Feelings, sensations that you thought were dead...
Title from Gorillaz
I woke up at around, oh, let's say 6 AM. I really don't know when I actually woke up, so I just gave you a time. It wasn't sunny out- it was pouring like England, the rain shredding through the murky and depressed atmosphere of the day. It was one of those days where you felt you were dirty, greasy, you needed to take a shower to get rid of the sweat that wasn't on your skin. The damp air stuck to your clothes, clinging for the life that it provided instead of received.
I blinked my drooping eyes and turned groggily over onto my side, facing the white brick walls and similar white door that led to the rest of the 11th floor. Yeah, I got stationed on the 11th floor, which, I'll be honest, I was a little too happy about. It meant that I got to look out the huge window, down to the organized (yet chaotic) parking lot down below. It made me feel taller, considering I'm only about 5 foot.
Yes. I'm short. How about we all pee ourselves over it?
Anyways, after staring at a wall for.....I dunno, a long time, I turned onto my other side, facing the wall that was taken up halfway by the window I mentioned earlier. I couldn't actually see most of the other side of the room because....
Because, well, somebody with a huge ass was in my way.
I'm kidding. But this kid was in my way because his butt was sticking up in the air as he was sleeping. Or snoring like a train, whatever you prefer. You already know his name, it's Gerard.
Gerard Way. One of the more peculiar names I've ever heard of, but it's nice. Different, unlike my name. Frank Iero. The first name's common, that's why I don't really like it. I like my last name though, even though lots of people mispronounce it and it makes me want to hack off their hands and feet with a chainsaw. Not that that isn't exactly violent or anything.
The Gerard person stirred, groaning a little as he propped himself up on his bony elbows. I think he got submitted for anorexia or something, but he never bothered to tell me and I never bothered to ask. I would guess you'd want to know what he looks like, other than being scarily thin.
His hair is kind of the who-cares-what-it-looks-like style, just tossed around on his head. It's cassette-black, so it's pretty dark, pretty plain. His celery eyes are set underneath his eyebrows, which are thick, but not ugly. His lips are thin and pale, yet tinted with a transparent pink. He's pretty stunning, if you ask me.
I always wonder what he's thinking. It sounds odd, but he has an interesting mind from what I can tell so far. Always coming up with new things, muttering things under his breath as he draws on the spare printer paper from the office 10 floors down. He's good a drawing too, I forgot to say.
I guess I just kind of want to be more than his friend. But it's not the time to tell him now, just as he's waking up and giving me a sleepy smile and saying 'good morning'.
Good morning indeed.
You know what I like doing? Waking up and stretching, along with yawning and scratching my hair into my eyes. I'm more of a morning person, unlike people my age. I guess it's something I inherited. That last sentence was complete bull, everyone in my family sleeps in late whether or not they want to. I'm just the odd one out on it.
Sleeping is good for you, don't take it for granted. Waking up can be just as good though, when you have someone to say good morning to.
In my case, it's this kid named Frank Iero.
I'm not really sure why people in the 21st century name their sons Frank. In my view, I hope he doesn't have a son and rename him Frank. He's a good kid, but it's just not right to burden your son with a name that most peoples great-grandfathers have. Talking about other people's possible future children is weird so I'm going to stop now.
Anyways, after stretching my arms out a little too far and hitting them against the steel head of my cot, I did that little smacking of my tongue against both of my cheeks that people always seem to do in the morning. After yawning for about a full minute, I turned onto my side and propped myself up on one elbow (I love this little Playboy position I have going on).
LOTMS moment, anyone?
"Gooooooooood morning Frank." I say as sweetly as possible with a small smile.
"Good morning to you too, you wake up early."
"Yeah, I could say the same about you."
Frank laughed at my reply and I hiccup. I usually get the hiccups when I'm happy, if that makes any sense at all.
"Well, I was a little scared, I had nightmares. Most people I know wake up early from nightmares, yanno?" Frank says, adding a little giggle at the end and scratching the back of his head.
"What'd you have a nightmare about, I'm ready to listen."
"I don't really think you want to hear..."
Then Frank began his nightmare.
Hi, I'm Mikey and you haven't met me yet! I'm Gerard's little brother but that means nothing, I act older than him anyways. I'm more responsible than him, so take that Gee, you crazy motherfu-
Sorry about that. I have regained myself now, I can continue to talk like a civilized person.
Gerard's been in the hospital for a little while now, and I haven't visited him once since schoolwork decided to get so heavy lately. I suppose I could have taken a break, but school is immensely important to me. They don't call me nerd for nothing, and I take pride in my straight A's.
Gerard's grades aren't straight. They're curvy, just like his sexuality. Dur hur, I made a funny. But his grades aren't really all that great, especially not Maths. I tried helping him before, but no sir, too full of it to even accept help that's technically doing all your work for you. There's nothing for him to even be full of it about!
....I admit, that was mean, even for a brother to be saying. It's just...he's nothing special really. I don't think I'm better or any of that shi-...stuff, but he's just not all that! He's bones, skin, and messy black hair that he refuses to cut.
pretty much what they all look like, obviously as teens
I guess I'm a bit tired of being the lesser son. I'm loved by my family well, of course, but it's always "Oh Gerard, what a beautiful painting!" or "Your voice is perfect, would you like the lead role of this play?". There's no "Mikey, I'm proud of that A you got in Maths!" or even a "Son, you've never done drugs or had a shag at this age. You're a good kid.".
Can't really be too appreciated, but I'm fine with it. Gerard's nice to me anyways, so.
My mama, Donna, decided she would stay in the waiting room to have a smoke, and besides, I "could spend a little alone time with Gerard.". Opening the door to his room though, it doesn't seem like I'll have an alone time with him.
What I saw was kind of disturbing.