Disconnected
Title: Disconnected
Author: mcrdrugist
Pairing: Frerard
Rating: PG-13 (for now)
POV: Mixed
Summary: After a tragic accident Gerard is left a widower. When he starts getting text messages from his late husband he thinks it is just some sick joke, but is it?
Disclaimer: Fakey fake fake!
Author Notes: Inspired in small part by by quarterturn and her story Take These Pieces and Build Them Skyward.
Beta: my_life_myway33
Warnings: Character death, but don't let that scare you away. Everything happens for a reason.
**POV; Frankie**
I sighed softly as the phone continued to ring against my ear for the fifth time. Five more times and it would switch over to voicemail. Gerard had probably forgotten to switch his phone of silent after our trip to the movie theater last night. Gerard could be so wonderfully smart, but yet so absentminded about those kinds of things. Or it had found its way between the couch cushions while he was drawing.
I just wanted to call and tell him I was sorry for being late, and that I was bringing home dinner and not to worry about making any.
I stopped with the throng of people waiting to cross the street. Only three blocks away from our little New York City apartment. I hummed through Gerard’s personal greeting (“Hey you’ve reached Gerard Iero-Way; leave a message!”). I always loved the little giggle that followed whenever he said his new and improved (as he put it) last name. I looked up and realized the rest of the crowd was crossing the street, and started crossing myself.“Hey Gee its Fra-“ I heard the honk of a horn but it was already too late. I startled, tripped, and the last thing I heard was the crunching of my spine under the wheel of the yellow taxi.
**POV; Gerard**
The worst part wasn’t just that my husband of only eight months had died. No, even worse was the fact that I had his last minutes forever recorded on my phone. The noises of the horn that you would normally not think twice of in such a busy city, the screeching of breaks that were laid on too late, the sickening crunch of bones, and the last sharp exhale of his breath.
I had found my phone only about two minutes after the message ended. I had immediately listened to it to see just where the hell my husband was. What I heard I’m sure will always haunt me.
Running wasn’t something I had done since Freshmen PE, but it wasn’t far. I followed the sounds of sirens and found the scene only three blocks away. By the time I got there they already had a sheet covering his entire body. I tried hard not to let my eyes wonder to the blood smeared across the white lines of the crosswalk or tainting the yellow of the cab. I couldn’t though, and when I saw it I knew I had lost him.
I watched the medic check for a pulse and then announce that he was DOS. I rode with his body back to the hospital where I officially identified him in the cold morgue. Then I called Mikey in tears to come pick me up.
Which all lead to now; the funeral. I mostly just sat back and let his mother plan it. I had never dreamt that at 25, I would be a widower.
It was a warm September day. One of the days were we both would’ve called in sick to fool around under crisp sheets all day. My eyes slipped shut as a soft wind blew my hair across my cheek and I could have sworn I could feel Frankie's hands sliding over my back.
I stood last to lay my rose on his casket. My vision blurred as he was lowered into the ground. It was so final, and I couldn’t look away. People slowly started to leave and I soldiered my way through the hugs and condolences until it was Just Linda Iero and I left.
I hugged her tight, because Frank had been a part of her, “I still expect you over every Sunday for dinner.” She whispered into my ear. And maybe, just maybe I let a bit of a smile come through at that. But it didn’t last.
“I’m gonna leave and give you some privacy,” she said and then kissed my cheek, “Please Gerard; if you need anything just call.”
I waited until she was gone before I sat cross-legged at his grave side and ran my fingers over the freshly turned dirt, “I love you Frankie.”
I wasn’t sure how long I was there, but when I looked up from the gray stone the sun was setting. I stood on shaky legs and called a cab to take me home. If that wasn’t irony then I don’t know what is. I got home and didn’t even bother with a shower. I had another week of leave off work and all I wanted to do was sleep. When I turned to my bedside table to switch off my alarm my cell phone caught my eye. It had been off for the better part of the week. I turned it on just in case someone needed me, but before I set it back on the table something caught my eye. The display read;
NEW TXT MESSAGE
From: Frankie
On: Mon, Sept 28th 1:34PM
I squinted at the screen. Clearly I was delusional in my sadness, or someone was playing one sick joke. The time and date coincided perfectly with the time that Frank was put into the ground this afternoon. I let out a sob as I scrolled down to View Message.
My hands shook as I read the simple four words;
I’m so sorry Gee.
A/N- Future updates will be longer. I just wanted to post the first part and see what kind of feedback I got.
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Author: mcrdrugist
Pairing: Frerard
Rating: PG-13 (for now)
POV: Mixed
Summary: After a tragic accident Gerard is left a widower. When he starts getting text messages from his late husband he thinks it is just some sick joke, but is it?
Disclaimer: Fakey fake fake!
Author Notes: Inspired in small part by by quarterturn and her story Take These Pieces and Build Them Skyward.
Beta: my_life_myway33
Warnings: Character death, but don't let that scare you away. Everything happens for a reason.
**POV; Frankie**
I sighed softly as the phone continued to ring against my ear for the fifth time. Five more times and it would switch over to voicemail. Gerard had probably forgotten to switch his phone of silent after our trip to the movie theater last night. Gerard could be so wonderfully smart, but yet so absentminded about those kinds of things. Or it had found its way between the couch cushions while he was drawing.
I just wanted to call and tell him I was sorry for being late, and that I was bringing home dinner and not to worry about making any.
I stopped with the throng of people waiting to cross the street. Only three blocks away from our little New York City apartment. I hummed through Gerard’s personal greeting (“Hey you’ve reached Gerard Iero-Way; leave a message!”). I always loved the little giggle that followed whenever he said his new and improved (as he put it) last name. I looked up and realized the rest of the crowd was crossing the street, and started crossing myself.“Hey Gee its Fra-“ I heard the honk of a horn but it was already too late. I startled, tripped, and the last thing I heard was the crunching of my spine under the wheel of the yellow taxi.
**POV; Gerard**
The worst part wasn’t just that my husband of only eight months had died. No, even worse was the fact that I had his last minutes forever recorded on my phone. The noises of the horn that you would normally not think twice of in such a busy city, the screeching of breaks that were laid on too late, the sickening crunch of bones, and the last sharp exhale of his breath.
I had found my phone only about two minutes after the message ended. I had immediately listened to it to see just where the hell my husband was. What I heard I’m sure will always haunt me.
Running wasn’t something I had done since Freshmen PE, but it wasn’t far. I followed the sounds of sirens and found the scene only three blocks away. By the time I got there they already had a sheet covering his entire body. I tried hard not to let my eyes wonder to the blood smeared across the white lines of the crosswalk or tainting the yellow of the cab. I couldn’t though, and when I saw it I knew I had lost him.
I watched the medic check for a pulse and then announce that he was DOS. I rode with his body back to the hospital where I officially identified him in the cold morgue. Then I called Mikey in tears to come pick me up.
Which all lead to now; the funeral. I mostly just sat back and let his mother plan it. I had never dreamt that at 25, I would be a widower.
It was a warm September day. One of the days were we both would’ve called in sick to fool around under crisp sheets all day. My eyes slipped shut as a soft wind blew my hair across my cheek and I could have sworn I could feel Frankie's hands sliding over my back.
I stood last to lay my rose on his casket. My vision blurred as he was lowered into the ground. It was so final, and I couldn’t look away. People slowly started to leave and I soldiered my way through the hugs and condolences until it was Just Linda Iero and I left.
I hugged her tight, because Frank had been a part of her, “I still expect you over every Sunday for dinner.” She whispered into my ear. And maybe, just maybe I let a bit of a smile come through at that. But it didn’t last.
“I’m gonna leave and give you some privacy,” she said and then kissed my cheek, “Please Gerard; if you need anything just call.”
I waited until she was gone before I sat cross-legged at his grave side and ran my fingers over the freshly turned dirt, “I love you Frankie.”
I wasn’t sure how long I was there, but when I looked up from the gray stone the sun was setting. I stood on shaky legs and called a cab to take me home. If that wasn’t irony then I don’t know what is. I got home and didn’t even bother with a shower. I had another week of leave off work and all I wanted to do was sleep. When I turned to my bedside table to switch off my alarm my cell phone caught my eye. It had been off for the better part of the week. I turned it on just in case someone needed me, but before I set it back on the table something caught my eye. The display read;
NEW TXT MESSAGE
From: Frankie
On: Mon, Sept 28th 1:34PM
I squinted at the screen. Clearly I was delusional in my sadness, or someone was playing one sick joke. The time and date coincided perfectly with the time that Frank was put into the ground this afternoon. I let out a sob as I scrolled down to View Message.
My hands shook as I read the simple four words;
I’m so sorry Gee.
A/N- Future updates will be longer. I just wanted to post the first part and see what kind of feedback I got.
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