This is quite old but I'm rather proud of it and so I thought it'd be a nice way to introduce myself here.I'm not sure if I'll write more or not...enjoy reading, anyway.
On an old, battered wooden bench that sat under two massive oak trees, someone was sketching.
He was huddled over his sketchbook, black hair falling over his face and eyes, pencil scratching away furiously at the creamy white page. He frowned. It wasn’t good enough. Flipping over to a new, clean page, he began the drawing again, creating curvy lines with his pencil, forming the lines into shapes, the shapes into features. Soon, a face was vaguely recognisable.
The breeze tugged at the corner of the paper, and he sighed, folding over the book and tucking it under his arm ad he lifted his gaze from his lap. The park was still empty, aside from a couple of teenagers kissing against a tree, and an old man walking a dog. The sun was just beginning to set over the tops of buildings, casting a beautiful glow over the surroundings.
He uncrossed his legs and swung them over the edge of the bench, smiling, just a little, when he heard the familiar crunch of dry leaves under his shoes. He got to his feet, putting the sketchbook away safely in his bag, before swinging it over his shoulder and beginning to head off. He kept his head low and his eyes on the path.
All he wanted to do was- well. He didn’t really know. There weren’t many places to go, or things to do, for a 17 year old kid who wore black skinny jeans in the height of summer and preferred to hang out in his room listening to music, than to be out partying with friends. As it happened, he didn’t really have any friends, anyway; Just his little brother, and a few acquaintances who were labelled as weird, too. The popular people generally left him alone- he was no fun to tease any more, he just took it. It was more fun if he argued back, fought back. That didn’t stop the occasional beating, however. And he did whatever he could to stay out of their way, just in case he had to go home with a bloody nose and broken bones again. He remembered when he first joined high school; he was an obvious target for the jocks as soon as he set foot in that building. With his eyeliner and tight jeans, it was inevitable. They had beaten him to a bloody mess before morning break, saying that they needed to ‘Beat the gayness out of’ the ‘little emo fag’.
He chuckled at the memory. Though it wasn’t funny, he could find at least some humour in the way the jocks acted. Thinking they could change his sexuality by beating him up? No. Because Gerard Way would always be attracted to boys. Truth be told, he’d found the occasional girl attractive, or pretty, or funny, and he’d imagined what it’d be like if she was his girlfriend, but he much preferred the idea of having a boyfriend, and so he came to terms, at a very young age, with the fact that he was at least 99% gay, if not 100%.
He shook the thoughts about his sexuality from his head, deciding it was best not to be over-thinking them, and continued walking, now heading out of the park and down the quiet, leaf-covered side street. What he really needed, he decided, was a friend. A good friend…a best friend. Someone he could trust.
“Man, what are you thinking, Gerard,” he muttered to himself, “Nobody in their right fucking mind would ever want to talk to you.”
“I mustn’t be in my right mind then,” came a soft, melodic voice from somewhere just behind him.
He spun on his heel, eyes wide and curious, and his breath caught in his throat when he spotted the boy that owned the voice. He’d seen this boy before, quite often, at the local park. He wasn’t there as often as Gerard himself, but the younger boy had memorised his face, and often liked to draw him.
The smaller teen smirked and stepped forward, extending a hand. “I’m Frank.Frankie.”
Frank grinned, his hazel eyes sparkling in the October sun, as he shook hands with the other boy. “Nice to finally meet you,” he said, “I’ve seen you round the park loads, always scribbling away in that little book of yours. Whacha been drawing in there, anyways?”
“Um,” suddenly, Gerard couldn’t seem to get words to form. This teenager, this gorgeous fucking God who he had been practically drooling over these past months was now speaking to him, smiling at him, and asking to see his drawings.
Frankie just laughed. “Hey, no need to be shy. I’m hardly going to bite you,”
The black haired boy smiled weakly as he struggled to remove the dirty thoughts that were plaguing his mind at that moment. He reached into his bag and pulled out the little book, flipping through the pages and feeling a little bit special as Frankie made quietly impressed noises as he caught glimpses of Gerard’s art.
“This is what I drew, um, today,” he said, handing the open book to the younger teenager.
“Holy fucking shit, man,” his greeny-hazel eyes lit up like a million stars, and he ran his fingers gently over the page. “You drew me? Wow, this is…this is unreal. Can I keep it? Is that alright?”
Gerard nodded. “Sure…Of course,”
Frankie ripped the drawing out carefully, before folding it and putting it away in his jeans pocket. He then flicked casually through the other pages. “What else is in here…hmm…Ooh. You draw me a lot then, huh?” he glanced up, smirking, and threw a wink towards the other boy, who felt his knees might give way any second from now.
“I-I guess…I mean, It’s just c-cause you’re at the park a lot, too, ya know?” he cleared his throat awkwardly, feeling his cheeks heating up, “And you have nice…features,” Gerard added, his eyes focusing rather firmly on his shoes.
“D’aww, you blushing?” Frank grinned even wider, and gently reached up to brush a strand of hair from Gerard’s face, causing the older boy to blush even more. “Don’t be embarrassed, I think it’s pretty awesome that you like to draw me, to be honest. I’m not that interesting!”
“Really?” Gerard couldn’t stop himself. Surely someone who looked like this would have girls and guys practically throwing themselves at him on a daily basis? No?
“Don’t look so surprised, haha,” Frankie chuckled, handing the taller boy back his sketchbook, “I’m not very well liked these days.” He glanced at his watch for a second. “Wanna grab a coffee?”
Gerard found himself smiling and replying before his mind could even process what was happening. “Sure, of course I would.”