Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > "Barrel of a gun at my back, yet im begging for his lips to be mine."
Disclaimer: I am not in any way associated with anyone in or associated with My Chemical Romance, this story is not in any way a reflection of the actions/characters of any of the band's members and should be viewed simply as a fictional thought plucked from my head.
The sound of the siren was getting louder, though it sounded almost as though we were drawing closer to it rather than it pursuing us, the lights dancing on the ceiling became brighter and larger, and almost restricted, losing their range of movement.
The left arm of the man who was holding me at gunpoint encircled my waist and dragged me up so I was in a sitting position on his lap, he started tracing the route up my spinal cord to my head with the gun but stopped when he got to my neck, his breathing becoming quicker and slightly heavier, as we drew nearer to what I supposed was a Police Squad Car, he turned his head towards the man to my left,
“Gerard, I can’t do this.” He said in an urgent, frightened tone.
‘Fuck. What the hell can’t he do?’ I thought wildly, the unknown, and the tone of his voice mixed with his harried breathing transferring his fear into my emotions.
“Frank” this ‘Gerard’ man said roughly, it seems disapproving of his behaviour.
He pulled me into his lap, almost gently, and took the gun in his hand sliding it under my hair so that the barrel was placed on an angle pointed upwards into my skull, to anyone else; we looked like your average man and woman.
From my position on ‘Gerard’s’ lap I could see out the front windshield, where a policeman was signaling for us to pull over, our driver complied and the policeman spoke to him for a minute or two before spotting me perched up on this guy’s lap. He walked over to our window and ‘Gerard’ rolled it down,
“Sir” started ‘Gerard’ “we are obeying all road rules, all the passengers of this car which are able to be restrained by a seat belt are, and my friend John here is a very responsible driver”
“Sir” the policeman began sarcastically “how ‘bout you just get out of the car so we can be sure nothing more is going on here”.
‘Gerard’ sighed, clearly getting progressively more frustrated with the police officer as he continued to talk to him “I suggest you return to your vehicle where I believe an order to let us pass freely has just come in.”
“And why, exactly would we get an order of that description?” He asked sarcastically.
‘Gerard’ shifted the gun, sliding it from the position at the nape of my neck to that of my right temple “Because your boss doesn’t want the body of this innocent lady here following him and his Force Squadron around like a bad odour for the rest of his and your career’s”. Gerard replied menacingly.
The police officer retreated to his vehicle his eyes on us the whole time, his arms in the air, once he got inside his Police Car our driver put his foot on it and we were off… travelling again.
Gerard, with the gun still pressed against my temple leaned in, and whispered in my ear
"Just think happy thoughts,
And we'll fly home"
With the barrel of a gun pressed to my temple, the words were strangely comforting, and as he removed the barrel from touching my body at any point all I could think of were the words that had almost forced themselves through his lips.
Author's Note: Another slight edit.
The sound of the siren was getting louder, though it sounded almost as though we were drawing closer to it rather than it pursuing us, the lights dancing on the ceiling became brighter and larger, and almost restricted, losing their range of movement.
The left arm of the man who was holding me at gunpoint encircled my waist and dragged me up so I was in a sitting position on his lap, he started tracing the route up my spinal cord to my head with the gun but stopped when he got to my neck, his breathing becoming quicker and slightly heavier, as we drew nearer to what I supposed was a Police Squad Car, he turned his head towards the man to my left,
“Gerard, I can’t do this.” He said in an urgent, frightened tone.
‘Fuck. What the hell can’t he do?’ I thought wildly, the unknown, and the tone of his voice mixed with his harried breathing transferring his fear into my emotions.
“Frank” this ‘Gerard’ man said roughly, it seems disapproving of his behaviour.
He pulled me into his lap, almost gently, and took the gun in his hand sliding it under my hair so that the barrel was placed on an angle pointed upwards into my skull, to anyone else; we looked like your average man and woman.
From my position on ‘Gerard’s’ lap I could see out the front windshield, where a policeman was signaling for us to pull over, our driver complied and the policeman spoke to him for a minute or two before spotting me perched up on this guy’s lap. He walked over to our window and ‘Gerard’ rolled it down,
“Sir” started ‘Gerard’ “we are obeying all road rules, all the passengers of this car which are able to be restrained by a seat belt are, and my friend John here is a very responsible driver”
“Sir” the policeman began sarcastically “how ‘bout you just get out of the car so we can be sure nothing more is going on here”.
‘Gerard’ sighed, clearly getting progressively more frustrated with the police officer as he continued to talk to him “I suggest you return to your vehicle where I believe an order to let us pass freely has just come in.”
“And why, exactly would we get an order of that description?” He asked sarcastically.
‘Gerard’ shifted the gun, sliding it from the position at the nape of my neck to that of my right temple “Because your boss doesn’t want the body of this innocent lady here following him and his Force Squadron around like a bad odour for the rest of his and your career’s”. Gerard replied menacingly.
The police officer retreated to his vehicle his eyes on us the whole time, his arms in the air, once he got inside his Police Car our driver put his foot on it and we were off… travelling again.
Gerard, with the gun still pressed against my temple leaned in, and whispered in my ear
"Just think happy thoughts,
And we'll fly home"
With the barrel of a gun pressed to my temple, the words were strangely comforting, and as he removed the barrel from touching my body at any point all I could think of were the words that had almost forced themselves through his lips.
Author's Note: Another slight edit.
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