❝ my chemical romance, panic! at the disco, fall out boy and twentyonepilots imagines. ❞
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𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐘 𝐎𝐖𝐍, 𝐔𝐍𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒
𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐄.
𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃:...
Note: This takes place in the first week after the bonfire in 'Addiction', where they burnt Gerard's sweaters.
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"Gerard, baby, you aren't actually serious about this, are you?" you questioned, your face displaying a mixture of concern and amusement.
"I'm dead serious," he replied, not even bothering to look up at you as he continued packing the two hundred plaques into a briefcase, "Dead, just like my babies." He sniffed and harshly slammed the lid of the briefcase down, clasping it and giving you a small frown.
You sighed, feeling a headache forming at the top of your head. "Gerard, you're being ridiculous."
"No," he snarled, frowning harder, "what's ridiculous is the fact that you forcefully took my babies from me, made me watch as you murdered them, and now you're trying to stop me from giving them a proper goodbye!"
"Gerard," you said slowly, steadily growing fed up with this absurd sweater nonsense; the entire thing with Gerard had traumatised you so much that you now refused to wear them too, "listen to me. I have no problem with you saying goodbye to them; if it'll make you feel better, then by all means, go ahead. But you cannot use your family's entire graveyard plot to do so!"
"Why not?" he sassed, placing his hands on his hips, "The sweaters were my family too!" You rolled your eyes. "More so than some other people," he eyed you up and down in distaste.
"Baby..." you whined in a final attempt to get him to see the idiocy of what he was about to do, but he held up a hand to silence you while the other one grabbed the briefcase.
"There's nothing you can say or do to change my mind, (Y/N). Now," he gathered his car keys and cellphone before heading to the door, "are you coming with or not?"
~
You scrunched your face up in disgust as you trudged your way through the gravelly mud in the graveyard, mentally cursing yourself for wearing your white sneakers rather than black combat boots. Then again, even if you had tried to run upstairs and change your footwear, your angsty boyfriend probably wouldn't have let you ("WE DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THAT, (Y/N)! MY BABIES NEED TO BE LAID TO REST!").
Gerard was worriedly intense about this burial thing he was about to have for the lost sweaters. Since the sweaters were now currently nothing more than a pile of ashes watered into Mikey's backyard and there was no way each of them could be buried, Gerard had taken the liberty of handcrafting a memory plaque for every single one of those damned things. Then, he decided that he had to place all of them in an actual graveyard because apparently, they deserved to have a proper funeral the way that humans did. What's more, he insisted on using the Way family's burial plot, meaning that when he, Mikey or any member of their family died, they would have to be buried next to the plaques of fucking sweaters.
The moon was bright tonight, and offered illumination throughout the entire graveyard. You hugged your jacket closer over your cold skin and shivered as you made your way over to Gerard, who was kneeling and digging a small hole with his hands, for the first plaque.
You heard him start to mumble some sort of eulogy, and you had to put your fist in your mouth and bite on it to keep from laughing. Slipping your phone out from your pocket, you snapped a few pictures and made a short video as he took out the plaque dedicated to the pale pink sweater.
"You were my favourite," he sighed, swallowing the lump in his throat and fighting to keep back the tears, "And I will always love you," he sniffled and put the plaque in the soil; you rubbed his back sympathetically.
After about the fiftieth plaque was planted, you had stopped keeping track of time. But when Gerard had eventually finished, it was close to 4am. You hadn't even realised, because you had fallen asleep against a nearby oak tree; you jumped when Gerard gently shook you awake.
"Oh, hi," you yawned, stretching your limbs that had lost feeling, "you all done?"
He nodded solemnly, a sad look in his beautiful eyes. "They can all rest in peace now."
"Sure they can, baby," you cooed, bringing him into your chest and hugging him tightly, "sure they can."
~
It was three days after the 'burial', and Gerard was doing considerably well. The first two days were spent bawling his eyes out in front of the TV with a tub of Ben and Jerry's, but yesterday, it was like a flip was switched, and he went back to normal.
Or at least that's what you thought.
"Baby, what are we doing for date night?" you called out to your boyfriend as you lounged on the sofa, scrolling through channels.
"I have something special planned," he smirked, walking over and kissing you.
"Oh," you mumbled against his lips, smiling before deepening the kiss. "And what is it?"
"You'll see. Grab your jacket."
~
"NO!" you screamed, turning practically everyone's heads, "NO! NO, NO, NO, NO, NO! GERARD, YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!"
"Hmm," he furrowed his eyebrows and tapped his chin in mock thought, "that sounds really familiar, don't you think?"
Your breathing got deeper. "Please, don't do this. If this is about the sweaters, then I'm sorry, okay!"
He shrugged, unperturbed. "I'm sure you are. Now."
"Look, you can get revenge on me anyway you want – but please, for the love of God, don't make me go in there!" your voice came out urgent as you pointed a shaky finger in the direction of the haunted house at the Halloween carnival.
"Calm down," he rolled his eyes, placing a arm around your waist, "I'll be there the whole time. I just think you deserve to be scared a bit, considering you ruined my life less than a week ago."
"You-you'll be there the entire time?" you toyed nervously with his leather jacket, "You promise?"
"I promise."
"Okay."
~
"AHHHHHHHHHH!" you let out an ear-piercing scream as you felt your ankle get grabbed. Continuing to shriek, you violently kicked at the demon attacking you, while Gerard simply strolled next to you, undisturbed.
He opened a door to the right of you, and held it open so that you could scurry inside, which you did – at lightning speed. Which, in retrospect, probably wasn't the wisest thing to do. There was a clown sitting in the armchair on the opposite side of the room, and after you screamed yet again, you backtracked out of the room, running down the hallway in search of your boyfriend.
You couldn't find him, and you started to freak out. You could feel your heart thumping against your chest as you continued to sprint around the house. You caught a glimpse of black hair through the murky window, and you approached it; once you saw what – or who – it was, you let out a gasp, a twang of betrayal coursing through you.
Gerard was standing on the opposite side of the window – outside – and when you saw him, you blew you a kiss and shot you a wink.
"Payback is a bitch," he mused before turning around and trotting away, leaving you screaming, alone in the horror-filled house.
