~X~ Fix Your Eyes ~X~: Chapter Six

DISCLAIMER: I do not own My Chemical Romance.

Author's Note: All right. Seeing as I've been adding a hell of a lot of Feeling This, I thought I should add another chapter of this. I have to even out the chapters.
I may also end up adding something I wrote for a contest. It's original, but I kinda like it. I have to see how things go first, though.

Name: ~X~Fix Your Eyes~X~
Pairing: Frank/Gerard (My Chemical Romance)
Genre: Romance/Angst
Rating: PG-13

Chapter 6. Gerard’s Promise
Frankie

It was hard. Okay, strike that. It was really hard.
Gerard barely got through it. I barely got through it. There were relapses, there was blame, and there was anger. But no way was it as bad as it had been before.
In the middle of the night, I laid my head on his chest. He wrapped and arm around me, fingers gently tracing over my side. Gerard had finally recovered, and I was so happy.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“Love you back,” I answered, snuggling up to him.
“How long has it been that we’ve done this without me getting up for a drink?” Gerard asked.
I smiled and kissed his chest. “A long time. I missed it.”
Gerard nodded and grinned down at me. He looked so cute with his hair falling into his face. I sat up and gave him a peck on the lips. “So, we’re recording tomorrow, right?”
Gerard nodded, eyes closed. “Yeah. ‘Ghost of You’ first.”
I just held him closer. “You know…”
“What?” he asked, his eyebrows knit together. “Something wrong?”
And suddenly I couldn’t bring myself to say it.
So I smiled and answered, “No. I guess I was just thinking.”
How could I tell him that fame had ruined his life once, and that it could do it again? And how I hated being photographed everywhere I went? And how I (selfishly) wanted him all to myself?
But most of all, I wanted him to be happy. So I bit my tongue and tried to smile as I watched him drift off to sleep.

Author's Note: So yeah. If the formatting's off, I'm sorry, but my computer is bitching and bitching and BITCHING at me tonight.
Comments please! <3

Feeling This: Chapter Four

DISCLAIMER: I do not own blink_182, Angels and Airwaves, or +44.

Author's Note: Hey hey hey!
Yeah, so, last chapter, something actually HAPPENED. Which is good, y'know.
This story only has seven chapters (sorry), but there is a sequel that will be coming up right after. I wrote this before I even started the blog, and I am currently starting work on the next one (which is currently unnamed). I also have the rest of ~X~Fix Your Eyes~X~ and ~X~Take Your Gloves~X~ to add onto here. Then there's my Percy/Oliver MPreg fanfic (currently on my fanfiction.net account.) You can to that account with this link: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/408067/allikitty699
I'll be taking all of my fics from there and transferring them to here. None of my bandfics can be found there, though, due to a rule that states that no fics may be written about actual people. (There's no way to get around it. I tried.)
So, without further ado, chapter four.

Name: Feeling This
Pairing: Mark/Tom (blink_182)
Genre: Romance, slightly AU
Rating: PG-13

Chapter 4: Party Song

“So, where are we going?” Scott asked. It was 11:30, and Mark was climbing into his car.
“Don’t be nervous,” Mark said in response to Scott’s flickering gaze. “We’re just going to a party. We just gotta pick up Travis.”
Scott raised an eyebrow. “What about Tom? I thought you two couldn’t wipe your asses without the other one right beside you. OW! Jesus, Mark!”
“Say it again and I’ll hit you further south,” Mark barked. “Tom wouldn’t come along, anyway. I tried to get him to, but he decided to stay home alone, per usual.”
“I can’t believe you think Travis is gonna be able to get out.” Scott shook his head. “You know his mom put bars on his window?”
“He’s in a lot greater danger inside than out,” Mark pointed out. “That ‘falling down’ shit only works a few times. I didn’t think his mom was that fucking crazy.”
“She’s not,” Scott replied, flipping on the headlights. “Bradley is, though. I mean, it’d be pretty damn rough for most kids, but Trav… If his heart rate picks up even a little too much, he’s fucked.”
“Yeah, I know.” Mark sighed. “With his mom being so cuckoo for Cocopuffs about his health, you’d think she’d realize that him constantly getting his ass handed to him is a slight detriment to his health.”
“No shit.” Scott squinted into the distance, looking for Travis’s house. “She keeps waiting for Trav’s dad to come home, but then she goes off and dates bastards like Bradley.”
“I’m sorry, but after nine years, he’s not coming back.” Mark kicked his feet up on the dash. “I’m just pissed that the asshole keeps calling and getting Trav’s hopes up.”
“Oh, Trav knows he’s gone for good. He’s not stupid. He just agrees with his mom ‘cause he loves her. He won’t tell her it’s bullshit.”
“Well, yeah. She’d fly off the fucking handle and go all ‘wire hangers’ on his ass.”
“Someone needs to tell her to pop a couple hundred Valium and shut the fuck up.”
They turned into Travis’s driveway and hopped out. Scott rang the doorbell while Mark tapped at one of the fake plants on the porch.
Travis’s mother came to the door. “Oh, hello Scott.” She smiled gently. “What are you doing here?”
“Mark and I are staying overnight at Tom’s, and we wanted to know if Travis wanted to join us.” It was the same lie Scott gave Mrs. Barker almost every week. If she ever found out all the times Scott took Trav to the movies or the mall, she’d have a goddamn conniption.
Mrs. Barker bit her lip, then sighed. “I suppose that would be all right.” She called up the stairs. “Travis? Scott and Mark are here to take you to Tom’s.”
Travis sprinted down the stairs and through the hallway to grab his shoes.
“Not too fast, Travis!” Mrs. Barker squealed after him. “Your heart.”
Travis went to the door, shoes on. “I apologize, Mother.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Be home by noon,” Mrs. Barker instructed. “And don’t do anything careless. Take your pills with you, and remember to keep your jacket on, it’s getting cold. Oh, and –“
“Mother, I know,” Travis interrupted. “I’ll be fine. Goodbye.”
With that, Scott slammed the door in Mrs. Barker’s face.
“That’s a nice-looking shiner,” Mark told Travis, brushing the side of his face. “Where can I get one?”
Travis’s hand flew up to shield his eye. His visible eye widened in silent panic. “Uh – um – I f-fell.”
“You see to be falling down a lot,” Scott replied, unlocking his car.
Travis shrugged offhandedly. “I’m clumsy.” After several seconds of awkward silence he asked, “So, we’re going to Tom’s?”
“Travis. How many times have we gone to Tom’s when we told your mom we were going to?” Mark asked. Travis averted his eyes and stared at his shoes. He was always a little standoffish with Mark.
“We’re going to a party,” Scott grumbled. “And of course, I’m the designated driver.”
“And I’m the designated drinker,” Mark added, grinning.
“We’re going to a party?” Travis breathed. “Oh no, Scott, no. I’m not supposed to go to parties, you know that…”
“You’re not supposed to do anything,” Mark replied. “Especially with Bradley hanging around.”
Travis curled up awkwardly at the mention of his mother’s boyfriend. “He’s not that bad,” he whispered.
“Bullshit,” was all Scott said. “This the place?”
Mark pressed his nose against his window. “Yup. This is it. Pull over here, I see a space.”
“Yeah, I see it, Mark, I’m not fucking blind, you know…”
“Scott, I think he meant the other space.”
“Trav, you start telling me how to drive and I will turn this car the fuck around.”
“He was right, man, I mean that space…”
“Shut the fuck up and let me concentrate, you assholes!”
Scott parked next to the sidewalk. Mark lifted a six-pack of beer out of the trunk and led Scott and Travis into the backyard. “Wrong spot,” Mark told Scott as he switched his beer for six shots of tequila.
“Bite me, douche,” Scott answered, glancing around the party. Travis’s arm snaked up and wrapped around Scott’s arm.
Mark saw this sign of anxiety instantly. “Come on, guys, mingle. No one’s gonna hang with you if you just stand there.” He walked off into the throng.
“Do you wanna come to a party?
My friends picked me up in their truck at 11:30
This thing’s at a frat house but people are cool there
Reluctant I followed but I’d never dreamed there
Would be someone there who would catch my attention
I wasn’t out searching for love or affection
So I paid my three and the girls got in free
Shined the beer for tequila and we headed into the party.”
The music sucked. That was the first thing Mark noticed. A ska band was jamming in a corner of the lawn. A bunch of groupies stood around them, shrieking praise.
The next thing Mark noticed was the outrageous amount of college guys. One of them was doing a keg stand as the other brother of Fi Beta Dumbfuck stood around him, cheering him on. Every girl there was a slut, and every guy was an asshole. Mark had been hoping to get some ass, but he was beginning to think he’d rather just masturbate at home instead.
“And then in the backyard some terrible ska band
Someone in the background was doing a keg stand
This place is so lame all these girls look the same
All these guys have no game I wish I would’ve stayed
In my bed back at home watching TV alone
Where I’d put on some porn or have sex on the phone
Far from people I hate down from anywhere state
Trying to intoxicate girls to give them head after the party.”
And that’s when Mark saw her.
She was goddamn beautiful – model tall (probably 6’ 2”), slender, long blonde hair, and gorgeous, lamp-like green eyes. She was all waist and legs in a green mini dress. Mark though she was the kind of girl he’d introduce to him mom and propose to. Or the kind of girl he’d fuck stupid. He wasn’t particular.
“And then I saw her standing there
With green eyes and long blonde hair
She wasn’t wearing underwear at least I prayed that
She might be the one maybe we’d have some fun
Maybe we’d watch the sunrise.”
Mark sidled up to her with two beers in hand. “Hey.” He handed her one. She popped it open with grace and delicate ease before chugging it down in three gulps, then letting rip the most awesome, manly burp Mark had ever heard.
I want to marry this woman, Mark thought in awe.
The girl giggled and grinned, wiping her mouth. “Hi.” She shook Mark’s hand eagerly. “I’m Sharon.”
“Mark,” he replied, stunned senseless by the vision of beauty before him. “I was starting to kinda lose hope in this party before I saw you.”
She blushed. “Aw. How sweet. I know what you mean, though. This is horrible music. I want something to dance to.” And she promptly turned around and shook her cute little ass inches from Mark’s cock.
Mark gulped. She had an ass like Tom’s. “I want something you can dance to, too.”
Sharon looked over her shoulder, eyebrow up. “Huh?”
Mark mentally slapped himself. “I mean, uh, you know…”
She smiled. “No, it’s cool. You think I’m hot.” She leaned in, pressing her boobs together, showing off her impressive cleavage. “I think you’re hot, too.”
Oh, fucking thank you Jesus.
So they talked. For hours. About anything and everything.
And Mark hated her.
He could not get away. Every time he tried, she’d cut him off. All she could do was talk about every guy in every band that she’d fucked, how she did it, how he did it, how they acted after they did it. Her boyfriend was supposedly a roadie for Van Halen or some shit. The bitch was shameless. And it couldn’t be more obvious that she was trying to get into Mark’s pants.
“But that night I learned some girls try too hard
And some girls try too hard to impress
With the way that they dress with those things on their chests
And the things they suggest to me
I couldn’t believe what this lady was saying
The names she was dropping the games she was playing
She dated with guy who now rides for Black Flys
She was down with the wise well-constructed disguise
Well I’d rather go dateless than sit here and hate this
Her volume of makeup her fake tits were tasteless
So I said I’d call her but never would bother
Until I get turned down by another girls at a party.”
“Yeah, and this one time, I was sooo drunk, and I was with this guy..."
Mark silently thanked God when someone on the other side of the yard screamed.
Until, that is, they didn’t stop screaming.
Antony raced over, breathless, pure white. “I swear to fucking God, Mark, we didn’t do shit. I swear…”
“What do you mean?” Mark laughed nervously. His laugh faded when Antony’s lower lip began to tremble. “Dude. What the hell happened?”
Scott appeared over Antony’s shoulder. He was shuddering so hard his shirt was flapping. “Mark, it’s Travis. Something’s wrong.”
“Call an ambulance!” someone screamed. “Call a fucking ambulance!”
Mark’s stomach dropped at the same time that vomit climbed up to his throat. He shoved through the crowd like a madman, throwing screaming, drunken girls and dumbstruck guys out of his way. The crowd of rubberneckers parted to reveal Travis on all fours in the grass, his eyes squeezed shut in obvious agony, clutching at his chest. His breaths were growing nerve-wrackingly shallow, and his whole body was trembling.
“Shit.” That was all Mark could say. He wanted to go to Travis and rub his back, hold him, talk to him… But he was too frightened of hurting him to move. So there Mark stayed, rooted to the spot, staring as the EMTs strapped Travis to a strecher and wheeled him into the ambulance, Scott following along, gripping Travis’s thin hand. All Mark could do was stand and watch as two of his best friends rode off to the hospital, everything in the future horribly, horribly unclear.

Author's Note: It's a little longer than the other posts, but that's probably a good thing.
(The lyrics are to "Party Song" on blink_182's Enema of the State CD. As much as I wish I owned it, I don't. (It's a good song, check it out.))
Comments, please!

Feeling This: Chapter Three

DISCLAIMER: I do not own blink_182, Angels and Airwaves, or +44.

Author's Note: Ugh. I have a cold.
This means, unfortunatelyl, that I'm unable to update at home.
So, per usual, I'm updating from my favorite computer at school.
I feel like this is the chapter where things actually HAPPEN. The other ones are kinda slow, I know. I wouldn't say this is my favorite chapter, but I think it's somewhat decent.
Oh, and I should mention - my flash drive is AMAZING. It can hold everything. I love it as though it is my child - possibly more than that.
Oh, and yes, I shall add some of my fanfiction.net stuff later. The screen name is allikitty699, in case anyone is interested in looking it up.

Name: Feeling This
Pairing: Mark/Tom (blink_182)
Genre: Romance, somewhat AU
Rating: PG-13

Chapter 3: Fentoozler

“Hey, it’s the Faggoteers.”
Tom, Scott, and Travis all flinched. They knew what was coming.
Four smirking jocks stood before them, clad in football jerseys of their high school colors. One, a meaty blonde, flicked his cigarette. “Where the fuck is Mark?”
“I don’t know,” Tom snapped. “Get out of my fucking way.”
“Wasn’t talking to you, queer.” He stepped up to Travis, smirking. Travis stared at the ground, his lithe body trembling. “Where the fuck is Mark?”
“Leave him the hell alone,” Scott snapped. Everyone in the vicinity was well aware of how cruel it was to pick on Travis – he was so small and easily frightened.
“Look at me, Barker,” the jock commanded, not taking his eyes off Travis. When Travis didn’t obey, the jock sucked on his cigarette and blew it in Travis’s face. “What’s wrong, faggot? Scared of me?”
Travis shook his head anxiously.
The jock smiled over at his buddies, shooting Tom and Scott a challenging glance. Catching Tom’s gaze, he slowly moved his burning cigarette down, touching it to Travis’s thin arm.
Travis let out a yelp of pain and jumped away, clutching the burn mark. All four jocks instantly converged onto him, each one grabbing an arm or leg.
“Get the fuck off him!” Scott shouted, trying to pry one of the jock’s hands off of Travis’s thin wrist. Tom jumped on the back of the smallest one of the boys. This didn’t seem to phase Travis’s tormentors any – they shook the two nerds off as if they were flies. Tom and Scott landed in a pathetic pile on the pavement.
“Let’s shove him in my trunk!” one guy yelled.
“N-No!” Travis squeaked over the jocks’ roars of agreement. “No, p-p-please…”
“Hey, what the hell’s going on?”
Tom looked up and saw Mark strutting towards them, suited up in his own football jersey. He looked pissed.
“Hey, Marky.” The blonde gave him a sharp nod.
“Drop him, Jake,” Mark commanded. The four jocks instantly did as they were told, letting Travis fall to the ground.
Mark approached, shoving two of the football players away. He extended a hand towards Travis. “Hey, man, you okay?”
Travis nodded and grabbed his hand, dusting himself off when Mark pulled him to his feet. He grabbed his backpack and scuttled into the school without a backwards glance.
Mark landed a sharp jab to Jake’s shoulder. “What the fuck, dude?”
Jake shrugged and stamped his cigarette out on the pavement. “Shit, Mark, you know we were just havin’ fun.”
“Yeah? Well, quit having fun with these three,” Mark snarled. He turned to Tom, flinging an arm around his shoulders. “You okay?”
Tom nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay. Scott?”
“Fine,” Scott answered, brushing dirt off his jeans. He blushed when he saw one of the jocks puff out their cheeks and hold out their arms, giving them a bloated look. “I’m… Fine.”
Mark flipped the jock off. “All right, see you guys later,” he told Scott. He gave Tom a reassuring pat on the back and a wink. Tom smiled weakly and led Scott into the school.
“I’m serious this time, Jake,” Mark snapped once his friends and two of the jocks were out of sight. “Leave them the hell alone.”
“I don’t get the deal, Mark. They’re just a bunch of freaks.”
“Yeah? Well, those freaks are my friends.” Mark dug his hand into Jake’s pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. “Fuck, you guys are assholes. No wonder Tom complains about what douches you are.”
“Whatever.” Antony, the jock who’d made fun of Scott’s weight, pulled out his wallet and began rearranging the pictures, the way he did about twenty times a day. “I don’t really give a shit what those guys think.” He snapped his wallet shut before Mark could open his mouth. “By the way, I heard Becky Harmen – you know, the new cheerleader with the huge tits – is having a party tonight. You game?”
Mark thought back to what Tom had said a week previous about how he went out drinking every night. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I dunno, man. Tom’s getttin’ sick of my partying.”
“Well, yeah. That’s ‘cause he’s never partied.” Jake rolled his eyes at Antony. “Hey, why don’t you bring the Mickey Mouse Club along? Those kids gotta take the diapers off some time, right?”
“Dude, Tom would never come out drinking with me,” Mark snorted. Just trying to picture Tom wasted was a hell of a challenge. “And I don’t think Trav could handle it.”
“Then one of them can be the designated,” Antony shrugged. “You gotta bring Scott though, man. That fatty looks like he could down five keggars and feel nothing.”
“Hey, don’t be dicks about his weight,” Mark said, lighting up his cigarette. “He can’t help having a little more to love.”
“Dude. There’s more to love, and then there’s so much lovin’ it’d break your goddamn back.” Jake grinned devilishly. “You’re pal Tom must need to get on top. Otherwise he’d break like a fucking toothpick.”
Thinking of Tom fucking Scott made Mark’s cheeks flush and a tiny roar of anger flame up in his chest. “Shut the fuck up, Jake. I fucking mean it.”
Jake held up his hands. “Fine, dude, fine. But seriously. If those guys tag along, are you in?”
Mark sighed, giving up. “Yeah, sure. I’ll get Scott to drive. What time?”
“11:30. And bring beer. We’re gonna be swapping.” Antony pulled out his wallet again. “I’ll see ya, guys. I gotta get to class.”
“I’ve got a meeting with Donna in the janitor’s closet,” Jake announced. “See ya fags at the party.”
Antony swatted him before Jake trotted away.
Mark took a deep drag on his cigarette. This was gonna be one goddamn long night.

Author's Note: Everytime I had to write a gay slur, I winced. Anywho, comments, please!

Feeling This: Chapter Two

DISCLAIMER: I do not own blink_182, Angels and Airwaves, or +44.

Author's Note: Check out my neat little disclaimers that keep me from getting sued.
Anyway, I'm sooo happy that I found the file. Now I can finally put up chapter two.
I really like chapter two. I don't know why. Maybe it's because Travis is so cute and pathetic in a puppy dog kind of way.
Speaking of Travis, yes, I know Mark wrote "Stay Together for the Kids" and that Travis's mom died just before he started high school. But this is fanFICTION, my dear friends, and thusly I am changing whatever to suit my personal fangirl needs. XD

Name: Feeling This
Pairing: Mark/Tom (blink_182)
Genre: Romance, somewhat AU
Rating: PG-13

Chapter 2: The Air Is So Cold and Low

“I’m amazed you didn’t get caught,” Travis Barker told Tom, gnawing at a carrot stick. His big blue eyes were wide, staring out from his thin, pale face. “Seriously. How’d you get Mark out so quick?”
“Told him there was a hooker sidewalk sale?” Scott asked, mashing buttons on the Nintendo controller. “DAMMIT, MARIO, RUN FASTER!”
“Suck it, bitch!” Tom sneered at Scott. He turned to Travis. “I dunno. I just… Kicked his ass out.”
“I’m just surprised he went without a fight,” Travis shrugged.
“You kidding?” Scott snorted. “Mark would do anything for Tom. They’re, like, lovers or something.”
Tom blushed. “Oh, eat your fucking Doritos, fatty.”
Scott sucked in his noticeable paunch and frowned, looking hurt. “Hey, you don’t have to be an ass about it.”
“So, you like guys?” Travis asked innocently.
“What?! Fuck no!” Tom was astounded that Travis even knew what being gay was. Travis was so sheltered it was a miracle that he’d even left his house. Mrs. Barker was a little insane about her son’s health – he’d been born with a serious heart condition. This meant he couldn’t experience too much “stimulation”: no running, no shouting, no TV, and certainly no listening to loud music, much less playing it. It was rough for Travis not being able to openly listen to his friends’ punk music, but he could deal with it now that he had headphones.
Travis shrugged and checked his watch. “Oh, crap. I have to get home. Mother wants be back by 8:00.”
“Could you stop calling her Mother?” Scott begged. “It’s really creepy.”
“I agree,” Tom chimed in. “It makes you sound like an abused kid. Like in Mommy Dearest. Like, ‘If you don’t call me Mother, I’ll beat you!’”
Scott laughed. Travis blushed, but his only reply was, “Scott, could you drive me? I’m not supposed to walk a long way…”
“Yeah, I know.” Scott put his game on pause. “I’ll drive you, don’t worry.” To Tom he added, “When’s Mark coming by?”
“Around 9,” Tom replied, turning the TV off. “Might as well start tuning.”
“Need my help?”
“No thanks, I’ve got it.”
Travis stared longingly at the drum set in the corner.
“You have any new songs?” Tom continued.
“Nah, not really. Mark got some?”
“He’s got one, I think. I just hope it doesn’t suck as bad as the last one.”
“Yeah, what was that shit about? I mean, fucking a dog? Like what the hell?”
“I know, man. I think he’s fucking twisted.”
“I wrote something,” Travis said quietly. He stroked one of the drumsticks tentatively, as though he might break it.
Scott and Tom both jumped, having forgot Travis was there. Tom cocked an eyebrow, at a loss for anything good to say. “Uh… Cool.”
“Huh.” Scott nodded at Travis, smiling at him like he was a kindergarten teacher and Travis was a five-year-old who had just showed him some sucky macaroni art project.
“It’s called ‘Stay Together For the Kids’,” Travis added hopefully, shooting Tom an anxious look.
“Sounds…” Tom looked at Scott helplessly.
“Interesting,” Scott added, still grinning. He turned back to Tom. “So, yeah, hopefully Mark’s got something decent.”
“Yeah,” Tom agreed. “We need stuff bad.”
Travis, looking hurt, hurried up the stairs. Both Tom and Scott stopped when they heard the front door slam.
Tom bit his lip and dropped his gaze to the floor. Scott rubbed the back of his neck, ashamed.
“See ya in a few minutes,” Scott mumbled, looking at his feet.
“Yeah, sure.” Tom stared at the blank TV until he heard the doors slam again upstairs.
Not five minutes later, Mark hopped down the stairs. “Hey, Tommy.”
“Hey.” Tom pulled out his guitar and began tuning. “Trav was here.”
“Out of the hospital already?”
“Yeah.”
“Huh.”
“He wrote a song.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“You read it?”
“No.”
“He tell you anything about it?”
“Just the title.”
“How’d it sound?”
“I don’t know, I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Oh.”
Both fell silent.
“I feel like shit, Mark.”
“I know, Tom.”
Mark, Tom, and soon Scott sat for two hours, pounding out lifeless beats on their guitars. It was going to be a long night.

Author's Note: As always, comments are greatly appreciated.

~X~ Fix Your Eyes ~X~: Chapter Five

DISCLAIMER: I do not own My Chemical Romance.

Author's Note: Okay, last depressing chapter!
I... Think so, anyway.
I think it gets a little bit cuter after this, and it's quite a bit less depressing. The last chapter is my personal favorite, because I laughed my ass off while writing the first line. So, anywho, onto a sappy, depressing chapter! Yaaay!

Name: ~X~Fix Your Eyes~X~
Pairing: Frank/Gerard (My Chemical Romance)
Genre: Romance/Angst
Rating: PG-13

Chapter 5. I Quit
GERARD
I was at Ray’s so fast I nearly forgot why I was there. I was holding a bouquet of pink carnations and black roses (Frankie’s favorite), and I’d showered and actually conditioned my hair for once. It was nice not to have my hair flying all over and knotting up. It was nice not to have to have Frankie brush my hair for me. It was soft and flipped up around my jaw. Maybe Frankie would like it better.
Ray answered the door. I felt lost, standing there looking like a jackass on his front porch, Ray standing in the doorway like he didn’t know what to do. Ray was my best friend, and it was great to see him at all. We hadn’t hung out much since my “problem” started. But he was there, the same as always: the floppy red curls, the big brown eyes, the huge nose I always teased him about, his big smiling mouth.
“Ray,” I whispered.
“Come on in, man,” he said, grinning. It seemed a little forced. “Frankie really wants to see you.”
I held the bouquet behind my back and followed him in. There was Frankie, sitting on the couch, curled up and looking miserable. And hurt. His right eye was black, he had a bruise on his cheek, and his lip was split. And that was just what I could see now. I could only imagine how he looked under that shirt, what bruises were hiding there…
He looked up and saw me. He gasped, then flung himself into my arms. I held him tight, feeling every little shake, every tiny sob. Finally, I held him at arm’s length.
“Frankie,” I sighed. A lump in my throat blocked my apology. All I could do was run my thumb over his cheek. He winced in pain, but hugged me again.
When he was done clinging to me, I brought out the flowers.
His eyes widened. “Gerard…” He took them, holding them close to his chest. He smiled shyly. “Thank you.”
I kissed his forehead. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” he murmured honestly.
I grabbed his shoulders. “And because I love you, I’m quitting.”
He frowned. “What?”
“I’m going to quit drinking,” I replied. A sudden excitement welled in my chest. “And I’m going to quit drugs. I want to be good enough for you.”
Frankie’s grin told me, then and there, that I could do it.

Author's Note: Again, comment. Again, send me to your friends. Again, sorry about the sadness.

~X~ Fix Your Eyes ~X~: Chapter Four

DISCLAIMER: I do not own My Chemical Romance.

Author's Note: I hope no one's sick of this one yet. There's still issues with my flash drive. Things are a little messed up on it right now, but it'll be okay in a little bit, I promise.
I know, this next chapter is practically quoted from the Lifetime channel, but I LIKE it goddammit. So you're reading it.
(Well, if you want to, that is. Still, it'll help you get the story, so please read... and comment.)

Name: ~X~Fix Your Eyes~X~
Pairing: Frank/Gerard (My Chemical Romance)
Genre: Romance/Angst
Rating: PG-13

Chapter 4. Black Eyes

Frankie

I arrived at Ray’s at around seven in the morning. I felt pretty bad intruding, but I didn’t have anywhere to go.

Ray answered the door, yawning. His dull red afro was even messier than usual, his deep chestnut eyes smoky with sleep. “Hey, Frank.” His eyes widened when he realized how I looked. “What the hell happened? You look dead!”

“I…” I had no answer, so I just shook my head.

Ray wrapped an arm around my shoulders and steered me inside. “That’s quite a shiner you’ve got, dude.”

I winced.

Ray sat me down on the couch, looking at me intently. “So.”

I squirmed awkwardly. “So what?”

“Gerard did this, didn’t he?”

I didn’t answer.

“God dammit, Frank! You can’t let him keep shoving you around like this. You know I love Gerard. He’s my best friend. But he’s fucked up. It’s not worth putting yourself through this, is it?”

“He’s worth anything,” I whispered. A lump formed in my throat, and I couldn’t swallow it. I could feel heat in my eyes and knew they were turning red.

Ray just sighed. Everyone keeps saying that I’m too nice. But that’s not true. I just happen to care about Gerard more than myself. Was that bad? Was that the wrong thing to do? It seemed like I was always doing the wrong thing lately. Maybe if I didn’t screw up so much, Gerard wouldn’t be so mad all the time…

Ray glanced up and his expression changed. His eyes softened and he sat next to me. He hugged me gently, muttering, “You deserve better, Frankie.”

Gerard told me that all the time.

A few silent tears strayed down my cheeks. I was worried. What if Gerard was drinking again?

“You look awful,” Ray murmured.

I looked up at him. “Do I?”

Ray nodded. “Do you want to see?”

I shrugged. “In a minute.” His arms were warm around me. Ray always managed to make me feel at least a little better. I closed my eyes and nuzzled into his shoulder, trying to make everything else disappear.

Author's Note: Okay, yeah. It's sad. I know. Still, it has a few jokes in it.
The second one, ~X~Take Your Gloves~X~ is pretty funny. At least, I thought it was when I was writing it a two in the morning on weekends.
COMMENTS PLEASE!!! They sustain my life force.

~X~ Fix Your Eyes ~X~: Chapter Three

DISCLAIMER: I do not own My Chemical Romance.

Author's Note: "Feeling This" is still alive, don't worry. I'm just having a few technical problems.
While I'm pretty proud of "~X~Fix Your Eyes~X~", and I know that "Feeling This" is at a slightly lower quality (at least, I feel like it is). Still, I really like the second chapter of "Feeling This". So that'll be coming back really soon.
So now here's "~X~Fix Your Eyes~X~" once more.

Name: ~X~Fix Your Eyes~X~
Pairing: Frank/Gerard (My Chemical Romance)
Genre: Romance/Angst
Rating: PG-13

Chapter 3. Empty Bottles and Empty Beds
GERARD
I awoke that morning to birds singing outside the window. It was warm, even though summer had barely started. Smashed bottles littered the floor. Someone had dragged me to my bed and tucked me in. My head felt like someone had taken a knife to my brain.
On the night stand was a glass of water and two aspirin. I downed them, then picked up a note on Frankie’s pillow.
Gerard,
I went over to Ray’s. Take the aspirin and go back to sleep. Feel better.
I love you.
~Frankie
Tears welled up in my eyes. “What kind of bastard am I?” I whispered under my breath. I was so happy that no one was there to tell me.
The only person that wouldn’t say “A sick one” was Frankie. And, as usual, I’d shoved him away.
I wrapped myself up and whimpered, barely holding back the tears that pushed at my eyelids. What had I done?

Author's Note: Again, reeeaaally short. It's needed for the story, though.
Send me to you friends, do it! DO IT!!!

I Am An Idiot

I really am.
I completely forgot to mention the one thing I've been excited to mention for a week.
I take requests!
That's right. Anything you want, I'll write it. It's totally free and rule-free - you want Aragog/Neville porno, and I'll give it to you.
There's only a few things you should know. Firstly, there are some things I don't know enough about to write well. So if you want an OC or something like that, you have to give me the information. Here's a list of things that I'm really knowledgable about:
1. Harry Potter
2. My Chemical Romance
3. blink_182
4. Simple Plan
5. Green Day
6. Fruit's Basket
It's not limited to that, but I suggest that if it's something other than that to give me a few details. (Character descriptions, storylines, a link to the official site, whathaveyou.)
Now, if you want me to write you something, you can go ahead and leave a comment. For this, though, I suggest emailing me instead. Send me an email with the suject "Request" to allikitty699@gmail.com. If it's PG-13 or under, I'll post it on the site and email it to you. If it's R or above, however, I'll just send you an email back with the story.
Please wait about a week before sending me another email. I'll try to get it done in that timeframe.

~X~ Fix Your Eyes ~X~: Chapter Two

DISCLAIMER: I do not own My Chemical Romance.

Author's Note: Well, yes, I published the first chapter about five minutes ago. But it was short.
SO ON TO CHAPTER TWO!!!

Name: ~X~Fix Your Eyes~X~
Pairing: Frank/Gerard (My Chemical Romance)
Genre: Romance/Angst
Rating: PG-13


Chapter 2. Seeing Red (It’s Hard Not to With Blood on the Floor)
Frankie
I woke up to the feel of the mattress lifting under me. Startled, I barely managed to blink the sleep from my eyes when I saw Gerard, in Jack Skellington boxers, heading towards the kitchen.
The panic I felt kept me silent for a moment before whispering, “What are you doing?”
Gerard turned, looking scared. He sighed and glared at me. “Jesus Christ, Frankie. Can’t I do anything without being fucking interrogated?”
I could feel shame bubbling up inside of me. I couldn’t understand it, but Gerard always made me feel like this was all my fault.
“Frankie, if you’d…”
“Why the hell won’t you…”
“…Maybe then I’d be happy! You just don’t want me to be happy, do you?”
I sat up, resting my chin on my knees. “I’m sorry. I just…” I stared at the comforter over my feet.
Gerard sighed again. “I can’t believe I put up with this shit.” He disappeared into the kitchen, but kept talking. “Get off my fucking back. I can do whatever I want. I’m an adult.” He came back holding a beer. “I can’t believe I put up with you.”
I could feel my eyes start to burn. Not from the insults - Gerard usually said much worse to me - but from the alcohol in my lover’s hand.
“Gerard.” My voice came out in a harsh whisper. “Baby, please, put it down…”
Gerard glared, popped the top, and guzzled. I winced at how fast he downed it. “Go back to sleep,” he snarled, throwing the can at my head. I ducked, but I could feel it graze my hair.
“But…”
“Don’t be a pain in the ass, Frank!” Gerard looked deadly. I cowered, curling up even tighter. I laid down and turned on my side, trying to ignore the white refrigerator light from the kitchen. I attempted to close my eyes, but I couldn’t stand to sleep with my one true love destroying himself in the other room.
Of course - he was crying again. I tried to block it out, but it filtered through my thoughts. I knew he’d just be angry if I went and talked to him, but I went anyway.
He was slumped over the table. I was amazed by how much he’d downed in such a short while. He was whimpering into a beer bottle.
I cleared my throat quietly. “Hun?”
He looked up at me. His eyes were filled with nothing but tears and intoxicated hate. “What the fuck do you want?” he slurred.
I walked forward, hesitantly. “Gerard…” I tried to grab the bottle, but he pulled it out of my reach.
“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?” he bellowed. I flinched instinctively, shielding my face with my arms. “DO YOU THINK YOU’RE SAVING ME? DO YOU THINK YOU’RE HELPING?” He threw the bottle as hard as he could. I fell to the floor, only to hear it crash on the wall behind me.
I felt a different bottle collide with my back. I heard it crack, and a searing pain flew up my spine. I curled up, scared. I couldn’t fight him, ever. Especially not like this - Gerard was strong, and he was even stronger when he was angry.
“YOU’VE NEVER DONE ANYTHING FOR ME!” Gerard yelled. He kicked me hard in the side. Pain exploded in my rib cage. “YOU’LL NEVER DO ANYTHING FOR ME!” The blows were coming so fast now that I hardly knew where they were coming from. He pulled me up by my shoulders and shoved me into the table. I stumbled and fell back to the floor. Tears were streaming down his pale cheeks, his brown eyes wide, his long black hair a matted mess. “Can’t you see?” he growled, his voice shaking. “Can’t you see that you’re just hurting yourself?” He threw a chair into me, knocking into my aching ribs. “I’M NO GOOD FOR YOU! STOP WASTING YOUR TIME!”
“I’m just trying to help you change!” I yelled back. I was shaking in fear.
He brought his face so close to mine I could smell the beer on his breath, and it made me dizzy. “Maybe,” he hissed, “I don’t want to change.”

Author's Note: Leaving me a comment is REALLY simple. Just click on the little linky-poo at the bottom of each post.

~X~ Fix Your Eyes ~X~: Chapter One

DISCLAIMER: I do not own My Chemical Romance.

Author's Note: All right, I'm on a roll. A post a day. This should continue on for a while, as I have a lot to add onto here.
I wrote "Fix Your Eyes" for my wonderful friend Mary. She and I are both huge Ferard fans, so I was really giving both of us a gift when I wrote this. I had a lot of fun with both this and the sequal, "Take Your Gloves". The currently unnamed third story is one I'm going to be starting very shortly, as I need it to be done by Mary's birthday.
Like I said, I really liked writing this story, so hopefully that reflects. Hope you like it.

Name: ~X~Fix Your Eyes~X~
Pairing: Frank/Gerard (My Chemical Romance)
Genre: Romance/Angst
Rating: PG-13


Chapter 1. Deserving
GERARD
I stared at him. I couldn’t help it. I don’t think I’d ever seen anything quite so beautiful in my life. Curled up beneath the sheets, with black hair - normally so perfectly combed to the side - mussed and untidy. Those big, puppy dog eyes, a pale brown, closed in sleep. Defined pink lips parted slightly, angelic puffs of breath escaping. His pale face nuzzled against the pillow. His small, rounded nose wrinkled. Frankie was so cute when he slept.
And, tragically, I didn’t deserve any of it.
I didn’t deserve his praise. I didn’t deserve his affection. I didn’t deserve the soft way he smiled, or the way he held my head up after a long night of drinking. It was so unfair.
I was being unfair, too, but in a different way. Frankie didn’t deserve his “responsibilities” - making sure I was okay when I’d had too much to drink, making sure I never took too many drugs, making sure that I stayed alive. I was unfair because I made him cry, made him worry, and made him take care of me when I was old enough to do it myself. But he was unfair to himself, because he always let me take advantage of him.
Maybe that was Frankie’s idea of love - sacrificing everything you have for the other person, no matter how fucked up they are. Well, I was fucked up, and Frankie just didn’t need me. Not when he had Mikey, Bob, and Ray around.
I kissed his cheek, just soft enough to keep him asleep. He smiled in his sleep, a small smile, and murmured “Gerard” as he hugged his pillow.
I got up and walked to the kitchen, just to fuck myself up again.

Author's Note: I know it's short. A lot of the chapters in this are. I like to think that it picks up pretty quick, however. So, please, leave a comment and email my blog to every person you've ever met. (I'm a comment whore and unashamed.)

Feeling This: Chapter One

DISCLAIMER: I do not own blink_182, Angels and Airwaves, or +44.

Author's Note: Hey, guys. I know it has been quite a while since my first post. Still, this fic is one I'm very excited about - a friend of mine went to an Angels and Airwaves concert a while ago. She met the members of the band - all except for, unfortunately, Tom. Still, she gave this fic to Matt, who said he'd give it to Tom (once he read it himself, that is). So, I don't know if he read it, or if he even got it. Still, I hope all of you like it.

Name: Feeling This
Pairing: Mark/Tom (blink_182)
Genre: Romance, somewhat AU
Rating: PG-13

Chapter 1: I’ll Leave When I Wanna

“Goddammit, Mark!”

Mark Hoppus felt something soft collide with the back of his head. He sat up snorting and snuffling, looking around to see Tom Delonge standing over him, fuming. He rubbed his eyes. “The hell, Tom?”

“What the hell do you mean, ‘what the hell’?” Tom barked, flinging another pillow at his best friend. “Jesus Christ, Hoppus, is three in the afternoon, you’ve got your shit all over my fucking house, you’re still asleep, and I have no idea what time my parents are coming home! So pack your fucking bag-“ he whipped a large duffel at Mark’s face – “and get the fucking hell out of here!”

“Why?” Mark whined, burying his face in his pillow. “So what if I’m here when the ‘rents get back? They know what I’m like.”

“Exactly. That’s why they hate you.” Tom tugged back the covers. “They think Travis is here. They don’t know you’ve been staying with me all week.”

“See, that’s what I don’t get.” Mark turned over onto his back and hitched up his slipping boxers. “Why the fuck do they like Trav and Scott so much more than me? Scott’s just as bad, and Travis would be if his organs let him.”

“First off, even if Travis didn’t have a heart condition, he wouldn’t go out every night drinking and rubbing his dick on every skirt he saw. Second, neither he nor Scott shoots his damn mouth off to everybody!” Tom tossed the bedcovers into a laundry basket. “Hell, if they decided to go on and fucking on about the time they jacked their mom’s pot brownies, I doubt my parents would be inclined to like them either. But they’re nice, and polite, and they don’t call my parents Ma and Pops, and they’re not so Goddamn fucking STUPID!” He emphasized his point by slapping Mark upside the head.

Mark rubbed the spot where Tom has slapped him. “Jesus, you’re a touchy douchebag this morning.”

Tom just whipped a pair of pants at Mark and stormed into the kitchen.

Once Mark was dressed, he followed the trail of Tom’s madness into the basement. Tom was speeding around the room like a scrawny teenage version of the Roadrunner, throwing crushed pop cans and chip bags into a trash bag. He was mumbling to himself.

“Goddamn bastard, never helps at all, kick his fucking ass…”

“Hey, I resemble that remark,” Mark teased. Instead of laughing, Tom thrust the trash bag at him.

“Your mess, your problem. I have to go take care of my room before my parents get back.”

Mark stared at the bag like it had fallen out of a space ship. “And what the hell do I do with this?”

Tom sighed, exasperated. “It’s a fucking trash bag. You put trash in it.” In a low mutter, he added, “Ya retard.”

“Come on, Tom, I don’t clean!” Mark simpered. He stamped his foot like a five-year-old. “At least stay down here and help me!”

Tom turned back, his mouth open as if to speak. All that came out was a low groan. “Yeah, yeah, okay, I’ll help you.” He turned his back to Mark and bent down, gathering up empty cartons of milk.

Mark leaned back and gave his best friend a good looking-over. For a scrawny guy with a retainer and hair like a damn hedgehog, Tom had a great ass. He even wore girl pants that showed it off. It wasn’t Mark’s fault for looking.

Tom, sensing eyes examining him, looked through his legs. “The fuck you starin’ at?”

“Nothing,” Mark shrugged, gathering up piles of video games and smiling to himself. “Just enjoying the view.”

Author's Note: So, I hope you like it. Please comment, and please send my blog to your friends! (SHAMELESS ADVERTISING)