Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance
Don't Wanna Be The Ghost Of You
2 reviewsThree years after the disappearance of his brother Mikey, Gerard is nothing but a reminder to his Mother. When she finally pushes him too far he packs and leaves with Pencey Prep as they go on tour...
2Insightful
hey guys, i'll be putting up i'll see you when i wake part three as soon as i can, i just need some time to work on it. Here's this for now, if you like it there's a whole story planned so please let me know!
It’s 4:30am, and down in his mother’s basement Gerard cannot sleep. After three hours of not being able to sleep Gerard had stumbled from his bed to his desk in his batman pyjama pants, his suspiciously stained blanket drawn around his bare shoulders, and had sat down to draw. Now the only light is from the lamp on his desk, spilling warmly over his sketchbook but not reaching the corners of the cluttered basement. As he clutches a cigarette in one hand, ash scattering the paper, Gerard draws what he always draws. No matter what he does the same face always shapes itself out of the charcoal. He rubs at it with gum eraser, warm from hours in his dirty hands, carving bits away to perfect the face. The long straight nose and puckered lips, the straight mousey hair of the fifteen year old Mikey Way ingrained in his memory forever. The eyes in this particular drawing are too piercing, too accusing, and Gerard has to look away. No matter how much time passes Gerard has to live with the knowledge that he wasn’t there to save his baby brother when he needed him most.
Sometime in the early hours of the morning Gerard slumps forward onto the drawings and falls asleep, the powdery charcoal face of his brother imprinting onto his.
He is awoken by the single beam of sunlight that comes into his room, and slowly struggles upright. His back aches from sleeping at an awkward angle and without the blanket that has fallen to the floor he is cold. On seeing the black stains on his hands and sensing the smudges across his face Gerard uncharacteristically decides on a shower, and picks his way across the comic book and crumbled clothes covered floor to the adjoining bathroom. The hot water hits his back and he runs his fingers through his dyed hair, sighing to himself. As he turns around the pounding water hits his dick and he gasps, reaching down to touch himself. Before he knows it his backs flat against the wall as he jacks himself desperately, one hand running slowly down his bare chest to rub his nipple hard, and then drift down to slip a finger in, just the way he likes it. When he comes the sound of the shower muffles his girly string of moans and barely suppressed shout of “Oh fuck yes.”
After wards he sits on the edge of the bath in his towel, feeling guilty. Today would be Mikey’s eighteenth birthday, and Gerard had been in the shower thinking of himself. He dresses slowly, feeling heavy, and ignores the pile of drawings on his desk. He also tries not to think what it would be like right now to walk upstairs to his parents sitting together at the breakfast table, an excited son beside them who had just become a man. What he finds upstairs instead is his mother, smoking and staring. That’s all she’s done for a long time- stare. Stare at the floor, the wall, the door. As if the cracks in the plaster held the explanation to her youngest boy’s disappearance.
“Hi Mom,” Gerard mumbles from the door. The heavy weight of the significance of today hangs between them.
“Get your coffee. Don’t talk to me”
He nods and shuffles around the small kitchen. What Gerard’s mother doesn’t stare at anymore is him. For her Gerard is the ghost of Mikey, maybe not in appearance but in small ways only a mother could notice, and his presence is only a reminder of the air he breathes while his brother lies dead and unfound. When Gerard dropped out of art school and declined into depression in the basement, with a part time job at crappy stationers, it all came back to what Mikey would be doing- the life he would live and the opportunities he would take. For her it was her cruel way of dealing with death. For Gerard, it was torture.
After enduring the tension of the kitchen, and fighting back the loss that daily rose up inside him, Gerard knew exactly who would be strong enough to acknowledge Mikey’s birthday.
Frank.
Please please let me know what you think! Otherwise I probably wont continue this
It’s 4:30am, and down in his mother’s basement Gerard cannot sleep. After three hours of not being able to sleep Gerard had stumbled from his bed to his desk in his batman pyjama pants, his suspiciously stained blanket drawn around his bare shoulders, and had sat down to draw. Now the only light is from the lamp on his desk, spilling warmly over his sketchbook but not reaching the corners of the cluttered basement. As he clutches a cigarette in one hand, ash scattering the paper, Gerard draws what he always draws. No matter what he does the same face always shapes itself out of the charcoal. He rubs at it with gum eraser, warm from hours in his dirty hands, carving bits away to perfect the face. The long straight nose and puckered lips, the straight mousey hair of the fifteen year old Mikey Way ingrained in his memory forever. The eyes in this particular drawing are too piercing, too accusing, and Gerard has to look away. No matter how much time passes Gerard has to live with the knowledge that he wasn’t there to save his baby brother when he needed him most.
Sometime in the early hours of the morning Gerard slumps forward onto the drawings and falls asleep, the powdery charcoal face of his brother imprinting onto his.
He is awoken by the single beam of sunlight that comes into his room, and slowly struggles upright. His back aches from sleeping at an awkward angle and without the blanket that has fallen to the floor he is cold. On seeing the black stains on his hands and sensing the smudges across his face Gerard uncharacteristically decides on a shower, and picks his way across the comic book and crumbled clothes covered floor to the adjoining bathroom. The hot water hits his back and he runs his fingers through his dyed hair, sighing to himself. As he turns around the pounding water hits his dick and he gasps, reaching down to touch himself. Before he knows it his backs flat against the wall as he jacks himself desperately, one hand running slowly down his bare chest to rub his nipple hard, and then drift down to slip a finger in, just the way he likes it. When he comes the sound of the shower muffles his girly string of moans and barely suppressed shout of “Oh fuck yes.”
After wards he sits on the edge of the bath in his towel, feeling guilty. Today would be Mikey’s eighteenth birthday, and Gerard had been in the shower thinking of himself. He dresses slowly, feeling heavy, and ignores the pile of drawings on his desk. He also tries not to think what it would be like right now to walk upstairs to his parents sitting together at the breakfast table, an excited son beside them who had just become a man. What he finds upstairs instead is his mother, smoking and staring. That’s all she’s done for a long time- stare. Stare at the floor, the wall, the door. As if the cracks in the plaster held the explanation to her youngest boy’s disappearance.
“Hi Mom,” Gerard mumbles from the door. The heavy weight of the significance of today hangs between them.
“Get your coffee. Don’t talk to me”
He nods and shuffles around the small kitchen. What Gerard’s mother doesn’t stare at anymore is him. For her Gerard is the ghost of Mikey, maybe not in appearance but in small ways only a mother could notice, and his presence is only a reminder of the air he breathes while his brother lies dead and unfound. When Gerard dropped out of art school and declined into depression in the basement, with a part time job at crappy stationers, it all came back to what Mikey would be doing- the life he would live and the opportunities he would take. For her it was her cruel way of dealing with death. For Gerard, it was torture.
After enduring the tension of the kitchen, and fighting back the loss that daily rose up inside him, Gerard knew exactly who would be strong enough to acknowledge Mikey’s birthday.
Frank.
Please please let me know what you think! Otherwise I probably wont continue this
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