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.
10
"Frank would you talk
to me?" I asked, taking my eyes off the road to look at him quickly,
before turning back to concentrate on driving us home.
He didn't answer me, just
continued looking out the window.
Never, in my month and a bit of knowing him - properly at least - had I experienced
such a long period of silence in his presence. He must be really pissed off
with me, because usually he'd be talking a mile a minute, not silently
contemplating the ways in which to kill me. Or at least, that's what I assume
he's doing.
For the last hour I've been trying to drive us home safely at 7 o'clock
at night and to get him to talk to me - with no such luck - so I'm not really
sure what's going through his mind.
Probably something along the lines of: Kill... Must kill... Must kill Carrie
...
Or, knowing the mentality of a fuck-worthy-aged male: Masturbate ...
Must get away from Carrie so I can go home and masturbate ...
Because he knows he's not getting any from me, and he promised, after I
said 'yes' to this whole marriage thing, that he wouldn't see any girls -
because it would be pretty hard to explain away Frank on a first date with
someone who wasn't his fiancée to those who aren't clued in to the real
purpose of this arrangement, my parents.
So, with my no-sex-with-friends policy and the inability to have a girlfriend,
my guess is that Frank's going to get pretty well acquainted with his hand.
Anyway, that's beside the
point. Damn, I've been rambling to myself for so long I can hardly remember the
point. The point has long since gone blunt.
Well, let's put it this way: Since we left my parents' house - where we had to
explain several times, to both mother and father, that our wedding each other
was not a joke and then endure an interrogation/dinner, in which Frank was
questioned so thoroughly you'd think he was being interviewed for placement in
The Cabinet - Frank has not been happy with me.
"Frank, are you angry
at me?"
This merited at least a
raised eyebrow at me, before full returned attention to the window. What the
hell could be so interesting about glass?!
"Is that a
temporary-mute's way of saying 'Yes, Carrie, dear, the one who I'm going to
marry, I am angry at you'? Because, if so, you're very good at it"
I saw the faint traces of a
smile on his face before it stubbornly resumed its stony expression.
"Come on, dipshit, you
can laugh. It's okay. I know I'm funny."
I could see him resisting
the urge to correct my usage of his 'name' but, unfortunately, he remained
silent and I wasn't told 'Call me that one more time and I'll shove your head
down a toilet and flush' like I had been told the last time I had used
'dipshit' and not 'Frank' to address him.
I sighed. "How many
times do I have to tell you I'm sorry?"
"Until your parents
can at least stand me"
"Is that what this is
about?"
He turned to face me fully.
"Carrie, by you telling them by yourself, without me and totally
unexpectedly in a fancy shop surrounded by rich and snobby strangers all of
whom were trying to figure out what was going on, they resent me even more. But
if we told them the way we had planned to-"
"I'm sorry! It just
blurted out!"
"How did it just come
into conversation? Lemme guess: 'Mom, pink is so not my color. It kinda looks
good on Frank though. Do you think I could convince him to wear as pink tux to
the wedding - since I said 'yes' and all'????"
"I was defending
you!"
"How were you
'defending' me?"
"Well, Mom started on
how you weren't right for me, again."
"Again?!" He
exclaimed.
I gave him a sympathetic
look. "She'll come around eventually Frankie."
He gave a groan as he banged his head on the armrest - which I took for a sign
of agreement not a shortened 'Ow, that hurt!' - so I asked, timidly,
"Does this mean you're not angry at me anymore?"
He sighed and said after a
while, "I guess."
When we were only a few
blocks away from our apartments, I asked, "So, what're we going to do
about moving in together?"
Yes, that's right, my
genius of a fiancée decided to let slip to my parents, sometime during dinner,
that we lived together. And since they've decided to take it upon themselves to
invite themselves over to our 'home' every second Saturday evening, I guess
we're going to have to do something about it.
"Why don't one of us
just move into the other's apartment?" Frank suggested.
"Okay, I'll move into
yours."
"Uh, by 'one of us' I
meant me and by 'the other's apartment' I meant yours."
"But yours is
bigger."
"Mine also comes with
a pet called 'Mikey'."
"But mine is the size
of a land mine shaft - with less comfort."
"Carrie, I'm not
having you move into my bachelor pad."
I snorted. "Your
'bachelor pad' is bigger than my 'shaft'."
"I don't care how big
your shaft is, you can't move in."
"You're kicking me
out?" Mikey asked adorably, complete with watery eyes and quivering lip.
God, this kid is just too cute.
"Sorry Mikey, I tried
to tell her 'no'," Frank said, watching forlornly as I walked in with a
huge cardboard box containing most of the belongings I'd need to make this
work.
"Frank, where do I
dump my shit?"
"Dumps are taken in
the toilet and then flushed to get rid of the shit."
I rolled my eyes and placed
the heavy box on the sunken couch. "This will do for now."
"What about me?!"
Mikey demanded.
"You can have my
apartment - all to yourself," I offered generously.
"Uh, I don't think
that's such a good idea. Mikey should be deemed unfit to live by himself."
"Aren't you even going
to give him a chance to prove that he can or can't?" I argued on Mikey's
behalf, as he'd looked quite excited at having the opportunity of an apartment
all to himself.
"Hell no, Gerard would
kick my ass. You can have my bed, I'll take over Mikey's room and Mikey can
take the couch -"
"Hey!"
"-no arguments."
I frowned. "What if
Mikey doesn't want the couch?"
Frank rounded on Mikey.
"You don't mind, do you Mikey?"
"Yes!"
"See, Carrie, he -
What? You do mind?! You little-"
"Help me!" Mikey yelled.
I stood between a suddenly
homicidal looking Frank and an apparently defenseless Mikey.
"Frank will take the couch."
"No I won't!"
I decided to try a
different tactic. "Fine, I'll take the couch."
"Okay," both of
them agreed.
Fuck that backfired.
I knew one of them would
give in later on, when I went to 'bed' early, curling up pathetically on the
couch, deliberately snuggled to a thin blanket, when I knew all too well
there were warmer ones available.
Not looking at me as he was
determined to keep his own room, Mikey coughed.
"Erm… well goodnight."
As Mikey disappeared, off
to bed too, Frank sighed.
"Alright... Come sleep with me."
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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