A Frerard story in which you learn to let out your inner black woman and (almost) steal cows!
This school looked like shit. No, worse than shit. It looked like horse shit. I should of known any brochure claiming the school was a fucking ray of sunshine would be a lie. Regardless, it was my first day at university. I might as well make it memorable.
I tried my best not to look like the lost new kid, but I kinda was. I swear it took me an hour to find my dorm room. Of course I would be starting in the middle of the semester. If only I had never stolen that cow...
Anyway, it wasn't long before I was unpacking my things, trying to ignore the stare my room mate was giving me.
"What?!" I couldn't help but snap. I hated being stared at.
"Your kinda throwing your stuff all over my bed." Oh.
I sighed slightly, moving my stuff onto the bed by the closet.
"Right, sorry. I'm just nervous." I confessed, setting up Pansy in the corner. Pansy was my guitar.
"You play?" He asked, offering a smile, gesturing to his own bass guitar in the opposite corner.
"Yea. We should jam sometime." I grinned. Moments later, music filled the halls.
"Hey Frank... Why did you transfer anyways?"
"C'mon! Do it Iero!" A voice taunted, watching the boy tip toe into a local barn. It was initiation night, and this was a biggie.
"Shut up!" The boy hissed nervously, trying to undo the latch on the gate. His hands were shaking. He winced at the sound of metal on metal and sighed a shakey breath, steadying his hands as best as he could.
"Hey! What are you-"
His eyes went wide and before he could even turn around he was slammed against the gate.
"I tried to steal a cow."
~+~ Gerard's Point Of View~+~
About a 2 years ago if someone asked me 'Hey, Gerard don't you hate anything about art?' the immediate answer would've been 'Nope'. Now the answer is 'sculpture'. The worst part about majoring in art. One, I can't sculpt. Two, my 'professor' aka glorified teacher is the wicked witch of the east. Finally three, I'm failing. I don't like failing.
I grabbed my bag walking over to the washing station in the classroom. Dumb clay. Dumb sculpture. Dumb freaking line for the freaking sink. Dumb me, for not being and I quote 'prepared for this lesson by bringing the proper tools, like my own disposable gloves'. Finally the people in front of me dimmed down to two more people like that. "Jesus, haven't you people heard of soap? And cleansing? And germs?! You don't know what's in that clay people!" I exclaimed somewhat over-dramatically to no one in particular. No one paid attention to my worries, even though I'm just thinking of their health. Apparently, I quote again 'Everyone has gotten used to your diva attitude by now, Gerard'. But I'm not a diva, I just know what I want. Plus, a little attitude never hurt anyone. It FINALLY came my turn after waiting. I washed my hands taking care with them. I washed them twice then wiped them on my paint and clay splattered apron. I looked over at the last few students behind me and smiled. "Use soap." I said firmly. Jeanie (the clearly lesbian chick with the boy cut and the clothes that need to go back to Canada with the lumberjacks.) looked like she couldn't be bothered with me (or this clearly new information called hygiene, as her hair doubles as a litter box). Bob (my former best friend who basically looks like your typical punk biker) looked as if I didn't say anything.
I shrugged that 'Well I Warned You' type shrug before walking over to the professor. "Look Ms. Kanine. I really suggest you get moisturizer for the sink. I mean look at my hands." I shoved my hands in her face. Flipping them around every few seconds. "Mr. Way" I interrupted her. "Gerard is fine." She sighed and did that face people make when they're frustrated and want to roll their eyes but don't. "Gerard, maybe you can just bring your own moisturizer. " She opened her mouth, clearly about to say something else. I interrupted again, but this time for the greater good of mankind. "Look, Ms. K, what about the world? You can't deny everyone else the right they have to soft hands." I shook my head at her ignorance and continued. "What about the children? Don't you care? Plus if I get my own I'll have to share." I speeded out that last part. "Okay. I'll buy the moisturizer." She pursed her lips like she was think of something important. I know that look too well, bring on the bad news. "Look, Mr. Wa-Gerard. You are a good artist. But to graduate you must pass sculpture. I realize its not your favorite." She paused, giving me time to elaborate on that. Like what do you want me to say? 'No Ms. K! You're great!' or 'No dip sherlock'. I kept my lips sealed on this one. "You need to bring you grade up in this class. You have plenty of time before graduation, yes. But let me remind you that time flies and these last two years will go by like that." She snapped her fingers, trying to be sassy. I shook my head. "Honey, whatever you just said flew out the window along with your dignity when you did that snap. Don't attempt it, if you don't know you can work it." I said with my own diva snap before walking out the classroom. What a sad sad women that poor professor is. She needs to find her inner diva.
I walked out the art building. Bedazzled phone in hand. The phone is NOT gay! It's JUST bedazzled, I did it my self. It has my name spelled out in pretty little rhinestones. There however is a unicorn on the phone, I'll admit that's a little gay (but I'm gay so I can do that). THAT wasn't even me though, Mikey did it to get back at me when I 'lied' to him. I told him unicorns weren't real and neither was Tinker Bell. He went ballistic and didn't talk to me for weeks. I missed that freakishly tall, skeleton, with the mousy hair, the skin tight jeans, the sinister glasses stapled to the bridge of his nose, the unicorn tattoo on his anus and the beanie glued to his head. That annoying little kid…He's my best friend, my brother, my broha.
I texted Mikey once 3 minutes away from his dorm room. I told him I was one my way over. He texted me back almost immediately.
I'm not there. I got a new roommate today though.
I stood in the hall. Just standing there. Do I go up or do I wait for Mikey or do I leave? The what?!
Gerard: Is he nice? Is he a homophobe? I'm wearing sequins today.
Mikey: When did you get... neverfreakingmind. It's not a... never mind, I don't want 2 kno. & 2 answer ur Q I have no idea. He seems nice
Gerard: I don't want to have to fight anyone if is. I love this outfit. He'll ruin it with his negativity and then his germs and then his fist.
Mikey: I said he seems nice, go on up
Gerard: You don't tell me what to do. Is he hot?
Mikey: I don't know.... I suppose... I mean, idk. I'm str8
Gerard: No, ur bi.
Gerard: ur related to ME. There's no way I got all the gay gene because I like comics and shit. So you're at least bi.
Gerard: I already tell every1 ur bi. Learn to except urself u must
Mikey: is that why that creepy guy that works at Starbucks keeps hitting on me?
Gerard: Pete is not creepy. He's nice, if you'd let urself love him.
Mikey: I am going to kill you.
I didn't text him back after. Instead I left Mikey's building and walked over to the Starbucks which was literally across the street. "Gerard! My man!" A familiar voice greeted from a far before I could even fully enter the fine cafe. "Hola PeteyWee." I said strolling towards order line, currently empty. "Usual?" Pete asked from behind the counter. Pete Wentz. I'd so bang that if he didn't have a thing for my brother. I have a thing for shortness, and tattoos (even though I myself would never get one). "Nope." I replied. He smirked, pressing buttons into the cash register and giving the barista my usual order. "What if I honestly wanted something different this time?" I asked, forcing on a rather convincing annoyed tone. "The only thing you wish to do is annoy me Gerard Way. You can't fool me. I know you." He smiled sexily, leaning over the counter and pecking me on the lips, then he thrusted my coffee at me. "First you sexually harras me, then throw coffee at me. I should call the manger and complain about this outrages behavior." I joked, saying the last part with a 'proper' accent, like people in the olden days or UK people. "Whatever Way." He smirked, his trademark. "Whatever Wentz." I offered my 'evil genius' smile. "What?" We both bursted out laughing. I finally controlled my self and started towards the exit. "Later Way." I heard Pete call behind me. "Later Wentz."
AN: Soo, I (RockMusic) am doing Gerard's POV.. My part was weird, I know. But I'm a weird person. I'd put a disclaimer or something here... But I'll cut to the chase and say I don't own the people, came from my imagination, steal it and I'll sue you... Blah blah blah.
AN 2.0! Fuck my part was short as balls! I'm doing Frankie's POV bytheway. So give us some reviews or no cookies!