Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > All's Fair in Love and War.
“Mikey!” He bit his lip, hard, and shifting in his seat. “MIKEY!” Frank was loosing it. How long did he have to endure this? The bass player kneeling in front of him had stabbed him several times in the eye with this so called ‘eye-liner’ he was about to loose it when the word he wanted, his salvation basically, came from the little mans mouth.
“Done” Mikey smiled, his creation was complete. He clapped his hands, and finally moved out of the guitarists’ way. “Have a look see.” Mikey pointed to the mirror. “I have to admit… This is the best I’ve done in a long time”
Frank looked in the mirror, his face was a little paler than usual, but it was complimented by his eyes. Wow… his eyes popped. Whatever Mikey did, the green in his eyes were enhanced tenfold. He had to agree too, that his outfit made him look hotter. Well hotter? No… just better than usual. The shirt hugged his chest, it was a Misfits shirt, one he bought a long time ago, and he was wearing Gerard’s extra pair of ‘skinny jeans’, this caused Frank to scratch the back of his neck. He loved the smell of Gerard. And it l lingered in his nose when he first picked them up.
“Wow, Mikey this is awesome” Frank thanked his friend.
“Don’t mention it!” Mikey was gathering up his stuff when Bob entered the room, and of course was followed by Ray.
“Where are you goin?” Bob asked, his eyebrow cocked. He walked in and allowed Ray to enter. Their eyes met for a brief second before Ray ran and jumped onto Frank’s bed, a usual entrance given by the other guitarist.
Before Frank had a chance to even think of an answer Mikey took control and eagerly told them of his adventure of listening in on Frank’s phone conversation, and finally ending with “A date!”
Even now the two who had just entered the room couldn’t control themselves. In unison they screamed “A DATE!” Ray shot up off the bed and ran to the door and slammed it shut.
“Wow that was subtle.” Frank muttered to himself, rolling his eyes and playing with his misfits gloves.
“Frank…” Ray sat back down next to him, smiling gently. “You can’t possibly be over Gerard…” Ray shook his head, more to reassure himself then to his friend. “We see it in your eyes when you stare at him man…” At this point Frank wanted yet again to just float away on a boat to nowhere.
“How come, when I go for another guy… and finally start to move on, you guys try to stop me” He shook his head violently. His anger was building up. “And every time he gets a new guy, who we all know he doesn’t like… nothing happens?” He slammed his fist into his thigh.
“Frank…” Bob started, but it was too late, Frank needed it. He needed the cool and yet burning feeling to creep up his arm, to see the blood. His blood. To know he was real, that he existed.
“Please… Just get out” He whispered. He closed his eyes, and leaned forward, his elbows digging into his knees.
“Fine… but were here for you” Mikey said, walking out of the room. It took a few more seconds before Bob finally left, Ray lingered in front of the broken guitarist and gently laid his hand on the black part of the poor mans hair.
When the door finally shut, he got up and slowly walked over to his top drawer. He tore through the socks, his hands searching violently, until he felt a slight prick on his pinky finger. He felt the cool liquid spill from his finger. He smiled and clutched the glass piece in his palm, squeezing hard.
“Ha! Can’t hide from me, my friend.” He was talking to his so called ‘friend’ when he slowly took off his misfits gloves. He saw the cut on his wrist; it was pink, harsh and ugly. He smirked at it. His mind was reeling. Where could he do it? He turned his hand over tracing his fingers over it before he decided that’s where he would do it. It was perfect, hidden by the gloves he always wore. Better, no one would question him.
Sweet salvation, as he finally pressed the glass to the top of his hand. Pushing down harder as the streak went across. The read bubbles of his blood, coming up and bursting to form a line. A long line, for some reason, he doesn’t even feel it. He doesn’t feel a thing. He can’t even hear himself breathing anymore. He obviously didn’t hear the door open, and a familiar voice come screaming for him.
“FRANK!” The singer stopped in his tracks. All he could see was the back of his best friend. The truth was… he was crying, shaking, and horrified. Bert took it too far. He took it so far, that Gerard couldn’t breathe when the stronger mans hands were around his neck. He was scared out of his mind. He couldn’t do anything. All he could do was look into the glassy eyes and pray that he would let go before he died. Instincts had to take over, and he started to flail his legs, finally getting the other singer in the stomach. He took this weakness in the mans grip to run. Run and run and run. Before he knew it he was here, wanting Frank to help him. To be there.
Frank was still entranced with the blood on his hand, when reality struck, and it struck hard. He covered his hand, the blood seeping through his fingers.
“Not now Gee.” He breathed out, too terrified to even turn around. His friend tried to protest. But the guitarist panicked. “Gee, get OUT!” He screamed. He heard the other man sniffle, and then run out of the room. He heard the sobs finally fade away; he saw the car lights leave the parking lot from his window, then silence.
Frank finally gathered himself; he took a dangerously deep breath. So deep it was painful, and let it out, so slowly his head was aching, his brain pulsing. His hand was bleeding still. He lifted his hand, and saw that the blood had oozed onto his palm, dripping onto the floor. He gasped at the gaping wound. It was worse than he thought.
“Damnit!” He violently whispered and he ran to the bathroom. When he finally got there, he grabbed his towel, and roughly rubbed the blood off his hand and palm. He drew in a sharp breath, as the towel stuck to his wound. He ran some cold water over it. He sighed, it felt good. What seemed like ages later, the bleeding stopped, and the cut looked relatively clean. He got up, and walked back to his room. He looked at the clock. 7:30 he cursed, running to put his Misfits gloves on.
Then he ran to the car, turning it on and speeding out of the parking lot. Not even wanting to think about Gerard, or what he just did, or even cleaning up the rest of the blood in his room. The small droplets where still on the floor, his towel in plain sight in the bathroom, and worse of all. He couldn’t remember if he put the glass shard, (most definitely covered in blood) away or not. He forced it out of his mind though. He was going to have a good date… no matter what.
He read the directions he got from online, and turned on the radio. To his luck a very violent song was on. He didn’t know, or care, what it was or who it was by. He just needed to nod his head violently to the song. Scream when the vocalist was screaming. To just loose it…
When he finally pulled into the apartment complex, he turned off the radio, and hopped out. He took in a final breath, and walked up to the door, pushing the apartment 21 buzzer. Without another word, a large noise was heard and the door unlocked. He walked in and up the stairs. The carpet was an ugly blue and black pattern. It made him think of his grandparent’s house. When he was a boy, they had ugly blue and black carpeting too. He had almost all of his happy memories there. He smiled; starting to feel better and he dashed past apartments 10-20 and finally reached the door.
He knocked on it, creating a small rhythm. Something of habit you could say. He did one more check to make sure everything was good, shoes: tied, Shirt: Wrinkle free, Breath: Gum still in mouth. Everything seemed perfect.
Finally, the door opened, and the extremely hot waiter walked out. He was tall, a little taller than six feet. Skinny, extremely skinny, and his nose sharp, and his hair wavy and long, covering most of his eyes, but his eyes… they were breath taking. A dangerous blue-green, one of the sea, of the sky, of everything so beautiful. He was wearing a sweatshirt that looked like it came from Zumes with a pattern of skulls, black and white and meaningless symbols scattered alike, and he was wearing skinny jeans, tight and gorgeous. And finally his shoes. Skater shoes definitely; worn and tattered.
“Hey…” Anthony spoke, his voice like a symphony of angels. Frank smiled and waved.
“Hi” he said, he felt like an awkward kid again, 13 and in that uncomfortable stage of love. Where everything you did felt wrong, and stupid.
“So… do you wanna’ go to the car?” He asked, Frank fell off of cloud nine, and nodded his head. When they finally reached the car, Frank opened the door for the waiter. Then sprinting over to the driver’s side.
The car ride was one word. Beautiful. Anthony had no issue turning on the radio and finding a station he liked. They were both amazed when together they started singing to “Play that Funky Music White Boy” They shared a laugh at the ending.
Finally they made it to the Olive Garden. When they walked in, there was a wait. But when the girl at the podium saw frank, she softly squealed, and gave them a table for two right away. Anthony smirked and Frank followed him to the table.
“Wow… that was…” Anthony stated, his words fading fast as his cheeks started to burn. He quickly picked up the menu and started scanning through to decide what he wanted.
“That was what… funny?” Personally frank thought it was funny. Anthony’s eyes gazed up and right into Franks. Frank could almost taste the smile in the younger boy’s words
“Pathetic…” He said. Frank yet again laughed and the good feeling flooded his mind, took over, and ultimately raised him.
The waiter came and went, and so did their orders. Anthony getting the Fettuccini Alfredo, with parmesan cheese on top, and had some salad. Frank, getting the Stuffed Ravioli, with extra cheese. They shared many giggles, stories, and all in all had a wonderful meal. They thanked, and tipped the waiter. Frank signed (by now the girl had spread the news of the ‘celebrity’ throughout the little restaurant) a couple autographs. And they where on their way.
The car ride on the way home was silent. Both of them playing over what happened till finally they reached the apartment.
Frank got out of the car, let out Anthony and they walked up to the apartment door together. When they finally reached the door. Anthony turned, his eyes sparkling with the unknown feeling… something Frank had never seen in someone before.
“You... um…” He started, his cheeks lightly blushing as he moved closer to the guitarist. “Never… gave me… that kiss” He said, the waiter was now so close to Frank, he could smell him. The smell of roses, and pasta, which was such an odd combination, he was surprised he liked it. He slowly wrapped his arms around the scrawny neck.
“How about… I make up for waiting so long…” And with that, their mouths collided. Sending a shiver down both their spines. Their tongues where mesmerized by the untouched territory. Hands began to roam up and down backs, and a cheek was cupped by a gloved hand. When they finally broke, Anthony’s eyes where half lidded. Frank’s eyes where glazed with lust.
“That was…” Anthony started.
“Amazing” Frank finished. Anthony nodded, and they just held each other for awhile. Then, a phone rang inside Anthony’s apartment. He looked at the door, then back at frank. Frank smiled and nodded. Anthony gave him another peck on the lips.
“Night Frank” He said. Frank, still smiling grabbed him and gave him another quick kiss before letting him go.
“Night Ant” The other man stopped at the nickname and smiled. Then hurried into his apartment, answering the phone and getting into a heated conversation about what happened on the date, and lightly scolding them for interrupting.
Frank laughed. He loved the youth emanating from the waiter. He lightly skipped down the hallway, going to his car.
When he finally got home, Gerard was nowhere to be found. Bert was locked in his room, and his room was the same as he left it. Blood on the floor, and the glass was indeed left out. But what was startling was the towel wasn’t there, but when he saw all three of his friends, none of them said a thing. He decided that he had just put it away, without realizing it. Then, he finally cleaned up, and hid the things that where needed cleaning, or hiding, and finally let sleep take him off. Smiling as he recapped the wonderful date he was just on.
“Done” Mikey smiled, his creation was complete. He clapped his hands, and finally moved out of the guitarists’ way. “Have a look see.” Mikey pointed to the mirror. “I have to admit… This is the best I’ve done in a long time”
Frank looked in the mirror, his face was a little paler than usual, but it was complimented by his eyes. Wow… his eyes popped. Whatever Mikey did, the green in his eyes were enhanced tenfold. He had to agree too, that his outfit made him look hotter. Well hotter? No… just better than usual. The shirt hugged his chest, it was a Misfits shirt, one he bought a long time ago, and he was wearing Gerard’s extra pair of ‘skinny jeans’, this caused Frank to scratch the back of his neck. He loved the smell of Gerard. And it l lingered in his nose when he first picked them up.
“Wow, Mikey this is awesome” Frank thanked his friend.
“Don’t mention it!” Mikey was gathering up his stuff when Bob entered the room, and of course was followed by Ray.
“Where are you goin?” Bob asked, his eyebrow cocked. He walked in and allowed Ray to enter. Their eyes met for a brief second before Ray ran and jumped onto Frank’s bed, a usual entrance given by the other guitarist.
Before Frank had a chance to even think of an answer Mikey took control and eagerly told them of his adventure of listening in on Frank’s phone conversation, and finally ending with “A date!”
Even now the two who had just entered the room couldn’t control themselves. In unison they screamed “A DATE!” Ray shot up off the bed and ran to the door and slammed it shut.
“Wow that was subtle.” Frank muttered to himself, rolling his eyes and playing with his misfits gloves.
“Frank…” Ray sat back down next to him, smiling gently. “You can’t possibly be over Gerard…” Ray shook his head, more to reassure himself then to his friend. “We see it in your eyes when you stare at him man…” At this point Frank wanted yet again to just float away on a boat to nowhere.
“How come, when I go for another guy… and finally start to move on, you guys try to stop me” He shook his head violently. His anger was building up. “And every time he gets a new guy, who we all know he doesn’t like… nothing happens?” He slammed his fist into his thigh.
“Frank…” Bob started, but it was too late, Frank needed it. He needed the cool and yet burning feeling to creep up his arm, to see the blood. His blood. To know he was real, that he existed.
“Please… Just get out” He whispered. He closed his eyes, and leaned forward, his elbows digging into his knees.
“Fine… but were here for you” Mikey said, walking out of the room. It took a few more seconds before Bob finally left, Ray lingered in front of the broken guitarist and gently laid his hand on the black part of the poor mans hair.
When the door finally shut, he got up and slowly walked over to his top drawer. He tore through the socks, his hands searching violently, until he felt a slight prick on his pinky finger. He felt the cool liquid spill from his finger. He smiled and clutched the glass piece in his palm, squeezing hard.
“Ha! Can’t hide from me, my friend.” He was talking to his so called ‘friend’ when he slowly took off his misfits gloves. He saw the cut on his wrist; it was pink, harsh and ugly. He smirked at it. His mind was reeling. Where could he do it? He turned his hand over tracing his fingers over it before he decided that’s where he would do it. It was perfect, hidden by the gloves he always wore. Better, no one would question him.
Sweet salvation, as he finally pressed the glass to the top of his hand. Pushing down harder as the streak went across. The read bubbles of his blood, coming up and bursting to form a line. A long line, for some reason, he doesn’t even feel it. He doesn’t feel a thing. He can’t even hear himself breathing anymore. He obviously didn’t hear the door open, and a familiar voice come screaming for him.
“FRANK!” The singer stopped in his tracks. All he could see was the back of his best friend. The truth was… he was crying, shaking, and horrified. Bert took it too far. He took it so far, that Gerard couldn’t breathe when the stronger mans hands were around his neck. He was scared out of his mind. He couldn’t do anything. All he could do was look into the glassy eyes and pray that he would let go before he died. Instincts had to take over, and he started to flail his legs, finally getting the other singer in the stomach. He took this weakness in the mans grip to run. Run and run and run. Before he knew it he was here, wanting Frank to help him. To be there.
Frank was still entranced with the blood on his hand, when reality struck, and it struck hard. He covered his hand, the blood seeping through his fingers.
“Not now Gee.” He breathed out, too terrified to even turn around. His friend tried to protest. But the guitarist panicked. “Gee, get OUT!” He screamed. He heard the other man sniffle, and then run out of the room. He heard the sobs finally fade away; he saw the car lights leave the parking lot from his window, then silence.
Frank finally gathered himself; he took a dangerously deep breath. So deep it was painful, and let it out, so slowly his head was aching, his brain pulsing. His hand was bleeding still. He lifted his hand, and saw that the blood had oozed onto his palm, dripping onto the floor. He gasped at the gaping wound. It was worse than he thought.
“Damnit!” He violently whispered and he ran to the bathroom. When he finally got there, he grabbed his towel, and roughly rubbed the blood off his hand and palm. He drew in a sharp breath, as the towel stuck to his wound. He ran some cold water over it. He sighed, it felt good. What seemed like ages later, the bleeding stopped, and the cut looked relatively clean. He got up, and walked back to his room. He looked at the clock. 7:30 he cursed, running to put his Misfits gloves on.
Then he ran to the car, turning it on and speeding out of the parking lot. Not even wanting to think about Gerard, or what he just did, or even cleaning up the rest of the blood in his room. The small droplets where still on the floor, his towel in plain sight in the bathroom, and worse of all. He couldn’t remember if he put the glass shard, (most definitely covered in blood) away or not. He forced it out of his mind though. He was going to have a good date… no matter what.
He read the directions he got from online, and turned on the radio. To his luck a very violent song was on. He didn’t know, or care, what it was or who it was by. He just needed to nod his head violently to the song. Scream when the vocalist was screaming. To just loose it…
When he finally pulled into the apartment complex, he turned off the radio, and hopped out. He took in a final breath, and walked up to the door, pushing the apartment 21 buzzer. Without another word, a large noise was heard and the door unlocked. He walked in and up the stairs. The carpet was an ugly blue and black pattern. It made him think of his grandparent’s house. When he was a boy, they had ugly blue and black carpeting too. He had almost all of his happy memories there. He smiled; starting to feel better and he dashed past apartments 10-20 and finally reached the door.
He knocked on it, creating a small rhythm. Something of habit you could say. He did one more check to make sure everything was good, shoes: tied, Shirt: Wrinkle free, Breath: Gum still in mouth. Everything seemed perfect.
Finally, the door opened, and the extremely hot waiter walked out. He was tall, a little taller than six feet. Skinny, extremely skinny, and his nose sharp, and his hair wavy and long, covering most of his eyes, but his eyes… they were breath taking. A dangerous blue-green, one of the sea, of the sky, of everything so beautiful. He was wearing a sweatshirt that looked like it came from Zumes with a pattern of skulls, black and white and meaningless symbols scattered alike, and he was wearing skinny jeans, tight and gorgeous. And finally his shoes. Skater shoes definitely; worn and tattered.
“Hey…” Anthony spoke, his voice like a symphony of angels. Frank smiled and waved.
“Hi” he said, he felt like an awkward kid again, 13 and in that uncomfortable stage of love. Where everything you did felt wrong, and stupid.
“So… do you wanna’ go to the car?” He asked, Frank fell off of cloud nine, and nodded his head. When they finally reached the car, Frank opened the door for the waiter. Then sprinting over to the driver’s side.
The car ride was one word. Beautiful. Anthony had no issue turning on the radio and finding a station he liked. They were both amazed when together they started singing to “Play that Funky Music White Boy” They shared a laugh at the ending.
Finally they made it to the Olive Garden. When they walked in, there was a wait. But when the girl at the podium saw frank, she softly squealed, and gave them a table for two right away. Anthony smirked and Frank followed him to the table.
“Wow… that was…” Anthony stated, his words fading fast as his cheeks started to burn. He quickly picked up the menu and started scanning through to decide what he wanted.
“That was what… funny?” Personally frank thought it was funny. Anthony’s eyes gazed up and right into Franks. Frank could almost taste the smile in the younger boy’s words
“Pathetic…” He said. Frank yet again laughed and the good feeling flooded his mind, took over, and ultimately raised him.
The waiter came and went, and so did their orders. Anthony getting the Fettuccini Alfredo, with parmesan cheese on top, and had some salad. Frank, getting the Stuffed Ravioli, with extra cheese. They shared many giggles, stories, and all in all had a wonderful meal. They thanked, and tipped the waiter. Frank signed (by now the girl had spread the news of the ‘celebrity’ throughout the little restaurant) a couple autographs. And they where on their way.
The car ride on the way home was silent. Both of them playing over what happened till finally they reached the apartment.
Frank got out of the car, let out Anthony and they walked up to the apartment door together. When they finally reached the door. Anthony turned, his eyes sparkling with the unknown feeling… something Frank had never seen in someone before.
“You... um…” He started, his cheeks lightly blushing as he moved closer to the guitarist. “Never… gave me… that kiss” He said, the waiter was now so close to Frank, he could smell him. The smell of roses, and pasta, which was such an odd combination, he was surprised he liked it. He slowly wrapped his arms around the scrawny neck.
“How about… I make up for waiting so long…” And with that, their mouths collided. Sending a shiver down both their spines. Their tongues where mesmerized by the untouched territory. Hands began to roam up and down backs, and a cheek was cupped by a gloved hand. When they finally broke, Anthony’s eyes where half lidded. Frank’s eyes where glazed with lust.
“That was…” Anthony started.
“Amazing” Frank finished. Anthony nodded, and they just held each other for awhile. Then, a phone rang inside Anthony’s apartment. He looked at the door, then back at frank. Frank smiled and nodded. Anthony gave him another peck on the lips.
“Night Frank” He said. Frank, still smiling grabbed him and gave him another quick kiss before letting him go.
“Night Ant” The other man stopped at the nickname and smiled. Then hurried into his apartment, answering the phone and getting into a heated conversation about what happened on the date, and lightly scolding them for interrupting.
Frank laughed. He loved the youth emanating from the waiter. He lightly skipped down the hallway, going to his car.
When he finally got home, Gerard was nowhere to be found. Bert was locked in his room, and his room was the same as he left it. Blood on the floor, and the glass was indeed left out. But what was startling was the towel wasn’t there, but when he saw all three of his friends, none of them said a thing. He decided that he had just put it away, without realizing it. Then, he finally cleaned up, and hid the things that where needed cleaning, or hiding, and finally let sleep take him off. Smiling as he recapped the wonderful date he was just on.
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