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.
18
I finally let my boys leave
(with the promise from Frank that he'd call me every day) and, after, I immediately
went inside to call some other friends for company. I'd spent all these months
surrounded by the members of My Chemical Romance and now, without them, I need
other people with me in their absence. Daisy, my best friend for a long time,
came over straight away and, as she's never heard them before, I made her
listen to both of My Chemical Romance's albums. I'm now sure she's one of their
(newest but) biggest supporters. When I got upset about receiving no
phone calls from Frank despite the promise, Daisy dragged me out of the
apartment to New York
where her artist boyfriend, Josh, was having a huge art exhibition - his first
solitary one, which was a big deal since it would give him heaps of exposure.
The two had been dating for only a couple of months but she'd already moved
into his home with him and they were looking pretty serious.
My impression of Josh was
that he was gay but Daisy giggled and told me that he was just very pretty and
slightly feminine. He was tall and blonde; talented and proud; kind, sweet and
in love with my best friend. I liked him and I told Daisy so when she asked me
eagerly for my opinion.
She giggled happily.
"I know you'd like him; how could you not? Anyway, he likes you too - his
exact words, I think, were 'she's adorable! Can we keep her?' I told him you
belong to Jersey and a beautiful boy named
Frank, don't worry."
I opened my mouth to
protest but closed it, knowing she wouldn't listen - she'd somehow gotten it
into her head that I'm madly, head-over-heels, in love with frank. "So he
doesn't mind me staying with you guys while I'm here?"
She smiled and waved her
hands dismissively. "Of course he doesn't mind, there's more than enough
room for you in the pent house."
My jaw dropped. "'Pent
house'? I thought you said he was a 'starving artist'!"
"He would be - if his
dad wasn't the mayor."
I pushed her shoulder and
sat back (we were in a taxi on our way to their place). "You little
tart!"
She giggled. "I know,
right?"
But I knew she was only
playing. I saw the way she looked at Josh (for the brief time which had been
our first meeting at a cafe we'd passed and then stopped at when Daisy had
called 'Stop, stop, stop! Carrie, look there's my man, Josh!") and I'd
seen him return the look. They were in love and it was so perfect it almost
made me sick.
It definitely made me jealous.
"No, Daisy please, I
don't want to go," I protested, pulling my arms out of her grip and
curling myself up smaller on the couch in the adjoining room to the three
bedrooms the pent house had. She was trying to get me to come with her to
Josh's exhibition but I didn't feel like socializing with artsy socialites who
I didn't know. "I just want to sulk right here until three months is up. I
don't feel like meeting people in a room full of paintings, press and waiters
carrying trays of champagne which I know will be taunting me."
"You have to
come Carrie- how is staying here in a big empty apartment with nothing to do
going to take your mind off being away from Frank?"
"Who said this is
about Frank?!" I protested, shooting upright, glaring at her being so
goddamn right.
"Honey, we both know
this is about him. So let's just go and have fun - he definitely is."
I narrowed my eyes.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Carrie, he's on tour.
What's the chance he's shagging some groupie right bloody now?"
I suppressed a giggle and
tried to look upset with her - she's English and I love her accent and when she
says words like 'shagging'. "He's not like that, Dais."
"Okay, he's young, very
attractive, in a band and he's not going to give into all those manly urges
when all those barely-clothed birds are shaking their asses and throwing
themselves at him? He's bound to crack under the pressure."
I threw my face in the
cushion, growling. "You're right."
She poked my side. "Of
course I'm right, you daffer. He's having fun, don't you want to
aswell?"
I looked up from the
cushion. "See, I would go, you know to support Josh and all, but I
uh, I don't ... have anything to wear..." I finished pathetically.
"Carrie, we're the
same size, you can borrow something of mine."
I groaned and started to
tell her how unhappy I was that she wasn't dumb and didn't buy that. She stuck
her tongue out at me and we went into her room to get ready.
I guess I was going.
Oh crap, I am going, I thought, a couple hours later in a
limousine (my jaw dropped when I first saw it and Daisy laughed at me. She'd
turned sophisticated on me) with the happy couple on the seat opposite me. I smiled as I watched them looking at each other, hands clasped together.
He really was a sweetheart. When we'd been standing outside on the sidewalk,
waiting for our ride to the gallery which would be housing the exhibition, Josh
had come running up roses in hand. He'd handed Daisy a bouquet of a dozen red roses
and then, even though he didn't know me hardly at all, handed me a beautiful
long-stemmed rose.
The art gallery was
decorated beautifully ands covered in hundreds of little, golden fairy lights.
I stared up at it, a scowl on my face. It was trying to intimidate me - it was
kind of working.
I felt like I was a pig, living in a meat factory, being fed three times the
amount all the others got. It was like, everyone else knows you were going to
be killed and made into bacon, but you're too stupid to realize. Everyone
turned to look as the artist of the event entered with his girlfriend and they
smiled at the couple. I'm convinced it was then - when they all saw me and, as
a collective, stopped smiling because I was unfamiliar - that an unanimous
decision was made to not talk to me.
The whole night, well at least the time I was there, no one smiled at me,
approached me, looked my way... or anything. I got a rude 'Move!' but that was
because I was hiding behind the stand where the host wanted to get to, to use
the microphone.
Since the night wasn't
really 'fun' for me and the stupid heels were cutting off the circulation to my
ankles where they buckled up, I glared and pushed my way through the swarming
crowd of people to get to my best friend.
"Carrie! Where have
you been? I've been looking-"
"Um yeah. I've not
been feeling too good, plus I left Frank's dog in his and Mikey's apartment
alone for almost three days."
"You idiot!" She
almost yelled. "Does it have anything to eat?"
I hesitated.
"...Itself?"
She hit my arm playfully.
"Go back to your crush's bitch then, just don't be a stranger again. I
missed you, ya know?"
"I missed you too. Can
you please tell Josh that he's brilliant and I enjoyed this?" I started
fidgeting. "Oh and... would-you-like-to-be-my-bridesmaid?"
Thankfully, since we've
known each other for years, she knew what I'd said.
"Aw bless, Carrie! You're nervous."
"I am not!" I
retorted.
"Yeah you are, you're
fidgeting. So, what was it you said, again?"
I glared at her. "You
know damn well what I said."
"I know, I just like
to see you squirm."
I sighed. "Would you
like to come to New Jersey
to my pretend wedding to walk down the isle before me to make it look like I
have friends who wouldn't mind being the bridesmaid when I get married?"
"Sorry, after all the
rambling, I forgot the initial question."
"I'll hit you," I
warned.
She laughed. "Okay,
okay."
I stomped my foot and
growled, exasperated. "Well? What's your answer?"
Daisy pulled me into a hug.
"Of course I'll be your bridesmaid."
"Goody, so glad you
accepted Dais-dear, I thought I'd have to hire a teletubbie and force it into a
dress - that or make a new friend."
"I would have gone
with the teletubbie, sounds like fun."
"Do you think you can
tune the television in its stomach to play porn?"
Daisy smirked. "I
don't know but we should find out, eh?"
"You're in a
relationship, Dais!" I shrieked, trying to sound disgusted and outraged.
"Hey, you're the
engaged one."
"Yeah, your
relationship is real though," I protested. "Okay, this has been fun
but I have to leave or I won't get to the plane in time to sit next to Po ."
"Who's Po ?"
"The gay teletubbie-"
"Oh! The purple one! I
bet the dwarf inside is hot."
When I got back to New Jersey , I squealed
in excitement, jumping up and down when I saw I had 12 messages - maybe Frank
hadn't forgotten about me. As I pressed 'Replay' on the answering machine, I
crossed my eyes and swore. I'd stubbed my toe in the process of my jumping
around - my celebratory ritual, kind of- and it had mildly stunted my
excitement over having people love me enough to leave me messages.
Messages are like lollies - I can't eat them because they're too fatty but I
like to get them anyway.
The first message was Ray
telling me proudly that he'd gone door knocking in some unknown neighborhood
until he'd found someone kind (and insane) enough to let him in and use their
bathroom to have a shower. He told me he used all of their soap (because they
didn't off him a cup of tea) - I laughed.
The next one was Gerard
informing me he'd peed three times that day. He also imitated the beeping noise
my answering machine made - I agreed, it sounded like a cat being trodden on
but he didn't have to be mean and mock it. I soothingly patted the machine and
cooed. It'd be all Gerard's fault if one day it goes on strike and stops
working.
I found out that most of
the messages left were from Gerard - apart from my agency's secretary informing
me my week's pay had been delayed but it would be forwarded to my bank account ASAP
and one from the lovely Bob.
I sat down, pressed 'Play All' button and listened to the rest.
"Carrrriiiieee!"
Gerard's voice shrieked. "Why aren't you home? You don't have a life - I
am your life. Therefore you should be picking up right now and worshipping me.
You know you want to." There was a pause of just his breathing.
"Fine be that way then"...
"Carrie, love"-
it was Gerard again -" ignore the last message, I was man-PMSing. That
Girls' Night In must have had side effects. Bob even asked me to shave his
legs. Anyway, call me back, bitch, 'cause I love you."...
"Carrie, where the
hell are you?!" Gerard demanded in the next message. "I is melting
without you ... noooo!" ....
"It's Mikey and
Gerard!" Gerard announced enthusiastically in message number 7.
"Hi Carrie!"
Mikey shouted. "We miss you and Gerard is having withdrawal symptoms - I
think the only way to cure them is for you to send over a part of your body so
he can have some peace-"
"Mikey, you're
sick," Gerard interrupted. "P.S: Carrie, I love your hair, send me
over a lock."
"We have to go-"
"No we don't!"
"Gerard, yes we do.
Carrie, call us back."...
The next few were Gerard
reporting to me the manner and frequency of his bodily functions. He was cute
(and disgusting) but Frank hadn't left any messages - not a single one. I
played the last one, hoping it was my fiancée, but my ears were met with Bob's
voice instead.
"Carrie, we just
played the most amazing show, I wish you were here! Yeah, sorry about that, I
bet you wish you were here too-"
"Damn straight,"
I told the answering machine, pouting.
"-Anyway, I saw Gerard
calling you heaps and I just want you to know: no matter what he says, he is
not acting or being treated like an unhealthily important rockstar. He's
fighting with the tour manager, the bus driver doesn't like him and our guitar
tech doesn't respect him. Aswell as that, he's avoiding groupies and drugs, and
he gave the last ten dollars in his pocket to a homeless person who keeps on
trying to sneak onto the bus. So, no sex, drugs and money, no matter what he
tells you. The only ass he'll be seeing on this tour will probably be his
own."
I laughed. "That'd be
right."
"So, yeah ... we miss
you. Call me." Bob ended the message with a phone number.
I checked the message to
see it had been left only half an hour ago, so I dialled the number.
Bob answered.
"How did you get this number?" He growled.
"Uh, you gave it to
me."
"Carrie?"
"Jesus?"
"Carrie!"
"Jesus!"
"Carrie, stop being a
whore. How are you? Where've you been? How's Frank's dog? Got anymore photo
shoots? Been keeping yourself bu-"
"Whoa, calm down there
Sparky," I cut in. "I'm fine, I was in New York ... and what were the other
questions?"
"Oh, never mind. So
why were you in New York ?"
"Visiting a friend-"
He gasped, "No!"
I nodded though he couldn't
see me. "Yes, the rumors are true, I have friends."
"Wow. So you're back
now?"
"Well duh, Jesus.
Enough about me anyway, what's going on with you guys, Jesus?"
"Well Mary's a slut,
God's being an ass and The Apostles want a raise-"
"Bob..."
"Oh, so it's 'Bob'
now?" He chuckled. "Okay, I'll be nice and answer properly. We're all
okay but Frank's getting worn out very quickly."
I felt my hope rise.
"Is that why he hasn't called me?"
"He hasn't called you
yet?" Bob sounded concerned and the hope that had risen to my throat
plummeted and fell out of my butt. "Well, don't worry, I'm sure he will
soon."
I sighed. "Yeah .. so
tell me about ..."
We talked for nearly two
hours and Bob calling me over the next month became something I knew I could
count on. Over the entire month, Frank only called once - it was on my cell
phone and while I didn't have it on, so he'd left a voicemail.
"Carrie-bear, I'm so
sorry it's taken this long for me to call you. I've been sick and the doctor we
saw last week thinks it's an iron deficiency problem and I've got pills now.
So, I didn't mean to-"
I stopped listening at this point, saved the message and lay down on my bed,
smiling. He hadn't meant to not call. I was happy now.
One month down, another two
to go...
xo-
~ My Chemical Romance is done. But it can never die. Because it is not a band- it is an idea. ~
No comments:
Post a Comment