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Another Meme!
I know I'm crap, I owe comments like woah, but work is EVIL, please give me a distraction?
Tell me about a story I haven't written, and I'll give you between one and three sentences from that story.
I can totally commit to one-to-three sentences, right?
Tell me about a story I haven't written, and I'll give you between one and three sentences from that story.
I can totally commit to one-to-three sentences, right?
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*
Gerard jerks the wheel, the squeal of rubber loud in his ears as the Trans Am slides around a corner. He switches up gears, feeling her hum all around him; through his fingers, under his feet. She wants to win as much as he does.
He floors it down the straight, keeping her steady, counting down the seconds to the next turn. A glance in his rearview shows him a slash of green and yellow and he scowls. Some skunk-haired punk who doesn't know shit about shit is not going to take his title. Gerard owns these fucking roads, and he's going to show Iero exactly that.
Iero pulls up beside him, his engine rumbling in broken harmony with Gerard's Trans Am. Gerard barely spares him a glance, and when he does Iero is frowning in concentration. He'll need it. After the next few curves there's an incline, and the trade off between speed and handling becomes crucial. Gerard knows exactly how to handle it, and that's when Iero will get left for dead.
He doesn't though. He holds his own, the fucker, keeping pace with Gerard, their engines growling and panting, all revs and exhaust. Gerard's body vibrates with adrenaline, his heartbeat pounding his blood like the engine pumping fuel. He doesn't look at Iero, but he can feel him, hear him, just outside his blind spot as they crest the rise, the finish line coming into view.
They explode past the checkpoint with a flash of chequered flags and a sharp intake of breath from Gerard as he shoots across it, Iero flying past in tandem.
Gerard comes first, but only barely.
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That is three sentences m'darling.
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