You Don't...
Title: You Don’t…
Author: ira_luxuria
Pairing: Frank x Gerard; Implied Bert x Gerard
Word Count: 452
Rating: G.
Summary: See title
Disclaimer: The characters in this story, though based on stage personas/media personalities, are entirely fictional. Any offence caused by their use or portrayal is wholly unintentional. Banner credit: iwantbeapirate and x_sunset_x.
Dedications: The girl faithfulriver26. The future husband silencing_sam. The wife comeththegirl. Cheers loves.
You Don’t… Know Me
See Me Watching
It’s been two weeks since the event in the diner and I haven’t been back since, I’ve been trying but the nagging feeling in the back of my skull won’t leave me alone. I know you. I know your name; your birthday; your family; where you work; where you live; I know everything about you but I’ve realised that you don’t know me.
Sure you know what I look like barely and the fact that I pretty much stalk you and that I watch you. But you don’t know me and you never will. It hurts for me to accept that as I’ve accepted so much else from you, from my parents, from the men I see you with. You think I don’t notice? Notice your shifting eyes and your tense posture and the way you look all around you before allowing them to take your hand or to kiss you on the lips or get you against a wall in the dark night and attack your perfect pale neck with sloppy kissing sounds designed to make any man - or woman for that matter - gag.
But, I ask myself; do you really let them kiss you on the lips? Or is the way you turn your head a figment of my over eager imagination?
You, my beautiful one, will never know that my name is Frank Anthony Thomas Iero Jr; that I’m 5’4” and travel sized. Nor will you know about my collection of guitars or my complete and utter fascination with you. You’ll never see my shrine to you and I fucking hate you for that.
It’s one o’clock in the morning and I’m following you in the shadows, you keep looking over your shoulder every few minutes knowing that you’re being followed. I want to giggle, shout; fucking scream who I am and my undying love for you. You’ve reached your house and I watch as you get the mail from the morning before - you’ve been out all night again; why am I not surprised? - You flick through and I can imagine your sweet voice saying: “Bill. Bill. Bill.”
When you reach mine and I know it’s mine, I hear your startled gasp in my head and imagine your “what the fuck?” face as you read my hastily scribbled note:
You don’t know me.
I hate you for it. I will admit that only to myself. I hate him too. Him and his crazed glint - what is he doing there in your house, our house? Why is he touching you when it should be me? As you walk over the threshold you turn to the direction I’m in and I watch as you mouth three little words:
‘I want to.’
Thanks for reading. Comments and criticism are welcome as usual. Special deds to jerseydevil1977 for the prompt
Author: ira_luxuria
Pairing: Frank x Gerard; Implied Bert x Gerard
Word Count: 452
Rating: G.
Summary: See title
Disclaimer: The characters in this story, though based on stage personas/media personalities, are entirely fictional. Any offence caused by their use or portrayal is wholly unintentional. Banner credit: iwantbeapirate and x_sunset_x.
Dedications: The girl faithfulriver26. The future husband silencing_sam. The wife comeththegirl. Cheers loves.
You Don’t… Know Me
See Me Watching
It’s been two weeks since the event in the diner and I haven’t been back since, I’ve been trying but the nagging feeling in the back of my skull won’t leave me alone. I know you. I know your name; your birthday; your family; where you work; where you live; I know everything about you but I’ve realised that you don’t know me.
Sure you know what I look like barely and the fact that I pretty much stalk you and that I watch you. But you don’t know me and you never will. It hurts for me to accept that as I’ve accepted so much else from you, from my parents, from the men I see you with. You think I don’t notice? Notice your shifting eyes and your tense posture and the way you look all around you before allowing them to take your hand or to kiss you on the lips or get you against a wall in the dark night and attack your perfect pale neck with sloppy kissing sounds designed to make any man - or woman for that matter - gag.
But, I ask myself; do you really let them kiss you on the lips? Or is the way you turn your head a figment of my over eager imagination?
You, my beautiful one, will never know that my name is Frank Anthony Thomas Iero Jr; that I’m 5’4” and travel sized. Nor will you know about my collection of guitars or my complete and utter fascination with you. You’ll never see my shrine to you and I fucking hate you for that.
It’s one o’clock in the morning and I’m following you in the shadows, you keep looking over your shoulder every few minutes knowing that you’re being followed. I want to giggle, shout; fucking scream who I am and my undying love for you. You’ve reached your house and I watch as you get the mail from the morning before - you’ve been out all night again; why am I not surprised? - You flick through and I can imagine your sweet voice saying: “Bill. Bill. Bill.”
When you reach mine and I know it’s mine, I hear your startled gasp in my head and imagine your “what the fuck?” face as you read my hastily scribbled note:
You don’t know me.
I hate you for it. I will admit that only to myself. I hate him too. Him and his crazed glint - what is he doing there in your house, our house? Why is he touching you when it should be me? As you walk over the threshold you turn to the direction I’m in and I watch as you mouth three little words:
‘I want to.’
Thanks for reading. Comments and criticism are welcome as usual. Special deds to jerseydevil1977 for the prompt