Frerard - Crucifère
A/n: My first Frerard one-shot. The lyrics of the song below are from Eths – Crucifère.
/watch?v=S97oUM_fjs8 (type youtube in front of course)
Je ne m'entends plus.
Je ne m'en sors plus!
Aide-moi, rien qu'une autre fois!
J'ai mâché mes mains.
Je ne sens plus rien.
Éteints moi!
Je sais la vérité, l'ai toujours honorée.
Je sais la vérité, je l'ai toujours détestée.
Non, je ne veux plus m'asseoir.
Ma vie n'était qu'un rêve.
L'amertume s'amoncelle.
Je prie d'être irréelle.
Nos veines ruissellent.
Envahissent ma tête et je crève.
J'ai cassé la beauté, effacé, gratté, cessé d'exister.
Non, je ne veux plus m'asseoir.
Plus envie de te voir prés de moi, non!
Enclin disgracieux.
J'irais brûler mes ailes.
Mutation corporelle.
Je m'aime facétieuse.
Démons malins galopent.
Si beaux, sur leurs chevaux m'enveloppent.
Enlevez-moi!
L'armée d'infidèle me saisira.
Assise.
Non!
J'ai sali les amants de ma langue de serpent.
J'ai enflammé nos chairs avec nos amours passées.
J'ai pleuré les avants, la rage des pères.
J'ai brûlé nos bancs, de toute ma haine, je me lève.
Rien, envie du sien de bien.
Rien, envie de moins de bien.
Plus envie de nos devoirs là-bas!
Plus envie de te voir prés de moi!
Ce que tu ne peux sentir.
Tu n'as pas compris.
Tout ce qui me fait languir.
Tu n'as pas compris.
La vérité, tu ne l'as pas comprise.
M'a rattrapée, tu n'as pas compris: J'y crois encore.
As our lips collide, electric shock waves shoot through my body. The kiss is hard and passionate, same as always. He pulls away a second or two later , leaving me with my mind somewhere backstage and a pulsating cock, my lips craving for more. I know that's as far as it's gonna go, and I hate it. To piss off the homophobes, he claims every single time an interviewer asks him about it. There was a time in my life – about three years ago – when I wanted to have a "Pissing-off-homophobes" Marathon. I know, crazy thoughts, huh?
As my fingers fly over the nylon guitar strings, I can't help but looking at him. He's perfect in so many ways. From his jet black hair to the way his nose scrunches whenever he's putting a lot of effort into his singing. Even the way he is ever so humble, no matter how much he's being praised. And no matter how many times I fantasize about him while my wife is giving me head, I'll never be able to actually moan his name aloud or look him in the eye while tugging his godly hair. I'll never be able to call him mine, and it's killing me. My Gerard.
Being my crazy, hyper self, I run to Bob and jump on top of his drum set. He glares at me, but I'm too lost in my own thoughts – about Gerard, that is – to notice. As the crowd roars I jump back off and circle some around Mikey, who has his tongue hanging out of his mouth. At this point, It's not a fashion statement ends and I'm not okay starts. I run back to my place behind the microphone to sing my parts. I close my eyes while giving my everything – just like every night – when I suddenly feel something down below. I quickly open my eyes and look down to see Gerard's arm clutching to my ass. Not really spectacular, you might think. He's actually facing me, with his arm between my legs, grabbing my ass. He's putting his soul into the singing, making the crowd scream. Or maybe it's just the way he's sitting in front of me that makes them go wild. Probably both.
Right now, I have to concentrate on breathing, making me miss a few chords. I curse under my breath. Gerard probably heard the missed chords, because he let's go of my ass and moves over to the other side of the stage. My cheeks are flushed red, my heart is beating fast. Little interventions like this make everything harder off stage. First of all, my wife is waiting for me backstage. It's not that I don't love her, god no. I love her very much. It's just that the love I have for Gerard – after 5 years, I think I have the right to call it love – is not even comparable with the love I have for my wife. It's completely different. Of course I could divorce her and hook up with Gerard, if he was gay or at least bi. Which he isn't. That's the second problem. People don't even know I'm bisexual. I of course never asked if Gerard is bi or gay, it just seems so wrong to ask you best friend. "Hey Gerard, I'm bi. You?" So not happening. The third problem is our friendship. Being together and in the band would be okay, but breaking up just seems to be unbearable. I can already taste the awkwardness between us if that would happen. And last but not least; the fans. What would they say if two of their heroes suddenly got together? It would break the heart of teenage girls who spend their time listening to our music, dancing to it in their bedrooms – Or don't they dance? I have no idea – and it would disgust the teenage boys who look up to us, want to be like us. Nope, not a good idea.
The concert ends with a bam, some lighting and smoke. Every concert ends like this, making me more and more depressed as I go through why we can never be together. I'll never be able to call him mine. My Gerard.
Thanks for reading! Please review and rate. And also review my other story So Long And Goodnight :3
Xoxo
J.