Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > 100 Gerard/Frank Fics
For Prompt #090
Shut Up
AN: Wrote this in about...fifteen minutes. This is probably my favorite style of writing, along with second person. I hope you enjoy it :)
Oh, and the main reason it's for prompt 90 is because when my friend reviewed it earlier, she simply said, "you should use #090, "Shut Up," which is what I was thinking of this Candice girl the whole time"
So there you go. Thanks, Jamie.
xo
Her name was Candice.
She said it with an air of pride, the word slipping from her lips like it was fine wine, waiting to be swallowed. Her hand was held out, clean cut nails and a collection of those small blue bracelets people used to make out of the plastic in soda bottle lids. She thought they were cute. Classic. I thought they were childish. Gerard smiled as he shook her hand and allowed her to make introductions.
She said her name was Candice, and she was helping out Taking Back Sunday with their merchandise distribution. Gerard mentioned something about designing a few of their shirts.
Her eyes lit up. She wanted to know which ones. Show me! She implored.
Gerard grinned. He was swallowing. Swallowing that wine and the smile and the classic bracelets that matched her chopped blonde hair.
And he was gone. Gone with Candice and her shirts and her cute dimples.
I snorted and shook my head as they disappeared, annoyed at Gerard for falling so easily. Annoyed at Candice because she had a fucking ugly name. Annoyed at myself because I was denying it again.
Candice, I thought, alone again. There were too many curves. Too many curves and not enough lines.
---
Candice became the new pet. The new charm. The boys loved Candice, and Candice loved Candice, and there was nothing more to it. A mirror for a mirror. Ray liked Candice because she was soft spoken. Mikey liked Candice because she made his brother happy. Bob liked Candice because she made amazing brownies. I liked Candice because it was what I was supposed to do.
And soon enough, laced hands replaced careful smiles, and everywhere Candice went, Gerard was sure to follow. Anything I could do Candice could do better. Candice was new. Candice was pretty. Candice was the frosting.
Slogans and songs and morbidly sappy films played and rewound and replayed in my head, and I ground my teeth every time I heard the sweet voice of the sweet girl that everyone loved; the voice everyone laughed about and said it sounded like honey. I thought it sounded like a kid with too much sugar. The tone was there, the quality was there, but Candice was shy, and nice, and careful.
Candice was amazing.
And I hated her.
---
Three months passed and I was in agony. I could see her out of the corner of my eye during shows, standing backstage and becoming friendlier with Alicia and Eliza. It wasn't what I needed. The urge to distract her, to get away from talking to the other 'girls' of the band was overpowering, and it took my full concentration not to turn and shout and groan in frustration. If the other girls liked her, then there was no turning back.
She'd be here forever.
After the last gig before tour was over. I was on the couch, texting rapidly to a friend across the state, paying no real attention to the virtual conversation, as the one across the room from me had me catching my breath and swallowing thickly.
You're staying with Gerard? I heard Alicia ask, cheekily, because she already knew the answer. We all did. Gerard would be taking her back with him, to his little apartment back in Jersey, and they were going to be happy. Incredibly fucking happy. And she could make him brownies and they could watch CSI together and laugh and sleep in the same bed.
She nodded and answer Yeah shyly, like she was embarrassed. She was ecstatic. Who wouldn't be? I punched each little letter on my Sidekick violently, forcing out small amounts of my anger as Alicia nudged her shoulder.
Hey, you keep this up, and we'll be sister-in-laws soon.
She laughed, and Candice (fucking /Candice/, blah blah blah) faked a gasp and giggled as well. I felt ill. I got up and pushed through them, but they didn't even blink. Alicia was smirking. Excited. Candice looked nervous. Happy. Proud.
She should be fucking proud.
But it was the same pride she gave to her name.
Her horrible fucking name, with it's round letters and perfect cursive form.
It fit perfectly with Gerard.
She fit perfectly with Gerard.
And when she flashed her cute smile at me, she knew it.
---
I showed up at his doorstep at exactly 11:14 in the morning. It was only a short drive from where I was staying. I wasn't sure what I wanted. I never was.
When he opened the door, he grinned widely, happy to see me despite the fact that we saw each other nearly every day of our lives. And usually for all of that day, even. His clothes were stripped down, cladding him only in a black shirt and boxers. As he smiled and greeted me and opened his mouth to invite me in, her head poked around the corner, asking who it was. When she saw my face, she smiled and stepped out. She was wearing one of Gerard's long dress shirts, buttoned up only in the middle. I knew she had just woken up. So did Gerard.
Then it occurred to me that they probably had sex last night.
And the fact didn't bother me as much as it should have, as I was more concerned about the choices of clothing. I noticed something. She was wearing Gerard's shirt.
He was wearing mine.
I thought I had misplaced it. It was Frankenstein, green colouring over a black background; one I used to wear all the time before the band really took off.
Hey Frank, she greeted me.
'Lo Candice, I replied.
I tried to envision the name spilling from his lips during the heat of passion. But I couldn't. The name was too awkward. It didn't fit. I wanted it to be my name. My name falling from his mouth.
Or maybe...just not hers.
Mine or no ones.
Frank, he started, but I had had it.
I reached up, yanked on his collar, and pressed my lips against his.
Then I turned and walked back down the stairs.
And Candice turned and glared and yelled at Gerard, because she Knew it! Fucking knew it! And Gerard was helpless, trying to explain that he didn't know What the fuck that was about, so don't fucking yell at him! But she didn't give in, yelling and gesturing wildly to me so that his shirt lifted up and revealed her black underwear while she yelled that she had Always seen the signals! And that she had Always known there was something between you two! Fuck you! She yelled, and I smiled.
And the last words I heard before I slammed the door shut in my car were Gerard's furious cries of Fuck you, Candice! You always were too clingy, Christ! Get out! And give me my fucking shirt back!
She said her name was Candice, I thought, smiling widely. She said her name was Candice, and that was all it took.
And the last time I heard her name, it was spilling from Gerard's lips exactly as it should have been.
AN: Yeah. Sorry if your name is Candice. No abuse meant.
Shut Up
AN: Wrote this in about...fifteen minutes. This is probably my favorite style of writing, along with second person. I hope you enjoy it :)
Oh, and the main reason it's for prompt 90 is because when my friend reviewed it earlier, she simply said, "you should use #090, "Shut Up," which is what I was thinking of this Candice girl the whole time"
So there you go. Thanks, Jamie.
xo
Her name was Candice.
She said it with an air of pride, the word slipping from her lips like it was fine wine, waiting to be swallowed. Her hand was held out, clean cut nails and a collection of those small blue bracelets people used to make out of the plastic in soda bottle lids. She thought they were cute. Classic. I thought they were childish. Gerard smiled as he shook her hand and allowed her to make introductions.
She said her name was Candice, and she was helping out Taking Back Sunday with their merchandise distribution. Gerard mentioned something about designing a few of their shirts.
Her eyes lit up. She wanted to know which ones. Show me! She implored.
Gerard grinned. He was swallowing. Swallowing that wine and the smile and the classic bracelets that matched her chopped blonde hair.
And he was gone. Gone with Candice and her shirts and her cute dimples.
I snorted and shook my head as they disappeared, annoyed at Gerard for falling so easily. Annoyed at Candice because she had a fucking ugly name. Annoyed at myself because I was denying it again.
Candice, I thought, alone again. There were too many curves. Too many curves and not enough lines.
---
Candice became the new pet. The new charm. The boys loved Candice, and Candice loved Candice, and there was nothing more to it. A mirror for a mirror. Ray liked Candice because she was soft spoken. Mikey liked Candice because she made his brother happy. Bob liked Candice because she made amazing brownies. I liked Candice because it was what I was supposed to do.
And soon enough, laced hands replaced careful smiles, and everywhere Candice went, Gerard was sure to follow. Anything I could do Candice could do better. Candice was new. Candice was pretty. Candice was the frosting.
Slogans and songs and morbidly sappy films played and rewound and replayed in my head, and I ground my teeth every time I heard the sweet voice of the sweet girl that everyone loved; the voice everyone laughed about and said it sounded like honey. I thought it sounded like a kid with too much sugar. The tone was there, the quality was there, but Candice was shy, and nice, and careful.
Candice was amazing.
And I hated her.
---
Three months passed and I was in agony. I could see her out of the corner of my eye during shows, standing backstage and becoming friendlier with Alicia and Eliza. It wasn't what I needed. The urge to distract her, to get away from talking to the other 'girls' of the band was overpowering, and it took my full concentration not to turn and shout and groan in frustration. If the other girls liked her, then there was no turning back.
She'd be here forever.
After the last gig before tour was over. I was on the couch, texting rapidly to a friend across the state, paying no real attention to the virtual conversation, as the one across the room from me had me catching my breath and swallowing thickly.
You're staying with Gerard? I heard Alicia ask, cheekily, because she already knew the answer. We all did. Gerard would be taking her back with him, to his little apartment back in Jersey, and they were going to be happy. Incredibly fucking happy. And she could make him brownies and they could watch CSI together and laugh and sleep in the same bed.
She nodded and answer Yeah shyly, like she was embarrassed. She was ecstatic. Who wouldn't be? I punched each little letter on my Sidekick violently, forcing out small amounts of my anger as Alicia nudged her shoulder.
Hey, you keep this up, and we'll be sister-in-laws soon.
She laughed, and Candice (fucking /Candice/, blah blah blah) faked a gasp and giggled as well. I felt ill. I got up and pushed through them, but they didn't even blink. Alicia was smirking. Excited. Candice looked nervous. Happy. Proud.
She should be fucking proud.
But it was the same pride she gave to her name.
Her horrible fucking name, with it's round letters and perfect cursive form.
It fit perfectly with Gerard.
She fit perfectly with Gerard.
And when she flashed her cute smile at me, she knew it.
---
I showed up at his doorstep at exactly 11:14 in the morning. It was only a short drive from where I was staying. I wasn't sure what I wanted. I never was.
When he opened the door, he grinned widely, happy to see me despite the fact that we saw each other nearly every day of our lives. And usually for all of that day, even. His clothes were stripped down, cladding him only in a black shirt and boxers. As he smiled and greeted me and opened his mouth to invite me in, her head poked around the corner, asking who it was. When she saw my face, she smiled and stepped out. She was wearing one of Gerard's long dress shirts, buttoned up only in the middle. I knew she had just woken up. So did Gerard.
Then it occurred to me that they probably had sex last night.
And the fact didn't bother me as much as it should have, as I was more concerned about the choices of clothing. I noticed something. She was wearing Gerard's shirt.
He was wearing mine.
I thought I had misplaced it. It was Frankenstein, green colouring over a black background; one I used to wear all the time before the band really took off.
Hey Frank, she greeted me.
'Lo Candice, I replied.
I tried to envision the name spilling from his lips during the heat of passion. But I couldn't. The name was too awkward. It didn't fit. I wanted it to be my name. My name falling from his mouth.
Or maybe...just not hers.
Mine or no ones.
Frank, he started, but I had had it.
I reached up, yanked on his collar, and pressed my lips against his.
Then I turned and walked back down the stairs.
And Candice turned and glared and yelled at Gerard, because she Knew it! Fucking knew it! And Gerard was helpless, trying to explain that he didn't know What the fuck that was about, so don't fucking yell at him! But she didn't give in, yelling and gesturing wildly to me so that his shirt lifted up and revealed her black underwear while she yelled that she had Always seen the signals! And that she had Always known there was something between you two! Fuck you! She yelled, and I smiled.
And the last words I heard before I slammed the door shut in my car were Gerard's furious cries of Fuck you, Candice! You always were too clingy, Christ! Get out! And give me my fucking shirt back!
She said her name was Candice, I thought, smiling widely. She said her name was Candice, and that was all it took.
And the last time I heard her name, it was spilling from Gerard's lips exactly as it should have been.
AN: Yeah. Sorry if your name is Candice. No abuse meant.
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