now while I have the guts.
“Gerard?” I call in an almost singsong tune. I smile crosses my face, remembering a time when saying his name would fill me with giddy happiness. Now, saying his name makes me wince in pain.
He doesn’t answer. He never does. I climb the stairs, heading towards our bedroom. I know he’ll be in there, sitting on the bed or on the floor, nursing a bottle of alcohol. Gerard’s been like this ever since the band fell apart. When I open the door, he’s doing just that. Curled up by the foot of the king bed without a shirt on, half-heartedly pouring more alcohol into a glass.
“What.” Gerard grumbles, the word sounding more like a statement than a question. He doesn’t even look up at me. He just stares straight ahead, looking at nothing. His hazel eyes are vacant and stained. I find it hard to believe that there was ever a time when his eyes brought me joy or made butterflies in my stomach.
I don’t say anything. What is there to say? I love you? You can’t exactly tell someone you love them when you’re putting a gun to their head.
“What’re you…what the fuck!!!” Gerard cringes away from the gun, a panicked look taking over his usual blank one. I place my foot on his chest to keep him still. The end of the gun nuzzles his temple.
“Frank!” Gerard cries. “What the fuck are you doing??”
“What I should have done a long time ago.” I say quietly, smiling serenely. I see the sun setting outside the window. What a beautiful night to end something so ugly.
“Frank, no, please don’t do this. I-I love you.” he begs. Something fills Gerard’s eyes. Fear? Desperation? Or maybe… guilt? I hesitate for a second. Will you marry me? But the words change nothing. I bite my lip, close my eyes, and pull the trigger.
Gerard doesn’t scream. He doesn’t even make a sound. Something warm and wet is on my face. His blood. I open my eyes. My husband’s remains are spewed all over the carpet. Most people would gag, maybe even scream. But it makes me smile. Nothing shocks me anymore. I’ve seen blood on this carpet so many times before. He was already dead, anyways.
I lift his body and toss it onto the bed like it’s a doll. He lands on his back, his eyes still open though the top of his head is blown off. His eyes have returned to their typical vacant state.
Who is this man?
I kiss the gun, still warm from the gunshot, and place it on the pillow next to Gerard. Then I turn around and walk out of the bedroom, wondering if anyone will notice the corpse in the bed.
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