Dangerous Nostalgia/Keep Running!
Title: Keep Running.
Warnings: Written at six pm, bad grammar. A little angst.
Disclaimer: MCR belong to themselves. The Killjoys belong to My chemical Romance. I own nothing, mean no harm and do this for fun.
Notes: Probably part one in the Dangerous Nostalgia series.
Against their better judgment, the Killjoys hid in a abounded theater. Sleeping on the dusty, broken down stage. Trying to sleep, anyway. None of them had said anything to the others but they had all been awake, dangerously deep in their own minds. As their leader Gerard knew he should find another place, say something, do something. He couldn't though, he just sat crying in the middle of the dusty stage. When the first rays of sun hit the stage, they packed their gear, preparing to leave. Trying to act like it had been one of their normal hide outs. But their movements were sluggish, not only from sleep, but nostalgia. Even through it was dangerous they wanted to stay. Gerard guessed that the need to stay in the rat infested place showed as bright in his eyes as he could see in his comrades. Longing looks to what would have been their place on the stage. It was almost as he could feel the beat, feel the music running through him, making him high. Memories, making him want to throw his head back and scream. But he didn't because now his scream would not be from the rush of music in his veins. That was a scream was forever buried in the back of his mind, in a box he did not dare to open. If he screamed now, the sound rising from his dry throat would not belong to him, it would belong to Party Poison, a scream of anguish, loss and desperation. A scream from a band leader who lost his drummer to the Dracs just a week on the run, never even getting the chance to bury the body. Instead seeing it strung up by the road, a few days later. A warning to those who Called themselves Zonerunners. It would be the helpless cry of a rebel leader out of his depth. Gerard did not scream, instead he slipped his helmet on. Letting Party Poison take over. Deliberately not looking back as he walked to the Trans am. During daytime only one thought could occupy his mind.
Keep Running!
Warnings: Written at six pm, bad grammar. A little angst.
Disclaimer: MCR belong to themselves. The Killjoys belong to My chemical Romance. I own nothing, mean no harm and do this for fun.
Notes: Probably part one in the Dangerous Nostalgia series.
Against their better judgment, the Killjoys hid in a abounded theater. Sleeping on the dusty, broken down stage. Trying to sleep, anyway. None of them had said anything to the others but they had all been awake, dangerously deep in their own minds. As their leader Gerard knew he should find another place, say something, do something. He couldn't though, he just sat crying in the middle of the dusty stage. When the first rays of sun hit the stage, they packed their gear, preparing to leave. Trying to act like it had been one of their normal hide outs. But their movements were sluggish, not only from sleep, but nostalgia. Even through it was dangerous they wanted to stay. Gerard guessed that the need to stay in the rat infested place showed as bright in his eyes as he could see in his comrades. Longing looks to what would have been their place on the stage. It was almost as he could feel the beat, feel the music running through him, making him high. Memories, making him want to throw his head back and scream. But he didn't because now his scream would not be from the rush of music in his veins. That was a scream was forever buried in the back of his mind, in a box he did not dare to open. If he screamed now, the sound rising from his dry throat would not belong to him, it would belong to Party Poison, a scream of anguish, loss and desperation. A scream from a band leader who lost his drummer to the Dracs just a week on the run, never even getting the chance to bury the body. Instead seeing it strung up by the road, a few days later. A warning to those who Called themselves Zonerunners. It would be the helpless cry of a rebel leader out of his depth. Gerard did not scream, instead he slipped his helmet on. Letting Party Poison take over. Deliberately not looking back as he walked to the Trans am. During daytime only one thought could occupy his mind.
Keep Running!