i hope you like;
Frank sat on the edge of the bath, with his hands in his head. He felt stupid and bored with his life. Apart from the joy of seeing his friends, school was the worst thing ever. He hated older people telling him what to do, especially snobby, sarcastic older people. He was failing three out of four subjects. History was the worst - he hated his teacher with so much passion that his blood boiled even thinking about her. Miss Smith was around 320 with lanky, grey hair and old fashioned, round owl glasses. She had the habit of humming to herself and saying, 'jeepers' every time someone in class got an answer right. She treated Frank like a baby and always underestimated him, hence the reason why he stopped trying in her lessons. Art was okay, however, Frank didn't see the point in it. He was alright at the subject, but the teacher always made the students paint abstract, and that was not Frank's thing. After Art, Frank hated Politics as he didn't even understand the subject - he only took it because some of his friends did. However, there was one subject he loved, and that was English. Frank loved writing stories about other people. When he wrote he felt happy, as if he were living out his most beautiful fantasies. The creation of another life gave him a place to escape to when he was bored or upset; but he was currently suffering from writers block, thus causing his interest to slip as well as his grades.
The loud chatter of teenage voices penetrated through the floorboards and into Frank's ears. He was sat on the bathtub at Gerard and Mikey's house after having just changed from his stupid suit into some more normal clothes. He rearranged his hair so that it fell over his face, framing those beautiful almond eyes of his. He was fed up of feeling melancholy and thought 'fuck it'. His plan was to drink so much alcohol that he'd puke until his eyes fell out of his head, and smoke so many cigarettes that his lungs were coated in thick, black tar. He didn't care what it was doing to his body, he just wanted to have a good time.
"MIKEY!" Gerard shouted downstairs.
"NO!" Mikey replied, "it's mine Gerard!"
"GIVE IT ME BACK DAMN YOU FOOL!" Gerard yelled at the top of his voice. The Way brothers were arguing, yet again, probably over the remote or a CD - something petty.
Frank got up and slowly walked out of the bathroom and down the stairs, witnessing a slightly angry Mikey tackling Gerard and trying to put him in a headlock. Frank sniggered to himself.
"G'wan, Mikey! Give him a dead leg!" he shouted, jumping up and down.
"ARGH FRANK SHUT UP!" Gerard screamed in pain as he writhed on the floor, trying to escape Mikey's grasp.
"HA!" Mikey laughed as he whacked his brother around the head and snatched the CD he was holding in his hand. "It's mine now!"
"You'd better not fucking scratch it, you hear?!" Gerard screamed as Mikey scurried upstairs, like a conspiring rat.
Gerard timidly laughed as he got up off the floor. He walked over to the kitchen where he opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of orange juice. Frank followed him and sat on the counter. There was a pause as Gerard took a swig of the juice, the sound of his lips on the lid were the only that could be heard.
"So," Frank said as he started to kick his legs, banging them on the cupboard doors. "Are you and Lauren finally over?"
Gerard looked at Frank sharply and put the orange back into the fridge.
"Yeah," he replied with a certain melancholy in his voice. "She said that things would be better if we were, well, just friends."
Frank laughed, nearly choking on his own spit.
"FRIENDS?!" he shouted. "A couple can never be friends once they've split up, Gerard."
"Oh whatever, Frank," a protesting Gerard calmly said, shutting the fridge door. "It's only because you've had sour relationships in the past."
Frank rolled his eyes. He knew exactly what Gerard was going to say - he always brought it up when they were talking about girls.
"If you weren't so involved other things, Nicole and you may have worked, or at least stayed on friendly terms." Gerard said, sitting down with a smug 'I'm-right-so-shut-up' tone. Frank sarcastically laughed.
"If Nicole wasn't so involved with other GUYS then we may have worked, or at least stayed on friendly terms."
There was a pause, and Mikey could be heard upstairs listening to a mix tape that Frank had leant him. Outside it had started to rain heavily and the wind was causing a stir, bashing the swing heavily making a clinking sound which was faint, but distinguishable.
"Girls suck," Frank said dragging his hand across the top of his head, "don't let me get involved with them, Gerard m'boy."
Gerard smiled and his eyes widened as if something had sparked a flame inside his brain.
"Frankie dearest, you're so naive," he said patting Frank on the shoulder. "You're so naive."
"How am I naive?!" Frank asked, finding Gerard's comment both shocking and surprising.
"Well," Gerard drew in a deep breath and walked over towards the kitchen table which was white, sporting a small plant pot with a dying flower inside. There was also a wooden photoframe on the table, which was of Mikey and Gerard on a beach somewhere on the North East Coast. The boys were reasonably young, as Gerard didn't have black hair and Mikey was holding a toy duck. Gerard looked at the photograph, smiling as it transported him back through the dark depths of time and into the perfect world of the past. His heart was suddenly filled with sorrow and disgust and he turned away.
"Well?" Frank asked, urging Gerard to continue his explanation.
"Well..." Gerard laughed. "You're obvously going to get involved with someone along the line. It's inevitable, even if you try and stop it from happening." He ran his index finger along the polished table, causing it to squeak.
"Errr, no," Frank replied raising his eyebrows at Gerard. There was no way he would ever get involved with any human of the female variety ever again, not after his relationship with Nicole. He detested girls, they always seemed to be better than him, even at the things he was good at. He couldn't even count the ammount of girls he had been turned down by on his fingers - there were too many. Girls messed with his head, they unstrung all the wiring in his brain and tied it in knots so it was impossible to fathom out how to mend his broken heart. Girls were the root of all evil.
"Trust me, Frank. If you don't have a girlfriend in the next year, I'll shoot myself."
ohh, but i don't want Gerard to shoot himself...