I Never Believed in Fairytales

Gerard

The stairs seemed never ending, my legs haven’t had this much exercise since… actually, I couldn’t remember when. A few times I had to sit down, or rather sprawl out on the stairs until I regained my breath and my heart started to slow. But I kept going, and just kept telling myself that it would all be worth it. In a few days I’d be home, just keep going.

When I finally arrived at the top of the stairs there was a large wooden door cover in paintings and splatters of color. I knocked softly, unsure weather I should just go in or not, I’d rather not intrude on anyone. When there was no answer I slowly pushed open the door.

The place was a mess, a typical teenage boys room. The first room was a small living room connected to a small kitchen. It had the usual things you’d find in a house, shelves, a couch, a chair, and cupboards. But it was apparent a teenager lived here from the clothes that covered the floor along with paper, pencils and paint (in and out of the containers). I stepped through the mess and made my way further through the tower, getting closer and closer to finding the Prince.

His bedroom was at the end of a long narrow hall that made me slightly claustrophobic and when I saw even more stairs I had to will myself not to faint. It wasn’t as bad as the first set of stairs but by the time I made it to the top I was trying hard to catch my breath. At the top of the stairs was a door, just like the first. The only difference were the words ‘Frank’ that were written on the door a little lower than eye level in a slightly scribbled hand writing. I knocked softly, hoping he was in there. My hands trembled a little with worry of what he’d be like or if he was even in there at all. And maybe he didn’t want to go home, honestly his parents seemed like assholes, and if I were their son I know I wouldn’t want to go back to them.

After a long bout of silence between 3 knocks I finally pushed the door open. Maybe he wasn’t here? The whole tower was quiet, maybe he got free a while ago and this was just a pointless mission.

A small lump under the blankets on a large canopy bed told me different though. I walked through his clothes and books and the various things on his floor, trying hard not to step on something. I kicked furiously to get a blanket off that had mysteriously overtaken my foot. I straightened out, finally making it to his bedside.

I peaked over him and I could feel my heart beat a little faster and it was a little harder to breath as I took it all in. He had dark brown hair sprawled across his forehead, his eyes were shut softly as if he were dreaming of something sweet. There were black streaks around his eyes that looked like make-up, but it was there in a soft manner. His nose was skinny and long. His mouth was open slightly, his light pink lips were immobile, but layed with almost a slight smirk.

I looked around unsurely, “Uh, Prince Frank?” I whispered. I prodded him a little in the shoulder trying to wake him up. I remembered back to the stories about princes and princesses that my grandmother told me. There was a story she told me that stood out in my mind, though I wish it hadn’t. It was about a girl stuck in a tower, just like Frank. And in order to wake her up the prince kissed her… and he thinks he's a princess so maybe it worked the same way?

But I couldn’t do that, he was a boy, and it was just wrong. I poked him a few more times, but I didn’t think I had any choice. Besides he looked kind of cute laying there, looking so innocent. I’d just do it and get it over with then we can go home. So I took a deep breath and slowly bent down. My lips were slightly puckered and I lightly closed my eyes as my lips got closer and closer to his. I was just millimeters away from impact when-

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!” There was a mess of blankets flying in the air and a scurry as Frank backed up against the back of his bed. I stood up straight in shock, unsure of what just happened and wondering what the hell I was thinking. He reached over and grabbed something from his bedside table, before I could register what it was I was knocked to the floor, a strong headache pulsing through my head. And everything went black.

Frank

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. What just happened? I laid back against my bed, letting my muscles relax, trying to calm down. But I just knocked someone out.

Shit.

I rolled to the opposite side of my bed and rolled onto the floor, still clinging to my guitar. I peaked under my bed, but couldn’t see the stranger due to the messiness of my floor. I crept back up onto my bed and peaked over the corner of my mattress, my eyes landing on the man sprawled out on my wooden floor. He was still out cold so I poked him a few times, using the end of my guitar. He wasn’t bad looking, not like the ugly men I envisioned saving me, but due to the way he woke me up he obviously had other intentions. He had messy raven colored hair that landed just below his ears. His eyebrows looked as if they were constantly furrowed, but his eyes were soft. My eyes traveled down his nose and to his mouth where a slight frown played upon his lips. He couldn’t have been much older than me, 4 or 5 more years at the very most.

I sighed and got up off my bed forming a plan as I went. I finally decided it was safe to put my guitar down and I grabbed the blanket off my bed. Might as well take out the trash while he’s still passed out. I cleared a space on the floor, kicking things out of the way so I could lay my blanket out. I maneuvered the strange man so he was fully lying in the middle of the blanket, which proved to be difficult because he was so much bigger than me. I then grabbed the top edges of the blanket and I pulled. I pulled him all the way out of my room and down the stairs. His butt and feet bounced down every stair until his body was moving down the stairs too fast and my feet got hooked on the edge of the blanket. We both ended up flying down the rest of the stairs. I guess that’s one way. I tried to move but his body was hunched over mine, his face smooshed up against my chest, a small trail of drool sliding out of his mout. I rolled him over and just dragged him the rest of the way to the living room by his shirt. Who cares if he gets a few scrapes and bruises?

I left him on the floor and grabbed a chair from the kitchen. I searched the drawers finding what I needed to bind him to the chair. I put the chair in the middle of the living room and I dragged the man towards the chair. The only problem was that he was to heavy for me to successfully lift him far enough up to get his butt on the chair. I dropped him to the ground in defeat and looked around the living room. There had to be something I could use to slide him up onto the chair. I looked from the couch to the coffee table, then to the paintings on the wall to the shelf sporting some books, and to the chair in the corner. I looked back to the shelf. Maybe, that could work.

I cleared the shelf off, letting everything fall to the ground and ripped it off the wall, creating small holes to where the shelf was bolted. I just shrugged and set the board so it sat on the ground but leaned against the chair, making a small ramp to slide the body up. This is going work. I stood up on the chair and pulled the man once again, his shirt stressing under his weight as his butt slid up the make-shift ramp and onto the chair between my legs.

Once he was in place I jumped down and took a deep breath, congratulating myself on my success. I stole the satchel from across his body and threw it on the couch. I took the tape and started circling his body, first taping his torso to the chair, then his arms and legs. I nodded to myself before sitting on the couch and opening up his satchel to see what kind of man came to save me or rape me.

He didn’t carry much, just a little bit of food, a map and a folded piece of paper. I shook all the contents onto the floor. I reached for the paper first wondering if it was some sort of directions or maybe it had the mans name.

I unfolded it slowly, it was clear that the paper had been folded over and over again many times. I came to the conclusion that the paper was more than just a piece of paper, it was a poster with the size being much larger than most. At the top of the poster was the word ‘Wanted:’ and underneath that was a man, his hair was unkept and he a bit of stubble on his chin, leading up to his side burns. His face was really dirty and he looked slightly angry. I slowly lowered the poster and looked to the man in the chair. His hair
combed neatly, his face clean and recently shaved. My breath got stuck in my throat as I made the connection. There's no denying that it was the same man.

Finally, I read the name.

Gerard Way