Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > 100 Gerard/Frank Fics


by aiIenzo 5 reviews

The sky is blue

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst, Drama - Characters: Frank Iero, Gerard Way - Published: 2007-04-08 - Updated: 2007-04-09 - 2353 words

AN: Man. I'm depressing.


Prompt #47


"You think it's different for everyone?"

Frank looked over at him, hands running across the tips of green, green grass. Gerard looked peaceful. It was nice.

"What's different?"

Gerard tilted his head to stare over at Frank, answering, "The sky," as if it was the most obvious thing anyone could ever think of. Frank, still a little embarrassed (and slightly revolted) at the thought of lying on a hillside with Gerard (seriously, how cliché can you get?) didn't answer, letting Gerard continue to spill out his thoughts.

"Like, you know, the colour. The way it moves, the way it looks -- texture, I guess -- maybe it's different for everyone. Um, okay, look," he brought his hand behind his head to cushion him, "what do you see when you look at the sky?"

Frank reluctantly turned his gaze away from Gerard to stare at the mass of atmosphere above him.

"I dunno. It looks kind of grey today, actually. And the clouds are coming over there, look--"

But Gerard just smiled, and Frank turned to look at him, the arm that had been outstretched towards the oncoming storm dropping uselessly at his side. Frank sighed, amused, because he had played this game with Gerard so many times before.

"Okay, hot stuff," Frank replied. "Show me your wisdom. What do you see?"

"Blue," Gerard answered simply, and Frank waited. Waited for that intuitive explanation or clever observation that would leave him feeling a little astonished and slightly overpowered. Because that's what happened. Gerard always outwitted him. But nothing came. Surprised, curious, and almost concerned, Frank looked over.

"Blue? Gerard, how can you see blue?"

Gerard shrugged. "It's what I see. The sky is blue."

"Dude," Frank laughed lightly. "It's going to rain. There's barely a blue patch in the sky."

"No. My sky is always blue," Gerard answered, but it wasn't the stubborn response of a bored imagination. It was clear. Convincing. Frank shifted and scooted closer, resting his head on Gerard's shoulder and joining his gaze up into the greying sky.

"And why's that?" Frank asked, kissing Gerard's cheek lightly.

Gerard smiled and ran his fingers over Frank's. "Because I'm fucking happy."


25 miles over the speed limit. He flew past cars, jerking the steering wheel wildly and wondering frantically where all the fucking cops where that were supposed to be stopping him and making his life worse.

Go. Go. Go.

The only sounds were the honking horns of surprised drivers and Frank's hard grip on the leather steering wheel, making a teeth-grinding squeak each time he adjusted his white-knuckled fingers. His cell phone slid wildly around in the passenger's seat with every turn he skidded into, ramming into the door and the armrest, clinking softly with the few CD cases he'd left out. It was still warm from his quick conversation with Alicia.

"There was an accident," her voice replayed, pierced through his memory. "I'm at the hospital now. I called Mikey, but, he's so far, they're...Christ. Please. He needs you. I need you."

A cold sweat was on his forehead, threatening to form small droplets that would run down his face like candle wax, sealing his fear and pain and anguish into a mask, viewable by any passby on the streets of LA.

I'm coming. Just--. Wait. I'm coming.

A pedestrian shouted at him from a sidewalk, her hands in the air as her face contorted in anger. Frank grimaced but sped past her, a guilty conscience now weighing upon his already heavy heart. The sick irony of his wreckless driving hit him like a blow to the chest, and he considered pulling the car over and running the rest of the way if she hadn't sounded so desperate.

"He's hurt pretty bad," she had whispered. Sadness. Fright. Combing over each other in a vain attempt to block out the worst of the situation. The two emotions just fit too well. "The...the glass above him, or something. I heard the doctors shouting. It was--oh God, Frank, just get here."

The hospital was in sight--a big white building, trees and greenery jutted about, scattered across the landscape in an effort to brighten up the place. Make it lively. Counteract the death. Frank slammed his foot down on the gas and sealed his eyes to a direct path for the driveway.

I'm here. I'm here I'm here I'm here-- don't leave. Don't leave.

The car bounced and Frank felt his neck pop as he drove over the curb in his haste. He spotted the parking spot nearest to the entrance and made for it, shaking away the sting in the back of his eyes.

"He's hurt pretty bad. --oh God, Frank, just get here."

And there she was, a shaking form of a strong woman gone brittle, collapsed in a chair in the lobby. When she heard the door open her head jerked up, making Frank's neck throb painfully again at the reminder, and she made a little squeaking noise, jumping up and throwing herself into his embrace. He let her burden herself on his shoulder, his arms wrapping around her shoulders protectively, despite him being the one in need of comfort. Her black hair was matted and unbrushed, and her laces were undone. They were Mikey's shoes.

"Did you get hold of Mikey?" Frank whispered, pulling away and gripping her arms gently. She nodded, wiping the wet marks under her eyes.

"Yeah. He's on a plane back right now. He's bringing their parents."

Frank nodded, picturing Mikey stepping up to his parents house for a surprise visit, only to get the call from Alicia. Panicking. Ushering the whole family back into the taxi and back to the airport. The image made Frank heave back a sob, biting the bottom of his lip.

"Alicia. What happened?"

She took several breaths to steady herself, chest rising and falling as if she was having an asthma attack, before her mouth opened and she was spilling out details like she hadn't spoken in years.

"He. He was driving home, I guess. Back to the apartment, and--this guy. He wasn't drunk, or anything. Just, just a little upset because he'd just broke up with his wife or some shit and the cars--the cars, Frank, just wait until you see them. It's a miracle they both survived--"

"Fuck, he's alive," Frank breathed out in relief. "Where is he Alicia? What room? Did they--"

"Frank, oh, god, I don't know! I don't know anything!" she cried frantically, burying her face into his chest. "They just...they called me because I was the first number on his phone, and--and...and..."

"Shh," Frank crooned, trying to settle his shaking hands as he led her to an empty seat in the vacant lobby. "Shh. It's alright. They'll be out soon. They'll tell us what the hell's going on."

"What do we do now?" she asked quietly through a tear-stretched voice. Frank petted her hair absently, staring at the cloudless sky through the lobby window.

"We wait."


The clocked ticked by on their lonely forms, people that passed through the lobby on their way out paying them no mind. Frank didn't blame them for their lack of sympathy. It was a hospital. Tears and fears come included with the white walls and sanitizer.

But when the door opened to reveal a weary looking man in his late forties, Frank's attention perked, and he gently shook Alicia out of her stupor beside him. The doctor (/Surgeon?/ the thought flashed horribly through Frank's head) lifted his head out of his clipboard and gave them a once-over, nodding towards them kindly.

"For Gerard Way?"

They both stood up immediately, choursing their soft agreement. The man began walking towards them, asking lightly, "Family?"

"Yes," Alicia replied immediately, and Frank felt a fresh wave of both pride and empowerment wash over him; and when the man in the white coat looked at him, Frank nodded.

"Yeah. Family."

"How is he?" Alicia asked urgently, her voice on the edge of regaining it's usual strength. The doctor, however, rubbed a hand across his brow and sighed deeply, adjusting his clipboard.

"Now, I may not be the person best able to explain this to you, so bare with me, please."

Frank's heart leapt to his throat and he felt the sudden need to sit. To fall. But his legs had suddenly disappeared, away, out of his control. A shock passed through him, and then all he could feel was Alicia's hand slipping into his own and squeezing it.

"You see, when Mr. Way--" the man began, and Frank winced, the title sounding too awkward for his liking. "--was in that car accident, his body was pinned in such a way that he had limited or no movement. He could not extract himself from the vehicle."

He-- (Dr. Tumashi, Frank realized, after becoming so intent on staring at the shiny silver name badge, swallowing thickly)--looked up, as if to make sure they were all still on track.

"His head was immobile, cushioned between the headrest and the bent edge of the dashboard. And his vision lay directly in the path of several shards of broken glass, and the side view mirror on the driver's side. Mr. Way, Gerard, had no other choice but to allow his eyesight be determined for him."

"What..." Frank started, losing his voice halfway through the word. He swallowed and tried again, his feet feeling unbalanced and unstable. "What are saying? What. Why does that matter?"

"It matters," Dr. Tumashi began, his voice soft, "because the sun was at such a position in the sky that it reflected directly into Mr. Way's mirrors."

Alicia started shaking. Frank stared. When he went to breathe the effect was noisy and shaky, and he choked. His fingers were numb and his heart had been swallowed and thrown back up mercilessly.

"Are you telling me," he began, slowly, making sure that each word came out correctly, if it decided to come out at all. "That Gerard had no choice but to look into that mirror? That he had to sit there. In that car. Staring at the sun through a fucking magnifying glass?"

Alicia let out a choked sob, falling to a heap on the floor. Her hands clutched her chest as she struggled to get air into her lungs as she cried.

Dr. Tumashi nodded his head solemnly. Frank was trembling. This was. It was.




"No," he said, the word falling from his lips and splattering meaninglessly onto the floor. "No, that's stupid. It's fucking stupid. He could have closed his eyes, or--"

"He did close his eyes," Tumashi interrupted softly. "But it made no difference. The mirror, combined with all that broken glass--the intensity was too much, even for darkness."

Frank fell to the cold floor next to Alicia, watching the tiles swim in a hazy fog in front of his eyes, tilting back and forth wildly as he brought a hand up to his head to steady the world. To keep from falling off.

"No," he whispered. "No. No."

"Is he okay, though?" Alicia wailed. "Is he alright? Will he--" she broke off, turning her face over to her hands and knees.

"Save a couple of stratches, he's perfectly fine," Tumashi answered peacefully.

"Save being blind," Frank added blankly, and he nodded solemnly.

"Save being blind."


Frank tried not to start crying again when he entered the room, leaving Alicia in one of the plastic chairs outside. She had refused to enter with him, stating that she'd wait for Mikey, and that Frank needed to do it by himself. That it was necessary. Because you need it, Frank knew, but she never said it.

Gerard was on the bed; no IV's in his skin, no heart monitors beeping consistently in the background. The blinds were open, offering a beautiful clear light into the room, illuminating Gerard's skin, his face, his lips, his hands. His artists hands. Hands that would never draw, nor paint, nor sketch--ever again. Frank realized, as he stared at Gerard's body, that his hands were never what really created the art--they were just tools. The true genius came from what Gerard saw. What he interpreted. What he turned from ordinary to extraordinary. Those gorgeous hazel eyes.



His voice was bent. Off centre. Incomplete.

He was incomplete.

Already. Frank bit his lip and made his way towards Gerard's bed, reaching out his hand to take Gerard's. Gerard's eyes scanned his face like he used to, studying it, but Frank knew he could see nothing. Nothing but white and dark and his own vivid imagination. Gerard was finally living in that world he created, like he always wanted to. But in that world, in that daydream and desire, Gerard never wanted it to be like this.

Frank helped Gerard off the bed, because he knew it was what Gerard wanted, and let him to the window. He helped the his friend's fingers find the white framing of the outside view, whispering words of endearment so softly that only the two of the them and the open window could hear.

Gerard stood for a moment, gazing with unseeing eyes into the clear weather of day, coupling the loss with an astounding lack of remorse; with no wistful sighs, no clear tears from blank eyes, no moans and cries and wishes and hopes. Gerard simply stood at the window, his gaze fixed on what he knew was the horizon.

"Frank, I can't see it," he said quietly, his voice still strong, but broken. Like being pieced together after a demolishing shatter. "The colour, the texture, the promise. I can't--"

He swallowed thickly, groping for Frank's hand and taking it in his own.

"I can't see the sky."

Frank bit his lip as hot tears folded his face and combined underneath his chin. He reached out a steady hand and pushed the hair behind Gerard's ear, resting his head on Gerard's shoulder. .

"It's okay, baby," he whispered softly. "The sky is blue."
Sign up to rate and review this story