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.
31
"Carrie, come
on," Frank exclaimed through a yawn, banging his fist on the bathroom
door, "get out of the shower. You're taking ages! Carrie, I actually have stuff
to do today, get out! Come on!"
Scratching the back of my
neck and blinking rapidly to get the sleep out of my eyes, I emerged from our
bedroom, next to the bathroom, and stood behind Frank. "Who are you
talking to, dipshit?"
"You. Now would you please
hurry up and get out of the ba... Wait." He turned around and looked at
me, "But you're out here, you can't be in there... because you're out
here."
"Wow, you're smart at
six o'clock in the morning."
"But ... you're out
here. Who's in there?"
I listened and heard the
shower running. Oh holy fuck, there's a burglar in our bathroom, using up our
hot water. That motherfucker had better not have touched my Body Shop vanilla
soaps like Frank always does but says he doesn't-
"I don't know much but
I love you-" Gerard, with a towel wrapped around his middle and another
being used to dry his hair, exited our bathroom singing and stopped when realizing
Frank and I were standing in front of him, staring as he were Bubbles the chimp
carrying Michael Jackson around the apartment. "Oh. Hi guys."
I continued staring at him
wordlessly and Frank said, "Gee, why are you...? what are you? ... God,
never mind. Do you want some breakfast?"
Gerard beamed. "Yes
please."
This boy badly needs new
friends to bug, I
thought as I sleepily placed myself in the kitchen, looking around blearily.
"Gee, if you're going to be eating our Frank-made pancakes at our
newly-cleaned kitchen table, I must insist that you put some clothes on."
"Well you know,"
he said, sitting down and earning me to glare at him, "I like Frank-made
anything and I like being naked. So, maybe if I remove this towel, we all win -
well, not so much 'we all' as 'me' but you guys love me, so it's okay."
"Mm, you know, that's
not such a bad idea," Frank said, putting some plates and cutlery on the
table and I gave him my 'you're-sleeping-on-the-fire-escape'-look.
"Because Madonna's probably hungry and she can jump very high for such a
small dog for certain body parts."
"You two are such
ungrateful fucking slobs," Gerard huffed as he stood and reentered the
bathroom.
"I wonder why he's
here and Mikey's not," I murmured, sipping on a glass of water.
"Knowing him, Mikey's
probably at Gerard's unpacking his stuff for him," Frank replied.
"Not true,"
Gerard said, walking back in. "He's in his bed asleep."
With my back to Gerard and
my hands firmly over my eyes, I asked Frank, "Does he have pants on?"
Gerard removed my hands,
smirking. "No."
I yelped even though I
didn't see anything and covered my vision again. Frank laughed at me from the
stove. "Carrie, he's dressed, babe."
I calmly lowered my hands
and sipped some more water. "Oh."
"So, are you coming to
the gig tonight, Care-bear?"
I looked at Gerard, having
no idea what he was talking about, but Frank answered for me with, "Gerard
shut up."
"Frankie, what's he
talking about?"
"Yes Frank, what am
I talking about? Could it be about how we finally get to do a show in Jersey again and Carrie finally has the chance to see us
live at an actual gig? Is that what I'm talking about Frankie?"
"I don't know,
Gerard," Frank answered, a pained look on his face, "You talk a lot
of shit - do you know what you're talking about?" He put the plates
of pancakes down on the table but still turned around to the stove anyway.
"What's going on?
Frank, are you guys playing in the area tonight?"
"Eat your pancakes
Carrie."
"I want to go. You
guys, I'm coming to your show tonight."
Frank turned around to face
us again, with his hands braced on the counter behind him. "Gerard, now
look what you've fucking done."
"Well, you didn't even
fucking tell her in the fucking first place!"
Frank glared at his best
friend before looking sweetly at me. "Carrie, you've never been to a
concert before and I don't want you to get hurt. You're not coming, okay?"
"You can't fucking
decide for her," Gerard told him. Despite all the swearing and yelling
occurring I knew that they weren't really mad at each other - well I don't
think they were but you can never really tell with these two. "And it's a
first time for everything and I say it's about fucking time Carrie-bear finally
goes to a proper gig and not just one of our band practices."
"But our fans are
fucking crazy, Gee. I don't want my fiancée to be crushed by some fanatic with
every inch of their body tattooed with every of your lyrics."
Gerard stared into space
momentarily, looking thoughtful. "I don't think there are enough lyrics to
cover an entire body."
Frank shrugged. "I bet
there is, depending on size. Anyway the point is that she is innocent and naive
and small and frail - she's not going, end of story. Carrie, why haven't you
eaten anything? We've talked about this." He was looking at me, concerned.
"Stop acting like her
fucking mother," Gerard said for me, bringing Frank's attention back to
himself. "She won't necessarily get crushed-"
"Gee, look at her; she
would definitely come out with battle wounds. The only way she wouldn't, would
be if she watched the show from backstage - which is a stupid fucking way to
see a band live."
Gerard nodded his agreement
before stopping to pout. "But dipshit, she has to see us play!"
Frank waved his hands in
dismissal and shook his head. "I won't have her getting hurt,
Gerard."
"Um, hello," I
finally spoke up after clearing my throat and glaring at the both of them.
"Yeah, still here - hi. Frank, I'm not some porcelain doll, I'm sure I
could handle a moshpit."
Gerard threw his fists up
into the air triumphantly and poked his tongue out in Frank's direction.
"She wants to go! Hurray for brave midget girls!" He delicately
picked the piece of pancake I'd thrown at him off the end of his small nose. "Not cool, Carrie."
"Carrie stop squirming
or get off my lap," Frank demanded, holding my hips in an attempt to stop
me from bouncing around. The van was loaded with so much equipment that there
were only enough seats for five. It had been decided unanimously (by Gerard)
that I'd sit on Frank on the way to the concert hall. Unfortunately for poor
Frank, I was rather excited (and so was he, apparently).
"I'm sorry, I can't.
Too excited, have to move. Deal with it."
I squirmed again and Frank
made a sound I pretended to not hear before yelping and clamping down harder on
my hips. "Mikey you take her."
Mikey looked at me and then
the expression on Frank's face. "Um-"
"Wait, bad idea,"
Frank changed his mind. Awhile later I think I heard an actual groan come from
him and Ray was keeping himself amused by watching Frank try to keep me
immobile. "I hate you Carrie."
I ignored him but twisted
in his lap to turn and stare at a girl we'd just passed and who was walking in
the same direction as us, carrying a huge My Chemical Romance poster; Frank's
eyes rolled back into his head and he whimpered. "Look! One of your fans,
we should stop and say hello!"
Gerard sped up.
"No."
When I stared at him in outrage, he explained, "She'd probably attack you
and kidnap the rest of us."
"It's true," Bob
added, "They stole my girlfriend's dog one time." He'd been playing
on a PSP the whole time and being completely quiet.
"Why would they do
that?"
"They're crazy,"
Bob shrugged.
"The ransom was a kiss
from Bob," Mikey reiterated.
"Did she get her dog
back, then?" I asked, intrigued.
"Sadly, yes," Bob
answered solemnly.
"We're heeeeree!"
Gerard sung as loudly as possible, parking outside of the back exit.
"Carrie, off of poor dipshit and everyone out. We're heeeeree!"
Everyone jumped out and
crowded around as Gerard locked the van. We were all excited but Gerard and I were the jitteriest. I shoved my hands into my pockets and stomped my feet on
the ground to circulate warmth. "What's happening, what's going on, why
aren't we inside already?"
"Brian has to let us
in," Mikey told me, patting my head and smiling.
"Your manager? Oh okay
... I hope he hurries up, it's cold out here." Just as I finished the
sentence, a car pulled up beside the van and Brian came out. "Whoo, he's
here, he's here."
"Hi guys," he
greeted, briefly hugging them all. "Hi Carrie."
We'd met once before.
"Hi Brian. Open the
door before I throw up on you."
As everyone else helped set
up all the equipment, Frank and I stood out the back. He was smoking his third
cigarette furiously, leaning against the chain fence, next to me as I tried not
to passive-smoke and stared around at our surroundings. Most of the nerves had
worn off now and everyone was stuck in a more subtle excitement now. Gerard was
apparently getting into his zone and reading a magazine I had a suspicion was
not Rock Sound and had told me to leave him alone, in more blunt terms, until
right before curtain call. So I'd followed Frank outside.
"Sorry about in the
van," I said after awhile, managing not to giggle,
He stubbed out his
cigarette. "It's okay. Well, I mean, it's not okay but you know ..."
he lit another cigarette but didn't raise it to his lips.
"Nervous?"
"Yep. Every single
concert."
"You'll do
great." Wow, how lame.
He snorted. "Yeah,
thanks."
"No, thank you
for letting me come."
Without taking a single
puff, he threw the cigarette to the ground and stomped on it. "You're a
big girl now, Carrie - well, not literally. If you wanted to come I couldn't
stop you."
I stared at my feet - well,
my shoes, I stared at my shoes. "If you didn't want me to come-"
"I'm glad you're here,
Carrie."
My gaze shot to his face.
"Really? Because you don't seem like it."
"I am glad, I just
want to keep you in one piece, can you blame me?" I stared at him for a
minute before unrepentantly throwing my arms around him and squeezing tightly.
"Okay, ow, what was that for?"
"You're so cute!"
"No, not cute, I'm
manly. Manly and tough so don't call me that again, please."
I pecked his lips before
stepping backwards. "Cutie."
"Thank you."
"You're mostly
welcome. So, should we go inside?"
"Wait, I have
something for you." He pulled something out from under his shirt and from
around his neck and handed it to me. "A backstage pass."
"For me?" I
squealed, taking it. "Thank you, it's what I've always wanted, how
did you know?"
He ignored me. "Now,
remember all I'm about to tell you, okay? After the show, go straight to a
guard and show him your pass. Don't let anyone buy you a drink, no matter how
dehydrated you are, we'll have a refreshments table backstage. And don't talk
to anyone in the mosh; don't try to leave it without telling a guard, who can
help you, first; don't go to the toilet unless you absolutely have to.
And, for fuck's sake, if I see you crowd surfing I will kill your ass, call off
the engagement and tell all the tabloids you're having gender-correction
surgery next weekend."
"And if a stranger
offers me candy, no matter how pretty the pills are, don't take it?"
He looked at me
concernedly. "I can't believe I'm letting you do this."
"Frank, I was kidding
- I'll be fine, no, I'll be more than fine. Now get in there or you'll miss
sound check."
"Sound check, hm,
that's not really that important-"
"Get."
"Okay. But just let me
talk to a few people who will look out for you-"
"Frank."
Finally when he left my
side, I went down to the proper entrance, through a shortcut Frank showed me,
and was the first one in the audience, so I got front row standings. The large
room quickly filled up and people were bouncing around, off of surfaces and off
each other, before the music had even began, I was between two teenage boys
who, thankfully, were more interested in each other than who the hell I was.
Throughout My Chemical Romance's set they both helped me up eight times and
yelled at some forty year old redneck dick for me, so it wasn't that bad. At
least I had two bi-curious, adolescent boys to look after me. I found out they,
Dean and Richard, were both in complete lust with the Ways but I refrained from
bragging about how I knew the band incase they turned on me and left me to fend
for myself. They'd probably flip their bitch-switches and attack me if they
found out.
The one with the braces,
Richard I think, deliberately got extra jostled around until he was bleeding so
that they could come with me backstage. I left them with the medics to go in
search of my boys who were all crammed onto one couch, drinking a lot of water
and sweating profusely. When Gerard stood up to stretch and yawn, I took the
opportunity to jump on his back, yelling about how amazing they all were.
After four rounds of individual compliments, I reached Frank and wrapped my
arms around his middle. He turned his head and smiled tiredly at me.
"Hey, Carrie-bear."
"Hey," I replied,
kissing his slightly wet neck. "I am so in love with you."
"Did you have
fun?"
"Yep."
"You didn't talk to
any strangers did you?"
"Well, not strangers
but I did kind of meet and make two new friends." I noticed how he was
glaring at me. "I love you."
Frank sighed. "Love
you too."
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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