This is a unique MCR fanfic. Me and my friend each wrote the different povs of characters so the characters stand out more individually and have sort of different styles in the way they're written. This story is about how MCR and frerard began. that...
Blinding white lights flooded through my tightly shut eyelids as I heard my voice being called. "Frank!" It was saying, "Wake up!" A pounding headache rang in my ears, aftermath of a bad dream. I hissed as my sister poked at the cuts scattered around my body.
"you-" She began, a worried expression on her face.
"I know, I said I wouldn't fall asleep anymore. Its just been hard after... You know."
My circumstances were nothing short of comically tragic. I thought back to the day it happened, my hand fiddling with the cast on my left arm. At least it was my left one that was injured, my right hand being crucial for guitar. The feeling that playing gave me was paramount to any other. While many people said that finding the one you love, or getting married and starting a family was the most exhilarating feeling, I disagreed. The simplicity and beauty of guitar had never been comparable to anything else.
Well, at least it wasn't until that day.
I wasn't confrontative by any means, yet walking in the bustling streets of New York got on my nerves in a way that crawled under my skin and made me more irritated than usual.
Thoughts of crisp pastries and refreshing drinks filled my brain as I wandered through the city. One vegetarian bagel, please. One vegetarian bagel, please. As I recited the order in my mind, I glanced up towards the imposing towers above me. They were quite extraordinary, yet I had the feeling that a story gust of wind would be enough to topple them over. Stop being ridiculous. I berated myself, glancing at my watch, seeing the clocks hand tick closer to the bakery's closing time. I'd better hurry.
As I quickened my pace, someone caught my eye. A boy my age seemed to be talking to his... Father? What attracted my attention wasn't the boy's unclean-looking hair, or even his ripped and faded clothes he somehow made look good, but the absolute light in his eyes. He looked like he had a passion, a goal no one else could even dream of. This boy striked me as someone who would achieve exceptional things.
In my daze as I watched the black-haired beauty's feet climb the stairs, I failed to look out for my own. One minuscule rock was all it took for me to roll on my ankle, my other leg being caught on it. Uh oh. My last sight before crashing to the ground was a commercial plane humming through the sky, its white body becoming suspiciously large.
As my arm flailed out in front of me and my head smacked into the pavement, my consciousness started to fade like tumbleweeds in the wind, my thoughts becoming scattered and afraid.
Get out of there, pretty boy.
After waking up in a room full of doctors with my skin wrapped to the bone in bandages, it didn't take long for me to hear the horrific news. Nearly 3,000 dead. I could have been one of the victims, my name becoming lost and forgotten amidst the thousands of people carved into the building's memorial. Thoughts of death plagued me like a persistent fog, leaving me to startle like a broken jack in the box, my mind forever thinking of how close I was to losing everything.
My injuries were healing, yet I was forced into a room full of people just like me, all waiting their turns to chitter-chatter on about every problem that the therapist didn't care about. Ugh.
I sat in the pasty room, motivational posters surrounding me. 'you can do it!' one said, 'Tomorrow is a new day!' said another. I wanted to punch a hole through the stupid cartoon cat. How could it say crap like that? It's just a stupid cartoon cat. Those cats don't know how hard life is. I was being dumb. I knew I was being dumb. But that boy, the beautiful boy with shine in his eyes wouldn't escape my mind, his pale hands grabbing my thoughts and rattling them around however he wanted. I wasn't thinking right.
"Hey." I glanced at my sister.
"Yeah?"
"Was there a black haired kid on the news? One my age?"
"you're gonna have to be a bit more specific, heaps of people passed away."
"He was greasy looking, but like, kinda cool. He looked like a vampire."
My sister shrugged. "Sorry, I don't know. Check for yourself. You know his name?"
With a startle, I realised I didn't even get to ask him what his name was. My leg bobbed up and down, my nails picking at the skin on my fingers. I didn't want to check. I didn't want to know if he had died.
"Hey look," My sister suddenly ushered, breaking me out of my thoughts, "he looks like the guy you were describing."
My gaze lifted, eyes barely believing what I saw.
I found him.
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