Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > A Misfit's Guide to the 20 Ways
5# Play Hard to Get
22 ReviewsBad to the fucking bone.
Sorry it’s taken so long for me to update. But the chapter is here now and hopefully you’ll forgive me for it not being here sooner.
Play Hard to Get
“...And you know when he looks at me all, like, mysterious? Like when he’s tryna get what I’m thinking? That’s so cool. I think we must be soul mates or something because when I was at his house we had sooo much in common, it was like we were born from the same womb but we weren’t because that would be, like, incest. Which would be gross. And then in Chemistry today when I got in all close and he was like “I suck dick at Chemistry” was he coming on to me? Or was he telling me he just sucks at Chemistry? AGH why are guys so confusing?!” I end, breathing heavily.
There is silence on the other line as my recipient takes in my heavy rant which is finally broken with “I don’t know, Frank. I just called to see if you still had the tweed jacket I let you borrow for Halloween.”
“No, I don’t have your fucking tweed jacket,” I cry, burying my head in my pillow. “I forgot to tell you; Cam’s mom had another attack when she saw me wearing it and tried to drown me in her bathtub.”
“Care to explain why?”
“Dude, it’s Cam’s mom. Were you even listening to a word I said?”
“I’m sorry, Frank!” Ray wails pathetically causing me to hold the phone a little further from my ear. “But I don’t know what to say when you start talking about guys! I often feel like my destiny in life is to stand there looking awkward and occasionally run out of rooms.”
He does do that a lot. “Any leads on the man-bear-pig?”
“None,” Ray sighs dejectedly. “Although I have received new intelligence that it may be half man and half bear-pig instead half bear and half man-pig as we originally guessed.”
“That’s great,” I tell him, careful to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. I’ve never quite been as ready to believe Ray’s tomato visions as some.
Ray chatters on about his new findings for a little longer as I gaze forlornly at the list of the 20 Ways laying on my bedspread. Although I have attempted it a number of times, words just cannot describe how I feel for this skinny, floppy-haired new kid. The other day I found myself staring at him for about twenty minutes because I liked the way the light hit the side of his face. What the hell? I’m turning into one of those people; the icky, gross, lovey-dovey people in Shakespeare plays and Cliffs Notes. If I don’t watch it I’m going to wake up as a 17th century lord in a pantyhose and codpiece.
“Frank?” says a small voice, bringing me out of my reverie.
“What? Sorry, I totally spaced out there for a little bit.”
“I was asking you if you wanted to come with me to Ridiculously Possible convention next week,” says Ray. “Apparently they’re showing this noodle that stretches to, like, two-hundred feet long!”
“A two-hundred foot long noodle,” I repeat. Jesus W. Christ. “Sounds...ridiculously possible. But I think I’m gonna have a load of homework that day. Or maybe I’ll have a cold. Yep, I’m definitely gonna have a cold that day.”
“Oh, okay then,” Ray says cheerfully. “Hope it gets better soon!”
He hangs up, leaving me staring at the receiver in astonishment. For someone so stupid he really is pretty damn stupid.
I reread the list again, narrowing my eyes at the next stage. Well, if anything’s going to stop me from acting like a love-struck puke-ball this one will. For now on I am my usual tough, badass, macho self. And Gerard better love it.
Bad to the bone, baby. Bad to the fucking bone.
*
“Bad to the bone
Bad to the bone
B-B-B-B-Bad
B-B-B-B-Bad
B-B-B-B-Bad
Bad to the bone-”
“-Stop singing that!” shrieks Cam, yanking at locks of dyed tomato-red hair. “And for Godsake, will you please take of those freaking sunglasses?!”
“There not just sunglasses philistine, they’re Aviators,” I explain for the hundredth time, ignoring her request for me to remove them.
Know why? Cos I’m motherfucking bad, man.
Decked out in leather jacket, torn jeans and the Aviators I look sorta like the Terminator. Which works for me, considering the Terminator is pretty much the baddest sonofabitch out there. I’m looking so badass that a little old woman actually crossed the road to avoid me while whispering something about the “decline of the great nation”, whatever the hell that means. And I also know I look hot because I got about fifty approving glances from the homosexual biker gang that passes through here from time to time.
“The list said play hard to get,” says Cam. “Not play sadomasochistic stripper.”
“Same difference really,” I shrug, brushing some dirt of my shoulders.
Actually, maybe the leather jacket was a little too much. It’s, what, five hundred degrees outside? And I’m burning up. I attempt to loosen my belt and collar a little bit, praying the heat doesn’t mess up the hair I spent about three hours working on. A short, shaved mohawk, dyed red on one side and black on the other, the hair flopping to hide one eye. Even Cam told me I looked shmexy. But will Gerard agree?
“Hey Cam,” greets a small voice. “Hey Frank. I love your hair.”
Today Gerard is wearing a white zombie-killing t-shirt and a pair of low slung, straight-fit jeans which only help to accentuate those fantastically drool-worthy hips and the marble white skin just showing above it. As I stand there staring I can practically feel the saliva streaking out of the corners of my mouth. I wants it. Wants it. Wants it all!
“Frank?” Cam snaps her fingers in front of my face, bringing me out of my reverie. “Frank, you okay?”
“My name is Frank Iero. I am 5”4 and 9 stone. I like to take walks during a thunderstorm, my favourite animal is a marmoset and my favourite mineral is-”
“-Why does he do that?” asks Gerard thoughtfully.
Cam shrugs and sighs. “Troubled soul.”
Oh God, it’s back again. The word vomit. I clamp my hand over my mouth but still I can’t stop myself from stating: “You look so hot today.”
Gerard looks surprised and shakes his fringe over his eyes. “Oh. Thank you. I just picked up whatever I found off the floor-”
“-Yeah, yeah, don’t flatter yourself,” I interrupt, pushing my Aviators further up my nose. “Just accept the compliment and move on with your life.”
Gerard blinks. Cam blinks. Ray blinks. “Oh, hey Ray!” says Cam, cheerfully breaking the silence.
“Hey,” Ray returns brightly before turning to Gerard. “I found something in my locker. I think it belongs to you.”
He moves slightly out of the way revealing a small, skinny kid with floppy hair and wire-framed glasses.
“I KNOW YOU!” I point accusingly at the scowling child. “You’re Mikey-san.”
“And you suddenly started speaking Japanese. Why?”
“Watashi wa ikemen desu,” I shrug.
Mikey-san gives me the once-over and folds his arms across his chest, sneering. Actually, for one so young, he really is pretty intimindating.
“Oh yeah, you’re that weird guy who came round to my house and tried to gay up my brother,” Mikey grimaces. “Fantastic. My day keeps getting better and better.”
“How bad can your days be? You’re fourteen!” Gerard rolls his eyes.
“I’ve experienced much of life.”
“Like what?”
“I’ve experienced more of life than you have so shut up!”
“Why are you even here?” I frown. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the building with the other midgets?”
Mikey looks me up and down. “Aren’t you?”
Gasp! What was that? I think...I think I was just insulted. By a freaking child. A fourteen year old just called me a midget. I might as well go drown myself in soup.
“Frank?” says Gerard, a concerned frown on his face. “Are you okay? Your eyes are all...watery.”
Sniff. “I’m fine,” I reply in my tiniest voice. “I’m just...allergic.”
“To what?”
“To RUDENESS!” I cry, my voice heavy with emotion. Mikey snickers. I glare at him.
“For your information, they moved me up a year,” says Mikey in a bored, couldn’t-care-less kind of way. “So I have to hang out with you guys now.”
Wow. Gerard’s brother must be really smart. I’ve never heard of the school move a kid’s up before, then again the kids in our school aren’t exactly the brightest sequins in the tranny bar. I wipe at my eyes with the back of my hand, hopefully discreetly.
“You sure you’re alright?” Gerard asks me again.
I toss my mohawk into my face and give Gerard the coldest look I can muster. “Yeah, man,” I say dismissively. “I’m fine. Chill, already.”
Gerard’s cheeks colour slightly. “Sorry, I just-”
“-That’s great,” I say, turning away from him to face Cam’s bewildered stare. Behind me Gerard looks hurt, pulling at my heartstrings more than a little bit but I can’t afford to give up now!
“Um...okay...” Cam begins unsurely. “Who wants to get sushi after school?”
“I do!”
“Sounds cool.”
“SUSHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!”
“Calm yourself, Mikey-child!” I reprimand, sharply. “You will make yourself dizzy. And I can’t make it.”
“Why?” asks Cam. “Sushi wa oishii desu.”
“Hai, it’s true,” I nod. “But...you know...” I let my eyes rest on Gerard who blinks back in surprise. “Things.”
The hurt look intensifies. Gerard’s bottom lip quivers slightly. Oh please, don’t do that! I tear my eyes away and instantly start fiddling with my hair, just to keep myself from having to see his bewildered, pained expression. He crosses his arms and looks away too, frowning slightly. I can do it. I can do it. I can do it!
“I CAN’T DO IT!!!” I cry, hurtling past Mikey and down the hall.
“Hey!” shouts Ray indignantly. “I’m supposed to do that!”
I ignore him and don’t stop sprinting until I reach the boy’s toilets. There, I piss, wash my hands and make my way back to where my friends stand, staring in confusion.
“What the fuck, Frank?” says Cam. “Can’t do what?”
“Hold it in any longer,” I explain. “I was bursting for a piss.”
The bell rings, splitting through the student chatter and causing Gerard, Ray and Mikey to run off to their next classes. Cam and I are going the same way but before we set off down the corridor, she seizes my arm in her vice-like grip and whirls me round.
“Stop it,” she growls, flames dancing round the corners of her eyes. “Now.”
“Stop what?” I ask innocently.
“Can’t you see what you’re doing to him? I’ve never seen someone look so hurt and confused!”
“But I’m playing hard to get,” I frown. “When girls play hard to get they act like total bitches.”
“Why can’t I get this through to you? YOU ARE NOT A GIRL. It’s different for guys. If a girl acts like bitch a guy can laugh it off because that’s how boys and girls are. If a guy acts like a bitch to his friend then his friend thinks he’s done something wrong or the guy for some reason doesn’t like him anymore and then he gets sad, angry, depressed and finds other friends or commits suicide. Is that what you want, Frankie-san? For Gerard to die?”
I shake my head hurriedly. “No, Great Kosravi, it is not!”
“Then fix this!” Cam snaps and retreats into a huffy silence, leaving me to recede into a state of panic.
Gerard doesn’t seem like the suicidal type but then again, I’ve only known him a week. What if he keeps a rusty razor blade in his drawer and takes it out whenever people are being mean to him? What if he thinks the only friends he’s made at this hell hole don’t actually like him? Oh God. Oh sweet Jesus. Have I just murdered Gerard Way?
“I need to find him and apologise!” I resolve.
“Yes you fucking do,” Cam rolls her eyes. “That’s what I just said.”
“What class does he have now?”
“Sociology.”
Dumping my stuff in her hands, I race off in the opposite direction, heart pounding in time with my Doc Martens slapping the floor. I don’t want Gerard to die. How am I supposed to become a Dark Lord of the Universe by myself? Cam’s way too moral. Ray’s too thick. Mikey’s a penis. Gerard is the only one who will look good in a velvet robe!
My feet skid slightly across the tiles as I reach the classroom door and knock sharply. I scan the room as soon as I am admitted inside...but I can’t see Gerard.
“I have a message for Gerard Way,” I tell the sociology teacher, ignoring the sniggers and whispers of “fag”, “queer” etcetera.
“I sent him for some textbooks,” replies the teacher. “He’s in the supply room.”
I thank her quickly and sprint off for the supply room, casting a nasty look over my shoulder at the kids behind me. So word has got around that Gerard and I are a thing. Like I care, I’ve been subject to those kinds of rumours for three years. I just hope Gerard can handle the kind of shit I’m forced to put up with on a daily basis.
The supply room isn’t far away but weirdly the door is closed. I know for a fact it’s supposed to stay open so that bacteria can’t breed inside and give the school cancer. Cautiously, I grasp the handle and yank the door open.
That’s when my heart breaks into a tiny million pieces.
Gerard is in the supply room. He is with Cynthia Simes.
duh duh DUUUUUHHHH!!!!
Ooh the drama. Hope this chapter was okay, I get the feeling it was a little short? Oh well, I finally managed to get it up and I’m pretty proud of myself for that. I promise the next update will be up by next week!
Play Hard to Get
“...And you know when he looks at me all, like, mysterious? Like when he’s tryna get what I’m thinking? That’s so cool. I think we must be soul mates or something because when I was at his house we had sooo much in common, it was like we were born from the same womb but we weren’t because that would be, like, incest. Which would be gross. And then in Chemistry today when I got in all close and he was like “I suck dick at Chemistry” was he coming on to me? Or was he telling me he just sucks at Chemistry? AGH why are guys so confusing?!” I end, breathing heavily.
There is silence on the other line as my recipient takes in my heavy rant which is finally broken with “I don’t know, Frank. I just called to see if you still had the tweed jacket I let you borrow for Halloween.”
“No, I don’t have your fucking tweed jacket,” I cry, burying my head in my pillow. “I forgot to tell you; Cam’s mom had another attack when she saw me wearing it and tried to drown me in her bathtub.”
“Care to explain why?”
“Dude, it’s Cam’s mom. Were you even listening to a word I said?”
“I’m sorry, Frank!” Ray wails pathetically causing me to hold the phone a little further from my ear. “But I don’t know what to say when you start talking about guys! I often feel like my destiny in life is to stand there looking awkward and occasionally run out of rooms.”
He does do that a lot. “Any leads on the man-bear-pig?”
“None,” Ray sighs dejectedly. “Although I have received new intelligence that it may be half man and half bear-pig instead half bear and half man-pig as we originally guessed.”
“That’s great,” I tell him, careful to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. I’ve never quite been as ready to believe Ray’s tomato visions as some.
Ray chatters on about his new findings for a little longer as I gaze forlornly at the list of the 20 Ways laying on my bedspread. Although I have attempted it a number of times, words just cannot describe how I feel for this skinny, floppy-haired new kid. The other day I found myself staring at him for about twenty minutes because I liked the way the light hit the side of his face. What the hell? I’m turning into one of those people; the icky, gross, lovey-dovey people in Shakespeare plays and Cliffs Notes. If I don’t watch it I’m going to wake up as a 17th century lord in a pantyhose and codpiece.
“Frank?” says a small voice, bringing me out of my reverie.
“What? Sorry, I totally spaced out there for a little bit.”
“I was asking you if you wanted to come with me to Ridiculously Possible convention next week,” says Ray. “Apparently they’re showing this noodle that stretches to, like, two-hundred feet long!”
“A two-hundred foot long noodle,” I repeat. Jesus W. Christ. “Sounds...ridiculously possible. But I think I’m gonna have a load of homework that day. Or maybe I’ll have a cold. Yep, I’m definitely gonna have a cold that day.”
“Oh, okay then,” Ray says cheerfully. “Hope it gets better soon!”
He hangs up, leaving me staring at the receiver in astonishment. For someone so stupid he really is pretty damn stupid.
I reread the list again, narrowing my eyes at the next stage. Well, if anything’s going to stop me from acting like a love-struck puke-ball this one will. For now on I am my usual tough, badass, macho self. And Gerard better love it.
Bad to the bone, baby. Bad to the fucking bone.
*
“Bad to the bone
Bad to the bone
B-B-B-B-Bad
B-B-B-B-Bad
B-B-B-B-Bad
Bad to the bone-”
“-Stop singing that!” shrieks Cam, yanking at locks of dyed tomato-red hair. “And for Godsake, will you please take of those freaking sunglasses?!”
“There not just sunglasses philistine, they’re Aviators,” I explain for the hundredth time, ignoring her request for me to remove them.
Know why? Cos I’m motherfucking bad, man.
Decked out in leather jacket, torn jeans and the Aviators I look sorta like the Terminator. Which works for me, considering the Terminator is pretty much the baddest sonofabitch out there. I’m looking so badass that a little old woman actually crossed the road to avoid me while whispering something about the “decline of the great nation”, whatever the hell that means. And I also know I look hot because I got about fifty approving glances from the homosexual biker gang that passes through here from time to time.
“The list said play hard to get,” says Cam. “Not play sadomasochistic stripper.”
“Same difference really,” I shrug, brushing some dirt of my shoulders.
Actually, maybe the leather jacket was a little too much. It’s, what, five hundred degrees outside? And I’m burning up. I attempt to loosen my belt and collar a little bit, praying the heat doesn’t mess up the hair I spent about three hours working on. A short, shaved mohawk, dyed red on one side and black on the other, the hair flopping to hide one eye. Even Cam told me I looked shmexy. But will Gerard agree?
“Hey Cam,” greets a small voice. “Hey Frank. I love your hair.”
Today Gerard is wearing a white zombie-killing t-shirt and a pair of low slung, straight-fit jeans which only help to accentuate those fantastically drool-worthy hips and the marble white skin just showing above it. As I stand there staring I can practically feel the saliva streaking out of the corners of my mouth. I wants it. Wants it. Wants it all!
“Frank?” Cam snaps her fingers in front of my face, bringing me out of my reverie. “Frank, you okay?”
“My name is Frank Iero. I am 5”4 and 9 stone. I like to take walks during a thunderstorm, my favourite animal is a marmoset and my favourite mineral is-”
“-Why does he do that?” asks Gerard thoughtfully.
Cam shrugs and sighs. “Troubled soul.”
Oh God, it’s back again. The word vomit. I clamp my hand over my mouth but still I can’t stop myself from stating: “You look so hot today.”
Gerard looks surprised and shakes his fringe over his eyes. “Oh. Thank you. I just picked up whatever I found off the floor-”
“-Yeah, yeah, don’t flatter yourself,” I interrupt, pushing my Aviators further up my nose. “Just accept the compliment and move on with your life.”
Gerard blinks. Cam blinks. Ray blinks. “Oh, hey Ray!” says Cam, cheerfully breaking the silence.
“Hey,” Ray returns brightly before turning to Gerard. “I found something in my locker. I think it belongs to you.”
He moves slightly out of the way revealing a small, skinny kid with floppy hair and wire-framed glasses.
“I KNOW YOU!” I point accusingly at the scowling child. “You’re Mikey-san.”
“And you suddenly started speaking Japanese. Why?”
“Watashi wa ikemen desu,” I shrug.
Mikey-san gives me the once-over and folds his arms across his chest, sneering. Actually, for one so young, he really is pretty intimindating.
“Oh yeah, you’re that weird guy who came round to my house and tried to gay up my brother,” Mikey grimaces. “Fantastic. My day keeps getting better and better.”
“How bad can your days be? You’re fourteen!” Gerard rolls his eyes.
“I’ve experienced much of life.”
“Like what?”
“I’ve experienced more of life than you have so shut up!”
“Why are you even here?” I frown. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the building with the other midgets?”
Mikey looks me up and down. “Aren’t you?”
Gasp! What was that? I think...I think I was just insulted. By a freaking child. A fourteen year old just called me a midget. I might as well go drown myself in soup.
“Frank?” says Gerard, a concerned frown on his face. “Are you okay? Your eyes are all...watery.”
Sniff. “I’m fine,” I reply in my tiniest voice. “I’m just...allergic.”
“To what?”
“To RUDENESS!” I cry, my voice heavy with emotion. Mikey snickers. I glare at him.
“For your information, they moved me up a year,” says Mikey in a bored, couldn’t-care-less kind of way. “So I have to hang out with you guys now.”
Wow. Gerard’s brother must be really smart. I’ve never heard of the school move a kid’s up before, then again the kids in our school aren’t exactly the brightest sequins in the tranny bar. I wipe at my eyes with the back of my hand, hopefully discreetly.
“You sure you’re alright?” Gerard asks me again.
I toss my mohawk into my face and give Gerard the coldest look I can muster. “Yeah, man,” I say dismissively. “I’m fine. Chill, already.”
Gerard’s cheeks colour slightly. “Sorry, I just-”
“-That’s great,” I say, turning away from him to face Cam’s bewildered stare. Behind me Gerard looks hurt, pulling at my heartstrings more than a little bit but I can’t afford to give up now!
“Um...okay...” Cam begins unsurely. “Who wants to get sushi after school?”
“I do!”
“Sounds cool.”
“SUSHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!”
“Calm yourself, Mikey-child!” I reprimand, sharply. “You will make yourself dizzy. And I can’t make it.”
“Why?” asks Cam. “Sushi wa oishii desu.”
“Hai, it’s true,” I nod. “But...you know...” I let my eyes rest on Gerard who blinks back in surprise. “Things.”
The hurt look intensifies. Gerard’s bottom lip quivers slightly. Oh please, don’t do that! I tear my eyes away and instantly start fiddling with my hair, just to keep myself from having to see his bewildered, pained expression. He crosses his arms and looks away too, frowning slightly. I can do it. I can do it. I can do it!
“I CAN’T DO IT!!!” I cry, hurtling past Mikey and down the hall.
“Hey!” shouts Ray indignantly. “I’m supposed to do that!”
I ignore him and don’t stop sprinting until I reach the boy’s toilets. There, I piss, wash my hands and make my way back to where my friends stand, staring in confusion.
“What the fuck, Frank?” says Cam. “Can’t do what?”
“Hold it in any longer,” I explain. “I was bursting for a piss.”
The bell rings, splitting through the student chatter and causing Gerard, Ray and Mikey to run off to their next classes. Cam and I are going the same way but before we set off down the corridor, she seizes my arm in her vice-like grip and whirls me round.
“Stop it,” she growls, flames dancing round the corners of her eyes. “Now.”
“Stop what?” I ask innocently.
“Can’t you see what you’re doing to him? I’ve never seen someone look so hurt and confused!”
“But I’m playing hard to get,” I frown. “When girls play hard to get they act like total bitches.”
“Why can’t I get this through to you? YOU ARE NOT A GIRL. It’s different for guys. If a girl acts like bitch a guy can laugh it off because that’s how boys and girls are. If a guy acts like a bitch to his friend then his friend thinks he’s done something wrong or the guy for some reason doesn’t like him anymore and then he gets sad, angry, depressed and finds other friends or commits suicide. Is that what you want, Frankie-san? For Gerard to die?”
I shake my head hurriedly. “No, Great Kosravi, it is not!”
“Then fix this!” Cam snaps and retreats into a huffy silence, leaving me to recede into a state of panic.
Gerard doesn’t seem like the suicidal type but then again, I’ve only known him a week. What if he keeps a rusty razor blade in his drawer and takes it out whenever people are being mean to him? What if he thinks the only friends he’s made at this hell hole don’t actually like him? Oh God. Oh sweet Jesus. Have I just murdered Gerard Way?
“I need to find him and apologise!” I resolve.
“Yes you fucking do,” Cam rolls her eyes. “That’s what I just said.”
“What class does he have now?”
“Sociology.”
Dumping my stuff in her hands, I race off in the opposite direction, heart pounding in time with my Doc Martens slapping the floor. I don’t want Gerard to die. How am I supposed to become a Dark Lord of the Universe by myself? Cam’s way too moral. Ray’s too thick. Mikey’s a penis. Gerard is the only one who will look good in a velvet robe!
My feet skid slightly across the tiles as I reach the classroom door and knock sharply. I scan the room as soon as I am admitted inside...but I can’t see Gerard.
“I have a message for Gerard Way,” I tell the sociology teacher, ignoring the sniggers and whispers of “fag”, “queer” etcetera.
“I sent him for some textbooks,” replies the teacher. “He’s in the supply room.”
I thank her quickly and sprint off for the supply room, casting a nasty look over my shoulder at the kids behind me. So word has got around that Gerard and I are a thing. Like I care, I’ve been subject to those kinds of rumours for three years. I just hope Gerard can handle the kind of shit I’m forced to put up with on a daily basis.
The supply room isn’t far away but weirdly the door is closed. I know for a fact it’s supposed to stay open so that bacteria can’t breed inside and give the school cancer. Cautiously, I grasp the handle and yank the door open.
That’s when my heart breaks into a tiny million pieces.
Gerard is in the supply room. He is with Cynthia Simes.
duh duh DUUUUUHHHH!!!!
Ooh the drama. Hope this chapter was okay, I get the feeling it was a little short? Oh well, I finally managed to get it up and I’m pretty proud of myself for that. I promise the next update will be up by next week!
Log in to rate and review this story