Wind-up Toy (Frerard) - The Black Parade

Yekith · 08-27-2008, 10:29 PM

Rating: 15 (I guess)
Genre: Romance, drama, mental illness, some unavoidable funny situations and something more. It is slash, but different; and things will go slow, you'll understand why.
POV: Gerard's (minus a few exceptions, and I'll say when that happens)
Summary: Just when Gerard was sure he was dispensable... street lights revealed something to him.
Disclaimer: I do not know the boys of MCR, and even less own them. Same with any other existing names related to them. This story is a product of my imagination. Never happened.
Author's Note: I had doubts to post this here because I know there are some fics with points in common with mine. I want you all to know that I started to write it (and post it -on another forum) in October last year, so I didn't copy or take ideas from any current fic here. If anyone has doubts, just PM me and I'll show you the proofs!
I'll try to update every 3 days at least at the beginning, then it might be less often because I don't wanna run out of chapters...so don't beg for instant updates. English is not my first language but this is beta-ed, so should be ok.
I loooove comments, so please do? :D

Chapter 1 Chapter 21
Chapter 2 Chapter 22
Chapter 3 Chapter 23 part 1 and 2
Chapter 4 Chapter 24
Chapter 5 Chapter 25
Chapter 6 Chapter 26
Chapter 7 Chapter 27
Chapter 8 Chapter 28
Chapter 9 Chapter 29
Chapter 10 Chapter 30
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20

Yekith · 08-27-2008, 10:30 PM

CHAPTER 1

Now I know you've been seeing red,
don't put a pistol to your head.
Sometimes your answer's heaven sent,
your way is so damn permanent.

There I was, driving on my way back from my dad's house. Just knowing that I had a three day ride ahead of me seemed to make me even more tired than I already was.
"Maybe I should have stayed there for the night." I said to myself.
But really, that wouldn't have been a good idea. The tension between my father and me during all the time I was there had been unbearable. Maybe he had been right to be mad. I was mad at myself after all.
I had fucked up really bad those last months. I had spent almost all my money in the worst way. I had forgotten to pay all my bills and I was now riddled with debt.
And as if that hadn't been enough, I ended up losing my job. But I brought that on myself.

Releasing one hand from the wheel, I searched for my cigarettes in the pocket of my worn out jacket. I took one and placed it amid my lips, using the blue lighter that had been laying on the passenger's seat to get the unhealthy stick ignited.
I took a deep drag and let it out slowly, watching the smoke escape through the car's open window.
The street I was traversing was almost deserted, so I gave myself a moment to relax, contemplating the night sky. It was only 8 p.m. so the full moon wasn't too high yet, but it was particularly luminous.
I enjoyed my cigarette, leaning my head on the back of the seat and letting the sweet summer breeze blow my black hair.

I laughed bitterly remembering my father's face when I told him what the main reason of my visit was. He had looked indignant when I asked for money to pay my debts. I knew that would happen, but I didn't have other choice. I had reached that conclusion after spending several days lying on my bed, just staring at the roof and pitying myself; using some of the little savings I had left to ruin my life even further, attempting to get deeper into a path that it'd be too hard to get out of later.
But I had suddenly reacted, telling myself that I had screwed up enough already. I had to stop my fall before getting worse, I was still on time.
I had decided that I'd get a new job and I would make it last this time.

However...to try to start all over again. I needed money or else I would lose it all. And I needed it now, not in a month. What I had saved was only enough to keep me fed. I couldn't ask my mom. She worked as a nurse and was always making miracles to get through each month, taking care of the house and helping my younger brother support his studies. I had thought of calling my father, but knowing him, this wasn't a subject to talk about over the phone. That's why I had decided to make the long trip to where he lived. What's more, it would help me get my head in order and would give me time to think.

After my parents got divorced, my father had found a new job that required him to move across the country. My brother Mikey and I weren't little kids anymore so he had considered it the best option.

So I had gone all the way there, and though I looked shattered when I arrived, my dad was very happy to see me. I hadn't been there in a year.
But his joy did not last. His face had gotten gradually darker and darker as I told him that I had lost my job and the reason behind it. He had gotten up and paced the room furiously when I filled him in with the details, telling him what I had been up to lately. There was no point in lying if I wanted to change my life.

He had screamed at me, then he had cried and I cried too. I had prayed for him to forgive me, telling him I was sorry. I had promised I would make the right choice this time, but I needed his help. And he had finally agreed.

After leaving his house, I had gone to a bank to deposit the money and had called my best friend to withdraw it; so he would be able to pay all my debts before my arrival. I trusted Ray with my life.

Honks woke me from my recollection, and only then I noticed I had reached a main avenue. As I was used to my quiet town, all the noise and bright lights made me feel uncomfortable. All of a sudden I felt small and lost. All of the confidence I had been trying to gather on the way to my dad's, all of the things I had tried to convince myself of, all of the plans I had made seemed to be slipping off my hands at that moment.

I felt like giving in. I was nothing. I was convinced that if I died no one's life would change. Sure, my family would be sad, but they'd go on with their lives. My friends would be hurt, but they'd get over it eventually. No one depended on me. I wasn't a person who was making a remarkable difference in anyone's life.

My dark thoughts got interrupted by yet more honks mixed with angry screams. The traffic was stopped. At which moment had I hit the brakes? I couldn't tell. I was amazed at how I could still be alive, as I didn't pay attention while driving most of time.

I stuck my head out of the window to see what was causing the jam, and what I saw was nothing I could have expected.

It was a small person who was dancing among the cars, happily skipping from side to side of the avenue, twisting and turning with both arms wide open, making reverences in front of the cars' lights as if they were spotlights.
It appeared to be someone very young, but I couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl. Long hair, at least shoulder length, covered the stranger's face; and the tight jeans and loose red t-shirt weren't telling me anything either.
Drivers were getting impatient, yelling at the dancer and hitting their horns untiringly. Some, tired of waiting and being ignored, passed him/her by dangerously. I felt a chill. The teen didn't seem to notice. Now was jumping up and down and clapping their hands. What was wrong with that individual? Was he/she on drugs?

I couldn't endure watching that. I quickly parked my car at the side of the road and got out, running towards the little person.
"Come on! Let's get you outta here, they want to run you over!" I said, getting near.
"L-lemme dance!" answered a childish voice that didn't allow me to decipher the gender either.
"You're stopping the traffic, this is not a place to dance..." I continued patiently, hearing a choir of insults coming from the drivers.
"O-of course it is! This....this is a d-disco don't you s-see? I...I s-saw it on TV!"
Seeing no other option, I picked him/her up by the waist and dragged him/her to the sidewalk kicking and screaming.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I asked, keeping my hand on "it's" wrist now. No answer.
"Hey..." I tried again reaching out for the face and getting the hair out of the way. I was met by a pair of bright hazel eyes, pupils rapidly and continuously moving from side to side. It wasn't normal. Perfect eyebrows, perfect nose, perfect skin. Too pretty to be a boy, but that's what he was. I knew it by the barely discernible shadow over his perfect mouth. He didn't look more than 15.

He smiled to me widely, extended the hand I wasn't holding and said in an enthusiastic tone: "H-hi! I'm Frankie. W-wanna be my f-friend?" Then he moved his head weirdly, like a nervous tic, while I shook his hand.
"I'm Gerard, pleased to meet you."
"I-I like your n-name." he stammered, smiling even more and blinking, trying to focus his eyes but failing. I couldn't help smiling too, he was endearing. But damn, he was surely high.

"You're coming with me until I know what's up with you, little man." I said walking him to the car. Unlocking the passenger's seat I got him inside. He didn't fight me.
Once I was there too I stared at Frankie. He seemed really out of it. He was swinging his legs, scratching his head compulsively, now and then shaking; and he was murmuring under his breath.
"Frankie...where do you live?" I asked him. Nothing.
"Did you hear me?" I insisted, touching his hair. He jumped, startled.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. But now that I got your attention...would you tell me where you live?"
Frank looked up at me, his eyes once again unable to stay focused. He seemed saddened for a while but then grinned.
"H-have you s-seen the giant f-flowers?"
"What...what giant flowers? Where?" I questioned, confused at his random change of subject.
"Duh! E-everywhere!" he stated visible irritated.
"Uhm no, sorry." I answered and he frowned but didn't reply.

"Frankie...what did you take?" I said, getting straight to the point.
He tilted his head.
"W-what?"
"Did you sniff something?"
"Hahahahahaha d-dogs sniff! I-I'm not a d-dog!. I l-like them th-though." he laughed. I noticed he got stuck at the beginning of sentences and also with some words in the middle, but spoke the rest rapidly. I sighed loudly. I was gonna need a lot of patience.
"Did you inject yourself with something?"
"Uh? Y-you don't do th-that to yourself. No. N-no you d-don't. S-someone else d-does. But F-Frankie was a g-good boy. N-not necessary. Nope." he shook his head and continued talking to himself.
"W-wanna candy?" he offered out of nothing showing me his empty hand.
"Maybe later, thanks..." I said trying to smile. This Frankie boy was really fucked up.

"Did you take any pills?" I proceeded with the interrogation. Frankie opened his mouth and hit his head with his hand as if he had suddenly remembered something important.
"N-no I didn't! I-I should have...I g-guess. Yes. D-definitely. B-but there was n-no one to give them t-to me. I-I didn't take m-my pills. No I d-didn't." the boy affirmed worriedly.
And at that moment my theory completely changed.