Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Apples:Prologue:

Chapter 4: Knowledge

by Frerardpervert 3 Reviews

"Not all people are innocent."

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst - Characters: Frank Iero,Gerard Way - Published: 2013/11/03 - Updated: 2013/11/03 - 2239 words

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Sorry for any mistakes, if you see any errors please infrom me so I could fix them. Hope you guys like it. It's sort of terrible haha.

I love Saturdays. Or any days when it isn't required to go to school. But most of all I love Saturdays, my imagination always runs wild on these days. I always play guitar and write poems, thoughts whatever, non stop and my days are full of the joy of music. And also the joy of being alone all day without any stupid people, or my parents. Seeing as they both work and come home late at nights, all though it should bother me it never does. I seem to have basically grown myself into a mature adoscolent since I was a child. I can conform to my responsiblities and think rationally, I didn't need my parents to teach me morals, I raised myself, and I quite liked it. Saturdays are like my haze days, I sit around lazily sometimes and watch t.v all day. My weekend usually varies on my mood, but they are always enjoyable. They feel like the only time I can breath.

Sundays aren't as enjoyable, they are sometimes very boring and brooding due to the Mondays that soon follow. I am usually in a foul mood so my parents let me be, locked up in my room, slithering away from exsistance. I usually stay in my pajamas all day and do nothing but watch t.v or sit. Very uneventful, unpredictable, boring days. Still they are always better than school.

Everyone hates Mondays. That seems to be the only thing I have in common with most people. They are long and painful and just a waste of a 'good' week. I usually ditch Mondays at school. I might hate Mondays at school more than I hate school itself. Except for when I ditch Mondays, I do as I please and enjoy my time withering away at home in my thoughts, and silence. Most Mondays I do chores, and spend the only day my mom rests. This week's Monday was no exception. I stayed home.

On Tuesdays I usually feel in a daze, even more than ever if I ditch Mondays and today is no exception. I get tons of homework which I quickly make up and turn in and tread through my day in apathy. Getting back to school is always hard, because I have to adjust and be patient and tolerate all the idiots at my school. I always feel I'm going in reverse metamorphisis of a butterfly, weekends I feel like that amazing butterfly that flies as it wishes gracefully on the sky and going back to school feels like I am folding myself back into my cold cacoon to hang from a tree unpleasantely, impatiently. I should be use to it, but evidently I am not.

I chew on my pencil in thought of what would happen if I punched the guy talking obnoxiously next to me..honestly people, for god's sake please make this day more bearable and shut up. The guy next to me stops talking and I think finally in my head. Then I look at him because the class seems to have gotten quieter. The guy, Kev, Kevin, I don't give a shit, gives me a nasty look and his mouth sneers down like a dog who is about to bark. Oh well shit, I must've said that out loud. And before I know it -I really did know it- he asks, very stupidly, seeing as the obvious is the blatant obvious- "What did you say?"
"You heard, you're quiet, good." I retort. He gives me a look, like he wants to say something but in second thought he seems to have left it in the small cardboard box he calls a brain, because soon enough he sitting, quietly, -I note smugly- in his desk. I raise my eyebrow at him trying hard not to smirk and he looks the other way.

During break I get called to the front office, oh joy. The dean of attendance reprimands me like a shunning mother and very aggressively hands me a saturday school note. Well, I'm never ditching detention again. She smiles smugly as my face breaks into dissapointment, that bitch. And I take the note harshly from her desk and storm out, heading to my next class, I sigh just four more classess and a lunch to go, then I can leave. I sulk just one more week and four days to go, then one Saturday and my punishement is over. As I make it to my fourth period, guitar class, I see Gerard in the hallways and he smiles at me, I smile back.

I enter my guitar class and I am full of dread, ever since that day I broke my strings I've been getting condescending comments from my teacher and it still fucking stings. I make it to the the corner seat and take out the guitar I use. Before I start tuning it though....
"Frank, I would like a word with you." My teacher says
I walk towards his seat with a glare set but my heart is beating fast and I feel my stomach sinking low.
"Yeah.." I say.
He looks at me unceartainly like he's going to say something that could make a child cry, he looks guilty, that bastard. He is taking his sweet ass time and I start to grow impatiently angry.
"Look don't beat around the bush." I snap, his eyes widen in shock and I let some pride in me smile. At this point I don't even care if I land another detention or if he says something that is supposed to be worthing of respect because it's not like he doesn't say things that hurt me. I keep staring at him and he finally coughs and spits it out like a nasty cat with a hairball would.
" I believe that you are steering in wrong directions." Could his phrases get any more ridiculous? And what is up with all these people concerned for where I am going. He continues before I can retort anything.
"Look I know a troubled teenager when I see one, I would like you to know that there is cofindence between us and you can tell me about anything that bothers you." I really am not troubled, maybe a bit anti-social, but clearly not trouble that bastard is being an asshole again. There isn't any confidence between us, he makes me feel like shit and I do not trust him, and the only thing bothering me is him.
"If you're on drugs or anything, look I could help." He accentuates the 'p' with a smack of his lips. I would very much like to rip his face off now, instead I clench my jaw and glare at him. He continues to look at me, his eyes full of pity, and really pity isn't going to get any one anywhere. I wish I had a different teacher, maybe the same one from last year. Anyone but this guy.
"Ok." I reply, ice lacing the small word, making my teacher flinch.
"Thanks..." I drawl, "But no thanks.."
"Don't need your help, goodbye." I turn around and stomp towards my seat and start tuning my guitar.

During the entire period my teacher does not look at me and blatantly avoids eye contact, good. After leaving the class my mood is sour and down rotten, seems to be the only feeling I seem to get after that class. I don't know why I let him bother me so much,why I just take his shit. I would stand up to myself, but it benefits me, I need good reviews on my talents. I need to be noticed as a great musician, I put everything in my work and I don't want it to be taken in vain. Maybe that's why, I am far more ambitious than I am prideful. And if being knocked around by a 'professional' than so be it, because I will make it farther, there is no doubt, and there will be no regret.

As I make it to my usual secluded spot during lunch I am stopped by a hand on my shoulder. I turn around ready to lash out at who it was, I hate being touched. But when I look at the person who touched me, I am sort of shocked.
"Uh...Hi..I think you dropped this..." A girl shyly says, her cheeks burning. I look at her hand and I see that why I dropped was my lighter. I give her a small smile, take the lighter, gently from her hand and give my thanks. She gives me a timid smile in return and turns away, scurrying off like a little cute mouse towards her friends. I've seen her somewhere, I just don't know from where, maybe she's from my science class, either way she is really cute. I smile to myself making it to my usual spot outside.

Walking to my wall, I slide down, close my eyes, and inhale the spacious air.

"Do you always sit here?....alone." Someone asks, I don't even need to open my eyes to know who it is. I give Gerard a lazy smile, with my eyes still closed.
"Hmm Yup." I reply. I open my eyes slowly, knowing I was being stared at and hating the feeling. Gerard slowly sits next to me against the wall.
"Mind if I join?" He asks, making himself comfortable, stretching his legs out like a cat and taking out a cigarette. Clearly, he didn't need an answer. Before he asks, I take my lighter out -still warm from the grasp the girl had it in, I note- and lean towards him and light his cigarette. He takes it out of his mouth once it's fully lighted and hands it to me, I take it willingly, not really caring about personal space or germs, not knowing why, since I usually do. He takes out another and lights it for himself , when did he take my lighter?
"When did you do that?" I ask, preplexed, he looks at me, cigarette hanging from his mouth,cheeks slightly hollow, a gleam in his eyes that I cannot identify.
"Hmm, what? Take your lighter from you?" Playing dumb I see, I roll my eyes. He chuckles.
" I took it when I handed you your cigarette." He states
"Ok, but how?" I am quite curious. He stares at me, with a contemplative face, which I know is faux because the question was simple. He moves his head from side to side, in a parody manner of thinking to drag it out, to make me wait. I become flustered with impatience, and because I hate being stared, and when I'm about to ask again, he blows smoke out, and responds.
"I call it my substitution method." He takes a puff from his cig, inhaling deeply, then blowing it out with a slow, relaxed manner. He continues, "It's like pit pocking, except it's a more direct, more careless, approach...it's like, when you distract them through eye contact, give them somthing to hold on to, they involuntarinly give you what they want because they have something else.." He muses, finding it hard to explain, but I found it quite easy to understand.
"Oh I get it, It's more of a psychological thing.." I muse, he blows smoke towards my face and my eyes water, I take his cig from him. He smiles at me, passive, and nods his head. Giving me a proud smack in the back. I put the cigs out and stare at him.
"So is this what you do on your free time?" I ask, then continue, "Figuring ways on how to fool innocent people's mind to steal them of their precious things? Tsk, tsk That's bad...quite bad indeed.." I shun playfully, he chuckles and I feel quite proud. Ok that's weird..
"Not all people are innocent." He replies, jokingly, except it's true, the words are deeper than they are made to sound. "Plus, it's quite incedible how intellegent and foolish the mind can be at times. Not all materials are precious, you aren't precisely innocent, and.." He drawls out "I never said I was good." He smirks, and I find truth in his words, knowledge that other people lack, I feel myself more even more keen of him than before. I start to laugh.
"That's good, that's really good." He gives me a proud smile.

The bell that signals the end of lunch rings, and for once, I feel slightly put off and bummed out that lunch is over. We get up from the floor and when we head inside I remember a question I've been meaning to ask Gerard since I saw him last Friday.
"Hey...How did you know I ditched detention?" I stare at him questionly, he side glances at me, with a passive countenace matching his lazy paces. He stares at me for about two minutes as we walk inside the school and says " I just know things." Once inside the school he says goodbye, and walks aways.

I am left alone in the hallways of the school contemplating what the means, what it implies, and what it promises.

Hope it was enjoyably bearable. Please R & R
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