Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Hero
Well, would ya look at that. A scarily fast chapter! (You can thank mychemicalbitchbot for that. She accidently (on purpose, I'm sure :D) guilt tripped me into getting this up (ahahaha.) really quick. So yeah.)
BUT FIRST, BEAR WITH ME FOR LIKE, TWO SECONDS - thankyouallsofuckingmuchforreveiwingandratingbecuaseallthefuckingchaptershavegonefuckingGREEN!
Annnnnnd, breathe out. But seriously guys! ARGH! It's awesome! And therefore, by default, so are all of you! Anyways, there'll be more of this crazy shite at the bottom, so for now - FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT! (Heymimusic, now is the time to get the popcorn :D)
ENJOY! :D
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Frank stared up at the crowd that were all baying for his blood. Kenny suddenly tightened his already crushing grip and Frank felt his arms beginning to go numb with lack of blood. Maybe that was the idea. He was dragged a little more in the center of the wide space Tom had created – he assumed it was so his death would be easier to see. He felt oddly calm, and he could tell that was pissing Kenny off, as the boy mountain was doing everything he could - without outright hitting him – to get a reaction out of Frank.
But the New Jersey boy felt only anger mixed in a deadly cocktail of grief and heartbreak, and he refused to let them see how much he was dying inside because they would see that grief as their fault and be proud of it, but it wasn’t. His grief was to do with his roommate, and he was glad that he hadn’t been able to pick Gerard’s face out in the roaring crowd. There was nothing left now, but he couldn’t let the win; couldn’t let his death be a mockery, a joke, to all those standing there. He was taking most of them out if he did have to go down. He gritted his teeth as Kenny let go by shoving him to the ground and heard footsteps behind him. He voices that were running through his head like a raging river flowed and ebbed around him, but he had to use this to his advantage, and not let it distract him. He felt satisfaction and the image of a gleaming baseball bat smashing into his ribs scream through his head and recognized Tom’s ‘voice’. His left ribs would be smashed, but if he moved too early, that bat was going straight into his femur, and it’d do about as much damage. He had to stay kneeling on the ground against all his instincts until he glimpsed a glint out of the corner of his eye. Now or never. He flung himself onto the ground, and threw his head onto his folded arms, pressing himself to the cold bricked ground. The bat sailed over his head by millimeters and Tom look astonished that Frank wasn’t screaming in agony. Frank took the pause as an opportunity to scramble to his feet.
The way the crowd was placed was a serious problem, especially if things didn’t go the way said crowd wanted. They completely surrounded him and Tom, and no matter which way he faced, they was always some bloodthirsty schoolchild at his back. Shit. He was going to have to work overtime.
Tom strode towards him, swinging the bat, and Frank ducked seconds before it smashed into his temple, keeping his head open to all the ‘voices’ behind him, in case anyone got the idea to jump on his back or whatever. Tom’s face had lost the amused smirk that pained Frank to see – it wasn’t on the right face, but that expression was ultimately Gerard’s and Tom did not deserve it wear it – and had been replaced with the beginnings of an angry snarl. Frank smirked himself and figured: in for an inch, in for a mile. He stuck his middle finger up at Tom; mockingly bowing and doing some fake karate moves before gesturing Tom forward with his right ring finger, palm facing upwards. The mob was beginning to get unruly – their beloved fucking leader wasn’t winning as easily as they had envisioned. Frank raised his eyebrow at Tom as if daring him to come forwards. He knew how guys like Tom thought. Taunt them enough and they become predicable. Tom was staring angrily at him, mouth agape, and eventually Frank lost his patience.
“Oi! Fucktard! Are you gonna take another fucking swing at me or do I have to fucking bitch slap you!” The crowd was stunned. They had obviously thought that Frank would be scared shitless, and unable to fight and that this would be over quickly. Another beat of silence passed and Frank gave up. He strode over to Tom, and backhanded him right across the face just as Tom raised the bat to swing at him. Frank hadn’t been expecting that, and the blow caught him just below his ribs. The strike hadn’t hurt him too much, but he knew a little more about whom he was dealing with now, and decided he was going to have to play a little dirty. In Jersey, the street fighting unwritten ‘rules’ stated that if you weren’t really hurt after a punch or whatever, you got back up straight away and carried on. Although, in Jersey, all the fights were fairly matched. Not like here, where if he beat Tom, someone else would stand up and try to beat the shit out of him. So, rather than get up immediately as every nerve in him was screaming at him to, he stayed down and let Tom walk leisurely over him where he was clutching his side melodramatically. The idiot honestly thought he was being serious and smiled that smug grin that Frank never wanted to see on anyone other than Gerard, and brought the bat up, presumably to bring down on Frank’s head. Instead, Frank shot his fist straight upwards and caught Tom in the balls. He screamed and dropped the bat and Frank rolled away so the aluminium bat wouldn’t fall on him and break anything. He saw Kenny stride furiously into the space, but Frank clambered to his feet and picked up the bat on his way. Now he was armed. He saw Kenny falter.
He fluttered his eyelashes at Kenny and blew him a kiss. Kenny growled and charged straight at Frank, who was holding his hoodie out like a red flag for a bull. No one seemed to notice he was holding his hoodie with both hands and that the bat was hovering around waist height. As Kenny leant down to head butt him, Frank did a twirl a matador would’ve been proud of, leaving Kenny with Frank’s Smashing Pumpkins hoodie draped over his face. Frank laughed almost manically, grabbed the bat and smashed into Kenny’s knee, forcing the blinded boy down before holding it loosely in one hand and doing a pirouette that resulted in Kenny’s nose making a crack that echoed around the silent courtyard and making Frank’s formerly grey hoody beginning to be dyed red.
Two more boys stepped forward, and Frank vaguely recognized their faces, although he remembered them with bruises and cuts littering their faces. Ah yes. They were part of the group he’d completely wiped out about five days ago, and they looked fucking pissed. One of the boys was more heavy set with broader shoulders, but if Frank recalled correctly, the skinnier ginger kid was a better fighter. Frank debated quickly whether or not he’d have more fun with the bat, but that idea quickly vanished as the stockier boy dropped to his knees and the air around him began to twist and suddenly Frank was faced with a huge brown bear.
The bear glared at him with hate in his eyes and Frank knew that this fight was probably not going to end well. But hell if he was gonna start crying like a fucking girl. He braced himself and heard someone running through all the bear facts they knew in their head. Whoever it was, they were too far away for Frank to figure out exactly who they were, but he was grateful as they quickly relayed to him that brown bears, like the one staring Frank down right at this moment, could, run up to 35 km/h and weight up to 70 kg, had terrible vision and relied on their sense of smell, and could climb and swim adequately. The crowd was beginning to simmer with excitement again as the bear stalked forwards, raising its snout to smell Frank. Frank knew animals could smell fear and so, quickly clamed himself down and began to work out the angles. He couldn’t run. The bear would charge much faster than Kenny, and, unlike a normal bear, could not be scared off be making lots of noise. The only option he had left was the bat.
Frank rolled himself onto the balls of his feet and waited. Making the first move in a fight with a person is usually a good idea – but with an animal, it was pretty much out of the question. The bear sauntered forward on all fours and once he finally caught Frank’s smell, he began to run across the square, gaining speed and heading for Frank with the accuracy of a heat-seeking missile. The whole mob leant forward as if desperate to get a little closer to watch Frank’s imminent death, but rather than turning and fleeing like so many had thought he would, or swing the bat as everyone else expected, he jumped towards the bear and landed heavily and pretty shakily on the bears back. For a moment, the bear hadn’t realized, and Frank took that moment to bring the bat down over the creature’s head.
The bear was stunned for a second before standing up on its hind legs and therefore knocking Frank to the ground. It swiped at him, twice, and both caught Frank – one angry set of claws raked across his face, drawing red beads of blood, whilst the other paw caught him across the stomach, slicing open his t-shirt and drawing more blood than the other wound. Frank looked down and saw the red seeping into his t-shirt. He shakily got to his feet, trying to ignore the burning pain across his abdomen and face, but before he could properly stand, the scrawny ginger boy leapt on his back. Frank’s knees buckled again and he sank to the bricked floor, and then was roughly turned over and straddled by the ginger boy who began to punch Frank in the face. Blow after blow – Frank felt every one, and the marks they were beginning to leave.
He was so angry. Angry at the fucking cunts that were doing this to him and thinking it was fun, angry at himself for not being able to do this but also angry at the people who were supposed to be looking after him. He could see the Gym teacher at the edge of the crowd, smirking, he could see the head standing in his office, looking down on the scene and not fucking helping.
Frank felt utter grief, horror and shock tear through his head, accompanied by sobbing and the desperate pleads of “No no no no! Please, Frankie, fucking please get off that floor!” Frank can’t quite hear the voice clearly through the pain as the ginger kid’s fists rain down on him again and again, or through the mess of voices that are the crowd, but he doesn’t need that to know who’s begging. The only person that had given a fuck about Frank since he arrived.
Gerard was yelling, really yelling and Frank began to blink his way through the pain, and the world blurred and then came into focus. The ginger’s face complete with a smug sneer and evil in his eyes came into focus and Frank’s fury flared – he wasn’t losing to this punk. Or any of them. He could lift him off with telekinesis, but chose to punch the kid in the mouth and watch his blood as well as two teeth spurt over him. Much more satisfying. The ginger gagged on his own blood and Frank smiled sadistically before giving the kid one more shove and sending him flying. The stocky boy was still a bear, and the bat was a little way away, but Frank was done with being nice and playing fair. They hadn’t, so neither was he anymore. He grabbed the bat from where he stood, and then used his freaky gift to swing it around with considerable force and smash into the bear’s skull once, twice, three times until he’d changed back to a boy – albeit and naked ugly one that looked as if his jawbone had dislocated. He was also completely out cold, with what looked like a broken rib. Frank clenched his fist and began to glare at the crowd, turning slowly so they all knew that they had tried to fucking win, but he had gone Jersey on their ‘tough’ rich boy asses and had come out of this fucking victorious.
Stunned did not even begin to describe the crowd. The silence was crushing, pressing in on him from all sides and he began to laugh again. Suddenly, all he felt was sheer rage. He was fucking tired of all this shit.
“You fucking happy now? You may if had fucking numbers on your side and think you’re so bloody tough, but all you brats wouldn’t know what a fight was if it hit you with a train. What’s the worse punch up you’ve been in, huh?” Frank’s voice was beginning to rise. “You might think you do whatever you fucking want cause you have money, and your daddy’s so influential – but guess what? I came here from the real fucking world, where not everyone has money to bribe people with. Not everyone has got someone high up and powerful to run to when things get ugly. Some people have to bring themselves up and look after their own fucking problems, and it’s high time you cunts realized that, because I swear to God, if any of you try messing me or my shit or anything and anyone I’m attached to, you’re going to fucking regret it. This” he gestured to the moaning Tom and the sobbing Kenny as well as the silent ginger kid and his unconscious friend “will look fucking tame by the time I’m through with you. Do you fucking understand, you rich, snobby, conceited assholes? Anyone who doesn’t quite get it through his or her pampered fucking skull, feel free to step forward and I’ll make it fucking clear.”
He twirled the bat in his hand. The crowd just gaped at Frank. He snarled at them, spitting out the last word.
“Good.” And Frank turned around, and pushed his way through the crowd, and headed to his dorm.
Up in dorm 13, where Frank was headed right at that moment, Gerard fell back from the window and onto Frank’s bed before sighing in relief and quickly wiping away the tears of anger, pain and happiness that stained his cheeks away. And… damn. Frank was fucking hot when he was angry.
Frank flew up the stairs, with a bruise forming on his side, Kenny’s blood all over his hoody, the still stinging scratches on his stomach and anger still raging in his chest. He shoved open the door and glimpsed the room and Gerard for a moment, then Gerard slammed the door shut, shoved him against the wall and attacked Franks mouth. Frank felt all his anger slip away, and quickly stood on his toes, locked his arms around Gerard’s neck and kissed back with as much enthusiasm as he could. Gerard trailed his hands down Frank’s back, before gently resting them at the waist, and touching the exposed skin where Frank’s t-shirt had ridden up. Frank’s skin practically tingled where Gerard was touching his waist and he ran is hands down Gerard’s chest, ghosting over it through the t-shirt, and grinned when he felt Gerard shudder. Gerard pulled away and took a deep breath, but unlike last time, kept his hands where they were and just pressed his forehead quietly to Franks. Frank peered up through his lashes at his gorgeous roommate, who sighed and pressed his lips gently to Frank’s again.
“You know what Frankie?” Gerard murmured quietly, brushing Frank’s scruffy fringe out if his eyes, “The first time I saw you, I knew you’d be the death of me. And I am so fucking relieved you’re okay. I loved your little speech. You’re fucking beautiful when you’re pissed off.”
“Thanks.” Frank whispered back. He couldn’t quite believe that Gerard was still holding him and he kept running his hands over Gerard’s shoulders, back, chest and neck as if making sure he was still there. Gerard smiled – a proper smile, not a smirk or a breathless grin, or a bitter sneer – a smile that quietly told Frank that Gerard really was, for the time being, happy. He loved seeing that simple expression on Gerard’s face and couldn’t quite help himself; he had to lean up that inch, tangle his hands in that soft ebony hair and claim those thin pink lips for himself again. Gerard let out a breathy little sigh and pulled away gently.
“Frankie… I can’t do this.” Frank gazed into the saddened green eyes of the boy he was holding and whispered the only thing he wanted to know.
“Why?” Gerard looked utterly broken. His eyes were screwed shut now and he was biting his lip and Frank looked at him in terror as the tears began to roll down those soft pale cheeks.
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Hey look fearsgottahold! Another cliffhanger (kind of) for you to enjoy! Lucky you, eh? ^.^
Thanks to Carbon Jen and raytorosfro to reveiwing (I'm glad you both liked it!) and to Eleonora who only had to wait, like, three hours for this to appear!
Thanks to Heymimusic who went round rating everything and yes, I do actaully grin like the Cheshire Cat whenever I get reviews. And it's usually yours first. And good luck with the guitar!
Crazy stalker-ish rambling "over emotional bitch" loads of thank to mychemicalbitchbot; you went ever so slightly insane and almost made me puke from laughing as well making my face ache from grinning. And thanks for going crazy with the rating and then managing to make Heymimusic go mad with it as well! I know have six (hopefully seven? - wink wink nudge nudge) lovely green chapters thanks to you to and everyone else who rated!
Okaaaaaay, so. I have - not going to lie - NO IDEA what Gerard is going to say next, so I may think about this for a couple of days, and POSSIBLY write something else, like a oneshot, in the meantime. Yeah, I have an overall storyline, but details usually just appear whilst typing...
Anyways, UNTIL NEXT TIME! (And reveiw you awesome people!)
BUT FIRST, BEAR WITH ME FOR LIKE, TWO SECONDS - thankyouallsofuckingmuchforreveiwingandratingbecuaseallthefuckingchaptershavegonefuckingGREEN!
Annnnnnd, breathe out. But seriously guys! ARGH! It's awesome! And therefore, by default, so are all of you! Anyways, there'll be more of this crazy shite at the bottom, so for now - FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT! (Heymimusic, now is the time to get the popcorn :D)
ENJOY! :D
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Frank stared up at the crowd that were all baying for his blood. Kenny suddenly tightened his already crushing grip and Frank felt his arms beginning to go numb with lack of blood. Maybe that was the idea. He was dragged a little more in the center of the wide space Tom had created – he assumed it was so his death would be easier to see. He felt oddly calm, and he could tell that was pissing Kenny off, as the boy mountain was doing everything he could - without outright hitting him – to get a reaction out of Frank.
But the New Jersey boy felt only anger mixed in a deadly cocktail of grief and heartbreak, and he refused to let them see how much he was dying inside because they would see that grief as their fault and be proud of it, but it wasn’t. His grief was to do with his roommate, and he was glad that he hadn’t been able to pick Gerard’s face out in the roaring crowd. There was nothing left now, but he couldn’t let the win; couldn’t let his death be a mockery, a joke, to all those standing there. He was taking most of them out if he did have to go down. He gritted his teeth as Kenny let go by shoving him to the ground and heard footsteps behind him. He voices that were running through his head like a raging river flowed and ebbed around him, but he had to use this to his advantage, and not let it distract him. He felt satisfaction and the image of a gleaming baseball bat smashing into his ribs scream through his head and recognized Tom’s ‘voice’. His left ribs would be smashed, but if he moved too early, that bat was going straight into his femur, and it’d do about as much damage. He had to stay kneeling on the ground against all his instincts until he glimpsed a glint out of the corner of his eye. Now or never. He flung himself onto the ground, and threw his head onto his folded arms, pressing himself to the cold bricked ground. The bat sailed over his head by millimeters and Tom look astonished that Frank wasn’t screaming in agony. Frank took the pause as an opportunity to scramble to his feet.
The way the crowd was placed was a serious problem, especially if things didn’t go the way said crowd wanted. They completely surrounded him and Tom, and no matter which way he faced, they was always some bloodthirsty schoolchild at his back. Shit. He was going to have to work overtime.
Tom strode towards him, swinging the bat, and Frank ducked seconds before it smashed into his temple, keeping his head open to all the ‘voices’ behind him, in case anyone got the idea to jump on his back or whatever. Tom’s face had lost the amused smirk that pained Frank to see – it wasn’t on the right face, but that expression was ultimately Gerard’s and Tom did not deserve it wear it – and had been replaced with the beginnings of an angry snarl. Frank smirked himself and figured: in for an inch, in for a mile. He stuck his middle finger up at Tom; mockingly bowing and doing some fake karate moves before gesturing Tom forward with his right ring finger, palm facing upwards. The mob was beginning to get unruly – their beloved fucking leader wasn’t winning as easily as they had envisioned. Frank raised his eyebrow at Tom as if daring him to come forwards. He knew how guys like Tom thought. Taunt them enough and they become predicable. Tom was staring angrily at him, mouth agape, and eventually Frank lost his patience.
“Oi! Fucktard! Are you gonna take another fucking swing at me or do I have to fucking bitch slap you!” The crowd was stunned. They had obviously thought that Frank would be scared shitless, and unable to fight and that this would be over quickly. Another beat of silence passed and Frank gave up. He strode over to Tom, and backhanded him right across the face just as Tom raised the bat to swing at him. Frank hadn’t been expecting that, and the blow caught him just below his ribs. The strike hadn’t hurt him too much, but he knew a little more about whom he was dealing with now, and decided he was going to have to play a little dirty. In Jersey, the street fighting unwritten ‘rules’ stated that if you weren’t really hurt after a punch or whatever, you got back up straight away and carried on. Although, in Jersey, all the fights were fairly matched. Not like here, where if he beat Tom, someone else would stand up and try to beat the shit out of him. So, rather than get up immediately as every nerve in him was screaming at him to, he stayed down and let Tom walk leisurely over him where he was clutching his side melodramatically. The idiot honestly thought he was being serious and smiled that smug grin that Frank never wanted to see on anyone other than Gerard, and brought the bat up, presumably to bring down on Frank’s head. Instead, Frank shot his fist straight upwards and caught Tom in the balls. He screamed and dropped the bat and Frank rolled away so the aluminium bat wouldn’t fall on him and break anything. He saw Kenny stride furiously into the space, but Frank clambered to his feet and picked up the bat on his way. Now he was armed. He saw Kenny falter.
He fluttered his eyelashes at Kenny and blew him a kiss. Kenny growled and charged straight at Frank, who was holding his hoodie out like a red flag for a bull. No one seemed to notice he was holding his hoodie with both hands and that the bat was hovering around waist height. As Kenny leant down to head butt him, Frank did a twirl a matador would’ve been proud of, leaving Kenny with Frank’s Smashing Pumpkins hoodie draped over his face. Frank laughed almost manically, grabbed the bat and smashed into Kenny’s knee, forcing the blinded boy down before holding it loosely in one hand and doing a pirouette that resulted in Kenny’s nose making a crack that echoed around the silent courtyard and making Frank’s formerly grey hoody beginning to be dyed red.
Two more boys stepped forward, and Frank vaguely recognized their faces, although he remembered them with bruises and cuts littering their faces. Ah yes. They were part of the group he’d completely wiped out about five days ago, and they looked fucking pissed. One of the boys was more heavy set with broader shoulders, but if Frank recalled correctly, the skinnier ginger kid was a better fighter. Frank debated quickly whether or not he’d have more fun with the bat, but that idea quickly vanished as the stockier boy dropped to his knees and the air around him began to twist and suddenly Frank was faced with a huge brown bear.
The bear glared at him with hate in his eyes and Frank knew that this fight was probably not going to end well. But hell if he was gonna start crying like a fucking girl. He braced himself and heard someone running through all the bear facts they knew in their head. Whoever it was, they were too far away for Frank to figure out exactly who they were, but he was grateful as they quickly relayed to him that brown bears, like the one staring Frank down right at this moment, could, run up to 35 km/h and weight up to 70 kg, had terrible vision and relied on their sense of smell, and could climb and swim adequately. The crowd was beginning to simmer with excitement again as the bear stalked forwards, raising its snout to smell Frank. Frank knew animals could smell fear and so, quickly clamed himself down and began to work out the angles. He couldn’t run. The bear would charge much faster than Kenny, and, unlike a normal bear, could not be scared off be making lots of noise. The only option he had left was the bat.
Frank rolled himself onto the balls of his feet and waited. Making the first move in a fight with a person is usually a good idea – but with an animal, it was pretty much out of the question. The bear sauntered forward on all fours and once he finally caught Frank’s smell, he began to run across the square, gaining speed and heading for Frank with the accuracy of a heat-seeking missile. The whole mob leant forward as if desperate to get a little closer to watch Frank’s imminent death, but rather than turning and fleeing like so many had thought he would, or swing the bat as everyone else expected, he jumped towards the bear and landed heavily and pretty shakily on the bears back. For a moment, the bear hadn’t realized, and Frank took that moment to bring the bat down over the creature’s head.
The bear was stunned for a second before standing up on its hind legs and therefore knocking Frank to the ground. It swiped at him, twice, and both caught Frank – one angry set of claws raked across his face, drawing red beads of blood, whilst the other paw caught him across the stomach, slicing open his t-shirt and drawing more blood than the other wound. Frank looked down and saw the red seeping into his t-shirt. He shakily got to his feet, trying to ignore the burning pain across his abdomen and face, but before he could properly stand, the scrawny ginger boy leapt on his back. Frank’s knees buckled again and he sank to the bricked floor, and then was roughly turned over and straddled by the ginger boy who began to punch Frank in the face. Blow after blow – Frank felt every one, and the marks they were beginning to leave.
He was so angry. Angry at the fucking cunts that were doing this to him and thinking it was fun, angry at himself for not being able to do this but also angry at the people who were supposed to be looking after him. He could see the Gym teacher at the edge of the crowd, smirking, he could see the head standing in his office, looking down on the scene and not fucking helping.
Frank felt utter grief, horror and shock tear through his head, accompanied by sobbing and the desperate pleads of “No no no no! Please, Frankie, fucking please get off that floor!” Frank can’t quite hear the voice clearly through the pain as the ginger kid’s fists rain down on him again and again, or through the mess of voices that are the crowd, but he doesn’t need that to know who’s begging. The only person that had given a fuck about Frank since he arrived.
Gerard was yelling, really yelling and Frank began to blink his way through the pain, and the world blurred and then came into focus. The ginger’s face complete with a smug sneer and evil in his eyes came into focus and Frank’s fury flared – he wasn’t losing to this punk. Or any of them. He could lift him off with telekinesis, but chose to punch the kid in the mouth and watch his blood as well as two teeth spurt over him. Much more satisfying. The ginger gagged on his own blood and Frank smiled sadistically before giving the kid one more shove and sending him flying. The stocky boy was still a bear, and the bat was a little way away, but Frank was done with being nice and playing fair. They hadn’t, so neither was he anymore. He grabbed the bat from where he stood, and then used his freaky gift to swing it around with considerable force and smash into the bear’s skull once, twice, three times until he’d changed back to a boy – albeit and naked ugly one that looked as if his jawbone had dislocated. He was also completely out cold, with what looked like a broken rib. Frank clenched his fist and began to glare at the crowd, turning slowly so they all knew that they had tried to fucking win, but he had gone Jersey on their ‘tough’ rich boy asses and had come out of this fucking victorious.
Stunned did not even begin to describe the crowd. The silence was crushing, pressing in on him from all sides and he began to laugh again. Suddenly, all he felt was sheer rage. He was fucking tired of all this shit.
“You fucking happy now? You may if had fucking numbers on your side and think you’re so bloody tough, but all you brats wouldn’t know what a fight was if it hit you with a train. What’s the worse punch up you’ve been in, huh?” Frank’s voice was beginning to rise. “You might think you do whatever you fucking want cause you have money, and your daddy’s so influential – but guess what? I came here from the real fucking world, where not everyone has money to bribe people with. Not everyone has got someone high up and powerful to run to when things get ugly. Some people have to bring themselves up and look after their own fucking problems, and it’s high time you cunts realized that, because I swear to God, if any of you try messing me or my shit or anything and anyone I’m attached to, you’re going to fucking regret it. This” he gestured to the moaning Tom and the sobbing Kenny as well as the silent ginger kid and his unconscious friend “will look fucking tame by the time I’m through with you. Do you fucking understand, you rich, snobby, conceited assholes? Anyone who doesn’t quite get it through his or her pampered fucking skull, feel free to step forward and I’ll make it fucking clear.”
He twirled the bat in his hand. The crowd just gaped at Frank. He snarled at them, spitting out the last word.
“Good.” And Frank turned around, and pushed his way through the crowd, and headed to his dorm.
Up in dorm 13, where Frank was headed right at that moment, Gerard fell back from the window and onto Frank’s bed before sighing in relief and quickly wiping away the tears of anger, pain and happiness that stained his cheeks away. And… damn. Frank was fucking hot when he was angry.
Frank flew up the stairs, with a bruise forming on his side, Kenny’s blood all over his hoody, the still stinging scratches on his stomach and anger still raging in his chest. He shoved open the door and glimpsed the room and Gerard for a moment, then Gerard slammed the door shut, shoved him against the wall and attacked Franks mouth. Frank felt all his anger slip away, and quickly stood on his toes, locked his arms around Gerard’s neck and kissed back with as much enthusiasm as he could. Gerard trailed his hands down Frank’s back, before gently resting them at the waist, and touching the exposed skin where Frank’s t-shirt had ridden up. Frank’s skin practically tingled where Gerard was touching his waist and he ran is hands down Gerard’s chest, ghosting over it through the t-shirt, and grinned when he felt Gerard shudder. Gerard pulled away and took a deep breath, but unlike last time, kept his hands where they were and just pressed his forehead quietly to Franks. Frank peered up through his lashes at his gorgeous roommate, who sighed and pressed his lips gently to Frank’s again.
“You know what Frankie?” Gerard murmured quietly, brushing Frank’s scruffy fringe out if his eyes, “The first time I saw you, I knew you’d be the death of me. And I am so fucking relieved you’re okay. I loved your little speech. You’re fucking beautiful when you’re pissed off.”
“Thanks.” Frank whispered back. He couldn’t quite believe that Gerard was still holding him and he kept running his hands over Gerard’s shoulders, back, chest and neck as if making sure he was still there. Gerard smiled – a proper smile, not a smirk or a breathless grin, or a bitter sneer – a smile that quietly told Frank that Gerard really was, for the time being, happy. He loved seeing that simple expression on Gerard’s face and couldn’t quite help himself; he had to lean up that inch, tangle his hands in that soft ebony hair and claim those thin pink lips for himself again. Gerard let out a breathy little sigh and pulled away gently.
“Frankie… I can’t do this.” Frank gazed into the saddened green eyes of the boy he was holding and whispered the only thing he wanted to know.
“Why?” Gerard looked utterly broken. His eyes were screwed shut now and he was biting his lip and Frank looked at him in terror as the tears began to roll down those soft pale cheeks.
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Hey look fearsgottahold! Another cliffhanger (kind of) for you to enjoy! Lucky you, eh? ^.^
Thanks to Carbon Jen and raytorosfro to reveiwing (I'm glad you both liked it!) and to Eleonora who only had to wait, like, three hours for this to appear!
Thanks to Heymimusic who went round rating everything and yes, I do actaully grin like the Cheshire Cat whenever I get reviews. And it's usually yours first. And good luck with the guitar!
Crazy stalker-ish rambling "over emotional bitch" loads of thank to mychemicalbitchbot; you went ever so slightly insane and almost made me puke from laughing as well making my face ache from grinning. And thanks for going crazy with the rating and then managing to make Heymimusic go mad with it as well! I know have six (hopefully seven? - wink wink nudge nudge) lovely green chapters thanks to you to and everyone else who rated!
Okaaaaaay, so. I have - not going to lie - NO IDEA what Gerard is going to say next, so I may think about this for a couple of days, and POSSIBLY write something else, like a oneshot, in the meantime. Yeah, I have an overall storyline, but details usually just appear whilst typing...
Anyways, UNTIL NEXT TIME! (And reveiw you awesome people!)
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