Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Bruised Memories


by davidthesquirrel 3 reviews

"It was very discreet, but when he did notice it, it was like nothing he'd ever felt before."

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst,Drama - Characters: Frank Iero,Gerard Way - Warnings: [V] - Published: 2013-02-13 - Updated: 2013-02-18 - 2774 words

Frank let his head rest on the cold passenger seat window, trying to ignore the dull pain from his forehead. Gerard had offered to let Frank stay at his house that night, and Frank didn’t want to be alone with his dreams in fear that she might actually hurt him, so he gladly followed. They left Frank’s car at Ray’s because Gerard thought his condition was to disturbed to drive well, so Gerard drove on through the night, and Frank, having nothing better to do, followed each lamppost on the side of the road with his eyes. Gerard ran his fingers through his recently short, brown hair, and then glanced at Frank and back at the road. Frank looked to the side, saw Gerard do this, and felt his heart lurch nervously. He found himself transfixed on Gerard’s hair and wondered how tortured his scalp must be from all that dye he poured on. He smiled to himself, and oddly, the foreign, light yet heavy feeling in his chest wouldn’t leave. It didn’t quite hurt, but it still made Frank worry whether if could have been a result of the dreams.

“Is there anyone else who knows?” Gerard asked.

“Only my doctor.”

“I think you should go to him and tell him what’s happening. He knows better than I do.” Frank nodded and mumbled a response. He did like Dr. Lestrade, but sometimes, Frank felt he was a little cold and too professional. After all, Frank wasn’t his only patient. He only got a fraction of the doctor’s time and attention. Not long after they started driving, they pulled into Gerard’s McMansion. Frank didn’t see the need for a single man to have such a big house, but he didn’t say anything. To each their own. Gerard parked the car inside one of the garages and stepped out, swinging the key ring around his finger. Frank did the same, his back still aching. Gerard went to open the door to the house, and said,

“I’m not much of a cook, but there’s a frozen pizza in the freezer. Is that okay for dinner?” They had spent part of the day at Ray’s but then left for lunch and a talk over a cup of coffee Frank nodded, and followed Gerard inside. Gerard kicked his shoes off and flicked the lights on as he passed each light switch. Soon, practically the whole house was lit up. Frank went to the living room, and fell onto the couch.

“Oh, and you’re sleeping in my bed tonight!” Gerard called from the kitchen.

“Why would I take your room? You have so many guest bedrooms,” Frank said.

“No, those beds are shit and you actually need sleep. Stay in my room tonight; the mattress is much better. I’ll sleep in another bed.” Frank sighed. He really didn’t deserve all of this attention. In fact, it was everything he didn’t want. His intention of not telling anyone was for this reason exactly: he didn’t want to be treated any differently than a normal person. Still, it was relieving to know how much Gerard cared about him. Frank turned the television on with the remote control and switched it to VH1, where they were showing a “Behind the Music” episode. He was concerned for himself, he thought, pushing the excess noise from the television to the back of his mind. Usually, he would be able to stay awake for long periods of time, especially on tour, but these days, he seemed to be exhausted easily, especially today. It was a physical tiredness, but mostly it felt like the weight of his faulty and self-doubting psyche that made him want to stay asleep forever. Unfortunately, as much as he wanted to curl up into a fetal position and rest, he was afraid the peace he would create for himself might be interrupted by the terrifying figure of his mother. He was so torn between these two decisions: to sleep or to stay awake. Either way, he knew it would be painfully draining, and in case of the former, physically painful.

The pizza was ready in a matter of minutes, and Gerard placed a couple of paper plates on the table. He sliced the pizza into eights and asked,

“How many slices?” In actuality, Frank had no appetite at all. In fact, he sort of felt sick to his stomach, but he knew that if he didn’t eat, Gerard would shove it down his throat anyway, so he said,

“Just one.” Gerard put a slice of pizza on the plate and brought it to Frank. He gratefully took the slice, and Gerard sat down next to him on the couch with a plate of his own.

“How are you feeling?” Gerard asked.

“Okay,” he said. It wasn’t a lie, he just didn’t know himself how he was doing. He was anticipating whatever dream would show up when he went to sleep. He thought, there was something brewing in his mind that instant. His mind was creating a dream so violent; he probably wouldn’t be able to differ dream from reality. Gerard leaned back and watched the show, taking bites of his pizza, once, standing up to get a drink. Frank stared into nothing, holding his place with the pizza untouched. Finally, unable to take the anticipation, he but the plate on the coffee table in front of him and stood up.

“I think I’m going to bed,” Frank said. Gerard took his eyes away from the screen and looked at his companion, and glanced at the pizza on the table. It was completely the same as when Gerard gave it to him. As much as he wanted Frank to eat, he wouldn’t force him. Not just yet. Hopefully, these horrible episodes would pass, and his health would return to the normal, pizza-loving Frank. Gerard stood up and said,

“I’ll get you some sweatpants and a shirt.” Gerard left for the laundry room and came back with a pair of gray sweatpants, and an old, worn white t-shirt. “We’ll see how tonight goes, and if you still need to stay here, we can go back to your house for clothes and all that.”

“Thanks,” Frank said, and took the clothes from Gerard. He led Frank up the stairs to show him the room he’d be sleeping in, and just as soon as he opened Gerard remembered that he hadn’t cleaned it in days. He rarely had visitors, and whenever he did, they wouldn’t be going in his room anyway, so he didn’t bother. There were several pairs of boxers and pants all over the floor, and a pile of shirts and socks in a corner of the room. Embarrassingly, the bed was completely unmade, too.

“… You don’t mind, do you?” Gerard said, a little ashamed.

“After all that touring without showers for weeks, sleeping, sweating, and eating in the same area, and unwashed clothes, you think I’m bothered by an unmade bed?” Frank said, jokingly. Gerard grinned, relieved that Frank’s humor was still intact. He started to pick up the dirty clothes and threw them in a pile out in the hallway. He would wash them later.

“I think there’s some unopened toothbrushes in the cabinet in the bathroom. You can use one. Uh… I’ll stay up for a while, so if you need me I’ll be downstairs in the living room.” Frank nodded, placing the pajamas lightly on the foot of the bed. Gerard turned to leave the room, closing the door behind him. Just before he did, Frank said, as if making the last minute decision to speak up,

“Gerard?” He opened the door again, popping his head in.


“I— Thank you. For all this and everything you’ve ever done.” Gerard grinned.

“My pleasure,” and shut the door. Frank sighed and let himself fall onto the comfortable bed. Before he thanked Gerard, he had a different intention to tell him something. It was sort of spontaneous, and not thought out at all, really. If Frank were to describe what happened then and there, he would have said that it was this little being inside of you, just laying low, under layers and layers of more prominent emotion and denial. It stayed there, kind of hinted and him once and a while, just poking it’s head above the surface, but immediately went down again. On some level, Frank knew this feeling was there inside of him. It was very discreet, but when he did notice it, it was like nothing he'd ever felt before. It was a warming feeling, so hopeful and bright, but at the same time, was a huge burden on him. He didn’t understand what it was, and frankly, most of the time, it got in the way for feelings he should have been paying more attention to. Now, this little creature of unknown emotion stirring inside of him for years grew frustrated at the lack of attention. It was there and demanded for the satisfaction it wanted from Frank, yet over and over, Frank ignored it. So, it grew so indefinitely large, that it practically burst; making the words it demanded to be heard practically be spit out of his mouth. Fortunately, Frank caught it just at the tip of his tongue; the farthest it had ever gone before, and pushed it back down. Now, though, there was no ignoring this emotion, which had grown from just a small little tingling to a bursting eruption. Those words that were meant to come out surprised Frank and questioned everything he had ever done in his life. It was like this emotion wasn’t him, but another creature living inside of him. Those words that were meant to be heard by Gerard; words he realized he had never said with complete meaning, were, ‘I love you.’

I love you?, Frank thought. Those words seemed so foreign to him. Of course, he had a few girlfriends, each relationship lasting no longer than two years, but those words that were directed towards them, he realized, meant nothing. They were simply a collection of letters. The words, ‘I love you,’ had never appeared in his child life. He never ‘loved’ anyone as a child. No mother figure. No father figure. Only circulating foster parents and his social services lady. But these words; these words that so dangerously came close to being heard by Gerard, meant something. Everything word, from the ‘I’ to the ‘love’ to the ‘you,’ meant something far more than the usual collection of letters, but was more a spiritual giving up of himself. With every syllable, each pause that would have come would have meant something. This was so confusing to Frank. All his life, he was… he was gay? There were those few occasions where Frank was caught locking lips with Gerard on stage, but that was adrenaline wasn’t it? He barely even remembered that moment, but on the contrary, it couldn’t have been something he didn’t want to do. He groaned to himself softly. Of all times for this to come up. Quickly, he got ready for bed and threw the covers over him. He guessed the mattress was Temperpedic, or something of the sort, because as soon as he lied down, he sunk into the spongy surface. He pulled the cover just above his nose and couldn’t help but smell the familiar scent of Gerard. Oh stop it, he told himself, and pushed the covers away from his nose. The burden of sadness that held him down for most of that day seemed to be lifted just a little, and his heart beat, not necessarily the literal one, seemed to be going a little faster than the dull, monotonous beat it was before. For once, he thought he was going to be better.


Frank found himself playing with five little matchbox cars in his room. These cars, he thought, he found these car on the side of the road one day and was the only toy he owned. Snapping out of his nostalgia, he realized where he was. The familiarity seemed so routine, though it had been years ago since he had been there. This small little room was that of his childhood, and once again, he was eight years old. Desperately, he tried to wake himself up, but nothing he did worked. The door was locked from the outside so he couldn’t get outside and there were no windows. He was trapped. Suddenly, without warning, the old doorknob started to wobble. This could only mean one thing. His mother was the only one who was ever in the house; his father had left before he was even born. Panicking, Frank dove under the worn cot he slept on every night and pulled a thin jacket over him to cover him from view. Finally, after she fiddled with lock, she pushed open the door, slamming it against the adjacent wall. Frank jumped at the sound and trembled under the small jacket. Through a little space in the jacket, he saw her feet standing in the middle of the room, searching the room. There was little furniture in the room, and though he would obviously be found, Frank couldn’t help but thrive off the tiny flicker of hope that stayed light inside of him. This little flame was extinguished just as soon as she grabbed his ankle and dragged him out from under the cot. He let out a tiny scream from the surprise, and the jacket fell off of him, leaving him completely exposed to the monstrous woman in front of him.
“How dare you hide from me,” she growled, and revealed a knife conveniently hidden up her sleeve. Just before she reacted, Frank held his hands up to protect himself. This didn’t stop her at all, and moments later, Frank felt the blade slicing through his right arm. The pain was worse than anything he had ever felt, and that was an understatement. The searing pain and shock from the amount of blood pouring out caused him to black out.


Frank woke up screaming, the roughness of his voice cutting through the silent air around him. He twisted his neck to see his right arm, which was covered by the white sleeve. It wasn’t pure white, though; blots of red grew from his arms and connected together, making a huge spot of blood. Soon, the red was dripping down his arm and onto Gerard’s pristine sheets.

“I’m bleeding!” he howled. Gerard burst through the door, reacting from the initial scream.

“What’s wrong?” he said frantically, climbing onto the bed. Frank covered his bleeding arm with his opposite hand, desperately trying to stop it, but the pain ripping through him every single time he touched it. Gerard quickly lifted the sleeve. He was terrified. Frank’s reaction to something this painful certainly could not have fake. It was genuine and honestly made him believe that in some way, his mother, which Frank hadn’t had contact with since he was taken away, was really hurting him. As soon as he saw Frank’s bare arm, though, all doubt was gone. There was absolutely nothing there. Only tattoos and bare skin. Frank frantically glanced up at Gerard, and yelped,

“What are you doing?! D- Don’t just stand there. Get bandages. Something!” Frank saw blood splashing on to the now stained sheets.

“Frank,” Gerard said, as calmly as possible, “you’re not bleeding.” Frank looked back at Gerard with a look of terror and disbelief on his face.

“How can you not see this?! Get bandages! I’m going to die,” he cried desperately. Gerard had no idea what to do, but clearly, Frank would never come close to calming down if he didn’t get the bandages. So, he quickly grabbed some gauze and bandages from the bathroom cabinet. When he returned, he found Frank lying unconscious on the bed, his hand still covering his “wounded” arm. Hastily, Gerard wrapped Frank’s arm, for Frank’s sake, and carried him down to the car.

A/N: So that was the first time I've ever written anything Frerard-y! Did I do okay?

Thank you for all the R&R's!! It really appreciate it!

Tell me what you think and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
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