(Lesbian) Heartbreak Hotel and Other Shitty Love Songs (LGBT) (GirlxGirl)

Track Ten: Disenchanted-- My Chemical Romance

Vinnie was the closest thing to Gerard Way that California had seen since warped tour rolled out their latest batch of skinny little emo-wannabe pop-punk white boys. Mind you, Vinnie was eons and eons out of Gerard's god-like league-- the comparison stands only to illustrate the level of darkness he brought with him from room to room. Not quite sexy darkness, like the guys in My Chemical Romance all seemed to possess, but there was a certain allure to his rejection of the status quo-- which is exactly what I needed to keep the people on their toes after inciting Cole's violent humiliation.

Vinnie's eyeliner was thicker than his italian eyebrows, and every time I looked into his wounded eyes, I found myself fantasizing over the size of his pitch-black emo boy tears as he stoically mourned the loss of his babelicious girlfriend. Me, that is. In case you were confused.

My first thought when he gave me an earbud-framed smile? I could fuck this guy up twice as good as Cole.

To his credit, Vinnie proved to be a much better boyfriend than Cole ever even gave me the glimpse of. Maybe that was because he seemed to share a similar fear of coming too close, as if kissing was too mainstream for us. Our sex was... interesting, to say the least.

I did, however, get to adorn his leather jacket over my shoulders, which turned all of the Hayley Williams look-alikes green with envy. I mean, literally. Green hair suddenly was the new orange. To be fair, I'm not sure I can actually take credit for that one. The emo community goes through more bleach than all of the contestants of a southern beauty pageant combined.

Vinnie was an interesting candidate to analyze. His stoic nature almost implied a boring personality, but buried under layer after layer of black clothing was a creative, intelligent, and thoughtful young man. But I skimmed past all of that, all of the love letters in my locker, the endless societal debates during lunch, the meat boycott that he still hadn't grown out of. I wasn't looking for his good qualities. My eye had been trained to find insecurity, and Vinnie was like a gold mine of self-doubt.

"I mean, architecture is cool, too," Vinnie had mumbled into my hair. We were curled up in the bed of his dad's truck, sipping on stolen champagne and huddled underneath missing comforters. Stargazing wasn't really my thing, but Vinnie could've gotten lost in the night sky. Sometimes I found myself wishing that I could look at him the way he looked at the stars, and then again how he'd look at me.

"Well, yeah, you'd be good at it. But you shouldn't let your dad control you. Like, isn't that the opposite of everything you stand for?" I had replied, all too aware of the few bits of our skin that had been leant up against each other. I shifted away.

I remember seeing him, even in the darkness of night, blanche.

"It's not that easy, though. You've met the man-- does he seem like the kind of guy that would back down easily?" He'd raised an eyebrow, taking a long swig straight from the champagne bottle, bypassing the plastic cups we'd brought with us.

"No, but neither do you," I'd pointed out, watching as his whole energy seemed to shrink.

"Look, my dad and I don't get along. But there are rules in my house, unlike yours, and I can't just walk around all the time doing whatever I want--" Yeah. That one strung. I think Vinnie was the only boy I dated who ever had the guts to call me out. This, as you can imagine, only increased my urge to hurt him.

"I should be thankful that he's letting me do something artistic, anyways," He had continued, getting visibly upset. "And It's not like I can be a poet if I can't even show people what I write. My writing fucking sucks," At this point, he had his head clutched between his hands and I made a half-hearted effort to rub his back.