MCR Imagines And Oneshots

♡;It's poetic | G.W.

The paintbrush's contact with my skin is cold and tickles, maybe, but the watercolor soon dries and the painted place returns to its original temperature. I smile when momentarily lifting my forearm from the kitchen table and inspecting the detail I had taken ten minutes of pure focus and thankfully got it perfectly.

Dipping the paintbrush in the already wet white paint, I start painting words over my skin. Most of them just related to songs, songs I like and/or have a deep meaning for me.

"Y'know, I've always seen those on your arms, but never you actually doing it." The sudden voice startles me and I look up to see Gerard eyeing me curiously and carefully.

"Hey." I blink a few times, not comprehending how did I not notice his presence, but deciding to comment about so later. "It's that I just do it when I'm alone." I raise my eyebrows lightly as smiling at my work, somewhat proud of it.

"Oh," He says and I flick my eyes to him, his ones widen for a second, "do you want me to-" He interrupts himself, awkward and kind of embarrassed as pointing a thumb to the stairs.

"No, it's okay." I chuckle and he relaxes in visible relief, grabbing his cup before making his way to the coffee machine. "You're home early." I mutter, returning to my attention to my arm, hearing the sound of coffee being poured into the cup and the characteristic smell immediately starting to fill the kitchen.

He takes a moment to answer, probably checking the time or his coffee. "Actually, I'm a bit late. I was talking with Mikey and lost track of time." Gerard's voice gradually comes closer until I'm able to see him leaning against the table and watching me. When I look up, he keeps his gaze over my work and sips on his coffee; his eyes quickly meet mine as noticing my stare over him. "You want some?" He asks raising the cup lightly.

I shake my head in response, not wanting to distract myself with the drink right now. "You like it?" I nod towards my forearm, looking at it for a moment before deciding to write 'Disenchanted' a few inches down from my wrist.

"Of course." He leans a bit closer, mumbling the syllables of the word as I'm writing it. "I never gathered the courage to ask, but" His fingers linger over a clean area between the paintings as slipping on the chair next to mine. "what do they mean?" He pauses. "You don't have to answer if you don't feel like it!" His worried and rushed tone makes me laugh lightly.

"I don't bother, really. It's you asking." I shrug lightly. There's no problem in telling things to him, even if they're personal like this; I mean, I still have my limits, obviously. "And, well," I raise my arm again, turning it to show him and look myself at all the paintings, tilting my head as analyzing it. "even I don't know properly," I pause, a bit embarrassed for not knowing how to explain it exactly. "Some are drawings that I did by impulse, others, I had in the back of my mind for a time now. The words are just references to songs that are meaningful to me or words I simply like."

I felt like this was extremely weird. - My arm was full of nonsense and, of course everyone has seen it before, but I never actually had to explain it to them. - Weird and disturbing drawings among song names or lyrics and words I liked. I can't help, some words are just beautiful.

"It's so beautiful." Gerard says and I smile, quietly thanking him and holding my arm up a bit longer when noticing he is analyzing it. "This one's my favorite." He points to one of the drawings on the inside of my forearm. A wound with a blue flower growing out of it as it kind of 'sews' some of the skin; the pretty first I did when I decided to start painting myself - the part that's closer to my elbow is already lightly faded, since I keep moving and folding my arm. "You always paint realistic wounds." His eyes move to mine, "Why?"

"I've got no idea." I raise my eyebrows lightly, returning my arm to over the table and deciding to paint a small galaxy near to my elbow. "I simply like the idea. It's beautiful." I say watching the blue paint mix a bit with the black one, still being identifiable. He softly hums in response. "Those drawings make me feel better." I mutter, "As if exposing what's inside and unloading some of the pressure. I guess that's kind of what the realistic wounds represent. There's always something beautiful coming out of them, but harmful both for me and other people. Like now, a flower with thorns."

"More metaphors?" Gerard raises an eyebrow, a smile over his lips. I chuckle nodding.

"It's poetic." I say in a funny tone, yet really meaning it. "It's- It's like if I did it instead of hurting myself. Do you get it? I prefer covering my skin with something it's beautiful and I can wash away later rather than with something that will make me want to cover it even more." I speak slower towards the end of the sentence, focusing more in trying to draw stars without letting the paint smudge.

"(Y/n)..." He breathes my name, a simultaneously pleading and scolding tone. I don't even bother looking up at him to know he has that classical look he does when I make any self-deprecating comment; eyebrows furrowed while he chews on the inside of his cheek, his head tilted to the right. And my response is always the same; a sigh. "You're perfect the way you are, y'know..." I glance at him to see his arm now folded over the table as he lays his head over it, watching me carefully. His cup, now seemingly empty, laying aside on the table.

"Don't come at me with that talk again, I'm already doing this to get better and you know I think this 'you are perfect and does not see it' sounds like pure bullshit." I furrow my eyebrows, shooting him a look. He groans, burying his face on his arm and saying a muffled 'okay'.

"But you're perfectly human, you know that." Gerard smiles, sitting upright and looking at me. "Your struggles, flaws, qualities, characteristics in general that make you that and you know it, right? And there's no problem at all in this. It's not like you need to be okay all the time, smile because there's always someone worse than you. Following this, you'd always cry too because there's always someone better than you."

His comment makes us chuckle and he continues, "It's not because everyone has problems that you'll not care about yours. It's okay to be like this, y'know?" He tilts his head towards me. "It may sound horrible, but it's good to hurt sometimes as it's good to be happy and calm. Problems are what make life life, it'd be too boring if everything was too easy."

I smile, noticing I've been just holding the paintbrush over my skin for a few time now and not painting anything, too entertained by Gerard speaking. Sighing, I drop the brush and look over to him, "Do I deserve you?"

"That's what I ask myself about you everyday." He says in a slightly teasing grin that makes me chuckle lightly, averting my eyes when feeling butterflies inside my stomach as in the first time I saw him. "I love you." He says and I turn my gaze to him again, biting back a smile.

"I love you too." I copy his actions when seeing him leaning forward, connecting our lips for a few seconds.

"Hey," He says after pulling away. "forbidden coffee." His face is back to the teasing one as he points towards the glass with the water I've been using to paint, now something brown and almost black due to my constant usage of colors like red, green and black.

I grin, chuckling, "I prepared it just for you." I reply before returning my attention to my arm, hearing him chuckle beside me.

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