MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE ONESHOTS

witch hunt

(trigger warning for witchcraft)

(this is quite short but if you'd like me to continue it, i can)

(i promise i'll maybe work on the ghost thing soon!!!)

Frank warily knocked six times on the rotting wooden door, just like the urban legends and rumors said to do. He awaited a response. Someone revealed from behind the door. A spooky and harsh gust of wind to push past him. Even just a small secret message somewhere. Nothing.

Frank didn't know why he expected anyone to still be living in the small shack. Maybe nobody had ever lived there at all. The once-kids who lived in the neighborhood before Frank probably built it to freak out small children and baffle daring high schoolers. Frank kicked a rock grumpily at the door and walked away empty-handed. What a disappointing outcome.

The door abruptly creaked open, and Frank twisted around with shocked eyes and stiff posture. There stood an unamused person whom Frank had nearly mistaken for a woman, expecting a lady witch. Instead was a boy, perhaps slightly younger, slightly older than Frank's age. Dusty brown fringe fell into his eyes, which were shielded by round glasses. Wearing an Anthrax shirt beneath black, silky robes and multiple chains and jeweled necklaces, Frank suspected this was exactly who he was looking for.

"Are you the witch who lives around here?" Frank asked tentatively.

The witch(?) groaned, then walked into his hut, leaving Frank shunned and befuddled at the door. He soon returned with a large steaming mug of tea, and downed it impressively in one go. He pointed loosely behind Frank.

"No, I'm not. It's that guy, over there. Bright red hair, graphic tee, floral button-up... hard to miss," the not-witch grumbled, then slammed the screeching door in Frank's face. It didn't end up shutting all the way, which prompted the not-witch to groan, then click the door shut aggressively.

Frank, taken aback, swung around again. He quickly noticed the large yellow cottage that he had somehow missed before. Out front, in its flowering garden, was a young man with — sure enough — bright red hair, holding up a hand in greeting and smiling ecstatically. Frank stumbled towards him, unsure.

When Frank at last stood in front of the witch, he was shocked by his... un-witch-like appearance. His face was round and soft, and his eyes were gleaming olive in color. He couldn't help but smile right back at him.

"Hey there," the boy chirped softly. "Were you looking for a witch?"

"Yeah, actually," Frank answered, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "You're a witch, right?"

The boy nodded, then beamed even brighter. "Yeah, but you can call me Gerard."

Frank didn't really know what he expected when he walked inside — the grungy guy in robes wasn't supernatural at all, or even partly magical, this art kid was the real witch... and lived in a pastel yellow cottage with an actual roof (unlike the first hut).

When Frank walked in, he was immediately greeted by both a gray cat and a small black dog with a pushed-in face. Gerard first scooped up the cat from underneath his arms and held him up.

"This is Mitch," he announced, then let him sink back to the floor. He rubbed his flank around Gerard's legs, then walked to the couch behind them. Then Gerard picked up the dog, cradling her like a baby.

"...and this is Susan," Gerard finished. Before Gerard set Susan down, Frank gasped happily and pet her tiny head. Gerard snickered, but not in a demeaning way. There was just no way to describe his laugh; a giggle would sound too girly, and a chuckle would sound too deep and short. His laugh was just... very odd, but quite nice.

"I'm guessing you're a dog person," and he was correct.

Frank continued to look around the house, and examined a large tree twisting all around the house, which started by rooting up into the wooden floor, then laying its trunk against the wall, which now worked to stabilize a bookshelf Gerard had built next to it, and then growing oddly because of the roof, so it bent and extended its branches around the wall trimming and ceiling. Gems and jewels had been tied by strings on the branches, and it made the whole room gleam with different colors.

The rest of the house looked relatively normal; a red-orange couch, a marble coffee table, a small kitchen and a TV were scattered about the downstairs area. Many potted plants and framed artworks decorated the nooks and crannies that were left unfilled. Finally, there was a small staircase parked at the back of the room, slanting upwards against the wall.

"All of the witch stuff is upstairs, mostly," Gerard explained, then added, "though I do have some of my potions and ingredients in the refrigerator. Otherwise they spoil. You wanna go upstairs?"

"Sure," he replied, and Gerard's soft smile returned. He gestured for him to follow and began to walk towards and up the stairs. As they walked, Frank noticed the many stacks of superhero comics which were placed both on the coffee table and randomly tossed about the floor.

When they reached the charred and mossy door to the upstairs room (Frank wondered if that was a result of witchcraft), there was no hesitation or cautiousness, and no air of suspense. The door simply opened, and inside was pretty much exactly what Frank expected.

Bottled liquids and jarred plants were stacked up alongside a disorderly clutter of large books and papers. Artist pencils, one very fancy fountain pen, and what Frank could only assume were tools for witches filled a cup in the corner of a desk. A swivel chair was sat nearby. Vines and moss grew everywhere, nearly taking over the yellow of the wall. A cabinet with a station for plants and fungi to grow on top was in the left corner of the room, and there herbs and mushrooms flourished. Various other artifacts and collected pebbles/gems were mostly on the main desk but were also meticulously disarrayed on the ground. A very regular (but still quite artsy) office that was completely unaffected by any magic or plants was to the right of the witch room, and compared to the natural walls of the witch room, the office's white walls were blinding.

Frank wandered around the room in awe, then turned back to Gerard, who was grinning again, apparently pleased that Frank thought his room was interesting.

"So, did you come for a particular reason, or just to see that the rumors of a witch were true?" he wondered.

"First it was just because of the rumors," Frank admitted, "but now I want to see you make something. Or... maybe, at least, I could have a gem to bring home as a sample?" Gerard raised his eyebrow at Frank, so Frank continued, "Then I'll have a reason to come again; I'll return it."

Gerard stared at Frank, surprised, but delighted. "You'd want to come back again?"

"Why not?" Frank decided. "Your house is rad, and you're the huggable-est person on the planet as of now, so sure."

Gerard looked like his mind was about to explode, as if almost nobody had ever been kind to him. He beamed and scurried to grab one of his rocks. He returned with what looked like a lump of coal with white spots on it in his palms.

"This," he informed, "is snowflake obsidian. It's supposed to help with overcoming difficulties, and grant persistence. I think it's really helpful, so hopefully you do too. Usually, I put these minerals under my bed and then sleep, and other times I wear them around my neck. The first option is usually more effective, but I like to feel closer to my work."

He held the stone out for Frank to take, so Frank, as delicately as possible, took the obsidian from Gerard's palms to his own, and clasped it cautiously in his hands.

As Frank walked back to his home, the not-witch watched, and glanced at his brother, Gerard, heart-eyed and standing in his garden. He sighed, but not annoyedly, and smiled. He walked back inside.

(yeah i finished it woo)