FicWad

"Hey Frankie, do these jeans make me look fat?" He inquires, twisting his body around in front of the full length, black and red checkered mirror.



This is Gerard Way, and He is not fat, in any way shape or form. He may be a Fucking Caucasian sex god, tight ass, pale almost translucent porcelain skin, cherry red lips just waiting- no begging, to be kissed. Oh god his hair... I just want to feel it between my fingers as I ravish him underneath the stars, a smoldering pair of hazel eyes that I could get lost in forever, that cute little nose that upturned slightly at the end giving it a slight button effect and his hips, oh god those hips. I can can just picture myself thrusting into those hips as he screamed out my name climaxing under my touch like my little whor- Definitely not fat is my point.



"You look fine, Gee, trust me." I declared, and boy was that an understatement, whilst running my eyes up and down his slim physique drinking in his georgessness... Is that even a word? It has to be, and then when you look it up in the dictionary there's just a picture Gerard, smirking his tantalizing smirk, a mere twitch of the lips.And now I'm thinking about Gerard's lips, oh god...



"I need to be perfect... No one understands how much it hurts, it's like a writhing gnawing pain that curdles my insides and rip's my soul to shreds. I just cant take it, I can't stand to be in constant agony any longer, I just don't understand the point. Why doesn't anyone love me?" He mutters as he slumps down onto the bed adorned with last nights underwear and discarded T-shirts.



This is one of the many things that Gerard way thinks, or should i say moans, about during his everyday life, some of these things may possibly include:



Do these jeans make me look fat?

Oh my god, why am I such a woman?

Now that, is a nice ass. Why isn't that my ass?

Oh my god why can't I have him?

Who actually gives a fuck about sport?

Sleep is for the weak.

Coffee, where'd all the coffee go?

I bet he drunk my coffee... He seems the type.


And the most frequently asked question, 'Why doesn't he want me?'. You see, Gerard's desire for perfection is purely due to his apparent 'lack of admirers'. Oh... If only he knew.



"Why do you even wanna be perfect Gee? Perfections overrated, it's the imperfections that make us beautiful, why would you wanna look like anyone else when you can be you? Everyone else is so frustratingly boring."



Although, I already knew his answer to that, "I'm just not good enough, it's not good enough to 'just be me'.", I always say it, because I always feel as if it needs to be said. He's constantly doubting himself and its just not right... He's beautiful, and he should be able to flaunt it. My sweet little bundle of georgessness deserves to feel good about himself, to see himself in the way that the rest of the world see's him.



"There are alot of things that I don't understand, this desire being one of them in fact. I don't understand my desire for perfection. I don't even know what said perfection looks or acts or even feels like, I'm just hanging onto the instinct that I'll know it when it finally comes knocking at my door." Gerard sighs, raking a delicate hand through his charcoal black hair, each strand falling messily perfect, framing his face.



"If you don't know what it looks, acts or feels like, then how do you know that you haven't already obtained it?"



"You don't get it Frankie... God... I don't even get it. It's just that no body loves me... No body wants to touch me like they do in the movies... I just want to be the Brad to someones Angelina, y'aknow?"



Oh I do know Gee baby... I know all to well. And I wanna be the Jennifer to that love triangle, we all know Jennifer has the better body... Ya know what, I might just switch to J-Lo, that chick can moooovee. Argh, we're getting side tracked, anyway, my point is, I want to make Gee feel like he's loved... Without jeopradising our friendship... Is that even possible? God I fucking hope so...



I want to let him rise from the ashes, and I want to set my pretty little birdie free.