The Black Parade Chapter IIII - I Don't Love You. Part I/I
Title:The Black Parade Chapter IIII - I Don't Love You. Part I/I
Author:
bluexxyellow_ Rachel.
Pairing:Frank Iero//Gerard Way && Bert McCracken//Gerard Way
Rating:R. Dirrty Language.
POV:1st, Gerard's.
Summary:"Frank. You can't ignore this until it goes away." I say, uncrossing my legs.
Disclaimer:Fake.
Author Note:If it confuses you, the living room/house is based on mine. I can show a picture if it'll help. Sorry it's taken so long, I haven't had the urge to write it in days.
[ The Black Parade Chapter I - Disenchanted. Part I/II// The Black Parade Chapter I - Disenchanted. Part II/II]
[ The Black Parade Chapter II - The Sharpest Lives. Part I/III// The Black Parade Chapter II - The Sharpest Lives. Part II/III// The Black Parade Chapter II - The Sharpest Lives. Part III/III]
[The Black Parade Chapter III - Dead. Part I/II// The Black Parade Chapter III - Dead. Part II/II]
"GERARD! YOU NEED TO DO MY LAUNDRY!" Frank yells from the garage, banging around random objects.
"So you're that useless?" I mutter, unaware if Frank overheard me or not. I put down my plate of spaghetti and walk the few steps to the garage door.
Frank is bent over the washing machine, pawing around inside of it for something. He victoriously pulls out a quarter and hands it to me. "Look, I even paid you."
"Fuck you," I say, moving into the garage next to him, "Go get whatever it is you need washed." He takes the first part as a joke but that isn't how I mean it.
"I love you," he says with a grin, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek before scurrying away.
It's been three months since we all moved back home. Mikey and Bob didn't move home, here to Jersey, but into a shitty apartment in Brooklyn. As long as their happy, though. Ray is living with his girlfriend in the city, they're going to get married and Ray couldn't be happier. Since we've been back he's been more like he used to, I love that man, I think he just needed to get off that fucking bus. Frank is living with me in the house Helena left to me. It's alright, he's a good fuck and we don't have to pay any mortgage. I know now that I will never love him as he loves me, I'm going to always love Bert but I don't have the heart to tell him.
The basket of clothes he carries from the back of the house is bigger than him, I swear to God. I'm standing at the machine when he drops it at his feet.
"Are you okay?" He's sincere, he always is.
"No. Well, I don't know." I admit, leaning against the white machine.
"What's wrong? Is it us?" He asks.
"I think we moved too quick." I say.
"Me too," he agrees, "let's slow down."
"We live together, how do we slow down?" I ask him back, giving him a weird look.
"What if I moved out? I could go live with Mikey and Bob." He proposes.
"I don't want to throw you out like that, Frank." I say, sincerely. He's trying to guilt me into this.
"Don't worry about it, I'll give them a call." Frank says with a smile, turning around. "but still wash my clothes."
He moved out the next day.
"You what now?" Frank asks, laying his bags on the floor.
"I don't love you." I repeat, still clutching the shirt to my chest.
"What the fuck?" He asks once more, leaning against the open door frame.
"I'm not fucking saying it again." I snap, laying down the shirt.
"What the hell is all this?" He asks, ignoring what I said. He shuts the door and grabs his bags like I didn't tell him I don't love him.
"Frank. You can't ignore this until it goes away." I say, uncrossing my legs.
"Says who?" He challenges me, putting the bags down in the kitchen.
"ME! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME LOVE YOU!" I scream at him, getting to my feet.
"LIKE HELL I CAN'T!" He screams back, slamming his fist into the counter top, "I CAN MAKE YOU LOVE ME!"
"NO YOU CAN'T! YOU AREN'T JESUS!" I yell back at him, watching him stalk into the living room.
"YOU CAN'T LOVE A DEAD GUY, GERARD! HE'S NOT GOING TO LOVE YOU BACK!" Frank yells, stopping a few feet away from me at the edge of the rug.
"I can love anyone I want to." I say matter-of-factly, crossing my arms over my chest.
"Then what am I?" He asks.
"Nobody that I want to love." I tell him truthfully.
"You're just holding on to him because you can." He says, striding towards me. He's right in front of me, his foot on the letter and notebooks from Bert's box like he doesn't see them there. "He never loved you."
My hand collides with Frank's face before I know what I'm doing. He's clutching his nose and looks up at me with burning hazel eyes.
"You hated Bert, I get it. I don't love you and I want you out of my house." I spit, pushing him out of my way to go into the kitchen. I need a cup of coffee.
"But Gerard, I didn't mean that." He recovers, following behind me. "I don't care if you don't love me. At least I love you."
"No you don't," I say to him, spinning around. He's hunched over a bit, blood running from his nose and he's trying to look like he's still got the upper hand.
"I do love you..." He says, trailing off.
"You love me because I'm easy to fuck with and I was vulnerable at the right time for you. You don't love me like he did. Now get the fuck out of my house."
Bert is looking up at me and smiling.
Author:
bluexxyellow_ Rachel.
Pairing:Frank Iero//Gerard Way && Bert McCracken//Gerard Way
Rating:R. Dirrty Language.
POV:1st, Gerard's.
Summary:"Frank. You can't ignore this until it goes away." I say, uncrossing my legs.
Disclaimer:Fake.
Author Note:If it confuses you, the living room/house is based on mine. I can show a picture if it'll help. Sorry it's taken so long, I haven't had the urge to write it in days.
[ The Black Parade Chapter I - Disenchanted. Part I/II// The Black Parade Chapter I - Disenchanted. Part II/II]
[ The Black Parade Chapter II - The Sharpest Lives. Part I/III// The Black Parade Chapter II - The Sharpest Lives. Part II/III// The Black Parade Chapter II - The Sharpest Lives. Part III/III]
[The Black Parade Chapter III - Dead. Part I/II// The Black Parade Chapter III - Dead. Part II/II]
"GERARD! YOU NEED TO DO MY LAUNDRY!" Frank yells from the garage, banging around random objects.
"So you're that useless?" I mutter, unaware if Frank overheard me or not. I put down my plate of spaghetti and walk the few steps to the garage door.
Frank is bent over the washing machine, pawing around inside of it for something. He victoriously pulls out a quarter and hands it to me. "Look, I even paid you."
"Fuck you," I say, moving into the garage next to him, "Go get whatever it is you need washed." He takes the first part as a joke but that isn't how I mean it.
"I love you," he says with a grin, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek before scurrying away.
It's been three months since we all moved back home. Mikey and Bob didn't move home, here to Jersey, but into a shitty apartment in Brooklyn. As long as their happy, though. Ray is living with his girlfriend in the city, they're going to get married and Ray couldn't be happier. Since we've been back he's been more like he used to, I love that man, I think he just needed to get off that fucking bus. Frank is living with me in the house Helena left to me. It's alright, he's a good fuck and we don't have to pay any mortgage. I know now that I will never love him as he loves me, I'm going to always love Bert but I don't have the heart to tell him.
The basket of clothes he carries from the back of the house is bigger than him, I swear to God. I'm standing at the machine when he drops it at his feet.
"Are you okay?" He's sincere, he always is.
"No. Well, I don't know." I admit, leaning against the white machine.
"What's wrong? Is it us?" He asks.
"I think we moved too quick." I say.
"Me too," he agrees, "let's slow down."
"We live together, how do we slow down?" I ask him back, giving him a weird look.
"What if I moved out? I could go live with Mikey and Bob." He proposes.
"I don't want to throw you out like that, Frank." I say, sincerely. He's trying to guilt me into this.
"Don't worry about it, I'll give them a call." Frank says with a smile, turning around. "but still wash my clothes."
He moved out the next day.
"You what now?" Frank asks, laying his bags on the floor.
"I don't love you." I repeat, still clutching the shirt to my chest.
"What the fuck?" He asks once more, leaning against the open door frame.
"I'm not fucking saying it again." I snap, laying down the shirt.
"What the hell is all this?" He asks, ignoring what I said. He shuts the door and grabs his bags like I didn't tell him I don't love him.
"Frank. You can't ignore this until it goes away." I say, uncrossing my legs.
"Says who?" He challenges me, putting the bags down in the kitchen.
"ME! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME LOVE YOU!" I scream at him, getting to my feet.
"LIKE HELL I CAN'T!" He screams back, slamming his fist into the counter top, "I CAN MAKE YOU LOVE ME!"
"NO YOU CAN'T! YOU AREN'T JESUS!" I yell back at him, watching him stalk into the living room.
"YOU CAN'T LOVE A DEAD GUY, GERARD! HE'S NOT GOING TO LOVE YOU BACK!" Frank yells, stopping a few feet away from me at the edge of the rug.
"I can love anyone I want to." I say matter-of-factly, crossing my arms over my chest.
"Then what am I?" He asks.
"Nobody that I want to love." I tell him truthfully.
"You're just holding on to him because you can." He says, striding towards me. He's right in front of me, his foot on the letter and notebooks from Bert's box like he doesn't see them there. "He never loved you."
My hand collides with Frank's face before I know what I'm doing. He's clutching his nose and looks up at me with burning hazel eyes.
"You hated Bert, I get it. I don't love you and I want you out of my house." I spit, pushing him out of my way to go into the kitchen. I need a cup of coffee.
"But Gerard, I didn't mean that." He recovers, following behind me. "I don't care if you don't love me. At least I love you."
"No you don't," I say to him, spinning around. He's hunched over a bit, blood running from his nose and he's trying to look like he's still got the upper hand.
"I do love you..." He says, trailing off.
"You love me because I'm easy to fuck with and I was vulnerable at the right time for you. You don't love me like he did. Now get the fuck out of my house."
Bert is looking up at me and smiling.