Near To You - The Black Parade

Trish · 04-17-2008, 12:07 AM

Near To You
Rated 15+, mainly for language

Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own any of these people, except for Mel.

Chapter Index:
1/1
2/2
3/2
4/3

Trish · 04-17-2008, 12:42 AM

Chapter One

Rain poured heavily from the dark, gray sky, pounding down like a drum beat, threatening black clouds unleashing their fury upon the world below. Puddles formed on the sidewalk, black umbrellas flew open everywhere, cold gusts of wind sending teeth chattering and jackets zipping.

Melena slunk out of the storm, in through the doorway of a little, dimly-lit club, seaking shelter. She'd seen the clouds, decided she could use a nice walk in the rain, and headed out, wearing nothing but a pair of dark jeans and a gray tanktop, battered black Converse sneakers being soaked through by puddles. The weather had turned worse than she expected, and the walk home was too long to risk.

Warmth flooded over her, fogging up the thick-rimmed glasses that sat on her nose, rain splats blurring her vision. The atmosphere was nice, the din of about a hundred people humming in Mel's ears, erasing all thought, a band playing something fast and furious on stage. She spotted something that pleased her, and smiled as she sauntered across the crowded room, weaving skillfully between people.

At the bar, she ordered herself a drink, taking a stool and watching the band play. They were a cool group, her kind of people--dressed completely in black, determined looks on their faces. The lead singer was tall, with long, raven-colored hair, dark eyes, and beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. On bass was someone who looked a bit like the singer--his brother?--with brown hiar and glasses. On one guitar was a guy with a frizzy afro, on the other a guy with black hair and a pierced lip and nose. The drummer was blonde with blue eyes.

The bartender handed Mel her drink with a smile, seeing the bags under Mel's eyes, knowing that she was going to be a high-paying customer.

And yes, Mel did want to slam down a few. Forgeting would be really very nice. In fact that was the reason for her cold shower in the rain--soft, fat drops of wet, splashing on her face, shivering in the cold weather, causing herself to be perfectly miserable, sometimes took the edge off of things.

Oh, but this would do far better.

She finished off the first quickly, enjoying the cool liquid pouring down her throat, giving everything a comfortable, fuzzy edge. Another brought her words to a slur, her mind to a blur, a giggle rising up her throat. She glanced at the band--damn, those boys were getting cute.

Soft brown eyes flicked to hers, making eyecontact, holding her gaze. His eyes, they plead, though she couldn't understand why. Was it even her that he was staring at? Somehow, she was pretty sure that it was. She was amazed at how accurately he still played that guitar--all of his attention seemed to be focused on Mel, or someone else near her.

"Top me off, babe?" she asked the bartender, handing the attractive young man her empty glass. She glanced back at the guitar player, who leaned into the microphone to give a scream, not looking very into it. His face was twisted in conern, and when he jumped back into his origional position, he shook his head vigorously, as she grabbed her fresh drink and took a sip.

She couldn't stand this. She jabbed a finger at herself, tipsy, and mothed, Me? He nodded is head as he jumped up and down, and she shrugged. Why did this random stranger care about her? He didn't know her, didn't know her story, didn't know her valid reason for getting slammed on a Sunday afternoon. She shook her head at him and took another long gulp, giving him a sarcastic smile.

Please, he mouthed, a distressed, pained look on his face. It somewhat flattered her, that this adorable stranger seemed so concerned. It was incredibly weird, yes, but somehow heartwarming.

Sorry, she mouthed back. Her eyelids fluttered, and she looked at him apologetically, before turning around and falling forward onto the counter, everything fading to black.

-----

"The hell?" the girl finally muttered, eyelids fluttering open, as she attempted to sit up on the couch. She glanced around, a confused look on her face. Pain grew more and more apparent, as she winced and placed her fingertips to her temples. "Where am I?"

Frank smiled up at her from his seat on the floor, aiming the romote at the little tv and turning off Halloween. "You don't drink much, do you?"

"No, not a lot. Where am I?" She sat, placing her head in her hands and moaning softly.

"You gave me a hugeass scare last night. When I saw you pass out like that, I almost dropped my guitar in the middle of the song and ran over. Luckily it was the last song we were playing. I'm Frankie, by the way. Frank Iero. And this is my place. Nothing much, sorry, it's sort of a pit. But I couldn't just leave you there."

"Oh, uh, thanks. Melena, or Mel. That's me." She smiled. The consideration of this Frank guy was surprising, but sweet. He'd seemed concerned the night before, but not that concerned. Not enough to take her home with him and--oh, shit, probably pay for the drinks, too.

Frank smiled at her. "Any time." He had no idea why he'd taken responisbility of her, covered her drinks, taken her home, tried to convince her not to get hammered in the first place. But something had flipped inside of him when he saw her, sitting alone at the bar, eyes bloodshot, with purple bags underneath. The sorrow that she seemed to hold--more sorrow than anyone should have to expierience, he could see it in her bright green eyes. She had the damsel in distress act down, and his chivalrous side had gotten the better of him.

"I should be going," Mel murmured, though her expression still showed confusion, and Frank knew the pounding that was probably going on in her head.

"I don't think so, honey," he said, getting up and heading into the small kitchen. He came back with the Advil and a Coke, handed them both to her. "It's two in the morning. You've been out of it. Why don't you just go back to sleep--I promise I won't rape you."

Mel looked reluctant for a moment, but her face fell with defeat. She swallowed the pill and fell back onto the pillow, pulling a blanket up to her chin. What a kind stranger. "Thank you, so much. I owe you." She closed her eyes.

"Think nothing of it," Frank said with a smile, and turned the tv back on, volume low. It was nice, not being alone.