Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > A Puppet's Excuse
Frank remembers the morning after they had sex.
He remembers the dull throb in his skull, like someone was hammering from the inside. He remembers feeling like his brain had been melted, moving painfully against the bone walls. He also remembers the nausea and the taste of stale liquor on his tongue. But what he remembers the most, is the soreness between his legs and inside his ass every time he made the slightest move.
He remembers the pink-tinted dried cum that stained his side of the bed. He remembers the cold spot beside him.
He remembers the disappointment beneath all the layers of amnesia and headaches, of nausea and soreness. He remembers going downstairs after puking his guts out and putting in some clothes- not too tight, he was sore as hell- and finding breakfast already done and served, nothing less than a note signalling that Gerard has come and gone.
He remembers confusion, and he remembers recalling tiny bits of the night before. Playing, asking, laughing. Kissing, stumbling. fucking.
He remembers eating the cold pancakes and feeling sorry for himself, moping and cleaning all around the house trying to keep his mind off things.
He went grocery shopping that day, too, and he also made dinner for two even though Gerard didn't come home long after dark.
Even though Frank went to sleep with a feeling of despair and loneliness.
He also remembers feeling sore for two weeks straight.
But mostly, mostly he remembers not regretting a thing.
Today is different, though. He is sore, he is nauseated, and he is lying in a damp spot, but this is nothing like the first time.
This time, the soreness is pleasant, a reminder of the fact that what happened the night before wasn't a drunken fumble but a sober happening. This time, the damp spot is not because there was cum and blood coming out of his ass, but because Gerard probably carried him from the shower and didn't bother to dry him before putting Frank to bed. The nausea is morning sickness, something that just recently came back. and there is no cold spot behind him.
Instead, there's a warm chest plastered to his back and a had on his belly, the other he's using as a pillow. Instead, there are lukewarm lips on the back of his neck, and the little smile that they form, even in dreams, announce that the body's owner enjoyed last night just as much as Frank.
But mostly, this time it was no accident; it was a therapeutic change of events.
No, this is absolutely nothing like the last time.
~•~
Gerard also remembers the day after they had sex.
He remembers waking up with a killer hangover with no recall of the night before. He remembers his amnesia fading to the sight of Frank, laying drunk and beautiful and spent next to him.
He remembers freaking out and making a mad dash to the bathroom, showering and puking quickly. He remembers going to work even though it was Sunday.
He remembers going to the office and, after seeing it was closed, going to the park and spending the day there.
He remembers sketching Frank, beautiful and innocent. He remembers staying there until late, then going to Bob's to cry and confess himself to his best friend.
He remembers Bob grunting and saying 'that's how life goes,' then kicking him out when his husband came home from the shop.
He remembers going home and finding dinner cold and served for two, even though he came home late after dark.
He remembers going to the master bedroom and finding Frank fast asleep, curled up in on himself and snoring softly.
That night, Gerard slept in his study.
Today is different, though. There is no hangover, and there is no amnesia. There is, though, Frank, laying naked and beautiful and pregnant and spent next to him.
There is Frank's warmth against his chest, and there is Frank's dark hair tickling his nose.
There is no guilty feeling, and there is no regrets. Just his right arm over and around Frank's swollen middle, his left serving as as pillow for his husband.
There are his lips, lukewarm and smiling on the back of Frank's neck.
But most of all, there is the kicking of their kid beneath Gerard's hand. The product of a drunken accident, one that either of them can't and won't regret.
No, this is absolutely nothing like the last time.
totally a filler. I'm so sorry. Really. I've had a rough couple of weeks, and I'm computerless right now. I wrote this as a quickie on my phone, so sorry for any mistakes.
xo
He remembers the dull throb in his skull, like someone was hammering from the inside. He remembers feeling like his brain had been melted, moving painfully against the bone walls. He also remembers the nausea and the taste of stale liquor on his tongue. But what he remembers the most, is the soreness between his legs and inside his ass every time he made the slightest move.
He remembers the pink-tinted dried cum that stained his side of the bed. He remembers the cold spot beside him.
He remembers the disappointment beneath all the layers of amnesia and headaches, of nausea and soreness. He remembers going downstairs after puking his guts out and putting in some clothes- not too tight, he was sore as hell- and finding breakfast already done and served, nothing less than a note signalling that Gerard has come and gone.
He remembers confusion, and he remembers recalling tiny bits of the night before. Playing, asking, laughing. Kissing, stumbling. fucking.
He remembers eating the cold pancakes and feeling sorry for himself, moping and cleaning all around the house trying to keep his mind off things.
He went grocery shopping that day, too, and he also made dinner for two even though Gerard didn't come home long after dark.
Even though Frank went to sleep with a feeling of despair and loneliness.
He also remembers feeling sore for two weeks straight.
But mostly, mostly he remembers not regretting a thing.
Today is different, though. He is sore, he is nauseated, and he is lying in a damp spot, but this is nothing like the first time.
This time, the soreness is pleasant, a reminder of the fact that what happened the night before wasn't a drunken fumble but a sober happening. This time, the damp spot is not because there was cum and blood coming out of his ass, but because Gerard probably carried him from the shower and didn't bother to dry him before putting Frank to bed. The nausea is morning sickness, something that just recently came back. and there is no cold spot behind him.
Instead, there's a warm chest plastered to his back and a had on his belly, the other he's using as a pillow. Instead, there are lukewarm lips on the back of his neck, and the little smile that they form, even in dreams, announce that the body's owner enjoyed last night just as much as Frank.
But mostly, this time it was no accident; it was a therapeutic change of events.
No, this is absolutely nothing like the last time.
~•~
Gerard also remembers the day after they had sex.
He remembers waking up with a killer hangover with no recall of the night before. He remembers his amnesia fading to the sight of Frank, laying drunk and beautiful and spent next to him.
He remembers freaking out and making a mad dash to the bathroom, showering and puking quickly. He remembers going to work even though it was Sunday.
He remembers going to the office and, after seeing it was closed, going to the park and spending the day there.
He remembers sketching Frank, beautiful and innocent. He remembers staying there until late, then going to Bob's to cry and confess himself to his best friend.
He remembers Bob grunting and saying 'that's how life goes,' then kicking him out when his husband came home from the shop.
He remembers going home and finding dinner cold and served for two, even though he came home late after dark.
He remembers going to the master bedroom and finding Frank fast asleep, curled up in on himself and snoring softly.
That night, Gerard slept in his study.
Today is different, though. There is no hangover, and there is no amnesia. There is, though, Frank, laying naked and beautiful and pregnant and spent next to him.
There is Frank's warmth against his chest, and there is Frank's dark hair tickling his nose.
There is no guilty feeling, and there is no regrets. Just his right arm over and around Frank's swollen middle, his left serving as as pillow for his husband.
There are his lips, lukewarm and smiling on the back of Frank's neck.
But most of all, there is the kicking of their kid beneath Gerard's hand. The product of a drunken accident, one that either of them can't and won't regret.
No, this is absolutely nothing like the last time.
totally a filler. I'm so sorry. Really. I've had a rough couple of weeks, and I'm computerless right now. I wrote this as a quickie on my phone, so sorry for any mistakes.
xo
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