The Black Parade Chapter III - Dead Part II/II
Title:The Black Parade Chapter III - Dead Part II/II
Author:
bluexxyellow_ Rachel.
Pairing:Frank Iero//Gerard Way && Bert McCracken//Gerard Way && Mikey Way//Bob Bryar && Jeph Howard//Quinn Allman
Rating:R. Dirrty Language.
POV:1st, Gerard's.
Summary:Then he stands up and hands me a folded, faded Iron Maiden shirt. My Iron Maiden shirt. "This, this was what he was wearing when we found him." Jeph says.
Disclaimer:Fake. Except the 'ehy part.
Author Note:If it confuses you, the living room/house is based on mine. I can show a picture if it'll help. After this there's an 'I Don't Love You' based one and finally 'Famous Last Words', I think.
[ 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]
"That's fucking it? And just like that we're done?" Mikey asks, pointing a finger in Brian's direction.
"I'm afraid so." Brian says, with no emotion, wringing out his hands.
"I don't know when, but you've become quite the dick lately." Frank spits at Brian, resting his hand on my thigh.
He, Ray, and I are sitting on the couch to the right of the room. Bob and Mikey are sitting on the one across the room. Brian is standing on the doorway to the driver, his hands on the seats to steady himself. I look around the room and see Bob pursing his lips and tapping his fingers on Mikey's knee. Which means he's pissed. Mikey doesn't bother being discreet about being pissed, he taking deep breaths and I can just feel his anger. Ray looks nonchalant, but then again sometimes I wonder if Ray remembers he's in the band. Frank, Frank's being his short-tempered Italian self and swearing under his breath. I have tears in my eyes. This is my fault.
"Don't blame me, you guys tarnished your own image." Brian says.
"WE DON'T WANT A FUCKING IMAGE!" Mikey yells, jumping to his feet. "WE WANT TO PLAY MUSIC!" He takes a step towards Brian and balls his hand into a fist, but Bob reaches up and holds him back by his belt loop.
"No one is going to listen to you guys anymore," Brian says. His voice sounds short.
"Why not?" I manage to say.
"Because you are a fucked up bunch of guys and that isn't in anymore." Brian tells us, straight up. "Especially you, Gerard."
It hurts more than it should. Brian was never like this before, and now he's tells us the band is over and we have to go home. I have to move home and try to move on.
But I bet it hurt more when Bob let Mikey go and Mikey's fist collided with Brian's cheek bone.
Frank leaves to go to the grocery store to get some real food. He's sick of just coffee and macaroni and cheese. After he leaves I sit on my kitchen counter, smoke two more cigarettes, and drink another cup of coffee. Which makes like four since I got out of bed this morning.
The doorbell rings as I'm stubbing out my last cigarette. I didn't even know that the doorbell worked. I walk to the front door as I place another cigarette between my lips. When I pull it open there's no one on the other side.
"Fuck," I swear, looking around, "they went to the wrong damn door." I step outside and shuffle through the dying grass around the corner of the house.
Jeph and Quinn, sure enough, are standing on the front porch. Jeph has a rather large sized box in his hands. Quinn is dressed nicely, a small black scarf around his neck, a suede looking jacket, and nice pressed pants. Jeph looks more like Bert always used to, his hair is a mess, there are a pair of too-big-for-his-face sunglasses on his face, his clothes are wrinkled, and there is a smile on his face.
"'EHY!" I call, deciding that it's too much work to keep walking over there and get them. Quinn turns towards me first and elbows Jeph to look my way. I turn around and light my cigarette on the way back to the front door. Figuring they'll take that as a sign to follow me.
"Frank told us about the two doors thing," Quinn says, walking past me and into the house. I blow smoke out as Jeph walks past. I close the door behind him. The box he's carrying has my name scrawled across the side in red sharpie. Jeph places it gently on the floor and gives me another smile. Quinn takes a seat on the black couch under a huge frog quilt, and Jeph joins him.
"He did," Jeph agrees.
I sit on the floor besides the box. With a chuckle I exhale smoke, "small talk is such a bitch."
"Jeph and I found this cleaning out Bert's apartment." Quinn says, putting his hands in Jeph's lap. I love how fast he gets to the point of things. "And we figured you should have it."
Then he stands up and hands me a folded, faded Iron Maiden shirt. My Iron Maiden shirt. "This, this was what he was wearing when we found him." Jeph says.
"How long was he in there before Frank told me?" I ask, taking the shirt from Quinn's hands. It's soft and it smells like him.
"Three days." Quinn says. "Jeph and I found him and took him in on a Monday."
"And I went in on Thursday." I finish.
"We'll leave you to do your stuff," Jeph says, standing up beside Quinn. I stand up too, dropping my cigarette to the floor and stubbing it out.
Quinn and Jeph both hug me before heading to the door.
"Thank you," I call out to them as Quinn pushes up the door.
He turns around in the open doorway, "Anything for Bert." They leave in silence and I go to get another cup of coffee from the kitchen.
Seated, holding a fresh cup of coffee, I start to open the box. The edges are simply pushed under one another, so it's not very hard to pull them apart. When the edges fall back I see that the box is full almost to the top. Full of things I used to own. Things like an old pair of Converse sneakers, my toothbrush, some clothes. On top of it all lays a white envelope with Gerard written on the front.
I take it out carefully, as though it make break if I handle it too rough. When I peal it open a piece of paper falls out:
"Gerard,
I guess after it all was said and done you were right. That loosing you and being miserable is what I deserved. It's been, give or take, six months since you walked out on me in San Diego. We're back from touring, officially, and I've been thinking about coming to see you. But I figure you don't want to see me anymore. Anyway, maybe it's because I'm high on these painkillers or I just genuinely miss you, but I want to see your face so bad. But I am so afraid. I'm afraid to live without you and I think something may happen to me. I hope someone will give you a call if its something bad. You always promised you'd visit me in a hospital bed.
Tell Frank that I said hi.
Love,
Bert. The one and fucking only."
When Frank opens the front door I'm holding the letter and my shirt crying my eyes out. There are other random objects from the box around me in almost a perfect circle and I'm just hysterical. I open my mouth and say,
"I don't love you."
Author:
bluexxyellow_ Rachel.
Pairing:Frank Iero//Gerard Way && Bert McCracken//Gerard Way && Mikey Way//Bob Bryar && Jeph Howard//Quinn Allman
Rating:R. Dirrty Language.
POV:1st, Gerard's.
Summary:Then he stands up and hands me a folded, faded Iron Maiden shirt. My Iron Maiden shirt. "This, this was what he was wearing when we found him." Jeph says.
Disclaimer:Fake. Except the 'ehy part.
Author Note:If it confuses you, the living room/house is based on mine. I can show a picture if it'll help. After this there's an 'I Don't Love You' based one and finally 'Famous Last Words', I think.
[ 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]
"That's fucking it? And just like that we're done?" Mikey asks, pointing a finger in Brian's direction.
"I'm afraid so." Brian says, with no emotion, wringing out his hands.
"I don't know when, but you've become quite the dick lately." Frank spits at Brian, resting his hand on my thigh.
He, Ray, and I are sitting on the couch to the right of the room. Bob and Mikey are sitting on the one across the room. Brian is standing on the doorway to the driver, his hands on the seats to steady himself. I look around the room and see Bob pursing his lips and tapping his fingers on Mikey's knee. Which means he's pissed. Mikey doesn't bother being discreet about being pissed, he taking deep breaths and I can just feel his anger. Ray looks nonchalant, but then again sometimes I wonder if Ray remembers he's in the band. Frank, Frank's being his short-tempered Italian self and swearing under his breath. I have tears in my eyes. This is my fault.
"Don't blame me, you guys tarnished your own image." Brian says.
"WE DON'T WANT A FUCKING IMAGE!" Mikey yells, jumping to his feet. "WE WANT TO PLAY MUSIC!" He takes a step towards Brian and balls his hand into a fist, but Bob reaches up and holds him back by his belt loop.
"No one is going to listen to you guys anymore," Brian says. His voice sounds short.
"Why not?" I manage to say.
"Because you are a fucked up bunch of guys and that isn't in anymore." Brian tells us, straight up. "Especially you, Gerard."
It hurts more than it should. Brian was never like this before, and now he's tells us the band is over and we have to go home. I have to move home and try to move on.
But I bet it hurt more when Bob let Mikey go and Mikey's fist collided with Brian's cheek bone.
Frank leaves to go to the grocery store to get some real food. He's sick of just coffee and macaroni and cheese. After he leaves I sit on my kitchen counter, smoke two more cigarettes, and drink another cup of coffee. Which makes like four since I got out of bed this morning.
The doorbell rings as I'm stubbing out my last cigarette. I didn't even know that the doorbell worked. I walk to the front door as I place another cigarette between my lips. When I pull it open there's no one on the other side.
"Fuck," I swear, looking around, "they went to the wrong damn door." I step outside and shuffle through the dying grass around the corner of the house.
Jeph and Quinn, sure enough, are standing on the front porch. Jeph has a rather large sized box in his hands. Quinn is dressed nicely, a small black scarf around his neck, a suede looking jacket, and nice pressed pants. Jeph looks more like Bert always used to, his hair is a mess, there are a pair of too-big-for-his-face sunglasses on his face, his clothes are wrinkled, and there is a smile on his face.
"'EHY!" I call, deciding that it's too much work to keep walking over there and get them. Quinn turns towards me first and elbows Jeph to look my way. I turn around and light my cigarette on the way back to the front door. Figuring they'll take that as a sign to follow me.
"Frank told us about the two doors thing," Quinn says, walking past me and into the house. I blow smoke out as Jeph walks past. I close the door behind him. The box he's carrying has my name scrawled across the side in red sharpie. Jeph places it gently on the floor and gives me another smile. Quinn takes a seat on the black couch under a huge frog quilt, and Jeph joins him.
"He did," Jeph agrees.
I sit on the floor besides the box. With a chuckle I exhale smoke, "small talk is such a bitch."
"Jeph and I found this cleaning out Bert's apartment." Quinn says, putting his hands in Jeph's lap. I love how fast he gets to the point of things. "And we figured you should have it."
Then he stands up and hands me a folded, faded Iron Maiden shirt. My Iron Maiden shirt. "This, this was what he was wearing when we found him." Jeph says.
"How long was he in there before Frank told me?" I ask, taking the shirt from Quinn's hands. It's soft and it smells like him.
"Three days." Quinn says. "Jeph and I found him and took him in on a Monday."
"And I went in on Thursday." I finish.
"We'll leave you to do your stuff," Jeph says, standing up beside Quinn. I stand up too, dropping my cigarette to the floor and stubbing it out.
Quinn and Jeph both hug me before heading to the door.
"Thank you," I call out to them as Quinn pushes up the door.
He turns around in the open doorway, "Anything for Bert." They leave in silence and I go to get another cup of coffee from the kitchen.
Seated, holding a fresh cup of coffee, I start to open the box. The edges are simply pushed under one another, so it's not very hard to pull them apart. When the edges fall back I see that the box is full almost to the top. Full of things I used to own. Things like an old pair of Converse sneakers, my toothbrush, some clothes. On top of it all lays a white envelope with Gerard written on the front.
I take it out carefully, as though it make break if I handle it too rough. When I peal it open a piece of paper falls out:
"Gerard,
I guess after it all was said and done you were right. That loosing you and being miserable is what I deserved. It's been, give or take, six months since you walked out on me in San Diego. We're back from touring, officially, and I've been thinking about coming to see you. But I figure you don't want to see me anymore. Anyway, maybe it's because I'm high on these painkillers or I just genuinely miss you, but I want to see your face so bad. But I am so afraid. I'm afraid to live without you and I think something may happen to me. I hope someone will give you a call if its something bad. You always promised you'd visit me in a hospital bed.
Tell Frank that I said hi.
Love,
Bert. The one and fucking only."
When Frank opens the front door I'm holding the letter and my shirt crying my eyes out. There are other random objects from the box around me in almost a perfect circle and I'm just hysterical. I open my mouth and say,
"I don't love you."