FicWad

Just a little note: This was actually written ages ago, so we have the whole thing written out. So we can update whenever BUT we only update if we get good reviews and ratings! :D
- But sorry for any typos, we wrote most of it on our phones which obviously doesn't have spell checker on, and when you're as lazy as me, you don't bother using Word when you get to a computer. Just mention if anything bugs you. Rant and scream, w.e. we want to know what you think of it. Honesty is the key :D
Oh and...I don't know if we actually mentioned this, but we like hurting perople so there's loads of sad bits and maybe just the tiniest bit exaggerated bits in.


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The rest of the class leave, except Mikey who bites his lip. For once that kid is speechless. I don't move, I just carry on staring at the table. Mikey comes over and puts a hand on my back, but I shrug him off.
'Please, go Mikes...'
'Sure.' He smiles comfortingly and leaves, taking my book out the trash and putting it on the desk. When I'm sure he's gone, I let the tears fall. Slowly down my cheeks and splashing onto the table. Putting my head in my hands, I start to cry harder, he's right, I'm not fucking normal. I'm a fucking piece of shit. My parents hate me for it, everyone here hates me for it, I have no place anywhere. There's no point me even being here. Everything I do is just fucking worthless, no one fucking CARES!
I take my sketchbook in shaking hands and open it, at each page harshly ripping the drawings into tiny pieces. The tears fall thick and fast as I tear my drawing of Bert up, then the painting of Grandma's old house by the lake, completely shredded now. When finished, I drop to my knees, clutching the paper. I shove my book of the table and continue to cry, praying I'll never see you again. It's all too much now.

I feel Mikeys hand on my shoulder, turning me round angrily. 'Don't you have the tiniest bit of respect in you?!'
I sigh, closing my eyes before looking back at him. 'You don't know what I've been through.'
'Could hardly have been hell! The way you treated him!'
'I-'
'You what? You hate gay people? Yeah, I worked that out.'
I grabbed his arm angrily, dragging him away from all the people hiding in one of the closets. 'You couldn't even imagine what I've been through. After that guy fucking raped me, I spent years getting abuse, kids round school. And then he returned, he thought I had told people what he had done, he took me off to the pier, he forced me along a cliff, he pushed me off. He tried to fucking kill me. What made me snap in there was I felt submerged under the water again. Do you know how that feels? You can't breathe, you can barely move, I broke a leg and arm when I hit the water, I couldn't get out. A fisherman pulled me out apparently. I told them I jumped. But in there, it was like there was no escape, everyone was expecting me to do something, and all I remembered was him being gay.' I couldn't help it, I was practically sobbing as they came back. Mikey was stood, unsure of what to do.
'I never knew. But Frank....he's not the same.' He awkwardly wrapped his arms round me, hugging me. I wipe my eyes hurridley, turning and kicking the wall before walking out.

Still clutching my papers, I stand up shakily, looking in the window. My eyeliner had smudged majorly and ran down my cheeks. I look like a fucking panda. Great, just something else for them to make fun of. I sit back on my stool with my pencil in hand. It's just worthless. I empty my bag on to the table of other pencils, paints and colours. All of it. Shit. One by one, I snap each pencil and put it on one side, a few more tears falling. Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap. Five of them, snapped. I don't know why. But it hurts. To see them, broken on the table. Something I loved most, all broken. Just like me, I am broken. Snap. Snap. Snap.-
'Stop...' I jump, dropping another pencil and look to see the short boy from earlier. 'Please.' Shit.

I want to tell him I'm sorry, tell him whats happened, but I can't. Instead I pull up a chair and sit down opposite him. I open my mouth to speak, but I can't say anything, so I shut it again, taking the pencils and lining them up, putting the pieces together. I wish I could tape them or something, but I don't have anything and I would look so stupid. 'Those drawings were good.' You're silent, watching my hands as I fiddle with the pencils. 'Can I look at them again?'

'H-here.' I push the sketchbook towards him and he opens it, gasping at the contents. Inside, I put all the ripped bits so the drawings are pieced together like a puzzle. I don't look up, don't dare meet his gaze. I keep my stare fixed on the table until I hear a soft almost sob like sound come from him.
'W-why?' I see him trace the rip lines with his finger, quickly catching a tear before it drips on to the page. Why is he crying? They mean nothing to him.
'They mean nothing. All of this means nothing. Everything I do, will do or have ever done means nothing so why bother-'
'Please, don't say that.' His gaze comes to meet my own teary look. He... He seems to have changed... Why? Why is he crying... For me?

'Is this because of what I said...?' I don't know what to do, he's still this godawful faggot, but... he's different. He nods, then shakes his head, nods again then shrugs. I need to leave but I can't. I stand up, punching a wall and making you look up in surprise. 'Fuck everything up...worthless, fucks sake.' You stare at me as I mutter.

'D-don't hurt yourself... Over m-me...'
You pause, looking at me. 'I fuck everything up' you say quietly.
'I.. I'm s-sure you d-don't....' I return my gaze to the table again, taking the rest of the pencils and snapping one more in my hand. 'You... only spoke the t-truth... I know what I am...' With the remaining pencil half, I start mindlessly scribbling into the table. 'Faggot. Faggot. Faggot. Faggot.' I carry on scribbling, over and over again until I stop sharply when I feel your hand over mine, stopping the pencil from writing. It's weird. I don't know why, but something about you... It relaxes me. It's like you're calming me, making me forget what you did. But what if thats it? What if... What if you're just here like Bert once was, lulling me into a false sense of security only to break all of that and get me hated by most of the year? I can't have that. Not again. I pull my hand away, uncomfortable with the contact.

I put my hands in my pocket, chewing on my lip. 'Please just....I didn't mean it...some stuff that happened to me a few years back and stuff and I feel pressured into this stuff and ... and I'm sorry.' You open your mouth to speak, but I suddenly feel weird and I walk out, leaving you with half pencils. I head straight towards one of the bike sheds, pulling out a cigarette and lighting up.

He's sorry. He's sorry? I...
I go to one of the draws in the art room and take out one of the blank sketchbooks thats going spare. This is mine now. I shove my old book in the trash along with the broken pencils and go to the cupboard. So I steal stuff from the art room. I practically live here anyway.
Taking fresh pencils and colours, I sit back down. Something about him, I don't know what it is, but something's triggered me to do this, to start a fresh. I open the book on the first page, running my fingers over the smooth surface and take out a pencil, sketching again.

I'm there ages, drawing and drawing away, unaware of almost everything around me again. When finished, I look at my drawing and gasp slightly. It... It's him, Frank. He's looking at me with deep graphite eyes, a small smile playing on his lips. I quickly close my book and put it in my bag, seeing it now around two o'clock. Oh crap. Lunch. I really should go to that more. Fuck it. I exit the art room, flicking off the light and walking downstairs. I don't go to my form room like I should, I carry on walking, straight out the door and past you in the bike shed, not even looking.

I notice you and watch you race out of the school grounds. I quickly text Mikey. 'That guy...he's your brother?'
'Yeah.'
'When am I coming to yours?'
'Whenever?'
'Tonight?'
'Sure.' The rest of the days passes quickly and soon I'm walking next to Mikey towards his house

I race downstairs to my room, slamming the door and diving on my bed. Finally. Home. Well, the closest I can get to home. I put my colours and pencils on the table and open my book, turning the page to a blank page. I grabbed a thick black marker and write 'WHAT ARE YOU?' on it in big letters. Then, I tape the page to my ceiling, right above my bed. I look at it. 'I'm not worthless. Come on Gerard, just keep telling yourself that.' I look around my room. The walls are covered in drawings, questions, hearts, broken hearts, everything. Suddenly, I hear 'Gee? I'm home!' And go to my speakers, blasting out The Misfits in response.

I can hear The Misfits. I love The Misfits. Mikey leads me towards the kitchen, raiding the fridge. I hear footsteps coming towards us, and I turn, seeing the shock on his face. 'Y-you're here?'

He's here. Oh god. Oh GOD. 'Uhh, yeah.' 'Play nice guys' Mikey says, smiling and putting the food down. I grab a bag of chips from the side and open them, saying between a mouthful 'I.. I'll be downstairs...' As I leave, I hear Mikey say 'We'll go see him in a bit, he doesn't come out much.'

I look past Mikey towards the door he just went through. 'He sleeps down there?'
'And eats. Drinks. Smokes. Draws. Lives down there.'
'Oh.'
'Wanna watch TV?'
'Porn?'
'What?! No.' I laugh inwardly to myself. 'Joking.' He laughs out loud and I smile, following him out of the room.

I can't believe he's here! Oh god oh god oh god. I sit on my bed and chew my lip, then getting up to go to my table again. I sit on the chair and open my notebook, flipping through the pages of songs, poems and incessant doodles. Soon, I reach a blank, I get out a pen and start writing. I can her Mikey and Frank talking and the TV sounding out and wish I was him. Yes, I am jealous of my brother.

'So hottest girl in our form?' 'Susie.' 'But don't you go out with that Marie?' 'She kisses like a camel...' 'Oh.' 'You. Hottest girl?' 'I don't know.' 'There must be someone.' 'Its been one day. If you were gay-' He stops, watching my face. I grip the seats and all I can see is the bottom of the ocean. As though I'm underwater. A hand on my shoulder, my head hitting the surface. 'Frank?' 'What? Sorry. Thinking. Um, probably that Jonny.' Mikey laughs. 'He looks like a dog.' 'So I have a fetish for dogs.' He laughs harder. 'Why? Who would you choose then?' 'Scott.' 'You have to be kidding me!' 'Neither of us are gay, so it doesn't make any difference.' 'Fair point.' He stands up. 'Wanna go talk to Gerard?' 'Sure.'

The TV's stopped. I hear a knock on my door. 'Gee?'
'Yeah' I say, smiling a little when Mikey and Frank both walk in. Mikey sits on my bed and gestures Frank to sit down too. There is a certain awkwardness about the room and I look down. Suddenly, Mikeys phone goes off in his pocket. Lucky bastard. 'Shit, I'm sorry, I'll be back.' he exits up the stairs again and leaves Frank and I alone. I can tell he doesn't want to be here. 'You.. You don't have to be here if you don't want....' He smiles at me and doesn't move. Smiles? Huh?

You're sat at your desk and I can see you're nervous. I gaze around at drawings on the walls, across your ceiling. They're amazing. You're watching me, shuffling uncomfortably on your chair. 'Come get comfy.' I say, feeling weird at offering you your own room.

'Okay...' I sit on the edge of my bed crosslegged and lookat you smiling. 'What...' I say, smiling suspiciously.
'Nothing, I'm just admiring. These are so good.' you look almost in awe at my drawings and I blush. I start to feel more comfortable ad you ask me about some of them.

'Who's this?' I point to a sketch of a beautiful old woman and a watercolour of the same woman next to it.
'Thats my grandmother...' He hung his head slightly, and I didn't question further. The next was another sketch of a skeleton. 'Just inspired by things I saw on the street.'
'A skeleton?'
'The skeleton of a leaf. I thought about skeletons from that.' He rests against the wall and I move back to sit next to him.
'They are seriously brilliant. I wish I could draw like you.'

'Everyone has something that they like to do, drawing is just my thing. I could show you something simple if you want...'
'Sure!' I go over and get my book and two pencils, returning to the bed and sitting next to him. 'Okay, prewarning, I can't draw for shit.'
'Don't worry, this is easy.' I rip out two pages and give him one, then handing him a pencil. I then show him different tips and techniques to use until we both have matching skull heads on our pages.
'Wow.... They look so real....' He seems dumbfounded and I laugh quietly.
'See, I told you you could do it.'
'Yeah but not like you.'
'Everyone's different, and I think you did really well there.' He smiles and says 'Thanks' and looks down at his page. Is he.... No. Blushing?

I can feel the blood rushing to my face. What the hell is wrong with me? He seems so close. We can hear Mikey laughing upstairs and Gerard shakes his head. 'He's gonns be ages up there. The things-' ...we could do? Shit. He didn't finish his sentence and he's staring at the ground as though wishing it would open up and swallow him. Only girls have said that to me before... I don't know what to do.

Oh crap. Why did I even talk. Why fucking WHY didn't I just shut the hell up?! Come on, Gee, save this somehow.
'The, the things he talks about, you would not believe. I swear he's giving out a free sex line on his cell sometimes!' There. I look up at him slightly and see he's laughing. 'Any minite now you'll hear-' I'm sharply cut off by an extrememly loud 'HELL YEAH!' Coming from upstairs. The two of us both start laughing, boy oh boy Mikey is never gonna live this down.

'I've heard weirder sex noises.' I say in between laughs. You look at me curiously and I shrug. 'Some people are just like that....this one time...' I hesitate, wondering whether to tell him about what happened. 'This guy...'
'I thought you hated .. gay people ...?'
'It was what set it off.' I stop, not wanting to say, but I feel his hand on my arm and look down at his long slender fingers tracing my tattoos.
'What happened?' I can't speak. Sean was like this. Before he raped me. I freeze and you pull your hand away. 'Sorry...'
'Its okay.' I mumble, and suddenly I'm telling you what happened, like I told Mikey. Its like your family has this effect on me.

Whoa. Oh my god.
'And... And he just wouldn't stop! I b-begged, and h-he, oh my god...' I can see he's reliving the moment as he tells me, now finishing off in a breakdown of tears. I'm not sure what to do. If i offer him a hug, he might take it the wrong way, but I can't just sit here staring at him cry like some sort of spectator.
No you can't, now hug him, fool.
I open my arms, looking at him and waiting for a response. He looks back at me and smiles fractionally shifting to wrap his arms round my waist and cry into my shoulder. I rub his back gently, careful not to put my grip too tight on him just incase...

Its weird being in another guys arms, but it feels so right and comforting. I bury my face into your shirt. feeling the warmth even though you keep your grip light. I hold onto you, feeling so emotional. I suddenly realise what I'm doing and pull away shocked at myself, clambering up and going to stand at the other side of the room, my back to you and my shoulders shaking with sobs. Its not long before I feel your hand on my back and I don't pull away this time.

'I won't hurt you...' I say softly, rubbing your back once more.
'Th-that's what h-he said...'
'I'm different. I just want to make sure you're okay.' You turn around and whisper 'thankyou' before falling into my arms again to cry the last of your tears.

You hold me, slightly tighter this time and carry on rubbing my back, soothing me. I feel your face against my hair as I move my head slightly, letting the last of the tears fall. I hesitate slightly as you reach up, but I let you wipe the tears away with your thumb, the soft skin running along my cheekbones and down the side of my face before you drop your arm.

It's silent for a few minutes, the two of us still standing in each others arms.
'Thankyou...' You say softly, smiling.
'It's okay' I say, barely a whisper, 'I won't hurt you, I promise.' Your wrap on my waist tightens slightly as mine does round your neck, my other hand resting on your upper arm.
'I know' you say even quieter, I can feel your breath roll against my lips and smile warmly at you.

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