Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Apples:Prologue:
Wow here's this hope it's okay for you guys. I dont know what's going on xD Check out my new story http://ficwad.com/story/226888
I walk towards my porch, pace slow and relaxed as my tensed muscles begin to unknot. Emotions from before replaced by curiousity, confusioun and delight. The figure waiting for me has the familiar pale face I have been looking for all day. He is currently hunched over my stairs, smirking with a sense of pride that slightly resembles one of a feline's.
"How long have you been sitting there?" I ask. Walking up the stairs, I unlock my door waiting for a reply.
"I dunno, two, three hours or so." Opening the door, I walk inside as Gerard follows from behind. "Wow, that eager huh?" I ask, finally looking at him, his face currently brands a purple bruise under his left eye. I do not question it's existance as I make my way towards the kitchen to get drinks. I don't get a reply, I walk towards the living room, which is vacant of Gerard's presence, I asume the obvious and walk towards my room.
"I swear, I feel like I'm letting in a stray cat, which is in fact injured." I enter the room, talking to myself making sure I'm loud enough to be heard. "Anyways where were you today?" I ask him, plopping down my bed next to Gerard. His eyes are closed and his breathing is languid, "Had to take care of some business, hmm." He sighs, stretching his arms, then mumbles, "Not important." I snort, as if he had a business anyways, dude probably doesn't even have a job.
"Right," comes out a sarcastic reply, "Is that bruise the result of your business?"
"Maybe.." He pouts, eyes still closed.
We stay silent for a while, both of us tired. Most likely for different reasons. We fall asleep.
I have that dream again, with the fog. Yet this time it's accompanied with the acrid smell of iron, and it lingers in the air no matter how far I walk. As I walk further it becomes more prominent, more demanding. And I get that feeling that someone, something is watching me. And my heart begins to beat faster in panic. I let my feet carry me faster across a surface I cannot see. And all the while I get that sixth sense that's telling me I'm being followed. And for once in my life I am afraid; I am afraid as my heart begins to hammer erratically against the walls of my ribs, producing a sound that resembles the ringing of alarm bells. And I start to prespire in panic, and my breath quickens and shortens with the pace of hyteria. And oh god, the smell, I can feel it curling down the pit of my stomach, arising acid that's begging to be released. My throat tightens, but I can't vomit because I can't stop running. The sounds, the images, the senses, wreck havoc in my mind, and I can't stop it. They flicker frantically, like thin pages of a book against a harsh wind, and I can't stop them. The adrenaline makes my head fuzzy, and I feel like dying. Like something inside me is clawing outside and it hurts, my head hurts, and my stomach clenches and my throat tightens, and then I can't breath anymore.
I gasp out, as if in pain, when a hand lays down on my chest. My heart fluttering in fear. I open my eyes, awaiting the worst, but all I see is that familiar pale face with eyebrows twisted in concern. I close my eyes and inhale deeply, the feeling of shame wrapping it's hands around my heart, squeezing. The hammering of my heart beat in the background begins to fade, and it descends with the piercing sound of silence. The silence seems to screech in my ears, and I breath in deeply, calming down, that is until I catch a scent of iron. My eyes wrench open, and I recoil away from the hand on my chest and fling out of my bed.
"What is that smell?" I yell in panic, my voice cracks. I look around the room, my eyes landing anywhere but on Gerard's face. Anything in order to avoid seeing his look of concern.
"What smell?" He asks tentatively.
"That smell! That iron!" I yell, pacing around my room. My breath catches, "That blood." my voice gasps out, the words coming out gently, broken. I feel pathetic it was just a nightmare, yet here I am, raging on in panic as that feeling of danger lingers around my body.
"Ah shit Frankie man, look calm down." Gerard pleads getting up from my bed. I finally look at him, his features are a bit hazy,so I must have woken him up. At some point he must have taken off his leather jacket because he is dressed in a misfit shirt. I look at his shirt, and then I see it, a leak of liquid, tainting his black shirt with a darker spot. I walk towards him, eyes wide and inquiring. My hands drift down his shirt, and I gingerly lift it up.
"What.." I say, voice soft, "Happened?" His stomach is pale, flat with taut abdominale muscles, but that's not what stuns me. What stuns me is the slash of a raw stab wound staining his white skin. It's crimson and jagged and it looks like a small black void cutting a gap between the expanse of white.
"Oh, I got in a fight." He explains. I pull my hands away.
"Is that why you weren't here today?" I ask, for some reason angry, when not so long ago I was afraid. "Because you had to go get in a fight, claiming it was business?" I pace around my room, "You could have been killed. How stupid must you be to pick of fight with someone who has a blade?" I rant on, infuriated, "You left me alone while I got harrassed by stupid fucking Perez, just so you can get in a fight!?" I screech, I don't know what's going on but my heart clenches and I pace erratically, apearantly letting out all the rage I've been holding in.
"Wait." Gerard says, coming around me, placing his hands on my shoulders heavily, preventing me from moving. My breath comes out in quick angry puffs and I glare at him with all the infuriation I can muster.
"What do you mean you got harassed?" He asks. I exhale loudly, and close my eyes, all ready feeling exhausted for displaying such emotions. My head nods forward, landing on Gerard's shoulders. I feel drained.
"Fucking Perez caught me smoking, threatened me with detention, then offered me a deal in which I participate in the coming festival to get out of the discipline." I rub my forehead over his shoulder, smelling apples. I focus on the apples instead of blood.
"That prick, hmm who would've known." He muses.
"I know right? Asshole, anyways he's making me play black bird. Which is ridiculus seeing as he always tries to shoot me down for my "lack of skills" on guitar." I breath his scent in. "I have to play it with some one who can sing, but I don't know anyone who can. And man, I really fucking hate the beatles." I whine. He chuckles. His hands move from around my shoulders and land on my back, he begins to rub across it soothingly. All the conflicting feelings have vanished, in my chest there is only the soothing fluttering of my elevated heart beat.
I raise my head up, eyes glazed with fatigue as they stare into Gerard's. I never took time to notice his eyes, but as I stare at them now, they are the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen, warm and golden like honey. I clear my throat and take a step away from him, his hands drop and he glances away for a second.
"You are going to shower and after I am going to try to clean that wound up as best as I can, seeing as I'm not a fucking doctor." I tell him, pushing him towards the bathroom and handing him a towel. "I swear to god just like a fucking cat." I grunt in annoyance for finding the resemblance endearing. I walk back towards my room and plop on my bed. The shower turns on. I wait for an hour, glancing out my window, watching as the clouds in the sky accumilate and become grey. Hope it rains.
I hear a cough and I look towards the open door. My breath sort of hitches, in shock of course. Then again I didn't expect much, I muse as Gerard walks towards me towel wrapped around his hips. I get up from my bed, retrieving the items I need from the bathroom. Walking back, I stop in front of Gerard and begin to clean out his wound. My usually rough hands, clean out the wound in gentle strokes. I can sense being watched and I look up as Gerard stares down at me, my hands pause. I swallow with hesitation, then proceed to clean him up. As I put on a gauze pad on his wound, my eyes drift up to his chest, analyzing the various bruise marks on his lilly white skin. Some look faded, others are fresh.
"You should be careful." I say staring into his eyes.
"Okay." Comes a confident reply.
It's obviously a lie.
When Gerard leaves, with a smirk and a pat in the back, I feel disgruntled and worried, as I watch his figure descend towards the rain.
Hoped you guys liked this. This one kinda just wrote it'self. Anyways R AND R please.
I walk towards my porch, pace slow and relaxed as my tensed muscles begin to unknot. Emotions from before replaced by curiousity, confusioun and delight. The figure waiting for me has the familiar pale face I have been looking for all day. He is currently hunched over my stairs, smirking with a sense of pride that slightly resembles one of a feline's.
"How long have you been sitting there?" I ask. Walking up the stairs, I unlock my door waiting for a reply.
"I dunno, two, three hours or so." Opening the door, I walk inside as Gerard follows from behind. "Wow, that eager huh?" I ask, finally looking at him, his face currently brands a purple bruise under his left eye. I do not question it's existance as I make my way towards the kitchen to get drinks. I don't get a reply, I walk towards the living room, which is vacant of Gerard's presence, I asume the obvious and walk towards my room.
"I swear, I feel like I'm letting in a stray cat, which is in fact injured." I enter the room, talking to myself making sure I'm loud enough to be heard. "Anyways where were you today?" I ask him, plopping down my bed next to Gerard. His eyes are closed and his breathing is languid, "Had to take care of some business, hmm." He sighs, stretching his arms, then mumbles, "Not important." I snort, as if he had a business anyways, dude probably doesn't even have a job.
"Right," comes out a sarcastic reply, "Is that bruise the result of your business?"
"Maybe.." He pouts, eyes still closed.
We stay silent for a while, both of us tired. Most likely for different reasons. We fall asleep.
I have that dream again, with the fog. Yet this time it's accompanied with the acrid smell of iron, and it lingers in the air no matter how far I walk. As I walk further it becomes more prominent, more demanding. And I get that feeling that someone, something is watching me. And my heart begins to beat faster in panic. I let my feet carry me faster across a surface I cannot see. And all the while I get that sixth sense that's telling me I'm being followed. And for once in my life I am afraid; I am afraid as my heart begins to hammer erratically against the walls of my ribs, producing a sound that resembles the ringing of alarm bells. And I start to prespire in panic, and my breath quickens and shortens with the pace of hyteria. And oh god, the smell, I can feel it curling down the pit of my stomach, arising acid that's begging to be released. My throat tightens, but I can't vomit because I can't stop running. The sounds, the images, the senses, wreck havoc in my mind, and I can't stop it. They flicker frantically, like thin pages of a book against a harsh wind, and I can't stop them. The adrenaline makes my head fuzzy, and I feel like dying. Like something inside me is clawing outside and it hurts, my head hurts, and my stomach clenches and my throat tightens, and then I can't breath anymore.
I gasp out, as if in pain, when a hand lays down on my chest. My heart fluttering in fear. I open my eyes, awaiting the worst, but all I see is that familiar pale face with eyebrows twisted in concern. I close my eyes and inhale deeply, the feeling of shame wrapping it's hands around my heart, squeezing. The hammering of my heart beat in the background begins to fade, and it descends with the piercing sound of silence. The silence seems to screech in my ears, and I breath in deeply, calming down, that is until I catch a scent of iron. My eyes wrench open, and I recoil away from the hand on my chest and fling out of my bed.
"What is that smell?" I yell in panic, my voice cracks. I look around the room, my eyes landing anywhere but on Gerard's face. Anything in order to avoid seeing his look of concern.
"What smell?" He asks tentatively.
"That smell! That iron!" I yell, pacing around my room. My breath catches, "That blood." my voice gasps out, the words coming out gently, broken. I feel pathetic it was just a nightmare, yet here I am, raging on in panic as that feeling of danger lingers around my body.
"Ah shit Frankie man, look calm down." Gerard pleads getting up from my bed. I finally look at him, his features are a bit hazy,so I must have woken him up. At some point he must have taken off his leather jacket because he is dressed in a misfit shirt. I look at his shirt, and then I see it, a leak of liquid, tainting his black shirt with a darker spot. I walk towards him, eyes wide and inquiring. My hands drift down his shirt, and I gingerly lift it up.
"What.." I say, voice soft, "Happened?" His stomach is pale, flat with taut abdominale muscles, but that's not what stuns me. What stuns me is the slash of a raw stab wound staining his white skin. It's crimson and jagged and it looks like a small black void cutting a gap between the expanse of white.
"Oh, I got in a fight." He explains. I pull my hands away.
"Is that why you weren't here today?" I ask, for some reason angry, when not so long ago I was afraid. "Because you had to go get in a fight, claiming it was business?" I pace around my room, "You could have been killed. How stupid must you be to pick of fight with someone who has a blade?" I rant on, infuriated, "You left me alone while I got harrassed by stupid fucking Perez, just so you can get in a fight!?" I screech, I don't know what's going on but my heart clenches and I pace erratically, apearantly letting out all the rage I've been holding in.
"Wait." Gerard says, coming around me, placing his hands on my shoulders heavily, preventing me from moving. My breath comes out in quick angry puffs and I glare at him with all the infuriation I can muster.
"What do you mean you got harassed?" He asks. I exhale loudly, and close my eyes, all ready feeling exhausted for displaying such emotions. My head nods forward, landing on Gerard's shoulders. I feel drained.
"Fucking Perez caught me smoking, threatened me with detention, then offered me a deal in which I participate in the coming festival to get out of the discipline." I rub my forehead over his shoulder, smelling apples. I focus on the apples instead of blood.
"That prick, hmm who would've known." He muses.
"I know right? Asshole, anyways he's making me play black bird. Which is ridiculus seeing as he always tries to shoot me down for my "lack of skills" on guitar." I breath his scent in. "I have to play it with some one who can sing, but I don't know anyone who can. And man, I really fucking hate the beatles." I whine. He chuckles. His hands move from around my shoulders and land on my back, he begins to rub across it soothingly. All the conflicting feelings have vanished, in my chest there is only the soothing fluttering of my elevated heart beat.
I raise my head up, eyes glazed with fatigue as they stare into Gerard's. I never took time to notice his eyes, but as I stare at them now, they are the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen, warm and golden like honey. I clear my throat and take a step away from him, his hands drop and he glances away for a second.
"You are going to shower and after I am going to try to clean that wound up as best as I can, seeing as I'm not a fucking doctor." I tell him, pushing him towards the bathroom and handing him a towel. "I swear to god just like a fucking cat." I grunt in annoyance for finding the resemblance endearing. I walk back towards my room and plop on my bed. The shower turns on. I wait for an hour, glancing out my window, watching as the clouds in the sky accumilate and become grey. Hope it rains.
I hear a cough and I look towards the open door. My breath sort of hitches, in shock of course. Then again I didn't expect much, I muse as Gerard walks towards me towel wrapped around his hips. I get up from my bed, retrieving the items I need from the bathroom. Walking back, I stop in front of Gerard and begin to clean out his wound. My usually rough hands, clean out the wound in gentle strokes. I can sense being watched and I look up as Gerard stares down at me, my hands pause. I swallow with hesitation, then proceed to clean him up. As I put on a gauze pad on his wound, my eyes drift up to his chest, analyzing the various bruise marks on his lilly white skin. Some look faded, others are fresh.
"You should be careful." I say staring into his eyes.
"Okay." Comes a confident reply.
It's obviously a lie.
When Gerard leaves, with a smirk and a pat in the back, I feel disgruntled and worried, as I watch his figure descend towards the rain.
Hoped you guys liked this. This one kinda just wrote it'self. Anyways R AND R please.
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