Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > But No One Sees the Gnashing Teeth of My Heart [Frerard]

Like Velvet

by eccentricpaige 1 review

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Drama,Romance - Characters: Frank Iero,Gerard Way - Warnings: [?] - Published: 2012-10-15 - Updated: 2012-10-16 - 1972 words

The next morning is a sleepy one. Try as I did, falling unconscious was easier said than done the night before, rendering my entire body helpless and limp. I stumble up to the mouth of the Art room and trudge along until I find my seat. The lights seem brighter than usual, causing my head to pound as I begin to "feel" my brain cells dying.

"Ungg..." I groan to no one in particular. Suddenly, I become attentive when class begins and Gerard is still nowhere to be found. I start sweeping the room for him, hoping maybe he just had to talk to the teacher or something of the like, but it's no such luck. For whatever reason, Gerard isn't here today. And suddenly any will I had to make it through the day has just escaped through the window.

The rest of the day ticks by like the ancient hands of a clock. Every hour brings resentment for the school day rather than the expected hope it usually provides. All I can think about is how many different places Gerard could be right now. I had brought his coat to return, which could easily serve as an excuse to pay him a visit. I'm almost ashamed as I form the plan in my head, leaving my after school whereabouts to be assumed by my mother. If I can remember, I'll give her a call from Gerard's saying something about meeting up at the library again. The plan seems nearly foolproof until my sleepiness hits me yet again. I'm so overwhelmingly desperate for a bit of rest, that I very nearly back out. But I just know my mood will be worse if I don't get to see Gerard; don't get a chance to return his coat and see that stupid smile of his. I want to throw myself against something or curse myself out. I sound like a lovedrunk asshole, the type I've grown to hate. I sound ridiculous, and yet I honestly can't help myself.

By the time the dismissal bell rings, I'm more than ready to escape the prison this school has turned out to be. I take the bus home but leave my house to walk straight to Gerard's, not even bothering to drop my belongings off inside. I notice no car in the driveway, which reassures me that my absence won't be nearly as big of a deal as it could be.

I walk bitterly to Gerard's green-shuttered home, growing frigid. I decide to put that coat of his to good use by slipping it on, sighing in relief as the cold gripping my shoulders and chilling my ribs bone-deep starts to creep away. Once his house is in sight, I notice the perfect smokestack exiting the roof. There's something oddly comforting about the wooden stove and humble stack of firewood beside of the house. Like an honest day's work or perhaps just a go at saving money on the electricity bill. As I round the corner and face Gerard's house head-on, I spot Gerard himself hacking away at a stubborn block of wood, the wedge stuck tightly in the middle. I stop in my tracks once I reach the paved driveway, his muttered curses and overall demeanor doing absolutely nothing for my wandering mind.

"Gee?" I say lightly in between the deafening bing's of the sledge hammer slapping the wedge. He hits the block once more before watching triumphantly as it splits in two and falls away from either side of the larger stump he's been using as his means to chop on.

"Get lost." he says, his hand covering the majority of his face as he moves to wipe at his brow. I begin to panic, wracking my brain for something that would explain his sudden attitude. Right as I'm about to open my mouth in question, his crooked smile gives his entire joke away. I feel the goosebumps fade away and rejoice when my heart enters my chest once again.

"Kidding." he says lightly. I can hardly believe how simply... rugged he looks. How 'small-scale farmboy' he could pass as. It's almost shocking, seeing him in the dark grey jeans with his knees poking through, the bright plaid shirt hanging loosely off of his torso riding up in the back from how he had been hunched over for God knows how long. I can't find my words, can't think of a damned thing to say or even an explanation as to why I'm here in the first place. He's a sweaty mess and yet, beyond what good looks I've come to expect. I'm disgusted with myself, feeling wrong all over as images of Gerard and I start to play in my mind with no shame at all. I shake my head ineffectively before meeting his expectant gaze.

"Brought your coat." I say tightly, the images failing to die as I had hoped. He quirks another sarcastic smile before allowing his eyes to travel the length of my body.

"Wearing my coat." he states, correcting me only slightly and bringing a bit of color to my ice-kissed cheeks.

"Yeah, well mine wasn't doing the job and I..."

"It's fine." he says with finality while simultaneously conjuring a thin rag from his back pocket to wipe softly over his flushed face.

I stand awkwardly watching as he composes himself, my presence seeming to be neither a nuisance nor a pleasantry. After another collection of moments, he starts to walk toward me, the forgotten fall leaves crunching just slightly beneath his worn tennis shoes.

"Have a good day at school?" he asks nicely, a genuine smile bringing up the corners of his mouth. I nod absently, meeting his eyes with my own once again as he comes closer and eventually stops just a foot away. "That's good." he says. I blink a time or two, noticing something different about him - maybe relief? Or perhaps just politeness. Whichever it was, it seemed to have been the driving force for his next action, which was to brush the slightly matted hair from my forehead. And I fucking let him 'cause I'm apparently the world's largest masochist. I couldn't help but cower slightly as his cold fingers grazed my forehead before swiping the stray hairs backwards and taking them from my line of vision.

"Th-thanks..." I say quietly, hoping he doesn't expect me to return the favor because quite honestly I can't keep my hands from shaking like I'm on medication. He nods as if the thanks was unnecessary before taking me inside, into the much relaxing warmth.

I try to stay awake, I really fucking do, but somewhere along the lines of having cider and talking about sects of nonsense like sports and schoolwork, I just can't keep my eyes from falling shut. The first time, I was able to snap awake from it, pausing only slightly in confusion before turning to apologize to Gerard, whose back was toward me in this particular instance as he was on all fours to adjust the crackling fire so it wouldn't go out. I can remember bringing my mouth into the correct position to speak, but no sound came out as I was once again rendered unconscious against my will. Something about the house's musky fragrance or maybe just the comfort of knowing that my parents are several miles away puts me into such a deep, romantic sleep. I'm not dreaming, or even breathing more than a shallow breath here or there, but it's wonderful and like the purest of winds as I'm able to just relax with an un-attentive audience of one.

As I come to, I notice the sky outside is going grey and the clouds are in formation. I check the TV's clock and see 7:00 on the dot, which is strangely convenient and fails to put me into a complete and utter mess of psychotic anxiety.

"Gee?" I call out groggily, hoping I've not broken some sort of unspoken rule. I mean, I still don't know him all that well, and I'm sure it wasn't the highlight of his day to have company just so they could utilize his couch for their comfort. But he calls from the kitchen with a tone of unmistakable joy for one so alone.

"In here." he says, not bothering to take a trip to the living room in bodily form. I unwrap myself from the quilt I've apparently attracted in my sleep before stretching the muscles in my back and legs. I hear the tiny pops of each toe and finger before deciding I'm ready to move again.

I tread to the kitchen, noticing for the first time just how much the room smells of meat. I cringe just slightly, knowing what's bound to happen next.

"Hungry? I made two..." Gerard says softly. I see something in his eyes, something undoubtedly foreign - for him, anyway - and I know that what I'm about to say will very clearly hit him harder than it would any normal human being.

"Vegetarian." I say shyly, almost hoping he couldn't hear me, but also that he had so I wouldn't have to speak those words again. His smile falters, I can see embarrassment cover his entire body as the mannerisms I've grown to love begin to take effect. First, he runs his fingers through the entire length of his hair before flipping the burgers meticulously as a means of distraction. He mumbles something along the lines of an apology, which I'm quick to deny, giving him the excuse that he "couldn't possibly have known..."

Time finally does catch up to me, and toward about twenty 'til, I'm forced to part ways with this house that suddenly holds a sense of familiarity, and the fucking precious boy cooking in the kitchen. I make sure to leave his coat draped over the back of the loveseat before initiating a usual hug. I start to wonder if guys even really hug like this, or it's just a unique thing among certain individuals. Either way, it's more than fulfilling, and I find that even if it was deemed socially unacceptable by the most respected person around, I'd still give in; still submit to the fucking velvet that is Gerard and that makes up Gerard. I can't help any reaction I have when he's in the picture, and it's infuriating but also very worth looking into if I wasn't so afraid of discovering the results.

"Gotta cell phone, Frankie?" Gerard says calmly once the slight tension has worn away. I shake my head sadly as I watch him die just a little more.

"But I can give you my home, if you'd like." And so I do. We exchange numbers, he being clever enough to rip off a small newspaper corner before I could wriggle the pen from my pocket to start scrawling the digits on my arm.

"Here." he says after a second, the slow hiss of the pan meaning nothing as he slowly jots down the information. I return a ripped off section of the same note with my respective number before we finally part ways. I know he'd give me a ride if I asked him to, but there's something about walking at night; something about being free and led by the streetlights alone that makes me feel a little less than gone, a little less than worthless. Like I'm free, at least for a little while, and in danger's way but very unlikely to actually cross its path.


"Honey?" my mom calls from the living room just as soon as I step through the door. I must smell like wood smoke and Autumn, but she says nothing of it, instead just avoiding my gaze as she begins to share some surprising information aloud.
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