My Chemical Life

I love MCR to forever and back and just thought I should write them a fanfic?


1. 1


To Gerard,

I can't even believe I'm doing this. Man, this is crazy. You, holding my letter in your hands. That is so fucking unreal.

But that's not why I wrote to you. I'm writing this because...well I guess I just want to simply say thank you. I'm sure you get that enough. Fans thanking you. Producers thanking you. The whole god damned world thanking you. But hey, add me to your list. Of course, I'm thanking you for making your music the way you made it. That's obviously something to thank you, and the band for. But that's not it. I guess, the whole point of this letter is to..I don't know, say 'Hey Gee, thanks by the way, for pretty much saving my entire life'. But I'll bet you've heard that one before. Boy, what haven't you heard? You are Gerard Way. Well, in the end, I'm just another fan. Just another view on youtube, just another body in the crowd. Well that last part, that was a lie. I never actually got to see you guys live. That sucks. The break up sucks as well, but hey, who am I to judge? You guys rocked. Rocked? Why the hell am I speaking in past tense, you still rock. You can't erase music, especially your music. Good music will always exist, even if it's not being created, even if it's not brand new, it's still there. You guys will always be here. There. Wherever we even are. Well, thanks Gee. You saved me. And just about every other crazy kid who was rejected from this fucked up society.




“Heh.” I rip the page from my maths jotter, and tuck it into my blazer pocket.

“What was that?” Jess nudges my arm, holding out a bit of gum.

“What was what?” I take the gum and chew on it all innocently. She doesn't buy it.

“That thing you ripped out your jotter. Just then. You put it in your pocket?”

Oh my god Jess, you are so nosey. I don't say that. I just shrug. “Revision.”

“Fine, don't tell me,” she groans. “I thought we were past that stage.”

I literally just moved to this school three days ago. Does she think we're best friends already? Oh god, at this rate we'll be married by the weekend.

“Hey I think I'm gonna go off home for lunch if that's okay,” I say, obviously changing the subject. Jess squeezes her lips together.

“Sure whatever, Eeve', just do what you want, I've already told Hannah I'll be with her anyway.” She readjusts herself in her seat so her back is twisted-ly turned to me. And for a minute I thought I was done with this sort of immaturity. I guess every school's got a bit of everything. Oh yippee.


“Yo mother.”

I slump my schoolbag onto the kitchen table. Mum looks up for a split second, then her eyes drop back to the laptop. Not even a hello. Why, aren't I loved? “Want a cup of tea?”

She frowns, and to avoid yet another lecture on why I should never interrupt my very hard working mother on the job, I slip off to the loo.

There are mirrors like, everywhere in our bathroom. It is so damn annoying sometimes. Basically, if you need to take a piss, you need to take a good look at the face that gives you hell. Trust me, I've tried emptying my bladder with my eyes shut, and that just resulted in getting the mop out to clean the floor. I have asked mum if we could just be a bit lighter on the mirrors, but that only resulted in “You shouldn't be afraid of your own reflection, you're fine the way you are Eevie.”

Fine. Thanks mum, couldn't have said the good ol' 'beautiful'. I guess even mum can't lie that much. Saying I look 'fine' is a struggle as it is.

I swear to freaking Santa Claus, I'm not even exaggerating.

“Eevie?” Mum's voices echoes through the bungalow.

“Two secs mum, I'm peeing!”

I wish I could see her face right now. Anyhow, I flush the loo and spin through the kitchen doors. “Eevie Jones, at your service.” I do a sarcastic curtsey. Mum doesn't laugh, so I feel a tad silly.

“I've got you a placement at Greenwood Academy. The email just got through and they've accepted you.” She smiles for like, the first time in history, chin perched on her hands.

“..What the hell mum?”

That's all I can manage. It's like my life is some shitty glass globe that's just been mended, and mum's just gone and dropped it again. Greenwood Academy. That's a boarding school. A fucking boarding school. That is so not cool.

Her smile stretches as she turns the laptop my way. “It's true, look.”

All I can see on the screen is my screwed reflection staring back, lips parted, white eyes. Then below that stupid face is an email with a bunch of words that I can't even make out. I only just moved school three days ago. This is the last thing I want, ever.

“You start Monday.”

Monday. That's four days away. Four days.


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