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.
The next week was so awkward that I just felt like telling Bert to shove it and apologizing to Frank. That was before Frank started acting like a little diva about the whole situation though.
It should have been so simple: Frank and I come to a compromise, I dump Bert after telling him I can't call off the wedding just because he gives me regular sexual contact, and we all live happily ever after in a shit-hole of a candy-encased world.
But no. Frank is ignoring both Bert and I, only talking to slip in a few snide remarks here and there.
I don't know what Frank's problem is, it's not like he's staked his claim on me - or has any reason to.
This afternoon, Bert had gone for the day to visit someone, and I was sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the television which wasn't even on. Frank was in the kitchen, making lunch for us. Yes, I said us - ever since
Bert had left Frank had actually been nice to me. But whenever I tried to bring up our fight, he'd quickly change the subject.
"Here you go."
I looked up to see Frank standing there and holding out a plate with a sandwich on it. I smiled and took it but said that I wasn't hungry when I saw what he'd put inside it. Frank frowned and knelt down in front of me.
"Carrie, eat it please. I'm really worried about you, you hardly eat anything at all." He sighed when I simply stared down at my lap and didn't answer him.
"What's wrong?"
I looked up at him. "Frankie, what's happening to us? You know I don't like egg."
"What - what the fuck does that have to do with us?"
"You never give me egg."
"So?"
"Look in the sandwich."
He did so and eyed the egg. "Oh, I'm sorry Carrie, I didn't mean to."
"Frank!" I exclaimed. "This isn't about lunch anymore! We've changed, aren't you worried about that?"
"No we haven't-"
"Frank, yes we have."
"Well if we have it might be because I lo-"
"Oh shit, was that the phone ringing?"
"No, wait, what? I need to tell you that I-"
I got up from the couch. "Tell me when I get back, okay Frank? I need to get the phone, it's probably Bert."
"Yeah," Frank muttered so he thought I couldn't hear him, "Bert."
I stopped and turned around to face him, confused. I've always gotten why Frank was angry at me - I was the one who'd slept with someone when I said he couldn't - but Bert had been his friend for a long time and he hadn't 'cheated' on him.
"Frank, do you hate Bert?"
"No, of course not." He grinned when I gave him a skeptical look, "Carrie, he's my friend and this hasn't changed that."
"Then why-"
"Because it hurts... Are you going to go get the phone?"
I just realized it was still ringing and walked over to pick it up. It wasn't Bert though. "Carrie, what the hell is wrong with you? You can't just leave the fucking phone ringing for fucking half an hour! What the fuck were you doing that was more important than me?"
"Hey Gerard."
"Hi."
"It wasn't ringing for half an hour, you moron. So, how are you?"
"Carrie, do not call me a moron or I will start acting like one. You do not want Moron Gerard to come out, he's-"
"Gerard, focus. I asked you a question: how are you?"
"I'm good - the tour's almost over so I can finally get away from all these fucking crazy people. Do you know
I put my underwear out on a line last night to dry while we stopped outside a gas station and when I checked on them today they were gone? Can you fucking believe that?! Someone stole my underwear! Luckily they were washed."
"Gerard, I didn't really need to know that."
"I'm telling as many people as I can as a sort of warning: people-will-steal-your-underwear-on-tour. Now, you've been warned, we can move on. How are you?"
"Well ... hold on." I covered the mouth piece and turned to Frank who was staring at me. "Frank I'll be back soon." I walked out of the living room and into Mikey's room (which Bert and I are currently sharing). "Okay, Gerard, go."
"How are you and Frank?"
I groaned and threw myself onto the bed. "Well, up until today Frank wasn't talking to me. I fucked up Gerard, I fucked up for good this time."
Gerard made cooing noises which I'm taking he thought were soothing. "Aw sugar, talk to me. Tell me about it and I'll make it all better for you."
"Nothing can make this better - not unless you can turn back time and put Frank back on tour so no one would find out I'm finally sexually satisfied-"
Gerard gasped. "Get out! You fucked dipshit, didn't you?"
"Well no, but you're close-"
"Carrie, don't tease him. You either fuck him or you don't - there's no two ways about it ... actually-"
"Gerard stop. I fucking fucked Bert!"
I heard a slow and sharp intake of breath. "Carrie, you can't be serious. Did you fuck Bert or, as much as it pains me to say this about a friend, did Bert rape you?"
"Well we kind of jumped each other."
"Carrie, if this is some kind of sick fucking joke you'd better tell me now. Because if I come back and find out you and Bert didn't get down and dirty, I will kill you slowly and painfully. With ropes and lit matches... And voodoo."
"I'm being serious. Gee, I had sex with Bert McCracken - and not just one time, we've made it a regular thing."
"How can you do this?! I'm not surprised Frank wasn't talking to you!"
"Gee, please don't, I feel bad enough about this as it is."
"Well, you did bring it upon yourself. Oh God- Carrie, he only came back from tour a month ago, he probably hasn't showered for ages-"
"Not true. I make him shower everyday."
"Oh? And, pray tell, how do you manage to do that?"
"I come into the bathroom with him, lock the door and make sure he stays under the water for at least ten minutes. He's also clean shaven - he says he likes how I like him like that."
There was a silence from Gerard. "But ... Frank… You fucked Bert instead of Frank?!"
"Bert's your friend. How can you be so surprised about this, you're supposed to like him."
"Bert is my best friend-"
"Exactly."
"- but that doesn't mean it's okay to sleep with him. I mean, I wouldn't."
"Yes you would," I corrected him, rolling my eyes at the phone.
"Moving on! Frank is the one you're meant to end up with. That's the whole reason this story was made-"
"Gerard, what story?"
"The story of our lives."
"There's a book form of a soap opera about us out there?"
"Not until I write it, no. But you and Frank have to get it on so my book can have a happy ending. So
goddammit; if only for me; dump Bert and make yourself want Frank again."
"I still like Frank, you moron, but now I like Bert aswell. And, like I've told you a dozen times before now, nothing is going to happen between Frank and I, so why should I confine myself to sex-dreams about dipshit when I could be in a relationship with Bert?"
"But you only like Bert while you love Frank."
"Oh for the love of fucking God, I do not love him! Why do people insist on ganging up on me and saying that I do?"
"Carrie, you have to stop lying to yourself. You are in love with Frank."
I wandered out of the room to the living room with the phone resting between my shoulder and ear. My eyes fell on Frank, sitting on the couch in a giggling mess as he watched something on the television. His hands were pressed palm to palm in front of his face, he was smiling adorably and his legs were tucked up under himself. And my heart rate increased as I watched, smiling fondly, from my place resting against the doorway.
"Yeah, Gerard," I said into the phone, "I think I am."
"What? 'I am'? You are what? Tell me!"
I shook my head and hung up before joining Frank on the couch to watch whatever the hell he was watching.
Things were fine again between all of us. We had three way conversations over the phone and everything was back to normal until Bert came back to the apartment and he and I engaged in an overly enthusiastic 'Welcome back Bert!'. I don't think Frank specifically minded our greeting hugs and kisses but, since Mikey's and his bedroom are right next to each other, I think he did mind the 'Welcome back Bert!'-sex. But that's just a guess that that is what he's not talking to us over.
He made it pretty clear that it was the noise coming from Mikey's room that kept him up 'nearly all night'.
"Oh shit," Bert said when Frank told us and as I bit my lip," Frank, I'm sorry." He turned to me, "Carrie you should have told me I was being loud and to keep it down."
God he was ignorant. I looked over at Frank and winced when I saw he was glowering at us.
I tried to talk to Bert about it later on but all he was interested in was getting laid (again). I pushed against his shoulders and tried to give him my best serious face - which was considerably hard to do when Bert McCracken's hand was trying to tickle its way into your pants.
"Bert, Frank is seriously not okay with us parading around as a couple."
He kissed both of my eyelids, then my nose and lastly my mouth. "It's just shock, Carrie-bear. When everyone gets used to how good we are together then it'll all be smooth sailing."
"Can you not call me that?"
"What's wrong with 'Carrie-bear'?"
"My father calls me that and, considering what part of your anatomy is pressing against my thigh, it's kind of uncomfortable for me," I lied. It just didn't feel right when it was Bert saying it and not Frank or Gerard or another one of my boys.
"Okay, that is disturbing. I'll stop."
I nodded and then sighed. Oh, he meant he'd stop calling me 'Carrie-bear', not that he'd stop trying to bang me...
Oh well.
The next Monday morning, four days later, I spent half an hour, during which I should have been sleeping, throwing up in the toilet bowl.
Frank must have heard my retching because he appeared in the doorway with ruffled hair and sleepy eyes, even though it was just past three. The back of my hand covering my mouth, I raised my eyes from the white porcelain to Frank's concerned face.
"Oh, Frank. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," I apologized, my voice strained. I really wanted him to stay and hug me.
He rubbed his eyes and grunted before walking back out. My eyelids felt like they were attached to heavy weights, my head was throbbing as if I'd been forced to listen to a tape of Gerard shouting his ramblings on replay for five hours, and I had yesterday's breakfast throw up splattering the tiles around me and speckled disgustingly on my chin. No wonder Frank had left.
Just as I was thinking that, Frank came back in and knelt down next to me. I looked up at him in confusion so he said, "Here."
I looked down and saw the two aspirins and glass of water he held out for me. I took them and thanked him.
"Where's Bert?"
I shrugged. "Still in bed I'm pretty sure."
"Figures," he grunted. "Are you going to be alright?" I nodded.
He muttered a 'whatever', got up from beside me and stumbled out for his bed.
I missed that bed.
It didn't seem as though I was welcome in it anymore though.
22
The next week was so awkward that I just felt like telling Bert to shove it and apologizing to Frank. That was before Frank started acting like a little diva about the whole situation though.
It should have been so simple: Frank and I come to a compromise, I dump Bert after telling him I can't call off the wedding just because he gives me regular sexual contact, and we all live happily ever after in a shit-hole of a candy-encased world.
But no. Frank is ignoring both Bert and I, only talking to slip in a few snide remarks here and there.
I don't know what Frank's problem is, it's not like he's staked his claim on me - or has any reason to.
This afternoon, Bert had gone for the day to visit someone, and I was sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the television which wasn't even on. Frank was in the kitchen, making lunch for us. Yes, I said us - ever since
Bert had left Frank had actually been nice to me. But whenever I tried to bring up our fight, he'd quickly change the subject.
"Here you go."
I looked up to see Frank standing there and holding out a plate with a sandwich on it. I smiled and took it but said that I wasn't hungry when I saw what he'd put inside it. Frank frowned and knelt down in front of me.
"Carrie, eat it please. I'm really worried about you, you hardly eat anything at all." He sighed when I simply stared down at my lap and didn't answer him.
"What's wrong?"
I looked up at him. "Frankie, what's happening to us? You know I don't like egg."
"What - what the fuck does that have to do with us?"
"You never give me egg."
"So?"
"Look in the sandwich."
He did so and eyed the egg. "Oh, I'm sorry Carrie, I didn't mean to."
"Frank!" I exclaimed. "This isn't about lunch anymore! We've changed, aren't you worried about that?"
"No we haven't-"
"Frank, yes we have."
"Well if we have it might be because I lo-"
"Oh shit, was that the phone ringing?"
"No, wait, what? I need to tell you that I-"
I got up from the couch. "Tell me when I get back, okay Frank? I need to get the phone, it's probably Bert."
"Yeah," Frank muttered so he thought I couldn't hear him, "Bert."
I stopped and turned around to face him, confused. I've always gotten why Frank was angry at me - I was the one who'd slept with someone when I said he couldn't - but Bert had been his friend for a long time and he hadn't 'cheated' on him.
"Frank, do you hate Bert?"
"No, of course not." He grinned when I gave him a skeptical look, "Carrie, he's my friend and this hasn't changed that."
"Then why-"
"Because it hurts... Are you going to go get the phone?"
I just realized it was still ringing and walked over to pick it up. It wasn't Bert though. "Carrie, what the hell is wrong with you? You can't just leave the fucking phone ringing for fucking half an hour! What the fuck were you doing that was more important than me?"
"Hey Gerard."
"Hi."
"It wasn't ringing for half an hour, you moron. So, how are you?"
"Carrie, do not call me a moron or I will start acting like one. You do not want Moron Gerard to come out, he's-"
"Gerard, focus. I asked you a question: how are you?"
"I'm good - the tour's almost over so I can finally get away from all these fucking crazy people. Do you know
I put my underwear out on a line last night to dry while we stopped outside a gas station and when I checked on them today they were gone? Can you fucking believe that?! Someone stole my underwear! Luckily they were washed."
"Gerard, I didn't really need to know that."
"I'm telling as many people as I can as a sort of warning: people-will-steal-your-underwear-on-tour. Now, you've been warned, we can move on. How are you?"
"Well ... hold on." I covered the mouth piece and turned to Frank who was staring at me. "Frank I'll be back soon." I walked out of the living room and into Mikey's room (which Bert and I are currently sharing). "Okay, Gerard, go."
"How are you and Frank?"
I groaned and threw myself onto the bed. "Well, up until today Frank wasn't talking to me. I fucked up Gerard, I fucked up for good this time."
Gerard made cooing noises which I'm taking he thought were soothing. "Aw sugar, talk to me. Tell me about it and I'll make it all better for you."
"Nothing can make this better - not unless you can turn back time and put Frank back on tour so no one would find out I'm finally sexually satisfied-"
Gerard gasped. "Get out! You fucked dipshit, didn't you?"
"Well no, but you're close-"
"Carrie, don't tease him. You either fuck him or you don't - there's no two ways about it ... actually-"
"Gerard stop. I fucking fucked Bert!"
I heard a slow and sharp intake of breath. "Carrie, you can't be serious. Did you fuck Bert or, as much as it pains me to say this about a friend, did Bert rape you?"
"Well we kind of jumped each other."
"Carrie, if this is some kind of sick fucking joke you'd better tell me now. Because if I come back and find out you and Bert didn't get down and dirty, I will kill you slowly and painfully. With ropes and lit matches... And voodoo."
"I'm being serious. Gee, I had sex with Bert McCracken - and not just one time, we've made it a regular thing."
"How can you do this?! I'm not surprised Frank wasn't talking to you!"
"Gee, please don't, I feel bad enough about this as it is."
"Well, you did bring it upon yourself. Oh God- Carrie, he only came back from tour a month ago, he probably hasn't showered for ages-"
"Not true. I make him shower everyday."
"Oh? And, pray tell, how do you manage to do that?"
"I come into the bathroom with him, lock the door and make sure he stays under the water for at least ten minutes. He's also clean shaven - he says he likes how I like him like that."
There was a silence from Gerard. "But ... Frank… You fucked Bert instead of Frank?!"
"Bert's your friend. How can you be so surprised about this, you're supposed to like him."
"Bert is my best friend-"
"Exactly."
"- but that doesn't mean it's okay to sleep with him. I mean, I wouldn't."
"Yes you would," I corrected him, rolling my eyes at the phone.
"Moving on! Frank is the one you're meant to end up with. That's the whole reason this story was made-"
"Gerard, what story?"
"The story of our lives."
"There's a book form of a soap opera about us out there?"
"Not until I write it, no. But you and Frank have to get it on so my book can have a happy ending. So
goddammit; if only for me; dump Bert and make yourself want Frank again."
"I still like Frank, you moron, but now I like Bert aswell. And, like I've told you a dozen times before now, nothing is going to happen between Frank and I, so why should I confine myself to sex-dreams about dipshit when I could be in a relationship with Bert?"
"But you only like Bert while you love Frank."
"Oh for the love of fucking God, I do not love him! Why do people insist on ganging up on me and saying that I do?"
"Carrie, you have to stop lying to yourself. You are in love with Frank."
I wandered out of the room to the living room with the phone resting between my shoulder and ear. My eyes fell on Frank, sitting on the couch in a giggling mess as he watched something on the television. His hands were pressed palm to palm in front of his face, he was smiling adorably and his legs were tucked up under himself. And my heart rate increased as I watched, smiling fondly, from my place resting against the doorway.
"Yeah, Gerard," I said into the phone, "I think I am."
"What? 'I am'? You are what? Tell me!"
I shook my head and hung up before joining Frank on the couch to watch whatever the hell he was watching.
Things were fine again between all of us. We had three way conversations over the phone and everything was back to normal until Bert came back to the apartment and he and I engaged in an overly enthusiastic 'Welcome back Bert!'. I don't think Frank specifically minded our greeting hugs and kisses but, since Mikey's and his bedroom are right next to each other, I think he did mind the 'Welcome back Bert!'-sex. But that's just a guess that that is what he's not talking to us over.
He made it pretty clear that it was the noise coming from Mikey's room that kept him up 'nearly all night'.
"Oh shit," Bert said when Frank told us and as I bit my lip," Frank, I'm sorry." He turned to me, "Carrie you should have told me I was being loud and to keep it down."
God he was ignorant. I looked over at Frank and winced when I saw he was glowering at us.
I tried to talk to Bert about it later on but all he was interested in was getting laid (again). I pushed against his shoulders and tried to give him my best serious face - which was considerably hard to do when Bert McCracken's hand was trying to tickle its way into your pants.
"Bert, Frank is seriously not okay with us parading around as a couple."
He kissed both of my eyelids, then my nose and lastly my mouth. "It's just shock, Carrie-bear. When everyone gets used to how good we are together then it'll all be smooth sailing."
"Can you not call me that?"
"What's wrong with 'Carrie-bear'?"
"My father calls me that and, considering what part of your anatomy is pressing against my thigh, it's kind of uncomfortable for me," I lied. It just didn't feel right when it was Bert saying it and not Frank or Gerard or another one of my boys.
"Okay, that is disturbing. I'll stop."
I nodded and then sighed. Oh, he meant he'd stop calling me 'Carrie-bear', not that he'd stop trying to bang me...
Oh well.
The next Monday morning, four days later, I spent half an hour, during which I should have been sleeping, throwing up in the toilet bowl.
Frank must have heard my retching because he appeared in the doorway with ruffled hair and sleepy eyes, even though it was just past three. The back of my hand covering my mouth, I raised my eyes from the white porcelain to Frank's concerned face.
"Oh, Frank. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," I apologized, my voice strained. I really wanted him to stay and hug me.
He rubbed his eyes and grunted before walking back out. My eyelids felt like they were attached to heavy weights, my head was throbbing as if I'd been forced to listen to a tape of Gerard shouting his ramblings on replay for five hours, and I had yesterday's breakfast throw up splattering the tiles around me and speckled disgustingly on my chin. No wonder Frank had left.
Just as I was thinking that, Frank came back in and knelt down next to me. I looked up at him in confusion so he said, "Here."
I looked down and saw the two aspirins and glass of water he held out for me. I took them and thanked him.
"Where's Bert?"
I shrugged. "Still in bed I'm pretty sure."
"Figures," he grunted. "Are you going to be alright?" I nodded.
He muttered a 'whatever', got up from beside me and stumbled out for his bed.
I missed that bed.
It didn't seem as though I was welcome in it anymore though.
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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