Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Stay

Heroes

by NateTheGreat 17 Reviews

"I'm not a savior; I'm a vampire. Sucking the life out of all the friends I've ever known."

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Drama,Humor - Characters: Bob Bryar,Frank Iero,Gerard Way - Warnings: [?] - Published: 2012/04/16 - Updated: 2012/05/15 - 2904 words

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Ben's Note: I actually looked for my name in the characters section. Oh, Benjamin, you epic fail, you.
So this is something Nate and I have been working on for... what? Two weeks? Nate got the idea. He said he was just randomly looking through ficwad when the inspiration fairy struck and showered him with creativity glitter. I offered to help, and here we are.
Nate's Note: The title of the chapter comes from All Time Low. The title of the whole fic comes from either the My Chemical Romance song or the song by Hurts. Either way, it freaking works. Does that rhyme? I'm saying it rhymes.
Like Banjo (:P) said up there, I came up with the idea out of seemingly nowhere. Unfortunately, no fairies were involved. Unless Ben wants to put on a tiara and a skirt...
Anyway, we hope you enjoy this... whatever it is.

::: STaY :::

"Mr. Way..."

Nnnmmmm.

"Mr. Way."

Oh, shut it, would you?

"Gerard!"

My eyes snapped open, only to be treated by the delightful image of my English teacher's crotch. Ignoring the bile that rose in my throat, I lifted my head off my desk and blinked up at Mr. Heath's scowling face. Yeesh. With all the wrinkles he had, you think he'd try to smile every now and then.

"Yes, Jamie?" I drawled, sending a hum of giggles through the classroom. Even in senior year, people loved it when someone took on the teacher.

Hold on, kiddies. Gee's got this.

Mr. Heath's lip curled, revealing a charming display of yellowed teeth before he snarled: "Mr. Way, what do you think you were doing?"

I smiled, tapping my chin with my finger as if considering my answer. I could feel the class staring at me, holding their breath as they waited for my response. "Weeeeell, I guess I was sleepin'."

Mr. Heath shifted back on his heels, crossing his arms over his bulging stomach. "This is Language Arts class, Gerard," he growled. "Not nap time."

I pouted, pretending to be upset, but the corners of my mouth were still curled in a grin. "You sure? Because it seems to me that you're trying awfully hard to put us to sleep."

Another chorus of giggles. God, these people were so easily amused.

Mr. Heath, however, was turning a rich shade of magenta; all the way from the bristled folds of his neck to the top of his balding head. "I've had just about enough-"

Oh? I thought. Only just about? That means there's still more to go.

I opened my mouth, ready to fire the ultimate comeback. Just as I was about to unleash my masterpiece, the obnoxious drone of the lunch bell cut me off.

Mr. Heath smirked down at me, triumph swirling in his beady blue eyes. "Well, then, Mr. Way. See you tomorrow."

Vowing to take my revenge later, I swung my bookbag onto my shoulder and made my way to the hell that was the school cafeteria.

I parted the mass of students in the hallways like Moses with the Red Sea. Everyone from grade nine to grade twelve knew to avoid me like the plague; despite my more-than-charming personality, the meatheads that topped the social food chain had come to be in the horrible delusion that they were better than me. Bitch, please. I had more talent and originality in my left foot than they had in their entire bodies.

Grinning at the thought of one day showing just how superior I was, I made a left turn and pushed my way through the cafeteria doors. After a quick glance-over of the room, I caught a flash of red glasses and made my way over to the only people who had made the right decision in accepting me as a leader.

The first was a short, brown-haired boy with hazel eyes that were almost feminine in shape. Said eyes were partially magnified by the glasses perched on his nose, giving him a somewhat surprised expression. I noticed him staring at something across the cafeteria, so I followed his girly gaze to- oh, dear God. It was all I could do to not violently introduce my face to my palm. Instead, I trudged over to (unfortunately) one of my best friends.

"Ben," I sighed as I slid into the seat next to him. "Just give it up. You look like an owl on weed."

Ben Greene grunted in response, his eyes still fixed on the other side of the cafeteria. He really did look like an owl with a drug problem, with his head hooked over one shoulder in a way that was probably putting a lot of strain on his scrawny neck. Maybe he'd get stuck like that. I hoped so. I could call him Ben the Wonder Neck, or something. In the meantime, his throat was pretty much advertising an all-you-can-drink buffet for local vampires. Have a sip, boys. A little angst-ridden homosexual is just what you need after a long night of terrorizing villages.

(Ben: That may be the second-best line I've ever written, right next to 'corruption of a minor'.)

As I was coming up with a theme song for Ben's future identity, I became aware of a shifting next to my doomed friend. I looked to my right to see Bob, one of my more sane companions.

Bob was the polar opposite of Ben; big, muscular, and blonde. His brilliant blue eyes were watching Wonder Neck intently, probably ready to snap his head back in place if the pressure made it pop off his shoulders.

There once was a lad named Ben,
Who was annoying to all of his friends.
One day, while stalking,
His neck started popping,
Now Wonder Neck is-

"It's just not fair!" Ben cried, his head finally turning back into a more natural position. I fought back disappointment. Now my brilliant lyrics would never be used to tell the tale of Ben the Wonder Neck. Pity.

Ben's forehead hit the table, almost cracking his glasses and spilling his dark bangs against the white surface. "How can he be straight?!" he demanded. Bob awkwardly rubbed his back while I tried not to laugh. It wasn't working; deranged little hiccups were escaping my lips. Thankfully, Ben was too far gone in his own misery to notice.

"I know, Benny, I know," Bob was saying. "Let it out."

Ben sniffled, his face still pressed into the table. "How can someone who looks so much like... like that, be straight? It's not right! It's like some government conspiracy out to destroy my brain using Adam Lambert and KT Tatara's love-child!"

(Nate: KT Tatara? Really?
Ben: I watched Just For Laughs yesterday, okay? And you do look like him.)

Okay, I was definitely not going to let him live that down. With thoughts of blackmail already taking shape in my brain, I swiveled my head around to get a look at this unfortunate creature.

The person causing Benjamin's current state of angsty despair was a boy from his Math class. The poor guy was unlucky enough to be the object of Ben's obsession- er, affection, for the past year. His name was easy to remember from Ben's constant whining; Nathan Lynch.

I squinted at him, probably damaging my eyes from the strain I was putting on them. God, I was almost worse than Ben when it came to this. Maybe we could form a team or something. The Incredibly Un-heroic Duo with Messed-Up Anatomies. It had a ring to it.

Nathan was sitting at a table near the vending machines, a book propped up against the table's edge and his knees as he munched on some chips. His hair was inky-black and layered, the shorter parts of his bangs shading his slightly-curved eyes. Well, I'll be damned.

"Well," I said, turning to look at the back of Ben's head. "He's a looker, Benny-boy, I'll give you that."

Bob glared at me. "Shut it, Gerard."

I mimed zipping my lips and retreated into my mind. It was nice in there; noisy and distracting. Exactly what I needed to keep me occupied while the world crashed around me. I was dimly aware of Ben removing his face from the table and formulating a plot to win Nathan's heart. Bob seemed to be listening, but even through my daze, I could see his eyes glazing over. Sounds became muffled as I slipped into my own world, everything becoming meaningless except my thoughts.

Just as I thought I had escaped, reality was thrown into focus once more by a small, dark object being thrown into my back. I jerked forward, my ribs colliding painfully with the table with enough force to knock the air from my lungs. I gasped, my chest frozen as I tried to suck in air. Bob thumped on my back with a powerful hand, calling out my name as I slumped forward.

"Gee!" Ben was screeching. "C'mon, man! Breathe!"

A new voice, just beginning to deepen with age, broke into the chaos. "Oh God! I'm so sorry! Fuckin' jocks... Hey, buddy. Just calm down. If you try too hard, it'll take longer for the air to get in."

Desperate, I stopped gasping and tried for slow, even breaths. To my amazement, tiny shreds of oxygen worked its way into my lungs. I coughed and wheezed, my breath fogging the surface of the lunch table. When the black spots in my eyes cleared, I forced my head up to find the stranger who nearly killed me.

The boy staring back at me was nothing like I expected. For one thing, he was short. Had I been standing, he probably would've only come up to my shoulders. The second thing that my oh-so-talented brain registered was that the boy was pretty damn hot. His hair fell in black curtains around his pale face, with soft lips adorned with a metal hoop. One of his eyes, a blend of green and gold, was covered by his fringe. The guy radiated sex-appeal, from his black, 'Come At Me Bro' t-shirt to his battered sneakers.

In that moment, a memory pulled at the edge of my brain. Somehow this boy was familiar. Our eyes locked briefly, sending a jolt through my still-throbbing chest. I winced, nearly missing Sexy McSexerton's eyes widening in shock. Apparently he'd been unaware of the fact that he'd just sent the school's 'social reject' catapulting into a table.

"You're Gerard Way, aren't you?" the boy asked, blinking.

Ah. So he's heard of me. I must be more popular than I thought. "No shit," I grumbled. Hot or not, the kid had better run. Bad things happened to the poor souls who socialized with the 'emo' kid- just look at Wonder Neck.

The guy held out his hand -actually held out his hand, like we were in freaking court or somethin'- and grinned. "I'm Frank. Frank Iero. I used to hang out with your brother."

Well, that explained the familiarity. Hard to believe Mikey actually had what it took to hang out with this fine specimen of the male gender. I stared at the hand in my face, my eyes crossing as I tried to keep it in view. "Uh, right. Sure."

Frank frowned slightly, his arm swinging back to his side after realizing that I wasn't going to give him my own. He actually looked disappointed. "You probably don't remember me, huh? It's been, what? Seven years?"

I shrugged. His frown became a shade more pronounced.

"Anyway, sorry about the whole table thing. That Creed guy over there apparently has some issues with people standing too close to his girlfriend." The frown disappeared, replaced with a shit-eating grin that almost made the corners of my own mouth turn upward. Ben was snickering behind me, elbowing Bob's arm and making a weird twitching movement with his head. That kid needed help.

Frank didn't seem to notice the display of idiocy happening in front of him, because he continued with his story. "Anyway, Creed looks at me, looks at his girl, looks back at me, and the next thing I know, I'm being chucked halfway across the room!"

The Creed Frank kept mentioning was Jackson Nicolas Creed, co-captain of the wrestling team and full-time douche. The normal people called him J.C. and treated him like he was the shit. My crowd called him Creepy Creed and thought of him as real shit. There had actually been a time when he and Ben had 'dated' each other, but the 'relationship' was top-secret and lasted about fifteen minutes to half an hour.

(Ben: This actually happened. -shudders- Never again.
Nate: ... ... ...)

I cast a glance over my shoulder, and sure enough, Creed had his arm wrapped tightly around a red-haired girl in a pink shirt. She was actually a nice person, if you ignored her dismal fashion sense and hulking boyfriend. Her name was Linda, I think. Lisa? Lora? Whatever.

Back to Frank. "Well," I drawled, stretching my legs out underneath the table and propping my feet on a chair. "my guess is that he's worried she'll leave him for a better kisser. How did you describe him, Ben?"

Ben shuddered, his eyes fogging as he went back to that traumatizing point in his life. Then, by some miracle, he managed to speak. "Like a horse at a liquor party. Actually, I shouldn't say that. Horses don't need that kind of dirt on their reputation. It was awful, though," he said, flinging a piece of cookie onto his tray in disgust. "After we fucked, I kicked him to the curb."

Bob's eyes were huge. "Never talk about that in front of me again," he ordered. "I don't need the mental images."

(Nate: NEITHER DO I!!!)

Ben clucked his tongue. "N'aw. What's the matter, Bobert? Jealous of Creepy Creed?" he teased, earning a glare from Bob that would've had Dracula running to his coffin. As it was, the hairs on the back of my neck prickled.

You see, Ben had this habit of jumping into bed with other guys. Some random dude would come up to us, offer Ben a 'ride home', and the two would disappear for a while doing things that should rather be left unsaid and unseen. No one knows how he does it, since he never talks to anyone he only just met. My theory was that the only reason Ben was so successful is because the guys knew he could never tell anyone; Ben's step-father was a class A homophobe.

Frank broke in, probably preventing Bob from killing the tiny boy that sat next to him. "I thought you were dating that Japanese kid."

I shook my head, smirking as Ben's head automatically jerked in Nathan's direction. "He wishes," I scoffed. "He's been trying to talk to him for over a year, now."

"And Nathan's half Japanese," Ben mumbled, staring at the boy who was currently finishing his chips. "Which, by the way, means his parents can't say shit about him dating an American. Which means I'm free to ask him out... when the time's right."

Bob snorted. "When will the time be right, Benjamin? On your deathbed? Besides, I heard his parents are complete homophobes."

Ben whirled around, his hazel eyes huge and wild behind his glasses. It actually frightened my a little, as I was suddenly convinced that my friend had morphed into an escaped lunatic. Silly me. Everyone knows he'd have to have been locked up first to be an escaped lunatic.

"Who told you that?!" he demanded, his voice cracking on the second word.

Bob smirked, clearly enjoying Ben's suffering. "Little birdie," he said, winking like a rapist coming on to his next victim.

Ew.

Ben looked like he was either going to explode or cry. I actually felt sorry for him, which surprised me. In situations like this, I'm usually the one egging Bob on and pushing Ben closer to tears. Odd. Maybe I was coming down with something.

It was then that I became aware of the eyes boring into the side of my head. Expecting to see a teacher foaming at the mouth, I slowly turned to face my audience.

Eyes, wide and hazel and definitely not a teacher's, stared back at me.

"Uh, can I help you?" I asked, leaning back a little in my chair. Frank just continued to stare, his gaze never wavering from my face.

While I managed to keep my composure on the outside, I was having a silent panic attack on the inside. What was with this guy? Was he on drugs? Did I have something on my face? I casually wiped my hand over my mouth, as if concealing a yawn. Nope. Nothing there but skin.

So why was Frank staring at me like that?

Just when I thought someone would have to smack him in the face, Frank blinked drowsily and grinned. "Well," he said, tipping his head forward to hide behind his bangs. "it was nice meeting you again, Gerard."

And with a tiny nod to the rest of the table, Belleville High's newest student walked away.

Ben's Note: And there you have it, my lovely ladies! ... And gentlemen? Are there others among our kind?
Nate's Note: Well, that's chapter one. ^^ Stay tuned for the mind-fuckery. In the next chapter, we find out Mikey's reaction to having his old friend back after seven years.
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