Ok. So, this fanfic is not mine. It's a fic I found a few years ago (like five or four years ago) in Quizilla® -I mean, back when Quizilla was quizilla.com and not .teenick.com-. It was written by user AuroraMist, who took it down, and I don't know why.
She wrote a lot of amazing fan fictions; she's a hell of a writer. But this is definitely my favourite from her, and it is for sure the best My Chemical Romance fan fiction I've ever read. And I've read quite a few. So, I thought I'd share it -again- with the World. Cuz it's awesome, and it deserves to be read.
8
"What?!"
Mikey, Bob and Ray exclaimed all as one as Frank looked at me, to be sure I was
sure, and Gerard smirked, glad to know before the others.
"Are you sure?"
Frank asked me.
"No, not really,"
I grinned. "But Hell, let's do it."
He dropped his guitar,
bolted over to me and swept me up in a humungous hug. My grin got bigger and I
hugged him back until he let me go. He stepped back, pumped his fist in the air
and yelled , "I'm getting married!"
Mikey's jaw dropped.
"Someone explain, please. Now - right now."
I ignored him and looked at
Frank instead. "You do know that we're not really getting married
... don't you?"
"I know. It's just to
piss off your parents."
"What?" Ray
demanded, scratching his head, confused.
I ignored him too.
"Not just that, Frank. You know your whole plan -"
"Yeah okay, that too.
But the important part in all this, let's not forget, is that we're getting
married! Shit, I have to tell Mom and Dad."
"I haven't even called
my parents yet!"
"Don't," he said
abruptly, halting in his small celebration dance around Mikey, Bob and Gerard.
"Why not?"
"Don't call them,
please?"
"Why not?" I
repeated.
"Can we tell them face
to face, please?"
He stuck out his bottom lip
and tried to make his eyes water. I rolled my eyes. "Okay, whatever."
"Yes! You're the best
wife ever!"
"Fiancée," I
corrected.
"Gerard," Mikey
said slowly, turning his head to look at his brother, "do you know
what's happening?"
"Yes," Gerard
said smugly.
"Who's going to be my
best man?" Frank blurted, more asking himself than anyone else in the room
with us.
"Me!" Ray, Mikey
and Bob said all at once, trying to out-yell each other.
"Don't be
stupid," Gerard said calmly. "Everyone knows dipshit will pick
moi."
"Oh will I?"
"Frankie!" Gerard
whined.
"Can I have four best
men?" Frank asked, turning to me.
"I don't know."
"I'll have to find out
then."
"So this is really
happening?" I asked, timidly.
"You said 'yes' didn't
you?"
"Yes."
"Then yes, it's
happening."
"You're gonna help me
with the plans right?"
"Er..."
"Because if you don't,
Mom will step in and you don't want her planning your wedding."
"Our."
"What?"
"Our wedding. You said
'your' but it's ours. You're marrying me Carrie."
"I can't believe this
is happening."
"Me neither,"
Mikey butted in.
I looked around, suddenly
remembering Frank and I were not alone. Gerard sarcastically waved and smiled. "Yeah, hi. We're here too."
"I don't get it!"
Bob exclaimed. "When the hell did all this happen? You go away for a
weekend and come back engaged? What, are you both stoned?"
Gerard clapped him on the
shoulder. "It's okay, man. It's complicated; I think only Carrie and Frank
understand."
"So..." Ray
started, fiddling with his shirt " ... can I be your best man?"
I rolled my eyes as another
argument ensued over who would be who on the wedding day, and quietly slipped
out of Frank and Mikey's apartment to avoid the fray.
"Okay, done. We'll
have the wedding in four months; there will be guests and food and music and a
Priest and ... other shit. Now can I go?"
Frank tried to get up and
leave but I quickly shot out my hand to grab his shirt sleeve and pull him back
onto his stool, preventing him from leaving.
"No, we are not 'done', we have hardly started. We haven't even talked to
either set of parents yet; so we can't make a date. And we don't know who we'll
invite; what food we want so we can tell the caterers - who we still need to
hire - and we have to arrange a chapel and Minister before we even think about
the music we'll have at the reception. Oh God - the reception! We have to plan
that too!"
Frank groaned. "Don't
you women like doing stuff like this; do I really have to help?"
I glared at him, tapping
the blue pen I was holding in my left hand against the wooden surface of the
counter.
"Dipshit ..."
"Okay, okay, I know. I
have to help you."
"'Have to’?"
"Want to?"
"You'd better want to
help me."
"I do -"
"Because you're the
one who got us into this mess in the first place."
"Me?! You're the one
who wanted one of us to go with you to your parents'!"
"I didn't tell you to
propose!"
"You're not thinking
of backing out are you?"
"No, of course not.
But I want you to be involved."
He gave me a reassuring
smile. "Don't worry, I will be. You won't be able to get rid of me now ..
do you think we should move in together?"
"What?!" I
exclaimed, startled. "Where did that come from?"
"I was just thinking,
we want this to be realistic, right?"
"Yeah, of
course."
"Well that's what
married couples do."
"They also kiss, and
hold hands, and cuddle, and spoon and have sex -"
"Well, if you
insist-"
"Frankie!" I
said, hitting his arm lightly with my rolled up Bridal magazine.
"Okay - so no
spooning, but the rest is in."
"No! No
anything!"
"What? How are your
parents going to believe we're close if we don't do shit like kiss and
stuff?"
I was about to answer when
we both heard the bell atop the door jingle, signaling that someone was coming into the bookstore. I raised my eyebrow ; we were a very small store, no one
really came in here, so I thought Frank and I could safely have this discussion
without being interrupted; but then I looked at the clock and saw the time.
"Oh shit."
Frank chuckled. "What?
With how popular you guys are, you'd think you'd be happy to have a customer or two a week."
"Oh fuck off. That's
Lance back from the doctor's - I'm supposed to be re-stocking the
shelves."
He tutted. "Naughty,
naughty. You'd better get to work, Carrie."
I glared at him but
none-the-less moved from behind the counter, grabbed a heavy box and made it
look like I had been doing this for ages, smiling impishly as Lance stood in
the doorway, looking at us suspiciously.
"Hi Lance!" Frank
and I chorused together.
Lance grunted. "Hi.
What're you doing here for, boy?"
"Me?" Frank
asked, blinking innocently and pointing at his chest. I snorted at his acting
attempt.
"Yeah, you. You're a
big distraction for Carrie, you and those other ones, she hardly ever gets any
work done when you lot are around."
"I thought we were
cool, Lance!"
He clapped Frank on the
back as I watched, absent-mindedly stacking some copies of 'Dead Sexy' into what I hoped to be the right section. "We are mate."
He looked around at me. "Okay, Carrie, can you stop doing that now and go
out back, to tidy up and sort out the newest orders into categories?"
I groaned since it was
going to be very tedious and very boring, but I got down from the small ladder
I was on, to do as I was asked, since I knew I should have been packing the
shelves when he was out and had no right to complain. "See ya,
dipshit," I said as I walked past him and out into the back room.
"Have fun!" He
called back.
I shook my head and got to
work on tidying up, before looking over to the huge amount of cardboard boxes I
knew to be full of books, and sighing.
Hours later, and almost finished, I found myself sitting cross-legged on the
floor, with paperbacks and hardcovers surrounding me, sorting them through by
categories, and lightly singing, to fill the silence.
"She's taking her
time, making up the reasons /To justify all the hurt inside/Guess she knows, from the smiles and the look in their eyes/Everyone's got a theory about the bitter one ..."
Holding up a book close to my face, I paused in singing to inspect it closer
"...Ah, 'Patrick' ... where should I put you ... I think ... Hm, would you
like to go into 'historic'?"
I flipped open the cover and read the blurb on the inside jacket.
"Yes ... Yes, you would like to go into 'historic'."
I threw the book in the
'historic' pile before looking around for some more to sort out.
"... They're saying, Mama never loved her much/And Daddy never keeps in touch/That's why she shies away from human affection/But somewhere in a private place/She packs her bags for outer space/And now she's waitin' for the right kind of pilot to come ... Ow, MOTHER FUCK!
Why the fuck did you paper-cut me, you little shit?!" I demanded of
'Countries of the World : Australia
Sucking on my finger and
glaring at the front cover, I put it on top of the 'resources' pile. "No
answer, that's what I thought. That fucking hurt you bitch," I
mumbled. " ... And she'll say to him; she's saying /
I would fly it to the moon and back/
If you'll be, if you'll be my baby/
Got a ticket for a world where we belong/
So would you be my baby, ye-"
"Savage Garden
I felt myself blush.
"How long have you been standing there for?"
"Um, ever since 'Ow,
MOTHER FUCK! Why' -"
"Okay, okay, I get the
picture," I interrupted, glaring. "Don't you know it's rude to sneak
up on people, like
that?"
"Sorry," he said,
still smirking.
I threw the last book into
the pile 'Young Adult' before getting to my feet, picking up the piles and
packing them into the boxes for which they were marked. "What're you still
doing here, dipshit? I thought you would have gone back to your place."
"And missed out on
hearing you sing 'To The Moon and Back'? Never."
"Haha," I said
dryly. "Has Lance gone home yet?"
"Yeah. Hey, do you
know what's wrong with him? He seems more .. bitchy than usual."
"Haemorrhoids."
He winced. "Ouch. So
that was why he was at the doctor's today?"
"Yep. Apparently Doc
Flinders has a 'gentle touch' - you should go to him if you ever need to
-"
"Sure. If I ever need
to - which will be never. Thanks."
"No problem." I
grabbed my jacket and pulled it on. "So, did we have any customers while I
was back here?"
"Well I was out for
awhile ; went to visit a friend; but when I was here, surprise, surprise, there were a couple of people
browsing."
"Wow, I'm surprised.
Do you wanna go now?"
He looked at me unsurely as
I walked out and he followed, waiting at my side as I locked up shop.
"Depends on where we're going."
"To your place to help
you pack," I answered as we started walking, referring to the weekend we'd
be again spending with my parents.
"Oh, okay."
We started talking about
the wedding on the walk back to our apartment block and we just onto discussing how we would fake our 'loving relationship' to relatives, when we arrived at
Frank and Mikey's. The door was open.
"Looks like Mikey's
here," Frank commented, needlessly. "Mikey!- you home?"
"Owie!" Came
Frank's room-mate's voice from one of the bedrooms. "Help me!"
Frank and I walked into
Mikey's bedroom, to find him half dressed, in boxers and a shirt which was only
half on, but stuck over his hair and caught in his hair and glasses. Frank
burst into laughter and I playfully hit him.
"Mikey are you
okay?"
"Carrie?" He
yelped. "Can you help me? Please?"
"Sure babe," I
said, walking closer. "This will teach you not to wear tight clothes won't
it?"
"No," came the
muffled reply and then a violent shake of his head, causing many 'ow' s to
follow.
I sighed and tried to help
him as Frank watched on, laughing.
xo-
~ My Chemical Romance is done. But it can never die. Because it is not a band- it is an idea. ~
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