Just a oneshot I came up with about how its hard being the outcast. Dedicated to Elena Lee Rush.
Disclaimer: I, unfortunately don't own Gerard Way [or Elena for that matter]
Dedicated To Elena Lee Rush for being such an amazing woman to spur her Grandson on to become a hero for millions. R.I.P.
Nobody Likes You
Nobody likes you, everyone left you, they're all out without you having fun...
Gerard sat, staring out of the protractor bitten windows of the bus back home, the rain hammering on the glass as outside become a hazy maze of distorted shapes and colours through the downpour. The headphones of his walkman were firmly shoved in his ears, the dirty white cord running down into the messenger bag on the seat next to him, the corner of his art folder sticking out at the back. The bag its self was covered music related patches; it was getting old and the edges were beginning to fray but currently he didn't have the money to get himself a new one. He sighed as the track changed and the first couple of acoustic cords of 'Good Riddance' began to echo into his ears. Three more stops and he'd be back in Belleville, another stop after that and he'd finally be home and would have an hour of mopping around before he had to start on his coursework yet again.
The bus ground to a halt seconds later as it reached another stop and through the rain Gerard watched as a gang of late teens got onto the double-decker. He sighed inwardly as they began to climb up the stairs, cursing as the bus jerked away from the stop and nearly threw some of them back down the steps. He'd known getting on the bus this early had been a bad idea but he'd had no lectures to go to for the rest of the day and he'd been too tired to bother going back to the halls and hanging out with some of the few friends he had. He could see the glances he was getting from the kids as they threw themselves down on the seats a few rows back from him and he knew they meant trouble. Sure he was older than them but only by a few years at the most and with his chin length black hair, pale gothic looks and the fact they could probably hear Green day from where they sat - he'd turned it up so loud he was a perfect target for the townies who had nothing better to do with their time but give an art student problems.
He bit his lip as the only other person on the top of the bus, a middle aged woman set off down the stairs as her stop approached, giving him a pitying look as she did so. The well aimed scrunched up pieces of paper began to hit off the top of his head seconds later. He closed his eyes as it hit him they wouldn't try anything now but if they followed him home he was in deep shit. It would take him ten minutes to walk home and that was on a good day but it was already getting dark and the back alleys he would have to cut through if he wanted to get home quickly weren't looking particularly safe or appealing. The bus ground to a halt again and yet more people got off till Gerard reckoned they were about the only people on the bus but there was only one stop home now and zipping up his black Misfits hoodie, Gerard grabbed his bag and made his way down the stairs, hitting the red stop button as he did so. His heart sank as seconds later he heard the bang of hundred dollar trainers hitting the steps after him, accompanied by the holler of voices. Grabbing onto the metal railing to stop himself falling over as the bus turned a particularly nasty corner he resisted the urge to laugh as several of them fell over and there was a bump as someone fell down the stairs. The bus ground to a halt just as 'Prosthetic Head' ended and the music in his ears died into silence.
He got off the bus into the dark and the pouring rain without thanking the driver unlike the kids who seemed to make as much of a deal out of it as possible. As he walked up to the crossing, shoving the headphones into his bag he half heartedly hoped that they'd chance crossing the road and get hit by the cars - he'd learnt a long time ago never to try and cross that road after nearly causing a pile up and only just escaping with his life the first time. Sadly he had no such luck but thankfully the lights changed quickly and he got across before the gang caught up too much for his liking. Chancing the first short cut he reached, his black converse pounding along the streets home he dodged into the darkness, regretting it almost instantly as the chav's voices echoed after him, now throwing taunts and insults down the alley at the back of his rain soaked head. He shot out of the alley seconds later and found himself faced with the park, swearing hard under his breath as the news of the recent bout of murders echoed back at him he tried to calm himself down as he walked through the metal gates. Passing the vandalised wooden benches he closed his eyes temporarily at the insults and jeers still followed after him before throwing his pride to the wind and breaking off at a run down the cracked concrete main path of the park.
The laughter only increased as they started off behind him, dashing down the shadow haunted winding paths across the park. Squirrels squeaked in fear and shot back up their trees as the art student flew past but Gerard was tiring - pills and alcohol wearing him down again. He breathed a silent sigh of relief as he saw the bridge over the lake were, as he was reminded by the fluttering police tape, several bodies had been found lately. Across the bridge and he was nearly back on the home streets with the Way's mostly friendly neighbours and then he'd be okay again. Just to the bridge Gerard...Just get across the bridge His brain screamed at him as bile rose in his throat from his heaving muscles.
There were five steps leading up to the bridge and five down again but he'd forgotten about them and as he chanced a look back at the chavs who ran after him at exactly the wrong moment, his foot caught on the first step and he flew forward onto the concrete of the bridge, bashing his forehead hard against the top step. There was a triumphant yelp from one of the lads and Gerard didn't even have time to think about standing up before he was grabbed roughly by the shoulders and yanked to his feet.
He found himself staring into the face of the most piggy looking kid he'd ever had to look at - and some of the college students were pretty bad. There was sweat pouring down the boy's flabby cheeks and his small, mud brown eyes bored into Gerard's with a fiery hatred for a man he'd never even met before but had the advantage of being a hell of a lot better looking and the disadvantage of being a social 'freak'.
"So motherfucker," The kid snarled as the rest of his gang formed a vicious looking semi circle around them. "Where we heading tonight?"
Gerard shrugged as much as he could with the kid's hands forcing down on his thin shoulders. "What's it to you?" He spat back, refusing to swear just yet.
"Don't try an be clever with me fucker!" The boy swore, shaking Gerard like he was a rag doll as the other lads threw jeers and swore at him.
"Well maybe I'm not being clever maybe you're being dull." Gerard shot back calmly, feeling far too swat-like for his liking.
The boy snarled at him and let go of his shoulders to throw a punch but Gerard dodged it, using his slight frame as an advantage. "Don't push it bitch." He taunted as he ducked out of the way of yet more blows.
The gang roared at the insult to their leader and it seconds Gerard was overwhelmed by brute force alone and shoved back against the wall, a black eye accompanying the blood running down the side of his face from where he'd hit the concrete. The lad rapped his chubby fingers around Gerard neck as the student struggled for breath "Oh motherfucker what have you done now?" Gerard closed his eyes as the kid kicked him hard in the groin, a whimper of pain echoing past his lips.
The kids laughed but it died on their tongues as they saw something on the other side of the bridge that Gerard didn't. A man, framed by the light from the torch in his hands was standing by the gates and the gangs eyes were drawn to him not for his form but for the gun that was grasped in his right hand.
"Run fuckers." He whispered as he stepped up onto the bridge "Run for your lives." The boys blanched in terror and ran for their little lives, the leader almost giving Gerard a pitying look as his hands unwound themselves from the student's neck and he dashed back into the darkness of the park. Gerard just shook his head and collapsed back against the wall of the bridge; he couldn't run now and was convinced he was going to die at the hands of this stranger so he gave up and closed his eyes.
The stranger looked down at the man who slumped against the bridge with something like sympathy and nudged him gently with his foot. Gerard opened his green eyes seconds later and looked up at the man, framed by the slowly rising full moon.
"Get up." He told him sternly "Get up and run."
Gerard shook his head "I can't," He almost whimpered "I can't."
The man bent down and picked the messenger bag from where it had been kicked by one of the boys. "Get up." He said again, stretching his hand out to Gerard. The student looked up at him and saw the sympathy in his eyes and began to understand what he was being told - there was something in his look that was cold and really did say he'd kill him if he could but there was an understanding in his gaze that told Gerard that he knew what he went through. Grabbing the offered hand Gerard let the man pull him to his feet, handing the bag over as he did so. "Thanks." Gerard muttered "Oh and nice gun." He added gesturing to the weapon.
The man smiled "Nice hoodie!" He laughed "I couldn't kill a Misfits fan." And Gerard wasn't sure whether he was joking or not. Suddenly the stranger's whole composer hardened again and he looked at Gerard with such a mix of sadness and fury that he didn't know what to think. "Now go!" He almost roared and Gerard turned tail and ran.
Elena Lee Rush sat in the window of her daughter's house as she waited for her grandson to come home. Her grey hair was tied back in a neat pony tail away from her care lined face as she stared through the still pouring rain. She didn't know what was telling her he'd be home early but she trusted it and whenever Gerard was concerned she always did. She sighed and turned away from the window, standing up and walking into the kitchen to start the kettle boiling and make them both a cup of hot chocolate. She bit her lip as her worries about him surfaced again - it was such a long way home from New York and she always worried about him but it was his life and she wasn't there to stop him from living it how he wanted.
There was a bang as the front door shot open and slammed shut again seconds later and she nearly ran from the kitchen to find out what was wrong. In the light of the living room Gerard looked more of a mess than he had on the bridge; rain thickened blood was flowing down his face and his pale cheeks and his left eye were bruised and battered. "Gerard..." Elena started but he just put his soaked bag down and stood there, his current coursework ruined by the rain. "Sit down," She told him quietly "I'm going to make the hot chocolate."
He looked up and smiled sadly at his perfect Italian little Grandma before throwing himself down on the couch. She came back in minutes later with a roll of bandages, some tissue and two mugs of steaming hot chocolate and sat down next to him before beginning to wipe the blood off his face.
"Let's not tell your mam." She smiled at him "She'd fuss."