Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > 100 Gerard/Frank Fics
For Prompt #096: Writer's Choice
Motivation
A Little Motivation Never Hurt
AN: Sorry I've been gone since like, the dawn of time. I was having issues, so...thanks for being patient. And for all the Anatomy readers, the only things left to be done are the last chapter and waiting for my AK-47 to get back on me on the reviews of my last two parts.
Thanks a million, guys.
Also, sorry that everything I write is so damn upsetting. I'm a happy person, really.
EDIT: Sorry guys! The formatting fucked up, but I fixed it now!
Mikey had to be transported to the hospital after the first wave of shock never subsided. His eyes were only glassy for a few moments before the screaming began, and fists were flying into the faces and lungs of the navy blue men that "only want to help!", and Mikey, five years later, wouldn't remember any detail from that day that didn't pass in a strange, gagging blur.
Time flew past after the ambulance left, carrying the mutilated body back into town via a zippered black bag, closed up tightly to cover the effects of advanced rigor mortis, numerous lacerations, and a bashed open skull that you could still hear the drip, drip from, splattering heavily onto the dark interior of the body sack like a leaking faucet.
Bob left without a word, climbing into the back seat of one of the patrol cars and asking for a lift into town and, if possible, the hospital Mikey was taken to. No one questioned his sudden departure, and in all honesty, they cared even less than they noticed. Frank and Ray took to the asphalt of the cliff, letting the wind from the bay a hundred feet below sting their red eyes and dry the tears that had flowed down their cheeks, leaving them with an uncomfortable crunching feeling every time they changed their expression.
They didn't say a word. They had nothing to say. Ray was itching to reach out and hold his friend, just for a minute, but the tense aura around Frank's stature wore him down, and he eventually settled with wrapping his arms around himself to shield his body from the cold and his mind from the fact that Gerard was gone. Just gone.
"Excuse me?"
Ray looked up, squinting his eyes slightly in the sun. Upon noticing the silver gleam of a badge, he stood up to look the officer in the eye.
"I'm Officer Visser," the man said, holding out his hand, "on behalf of the Local County Police Department."
"Ray Toro," Ray choked out, his voice chopped and high in pitch. He shook the man's hand gently, finally able to get a good look.
Visser's face was kind, eyes a light blue that, despite having seen countless scenes like this before, displayed nothing of feigned interest or weariness, only sympathy, and for that Ray was grateful. He looked back towards the ground where Frank still sat, one hand sprawled across the dirt and weeds as he leant back against the safety barrier of the cliff.
"And this is Frank Iero," Ray said softly, sniffing. He wished Frank would speak, or at least acknowledge the present company, because Ray was still trying to process everything that had happened in the past hour and Frank's assistance, even his voice, was something Ray desperately needed. He didn't have the heart to do all of this alone, now that he was alone.
"Right," Officer Visser nodded. "Now, I know this is the last thing you want to do right now, but I'm afraid it has to be done, and you two are the only folks we have at the time personally connected with the victim--"
Ray winced.
"--So would you be willing to answer some questions?"
He was pulling out a small notepad as he spoke, clicking his little black pen as apologetically as possible, and Ray sighed, defeated.
"Sure. We'll give it our best."
"I thank you for your cooperation," Visser said, locking eyes with Ray momentarily, establishing the personal connection that he had been trained to achieve. Frank refused to look up, even move, and his lifeless body remained ignored against the railing as Visser flipped past a few pages and swallowed, running through the countless lines and questions in his head and selecting which was appropriate to ask first.
"When was the last time you saw Mr. Way?"
Ray shifted uncomfortably. The "Mr. Way" term was going to make this whole thing awkward and even more immensely unbearable then it already was, but he blinked back the sudden tears that had sprang forward at Gerard's name and sputtered out his answer.
"A-About nine-thirty last night. He passed me in the hall--he looked pretty upset about something--and the next thing I know is the door slamming shut. He didn't come back and I went to bed. I figured he went for a walk or something, since we weren't due back on the road until the next morning. This morning, I mean. I..."
Ray trailed off, suddenly feeling guilty. If he had stopped Gerard in the hall, would any of this had happened? Would he have been able to prevent this whole thing? Beginning to shake with uncertain guilt, he glanced in Frank's direction, hoping for comfort, support, denial, anything. But Frank continued to ignore him, his head on his knees and his hands in the dirt.
"Mm-hmm..." Officer Visser hummed, jotting down information in his notepad. "Now, you said he looked upset. Any ideas why?"
Ray shrugged, wiping his eyes. "No. I mean, Gerard goes into moods like that. I thought maybe, you know, he got frustrated with writing or something, or was just in a bad mood. I just--"
Frank interrupted him with a loud dry sob, and his hands reached up to clench the fabric of his jeans, but he still gave no acknowledgement to Ray nor the officer.
"Hey. We need to talk."
"Why? Gee, what's up?"
"Frank..."
"I thought he was happy," Ray continued, swollen eyes dripping once again. "I thought... I thought he had everything he wanted. I thought we were past this."
"This is stupid. I love you."
"What? Gerard, don't fucking do this. I'm serious. I don't have--"
"Frank! That won't work. I know what you've told me. You've said it before."
Officer Visser nodded sympathetically. "Yes, most suicides do come as a shock to friends and family. It's always the ones you'd least suspect. But, just to be clear, I need to confirm that there was no forewarning that Mr. Way had suicide on his mind when he exited the bus."
On the ground, Frank gave another great, gasping cry, his body shaking. Ray bit his lip and shut his eyes tightly at the sound, more tears streaming down his face.
"For me, there was none. I knew he was upset, but I figured it was just a...a normal thing. People get hurt and, and shit happens. I thought it was just a thing," Ray shrugged, trying as best as he could to keep up his nonchalant demeanour, praying that he could stay strong, if only to fool himself.
"But...but I did talk to Mikey about it before I went to bed," Ray offered quietly. "He said he heard raised voices before Gerard stormed out."
"I'm NOT having this conversation with you Gerard!
"We wouldn't need to if you'd just admit it!"
"Admit WHAT?!"
"Hmm, is that so?" Visser cocked his head lightly, eyes squinting slightly as he pondered. "If you could be so kind and tell me, Mr. Toro, who was it that was in the vicinity with Mr. Way before he left?"
"Well..." Ray started, attempting to recall a memory that was nothing more than a scene he remembered as much of as a movie he watched 12 years ago. The whole thing was covered in a fog of disbelief. "Mikey had already climbed into his bunk, and he was telling me, so it wasn't him, and Bob was up front with the driver. Brian hasn't been with us all this week, and James left for Wisconsin last Tuesday. So the only person that--"
Ray faltered and swallowed visibly. Officer Visser nodded and prodded him along kindly, although he already knew the answer and was eyeing the body slumped against the guardrail with suspicious eyes. Ray wrapped his arms around himself as his eyes went wide.
"The only person left was Frank."
"Admit that you love me! That you've always fucking loved me, Frank! You've fucking TOLD me when you were drunk!"
"Mr. Iero, did you have an argument with Mr. Way the night he committed suicide?"
Frank nodded into his knees.
"Gerard, why the fuck are you doing this?! Where the FUCK do you get off saying that--"
"Could you tell me, please, if there was any possible motivation Mr. Way may have had to jump off this cliff like he did?"
"Frank, I'm done playing games and pussy footing around this. We need to get this out into the open. Now tell me the fucking truth! Tell me you love me, and that this whole thing I have in my head isn't just fucking arrogance on my part!"
Gerard stared Frank down with frightening intensity, which Frank returned fearlessly as he toyed with his engagement ring, eyes narrowed dangerously while he spat out words like venom.
"Gerard, get a fucking grip. I'm in love."
"Frank--"
"And it's not with you."
Frank finally lifted his head up, the tears making his face wet and slippery as he breathed harshly, his breath and voice nearly gone. He looked up at the curious officer and broken Ray, a mere shell of the man he had been last night when rejecting Gerard had felt like the right thing to do.
"Yeah," Frank whispered, head sinking down again into a lifeless form. "I lied."
Motivation
A Little Motivation Never Hurt
AN: Sorry I've been gone since like, the dawn of time. I was having issues, so...thanks for being patient. And for all the Anatomy readers, the only things left to be done are the last chapter and waiting for my AK-47 to get back on me on the reviews of my last two parts.
Thanks a million, guys.
Also, sorry that everything I write is so damn upsetting. I'm a happy person, really.
EDIT: Sorry guys! The formatting fucked up, but I fixed it now!
Mikey had to be transported to the hospital after the first wave of shock never subsided. His eyes were only glassy for a few moments before the screaming began, and fists were flying into the faces and lungs of the navy blue men that "only want to help!", and Mikey, five years later, wouldn't remember any detail from that day that didn't pass in a strange, gagging blur.
Time flew past after the ambulance left, carrying the mutilated body back into town via a zippered black bag, closed up tightly to cover the effects of advanced rigor mortis, numerous lacerations, and a bashed open skull that you could still hear the drip, drip from, splattering heavily onto the dark interior of the body sack like a leaking faucet.
Bob left without a word, climbing into the back seat of one of the patrol cars and asking for a lift into town and, if possible, the hospital Mikey was taken to. No one questioned his sudden departure, and in all honesty, they cared even less than they noticed. Frank and Ray took to the asphalt of the cliff, letting the wind from the bay a hundred feet below sting their red eyes and dry the tears that had flowed down their cheeks, leaving them with an uncomfortable crunching feeling every time they changed their expression.
They didn't say a word. They had nothing to say. Ray was itching to reach out and hold his friend, just for a minute, but the tense aura around Frank's stature wore him down, and he eventually settled with wrapping his arms around himself to shield his body from the cold and his mind from the fact that Gerard was gone. Just gone.
"Excuse me?"
Ray looked up, squinting his eyes slightly in the sun. Upon noticing the silver gleam of a badge, he stood up to look the officer in the eye.
"I'm Officer Visser," the man said, holding out his hand, "on behalf of the Local County Police Department."
"Ray Toro," Ray choked out, his voice chopped and high in pitch. He shook the man's hand gently, finally able to get a good look.
Visser's face was kind, eyes a light blue that, despite having seen countless scenes like this before, displayed nothing of feigned interest or weariness, only sympathy, and for that Ray was grateful. He looked back towards the ground where Frank still sat, one hand sprawled across the dirt and weeds as he leant back against the safety barrier of the cliff.
"And this is Frank Iero," Ray said softly, sniffing. He wished Frank would speak, or at least acknowledge the present company, because Ray was still trying to process everything that had happened in the past hour and Frank's assistance, even his voice, was something Ray desperately needed. He didn't have the heart to do all of this alone, now that he was alone.
"Right," Officer Visser nodded. "Now, I know this is the last thing you want to do right now, but I'm afraid it has to be done, and you two are the only folks we have at the time personally connected with the victim--"
Ray winced.
"--So would you be willing to answer some questions?"
He was pulling out a small notepad as he spoke, clicking his little black pen as apologetically as possible, and Ray sighed, defeated.
"Sure. We'll give it our best."
"I thank you for your cooperation," Visser said, locking eyes with Ray momentarily, establishing the personal connection that he had been trained to achieve. Frank refused to look up, even move, and his lifeless body remained ignored against the railing as Visser flipped past a few pages and swallowed, running through the countless lines and questions in his head and selecting which was appropriate to ask first.
"When was the last time you saw Mr. Way?"
Ray shifted uncomfortably. The "Mr. Way" term was going to make this whole thing awkward and even more immensely unbearable then it already was, but he blinked back the sudden tears that had sprang forward at Gerard's name and sputtered out his answer.
"A-About nine-thirty last night. He passed me in the hall--he looked pretty upset about something--and the next thing I know is the door slamming shut. He didn't come back and I went to bed. I figured he went for a walk or something, since we weren't due back on the road until the next morning. This morning, I mean. I..."
Ray trailed off, suddenly feeling guilty. If he had stopped Gerard in the hall, would any of this had happened? Would he have been able to prevent this whole thing? Beginning to shake with uncertain guilt, he glanced in Frank's direction, hoping for comfort, support, denial, anything. But Frank continued to ignore him, his head on his knees and his hands in the dirt.
"Mm-hmm..." Officer Visser hummed, jotting down information in his notepad. "Now, you said he looked upset. Any ideas why?"
Ray shrugged, wiping his eyes. "No. I mean, Gerard goes into moods like that. I thought maybe, you know, he got frustrated with writing or something, or was just in a bad mood. I just--"
Frank interrupted him with a loud dry sob, and his hands reached up to clench the fabric of his jeans, but he still gave no acknowledgement to Ray nor the officer.
"Hey. We need to talk."
"Why? Gee, what's up?"
"Frank..."
"I thought he was happy," Ray continued, swollen eyes dripping once again. "I thought... I thought he had everything he wanted. I thought we were past this."
"This is stupid. I love you."
"What? Gerard, don't fucking do this. I'm serious. I don't have--"
"Frank! That won't work. I know what you've told me. You've said it before."
Officer Visser nodded sympathetically. "Yes, most suicides do come as a shock to friends and family. It's always the ones you'd least suspect. But, just to be clear, I need to confirm that there was no forewarning that Mr. Way had suicide on his mind when he exited the bus."
On the ground, Frank gave another great, gasping cry, his body shaking. Ray bit his lip and shut his eyes tightly at the sound, more tears streaming down his face.
"For me, there was none. I knew he was upset, but I figured it was just a...a normal thing. People get hurt and, and shit happens. I thought it was just a thing," Ray shrugged, trying as best as he could to keep up his nonchalant demeanour, praying that he could stay strong, if only to fool himself.
"But...but I did talk to Mikey about it before I went to bed," Ray offered quietly. "He said he heard raised voices before Gerard stormed out."
"I'm NOT having this conversation with you Gerard!
"We wouldn't need to if you'd just admit it!"
"Admit WHAT?!"
"Hmm, is that so?" Visser cocked his head lightly, eyes squinting slightly as he pondered. "If you could be so kind and tell me, Mr. Toro, who was it that was in the vicinity with Mr. Way before he left?"
"Well..." Ray started, attempting to recall a memory that was nothing more than a scene he remembered as much of as a movie he watched 12 years ago. The whole thing was covered in a fog of disbelief. "Mikey had already climbed into his bunk, and he was telling me, so it wasn't him, and Bob was up front with the driver. Brian hasn't been with us all this week, and James left for Wisconsin last Tuesday. So the only person that--"
Ray faltered and swallowed visibly. Officer Visser nodded and prodded him along kindly, although he already knew the answer and was eyeing the body slumped against the guardrail with suspicious eyes. Ray wrapped his arms around himself as his eyes went wide.
"The only person left was Frank."
"Admit that you love me! That you've always fucking loved me, Frank! You've fucking TOLD me when you were drunk!"
"Mr. Iero, did you have an argument with Mr. Way the night he committed suicide?"
Frank nodded into his knees.
"Gerard, why the fuck are you doing this?! Where the FUCK do you get off saying that--"
"Could you tell me, please, if there was any possible motivation Mr. Way may have had to jump off this cliff like he did?"
"Frank, I'm done playing games and pussy footing around this. We need to get this out into the open. Now tell me the fucking truth! Tell me you love me, and that this whole thing I have in my head isn't just fucking arrogance on my part!"
Gerard stared Frank down with frightening intensity, which Frank returned fearlessly as he toyed with his engagement ring, eyes narrowed dangerously while he spat out words like venom.
"Gerard, get a fucking grip. I'm in love."
"Frank--"
"And it's not with you."
Frank finally lifted his head up, the tears making his face wet and slippery as he breathed harshly, his breath and voice nearly gone. He looked up at the curious officer and broken Ray, a mere shell of the man he had been last night when rejecting Gerard had felt like the right thing to do.
"Yeah," Frank whispered, head sinking down again into a lifeless form. "I lied."
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