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Some Things	By : laurarara Category: My Chemical Romance > General Views: 1113 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of My Chemical Romance. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Some Things
- 1
Author’s Note: Lyrics are from a song called ’Happy Birthday to Me (Feb. 15)’, by Bright Eyes, I advise you to listen to it, it’s very good. (Lyrics Gerard sings are from ‘The Ghost of You‘ by MCR, but you’ve probably heard that.)

* * * * * *

All eyes on the calendar,
Another year I’ll claim
Of total indifference.

It’s Christmas again. Gerard runs his fingers through his long, black hair, and gives up trying to remember when he last washed it. 2003 has gone too quickly, he fears, and he doesn’t seem to have done anything productive.

He’s spent the year (and, God, too many years before it) in a haze of drunkenness. He’s a rock star now, he reasons with himself, he’s just enjoying the lifestyle. But he knows that he’s been numbing the pain with various substances since a long time before his band ever played a note.

His band. He supposes that’s one good thing to come out of the year: touring with his best friends, playing the music that they love. They’ve started writing songs for a new album, they’ve signed to a major label. From the outside, Gerard is having the time of his life.

But from the inside, he feels nothing. On the rare occasions when he’s sober, Gerard feels only the emptiness and anguish of the depression that’s taken hold. So he drowns the depression in more alcohol: beer, whiskey, vodka, (that sounds disturbingly like a list of gifts he received for Christmas), anything he can find. There’s a small voice that tells him that the alcohol only makes the depression worse, but he uses the alcohol to drown that out too.

His friends laugh at him, they call him Mr. Oblivious, because he never notices the things that are staring him straight in the face. If he’d taken time to analyse himself - instead of analysing the new people he meets, and finding them all lacking - he’d have noticed something.

Frank.

If Gerard had thought, just for a moment, rather than sitting here with his vacant expression, he would have realised that he’s falling in love with one of his best friends. Maybe he does realise it, but he refuses to accept it. All he knows is that his dreams are haunted by Frank’s face.

When Gerard gets on stage, he feels empowered. The drink helps, of course - or at least, he thinks it does - but the sheer euphoria of performing brings out something from deep inside of him.

He’s been kissing Frank onstage more and more lately. He blames the drink, he can’t understand love, he blames the drink and the stage and oh, anything but actual emotions.

If he’d taken time to notice, he might notice the ferocity with which Frank kisses him back.

* * * * * *

To here, the days pile up
With decisions to be made,
I’m sure all of them were wrong.

New Year’s Eve, 2003. Gerard stands in a corner, spiking his own punch with even more vodka, anything to block out the blinding lights and the blaring music, and the industry nobodies who seem to expect him to entertain them.

He drains his glass and staggers over to get more punch. This is more like it, this makes sense, the blurring people and the suddenly oddly-slanted floor. Gerard thinks he sees things more clearly through his drunken haze, and -

“Hey!”

All at once, Frank is in front of him and shit, he’s close, and he’s got his hand on Gerard’s shoulder. It’s not until Gerard notices that Frank is swaying in a different direction to the rest of the room that he realises that Frank is drunk, too.

“You okay, Frank?”

Frank smiles vacantly, clearly not understanding the question.

“Frank? Are you okay?”

“….Yeah. Will you come and talk to me?”

Without waiting for an answer, Frank grabs Gerard’s hand and pulls him through the crowded room, through the kitchen, out of the back door and into the garden.

They’re giggling, for some reason, and they slump on to the floor, still laughing. They don’t speak, they’re comfortable, and tired, and drunk, and sick of people asking them to speak, sick of trying to explain their band to people who don’t even care.

Frank picks a daisy from the grass between them, and tucks it behind Gerard’s ear. His hand lingers on the side of Gerard’s face, long enough even for Mr. Oblivious to realise that something’s going on.

“You look pretty.” whispers Frank, leaning in for a kiss.

Gerard eagerly accepts Frank’s warm lips against his own, Frank’s hand moving up and down his side…Gerard gasps at the feeling of Frank, Frank’s tongue in his mouth, his entire world is filled with Frank, wonderful, beautiful Frank, until Frank moves away.

“Gerard,” he says. “I know we’re drunk and everything, but I need to tell you...I, I love you, I think. I just…I think you’re beautiful, and amazing, and that kiss, I’ve wanted to do it for so long.”

“What?”

“I think I love you, Gerard.”

Gerard stands up. He can’t take this. He’s Gerard Way, he doesn’t do love, he doesn’t understand love, he needs another drink.

“No, Frank, I’m sorry, I don’t love you, I’m sorry, I can’t do this.”

As he runs back into the house, leaving Frank bewildered on the lawn, Gerard is already beginning to cry, out of confusion, out of fear, out of regret.

He knows that he doesn’t understand love.
He knows that he loves Frank.
He knows that it’s too late to go back now.

* * * * * *

Into this song I send myself,
And with these drinks I plan to
Collapse and forget
This wasted year,
These wasted years.
Well, devoted friends, they disappear.

Gerard sits again, alone at his desk. New Year’s Day, 2004. Today is the day for starting afresh, people keep saying. Happy New Year! Time to start again, like a clean page or a blank canvas or the first time that your hands touch a guitar.

Truth is, though, most people don’t see New Year as the time to start something new, but the time to give stuff up. Stop smoking, stop drinking, stop eating things you enjoy, stop sleeping with people you find attractive, stop staying out late, stop neglecting your responsibilities. It’s like a belated apology for the overindulgence of the festive season.

Life isn’t even like that, though, really. The fact is, there’s nothing that distinguishes January 1st from any other day of the year. The day doesn’t have any special powers that make people move on and change their lives. Sure, they might say “I’m going to start doing this” - or, more realistically - “I’m going to stop doing that”, but most of these people lapse into their old ways within a week. The people who actually manage to achieve what they aim would have managed it no matter what day they decided to do it.

New Year’s Day is just a day, there’s nothing refreshing about it, nothing that helps a person move on.

That’s why Gerard’s sat there, January 1st, with his mind firmly set in the previous year. Or, to be more exact, the previous night. He’s singing to himself, there’s a melody in his head, just a snippet, not a full song, but he likes it. “At the end of the world,” he sings softly - although he could shout it, everyone’s out - “or the last thing I see, you are never coming home, never coming home…”

A bit melodramatic, he knows. Frank will be coming home, he’s not lost or dead. But it feels like it to Gerard, who’s crying now, not just because he turned Frank down, but because Mikey said he saw Frank with ‘a hot blonde chick’ not long after Gerard had left. That makes Gerard think that maybe Frank was joking when he said he loved him, to move on so quickly.

“And all the things that you never ever told me,” - like the fact he was clearly fucking lying, leading Gerard on, probably just wanting to get in his pants or laugh at him for being so fucking stupid - “and all the smiles that are ever, ever, ever…”

Gerard can’t sing any more, he’s crying too much, tears pouring down his pale face. He buries his head in his hands, not sure if he’s more upset at his own stupidity for turning Frank down, or for the fact that Frank blatantly didn’t love him like he’d said.

Gerard stands up and moves to the cupboard. He’s far too sober to be dealing with these confusing feelings. He pulls out a bottle of vodka and removes the lid. He starts to drink, straight from the bottle.

So much time gone, spent fruitlessly thinking about - or trying not to think about - a man who clearly never even liked him anyway.

He drinks some more.

* * * * * *

And I’m sorry about the phone call,
And needing you.
Some decisions, you don’t make.

When Gerard wakes up, he’s in his bunk, confused, with a splitting headache. Once again, the bus is empty. He knows his bandmates have a tendency to avoid him when he’s wallowing in self-pity, but he hadn’t thought he’d been that obvious.

He staggers out of bed, and finds a note on the desk, in Mikey’s handwriting. ‘Hey G,’ it says, ‘Hope you’re ok. Me, Ray and Matt have gone sightseeing but you didn’t seem up to it so we left you here. Not sure where Frank is, probably shacked up with Mystery Blonde haha. Anyway, that song you were singing earlier sounded pretty cool, if you can remember it!!! See you later, we’ll probably be late-ish. Mikes.’

Gerard screws up the note and throws it in the direction of the bin.

He searches through the cupboards and finds another bottle of vodka - he’s glad he stocked up, he needs this stuff more than ever today. But before he takes a drink, he thinks of Frank. There’s an aching in his heart, he knows that, whatever love is, he loves Frank. He wishes he could have known it and been less afraid of it last night.

He puts down the bottle, and pulls out his mobile phone. He dials a number.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Frank? It’s Gerard. Are you busy?”

“No, man, just wandering around. Why?”

“Can you come back to the bus? I’d like to talk to you.”

“Yeah, sure thing, dude. See you in ten.”

Frank hangs up. Gerard smiles.

He may be several hours too late, but he’s going to get his man.

* * * * * *

I guess it’s just like breathing, but
Not wanting to.
There are some things you can’t fake.

When Frank walks through the door, Gerard practically leaps on him, pushing his lips against Frank’s, kissing as hard as he can.

“Gerard? What…?”

“Last night, you remember?”

Frank smiles. “Yeah.”

“I just wanted to…” Gerard doesn’t know what to say, so he moves instead. Talking seems arbitrary, he needs Frank closer to him

They kiss again, pushing their bodies towards each other, their tongues wrestling in their open mouths. Frank groans and pushes his hips against Gerard, who can feel the hardness forming there, and smiles.

He quickly undoes Frank’s belt and zip, pushing down his jeans and boxers to reveal his thick cock. Gerard wastes no time in wrapping his hand around it, desperately trying to prove his love by running his thumb over Frank’s slit, listening to his moans. Gerard forces Frank into a chair and kneels between his thighs.

Gerard kisses and licks at the head of Frank’s penis, which is starting to leak shining pre-come. Gerard keeps his eyes on Frank’s face, so that if Frank were to open his eyes, he’d see Gerard’s staring back at him, full of love and admiration. He takes the head into his mouth - “Oh, Gerard!” - before starting to deep-throat his best friend.

He runs his teeth lightly down the length in his mouth, and uses one hand to gently fondle Frank’s balls. He takes Frank’s cock out of his mouth so that he can lick it, up and down, seductively.

“Gerard,” pants Frank. “Take it all in again…now…please.”

Eager to impress, Gerard obliges, feeling Frank’s cock hit the back of his throat and moaning around it. Frank tangles his fingers in Gerard’s hair, guiding him up and down, up and down, rhythmically bringing Frank to pleasure. “I’m going to come, Gerard…” he moans, and Gerard pulls away, licking gently at the head as spurts of Frank’s come fly out of his penis, into Gerard’s mouth and all over his face.

Frank sits back in the chair, breathing heavily, satisfied and lazy, with his cock still hanging out. Gerard uses tissues to wipe off his face and Frank’s cock, then they kiss, gently and softly and it’s so beautiful.

Gerard hasn’t even noticed that he’s sober.

* * * * * *

Well, I guess that it’s typical
To cling to memories
You’ll never get back again.

It’s February. It’s been more than a month since that moment, and if Gerard didn’t know (well, hope) better, he’d say Frank was avoiding him.

They edge around each other and, somehow, they’re never alone. Or at least, every time they are, Frank walks off or calls someone else to join their conversation.

Gerard corners Frank on the bus. He knows that no-one else is around, so it’s the perfect moment.

“Hey, Frank.”

“Hey.”

“I was, erm…I was wondering how you wanted to do this.”

“What?”

“With the guys…I mean, are we going to tell them?”

“About what, Gerard?”

“You know, New Year’s Day.”

Frank looks incredulous. “You want to tell our friends that you sucked me off?”

“Well, erm, no, maybe not the details, but…It doesn’t feel right, hiding a relationship from them.”

The look on Frank’s face tells Gerard that he’s seriously misjudged what happened.

“Gerard, we’re not in a relationship. One blow job does not constitute a relationship.”

“I know, but…New Year’s Eve. You said you loved me.”

“And you said you didn’t love me, Gerard. I got over you, I slept with that girl that night, I was fine. You sucked me off, I’m not going to say that wasn’t good, but, you know. I’ve moved on.”

“But, your face, after what we did…You looked so happy.”

“That’s what happens when a guy gets a good blow, Gerard.”

“I thought, I mean, I thought you might still want me? I thought you might have waited for me to sort out my feelings.”

“I never said I’d lie in wait forever, Gerard.” And with that, Frank walks out.

Gerard sits down, tears welling in his eyes. ‘I never said I’d lie in wait forever’, he repeats in his head. He makes a mental note to put it in a song, it sounds good.

He walks to his bunk and lies down, shutting out the rest of the world. He’d really thought that Frank still loved him, that maybe they stood a chance. He’s ashamed at how wrong he was.

* * * * * *

To sort through old photographs
Of a summer long ago
And a friend you used to know.
And there below his frozen face,
Well, you wrote the name and
That ancient date, that ancient date.

March 19th. Gerard’s still living in the not-so-distant past. He can’t believe that Frank doesn’t love him anymore. If he doesn’t love him now, Gerard reasoned, then he never loved him at all. The thought isn’t comforting.

His whole being aches for Frank, not just his touch and his kiss, but his smile and his energy and his jokes. Frank’s still there, but all the things that Gerard loves about him are gone. Frank is subdued these days, and drinking more. Not that he tells Gerard this, but Gerard knows all the hiding places on the bus, and he knows that his alcohol stash is slowly dwindling, not just from his own increased drinking. And Frank doesn’t walk in as straight a line these days, and sunlight makes him squint.

Gerard doesn’t know why he’s still pining over a man who not only doesn’t love him, but also steals his drink, but he knows that the love he feels for Frank still defies logic. He wants to be with him, to feel that electric presence once more, rather than the awkward silence that passes for time with Frank these days.

But Gerard can’t see any sign from Frank that he regrets walking out on Gerard, and he’s not willing to make a fool of himself again. So he lives, literally, in the past, arranging a photo album of pictures of the band.

Ray asked him, once, why he was doing it, and Gerard had simply replied that it’s important to preserve the past in order to make good decisions in the future.

But really he just wants to look at those pictures of Frank and himself, so at ease and happy and not avoiding his eyes. He loves that Frank, the Frank in those pictures who is full of life, not the Frank that furtively avoids his eyes whenever they’re in the same room.

Gerard sees a picture that makes him smile. It’s just Frank, a close up of his face. He’s pulling a ridiculous expression, but there’s love in his eyes. Gerard remembers taking the picture, and sighs.

He sees his own handwriting below the picture: ‘Frank Iero, July 2003’.

He closes the photo album sadly, and abandons it for good. Those days seem like a lifetime ago.

* * * * * *

And you can’t believe that
He’s really gone, when all that’s left
Is a fucking song.

They’ve been spending a lot of time in the studio, lately, recording for the new album. The song that Gerard began on New Year’s Day has become a band favourite, and Gerard often wonders if Frank realises it’s about him. Does he recognise the opening line as his own words?

Gerard can only, sadly, conclude that he doesn’t. Frank’s looking so vacant these days. So lonely, like he’s just going through the motions. He turns up for practice, and he jokes with the guys, but he still won’t meet Gerard’s eyes, and there’s a lifelessness behind his own.

Gerard’s heart aches for the way Frank was. He can’t stop thinking about him, it feels almost like the death of a loved one.

“If I died, we’d be together,” he croons during recording, scanning Frank’s eyes for a flash of recognition or understanding. He never sees it.

* * * * * *

And I’m sorry about the phone call,
And waking you.
I know that it is late.

April 2nd, 2004. The bus is stationary, the band are giving their driver a rest for the night.

Gerard is woken at 3am by a loud beeping noise next to his right ear. He picks up his phone, and murmurs, “Hello?”

“Gerard?” It’s Frank. Gerard sits upright in his bunk.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“I’m in the park, you know, the one we all had ice cream in earlier. Will you meet me?”

“Erm, yeah, sure.”

The phone call ends, Gerard is confused. Why does Frank want to meet him? He briefly entertains the idea that Frank might be about to murder him, but then he dismisses it…however much Frank’s been avoiding him lately, he doesn’t seem to have the energy lately to kill people. Besides, it’s Frank. They may not be in love (but oh, how Gerard’s heart yearns for Frank), but they’re friends.

Satisfied that he’s not about to go on a life-threatening journey, Gerard drags himself out of bed and gets dressed. He leaves the bus quietly and begins the journey down the road to the park.

He worries, at first, that he might not be able to find Frank - he hadn’t said which part of the park he was in - but when he reaches the park, his fears are allayed.

Frank is standing on a picnic bench, arms outstretched, facing away from Gerard. He’s walking along the bench like he’s on a balance beam.

There’s a rectangular package on the bench next to Frank’s feet, and Gerard quickly dismisses the thought that it might be a bomb.

There’s a lightness in Frank’s steps that Gerard hasn’t seen for months. He hopes that the old Frank is coming back. Gerard would abandon all hope of romance, if only he could have his smiling, lively friend back.

He takes a deep breath, and quietly climbs on to the bench, behind Frank.

“Hey,” he says softly, just loud enough to be heard.

Frank turns around slowly.

* * * * * *

But thank you for talking,
‘Cause I needed to.
Yeah, some things just can’t wait.

Frank’s eyes are alight, they’re shining at Gerard. He places his hand on Gerard’s cheek, and Gerard remembers New Year’s Eve.

“Frank, what’s going on?”

Frank puts his finger to Gerard’s lips. “Please don’t speak. Is ‘The Ghost of You’ about me?”

Gerard nods.

“Do you still love me?”

Gerard nods again. He didn’t even need to think about it, of course he loves him.

“Gerard, I…I love you so much. I know I’ve treated you like shit, I’ll make it up to you, I promise, if you’ll let me. I was so confused. You said you didn’t love me, on New Year’s Eve, and I was so, so upset, Gerard. You have no idea how much drink and courage it took for me to tell you that. Man, you’re so perfect. I was sure you wouldn’t want me, you’re beautiful and you could have anyone you wanted, and I’m just stupid Frank, the midget who manages to hurt himself with his guitar. I didn’t have much hope of you loving me back, but I had to tell you, I couldn’t keep it hidden any more, I loved you so much. And then you said you didn’t love me, and you walked away, and I thought ‘Okay, that’s horrible, but…I understand.” You know, it wasn’t much of a shock? So I went and fucked that girl, just to try to get you out of my head, and I suppose it kind of worked…”

Frank’s running his hands over Gerard’s face, touching him, committing how he looks at that moment to his memory, forever. Neither of them will forget this moment, it’s almost too wonderful.

“And then, on New Year’s Day, you called me, and , oh God, that blow job was amazing,” Frank grins, then continues.

“You’ll have to let me return the favour sometime. Every time I opened my eyes, you were staring up at me and, man, you’re so beautiful. But then it was over and I thought, you know, that was just an apology or something, you were trying to let me down gently. So I told myself that I was over you, I had to carry on without you, I didn’t want you feeling sorry for me.”

Gerard wraps his arms around Frank and kisses him sweetly. “You’ve been so down, these past few months. I was worried about you.”

“That’s…that’s what happens when I give up hope. I stopped thinking that one day you’d love me, I blocked you out completely, and I realised that life without you is pretty shit. I love you so much. When I was keeping away from you, everything was grey. I suppose I needed to experience that, though, I won’t ever take you for granted now I know what it’s like without you. Gerard…will you be my boyfriend?”

They kiss again, standing on that bench in the park, in the middle of the night. Everything feels so perfect.

“Of course I will, Frank. I love you. I always have, it just took me a while to realise it. You’re amazing, Frank. All that stuff you said about being ‘stupid Frank’…it’s not true. You’re beautiful, and so brilliant, you make my life worth living.”

More kisses, more embraces, they can’t stop touching.

Frank bends down.

“Hey, Frank…you don’t have to return the favour here, you know…somewhere warmer and less public might be better.” Gerard doesn’t really feel like getting his dick out in the middle of a park, although he thinks he might do anything if it made Frank happy.

Frank stands up, holding the rectangular package that was at their feet. They both blush, and giggle a little.

“I, erm…I noticed you gave up on this, so I finished it for you.”

Gerard takes the paper off the package, and finds the photo album that he’d been working on. It’s finished, filled with amazing pictures, chronicling the band’s past couple of years together.

“Do you like it?” asks Frank.

“It’s perfect.”

“I wanted to get it finished in time for your birthday, so it could be a proper present.”

“But it’s a week until my birthday, Frank.”

“I know.” They kiss again. “But some things just can’t wait.”

* * * * * *

Yeah, some things just can’t wait.

* * * * * *

So, that’s it…hope you liked it. Comments are much appreciated.
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Some Things