Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Wearing Drugs On Your Skin
Gerard's P.O.V.
Unbearable, completely and utterly unbearable, the only words that could even attempt to explain what that plain ride was like. No, it wasn't the fact that I was crammed in the coach section trapped uncomfortably between an icy window that seemed to be leaking air and a person who had an obnoxious tendency to use me as a pillow, those things were actually quite tolerable. It wasn't the fact that I was so hungry that my stomach had probably devoured itself and moved onto making a feast of my other organs with the tiny bits that it missed. It wasn't the unbelievably stressing amount of turbulence that caused my head to collide with the harsh wall so many times that a head ache now shattered through my skull, and it certainly wasn't the fact that halfway through the flight the lady behind me puked all over me and I had to go change clothes in the bathroom that didn't even have fucking elbow room and sent me colliding with the wall every time it slowed.
Yes, it is shocking to know though that none of those things were what deemed the flight unbearable-, because the only actual thing on the plane that drove me over a cliff was my own thoughts. I couldn't quit grilling myself, poking and prodding and dissecting my raw thoughts at exactly what I thought I was doing, because I know Frank won’t show up, he's to pissed... or too upset to forgive me. I know he started crying over the phone, I don't even want to hear him say he didn't because I heard that too familiar sob that I've recognized from nights on tour when I woke up to sobbing and found Frank tucked in my bunk, clinging to my side crying over a terrible nightmare that he still refuses to tell me about. Now I begin to wonder if I know exactly what it is that he was dreaming, now that I know about his past.
I still can't understand why he would never tell me, he always told me everything... That was probably one of the first and only lies he has ever told me, and the whole lie was him making up this normal and fun high school teenage life that I now know is completely fabricated for whatever reason. Did he not trust me with that bit of information? Did he think if I know that I would suddenly just completely disown him? I mean, I told him everything about my high school years, every little detail without a bit of fictitious background and to be honest, mine were certainly no cup of tea either. I wasn't some amazing and adored kid, it's not like I would be suddenly appalled to find out he wasn't either. No, in no way am I comparing my situation to his because it is very apparent that he had it way worse than did I, I just don't understand why he wouldn't tell me.
I think it actually kind of hurt a bit to know that he suffered something like that, that people just picked him apart like that and he chose not to share it with me, like he feared telling me... it kind of makes me feel like a monster, like he couldn't trust me with it because he was scared that I might find out he is vulnerable and end up turning into one of those fuck faces. Especially I now can't even let myself live with the fact that back in my drunken years I got in a ridiculous fight with him outside over something stupid that he didn't deserve to have to fight about and I just strolled over and slugged him in the face... I knocked the poor kid out cold.
I freaked the hell out and we got him to the emergency room to find out he had a concussion. Fuck, I've never felt so terrible in my life, I swear I clung at his side every second of the day crying and saying how sorry I was. This was back before I knew a thing about his high school years, and now that I know I feel a million times worse about it. He didn't deserve such a thing; I mean, the argument was so stupid anyway that I honestly can't even remember what it was about. Frank didn't deserve to relive those moments for those few fractured seconds, but I forced him too anyway even after I told him once that I would never lay a hand on him to hurt him. If people only know what a terrible person I am...
Now that I think of it though, maybe that's why he never did tell me. Maybe he just didn't want to have to be reminded of a past so gruesome, maybe the lie he made up was more to convince himself that what happened never did, than it was to convince me. To be honest, I really don't blame him now that it's put that way, I would have done the exact same thing...
"I hope you've enjoyed your flight with Delta Airlines, kind sir! Do come back and fly with us again, have a lovely day!" the young woman chimed commercially, an over ecstatic fake smile plastered upon her tanned skin as mounds of brown curls fell around her face, framing her bright emerald eyes. I smiled politely, nodding as I turned and headed down the unsteady metal walkway hall that extended from the plane to the airport building. I never have trusted these things to be frank, they just seem so unstable like they could just collapse at any given moment if the correct wait was applied to them.
I held my breath uneasily, shuffling painfully slow behind the family carrying their large suitcases, has nobody heard that suitcases have actual wheels on the bottom? Fuck, I know, what a shocker, eh? I certainly couldn't believe it when I put my on the ground and it started rolling and I as able to walk about ten fucking times faster. For fucks sake need to get out of this hallway before I have a panic attack!
Finally we reached the end of the long hallway where tired and worn out people poured out into the waiting area after previously flying the same plane as I did for several hours. I stumbled uneasily through the door frame, suddenly sort of wishing that the hall really had been longer. I don't really think I even let it settle in that as I step through this door way my eyes would soon come to excavate the flesh that they hadn't bore into for two weeks... and I'm so sure I can handle that intimidation.
I cautiously stepped through the door like preparing to be targeted and attacked by a list of insults, maybe even his flying fists, but it's already set in my head. I will except every bit of it, because it's what I deserve more than anything for hurting him, rather he admits I did or not. Then my eyes met him, tracing him in a light sketch to engrave his form in my memory on the off chance that this may be the last time I dare speak to him again. I want to remember this, the first time I've seen him in two weeks... I coughed quietly, trying to attract his attention. His thin, small framed body slumped over in the grey uncomfortable looking seats. His eyebrow long brownish hair swinging freely around his view, streaking across his pale cheeks and forehead as and he stared down toward at his black adida's, the black bracelet coiling around his arm being tightly twisted between his trembling fingertips.
The bracelet that I gave him, the little black bracelet that I had gotten out of a simple little gum ball machine from Elena when I was a child, yes it sounds cheesy, I admit that, but I had that bracelet with me everywhere. I used to miss her so much that I would close my eyes and pretend that the object wrapped around my wrist was her soft and cold hands, holding mine as she, Mikey, and I walked through isles in stores. She was my hero, my inspiration, I love her, I miss her, that bracelet kept me going somehow... I felt like Frank for some reason needed it too, now I can only fear that he gets upset and rips it off. I only wish that he doesn't. That was one of my closest and fondest memories of her and I trusted this kid with it that much, if he ever broke it, as pathetic as it sounds, I don't think I would be able to contain myself from breaking down. I'm a pansy, I know, but what can I say? I'm sensitive to certain subjects, most people just haven't found that out yet, which is a good thing in most cases.
I inhaled sharply as I stopped in front of him, knowing that my shoes would have to catch in the corner of his eyes, signifying my arrival, although it was obvious now that he knew I had arrived and was simply refraining from looking at me for a simple reason. My flight was scheduled to arrive later than it did. Frank probably assumed that he had time to let out some of the emotions that he might've kept bottled around Jamia, he is much more secretive about being solemn than am I. If you didn't know him well enough then you would think he was the happiest person you'd ever met, when in fact, yes, yes he is one of the happiest people I know, but he isn't the happiest.
I let out a frustrated sigh after moments of standing staring down at him in silence. I slowly reached out with a trembling, unable to refrain from touching his flesh any longer, I hadn't been able to see or make any contact with him in two weeks, I just needed something to let me know that he really did exist, that he really was there after all and I'm not just crazy. I gently took a thin lock of hair soft brown hair in my finger tips, rubbing it between them carefully before dropping it lightly and petting it back down flat against his head so that he wouldn't have a cow lick. At the very contact my hand made with him, a strangled whimper squeezed through the tiny cracks in the silence, trying to escape unnoticed but made blatantly obvious in the process... Frank had whimpered in fear before, yes I'd heard it and been the one there to shield and protect him, but never once had I been the one to cause him such hurt to make him do it, until now.
"Frank...?" I questioned in an incredibly quiet, shaky and unsteady voice as I let my hands run down and rest on his cheek, he turned his face away, whimpering again.
He is scared of me.
|______________________Authors Note____________________________|
Second update of the day, wooooh
and it's a super sucky chapter [sacasm] rejoice!!sarcasm]
o_O
So... why is Frankie [/scared??? O_O
What is going to happen, why is Frank breaking at the seams??
comments letting me know you opinions are lovely [:
=Shaun
Unbearable, completely and utterly unbearable, the only words that could even attempt to explain what that plain ride was like. No, it wasn't the fact that I was crammed in the coach section trapped uncomfortably between an icy window that seemed to be leaking air and a person who had an obnoxious tendency to use me as a pillow, those things were actually quite tolerable. It wasn't the fact that I was so hungry that my stomach had probably devoured itself and moved onto making a feast of my other organs with the tiny bits that it missed. It wasn't the unbelievably stressing amount of turbulence that caused my head to collide with the harsh wall so many times that a head ache now shattered through my skull, and it certainly wasn't the fact that halfway through the flight the lady behind me puked all over me and I had to go change clothes in the bathroom that didn't even have fucking elbow room and sent me colliding with the wall every time it slowed.
Yes, it is shocking to know though that none of those things were what deemed the flight unbearable-, because the only actual thing on the plane that drove me over a cliff was my own thoughts. I couldn't quit grilling myself, poking and prodding and dissecting my raw thoughts at exactly what I thought I was doing, because I know Frank won’t show up, he's to pissed... or too upset to forgive me. I know he started crying over the phone, I don't even want to hear him say he didn't because I heard that too familiar sob that I've recognized from nights on tour when I woke up to sobbing and found Frank tucked in my bunk, clinging to my side crying over a terrible nightmare that he still refuses to tell me about. Now I begin to wonder if I know exactly what it is that he was dreaming, now that I know about his past.
I still can't understand why he would never tell me, he always told me everything... That was probably one of the first and only lies he has ever told me, and the whole lie was him making up this normal and fun high school teenage life that I now know is completely fabricated for whatever reason. Did he not trust me with that bit of information? Did he think if I know that I would suddenly just completely disown him? I mean, I told him everything about my high school years, every little detail without a bit of fictitious background and to be honest, mine were certainly no cup of tea either. I wasn't some amazing and adored kid, it's not like I would be suddenly appalled to find out he wasn't either. No, in no way am I comparing my situation to his because it is very apparent that he had it way worse than did I, I just don't understand why he wouldn't tell me.
I think it actually kind of hurt a bit to know that he suffered something like that, that people just picked him apart like that and he chose not to share it with me, like he feared telling me... it kind of makes me feel like a monster, like he couldn't trust me with it because he was scared that I might find out he is vulnerable and end up turning into one of those fuck faces. Especially I now can't even let myself live with the fact that back in my drunken years I got in a ridiculous fight with him outside over something stupid that he didn't deserve to have to fight about and I just strolled over and slugged him in the face... I knocked the poor kid out cold.
I freaked the hell out and we got him to the emergency room to find out he had a concussion. Fuck, I've never felt so terrible in my life, I swear I clung at his side every second of the day crying and saying how sorry I was. This was back before I knew a thing about his high school years, and now that I know I feel a million times worse about it. He didn't deserve such a thing; I mean, the argument was so stupid anyway that I honestly can't even remember what it was about. Frank didn't deserve to relive those moments for those few fractured seconds, but I forced him too anyway even after I told him once that I would never lay a hand on him to hurt him. If people only know what a terrible person I am...
Now that I think of it though, maybe that's why he never did tell me. Maybe he just didn't want to have to be reminded of a past so gruesome, maybe the lie he made up was more to convince himself that what happened never did, than it was to convince me. To be honest, I really don't blame him now that it's put that way, I would have done the exact same thing...
"I hope you've enjoyed your flight with Delta Airlines, kind sir! Do come back and fly with us again, have a lovely day!" the young woman chimed commercially, an over ecstatic fake smile plastered upon her tanned skin as mounds of brown curls fell around her face, framing her bright emerald eyes. I smiled politely, nodding as I turned and headed down the unsteady metal walkway hall that extended from the plane to the airport building. I never have trusted these things to be frank, they just seem so unstable like they could just collapse at any given moment if the correct wait was applied to them.
I held my breath uneasily, shuffling painfully slow behind the family carrying their large suitcases, has nobody heard that suitcases have actual wheels on the bottom? Fuck, I know, what a shocker, eh? I certainly couldn't believe it when I put my on the ground and it started rolling and I as able to walk about ten fucking times faster. For fucks sake need to get out of this hallway before I have a panic attack!
Finally we reached the end of the long hallway where tired and worn out people poured out into the waiting area after previously flying the same plane as I did for several hours. I stumbled uneasily through the door frame, suddenly sort of wishing that the hall really had been longer. I don't really think I even let it settle in that as I step through this door way my eyes would soon come to excavate the flesh that they hadn't bore into for two weeks... and I'm so sure I can handle that intimidation.
I cautiously stepped through the door like preparing to be targeted and attacked by a list of insults, maybe even his flying fists, but it's already set in my head. I will except every bit of it, because it's what I deserve more than anything for hurting him, rather he admits I did or not. Then my eyes met him, tracing him in a light sketch to engrave his form in my memory on the off chance that this may be the last time I dare speak to him again. I want to remember this, the first time I've seen him in two weeks... I coughed quietly, trying to attract his attention. His thin, small framed body slumped over in the grey uncomfortable looking seats. His eyebrow long brownish hair swinging freely around his view, streaking across his pale cheeks and forehead as and he stared down toward at his black adida's, the black bracelet coiling around his arm being tightly twisted between his trembling fingertips.
The bracelet that I gave him, the little black bracelet that I had gotten out of a simple little gum ball machine from Elena when I was a child, yes it sounds cheesy, I admit that, but I had that bracelet with me everywhere. I used to miss her so much that I would close my eyes and pretend that the object wrapped around my wrist was her soft and cold hands, holding mine as she, Mikey, and I walked through isles in stores. She was my hero, my inspiration, I love her, I miss her, that bracelet kept me going somehow... I felt like Frank for some reason needed it too, now I can only fear that he gets upset and rips it off. I only wish that he doesn't. That was one of my closest and fondest memories of her and I trusted this kid with it that much, if he ever broke it, as pathetic as it sounds, I don't think I would be able to contain myself from breaking down. I'm a pansy, I know, but what can I say? I'm sensitive to certain subjects, most people just haven't found that out yet, which is a good thing in most cases.
I inhaled sharply as I stopped in front of him, knowing that my shoes would have to catch in the corner of his eyes, signifying my arrival, although it was obvious now that he knew I had arrived and was simply refraining from looking at me for a simple reason. My flight was scheduled to arrive later than it did. Frank probably assumed that he had time to let out some of the emotions that he might've kept bottled around Jamia, he is much more secretive about being solemn than am I. If you didn't know him well enough then you would think he was the happiest person you'd ever met, when in fact, yes, yes he is one of the happiest people I know, but he isn't the happiest.
I let out a frustrated sigh after moments of standing staring down at him in silence. I slowly reached out with a trembling, unable to refrain from touching his flesh any longer, I hadn't been able to see or make any contact with him in two weeks, I just needed something to let me know that he really did exist, that he really was there after all and I'm not just crazy. I gently took a thin lock of hair soft brown hair in my finger tips, rubbing it between them carefully before dropping it lightly and petting it back down flat against his head so that he wouldn't have a cow lick. At the very contact my hand made with him, a strangled whimper squeezed through the tiny cracks in the silence, trying to escape unnoticed but made blatantly obvious in the process... Frank had whimpered in fear before, yes I'd heard it and been the one there to shield and protect him, but never once had I been the one to cause him such hurt to make him do it, until now.
"Frank...?" I questioned in an incredibly quiet, shaky and unsteady voice as I let my hands run down and rest on his cheek, he turned his face away, whimpering again.
He is scared of me.
|______________________Authors Note____________________________|
Second update of the day, wooooh
and it's a super sucky chapter [sacasm] rejoice!!sarcasm]
o_O
So... why is Frankie [/scared??? O_O
What is going to happen, why is Frank breaking at the seams??
comments letting me know you opinions are lovely [:
=Shaun
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