FicWad

hey! this is chap. 4, I know I've been taking ages to update, but we're just finishing the marking period, so there is a bunch of work to hand in and shit at school. Other than that Tomorrow (sunday) I leave for Barcelona on a class trip, and it's a 6 hour train ride (I have to be up at like, 4:30 am...yay for early departure trains note sarcasm in writer's tone), so I'll work on this story then. Well, enough rambling, hope you enjoy :) Title is a song by The Used, btw, I thought it fit well with the end...XD oh, and how can you select more than one genre? I'm not able to do it...well, please let me know if you know how to, thx :)
I CAUGHT FIRE
Gerard’s POV
I sat there, shaking with laughter as the tears faded, as I sat next to him…His pale, olive tattooed skin…His floppy black hair sweeping over his perfect face, the silver nose ring that thread through his cute, round button nose, the lip ring he tugged on every once in a while…Frank...I remembered when I’d seen him at the therapist’s office…man do I hate that place. I’d been entranced by his brownish-hazel eyes, eyes that were at the base chocolate brown, but with hints of hazel swirling around, along with sparkling, innocent golden flecks…I felt strangely comfortable around him, how innocent he could look despite his piercing and tattoos…which…one day I would ask about. I felt…strangely comfortable around him, safe, unattainable…comfortable. Our laughter slowly dulled as both our smokes fell to the ground when an all too familiar bell rang through the school. A loud sigh escaped me, as I realized the afro-mentioned bell was meant to signal the end of our lunch break. I brutally stomped on my burnt-out fag; assuring myself it was extinguished, watching it blend into the damp soil.
“Whatdaya have next?” Frank’s chipper voice asked. I rummaged through my tattered messenger bag, before pulling an already crumpled ink-splattered piece of paper on which my schedule had been printed, and handed it to him.
“PE?” he asked, I nodded reluctantly.
“I have it too” he sighed. I found some comfort in that information, even though I’d never admit it to anybody. The fact I’d have someone while stumbling around dodging the different balls--but wait, what if he likes Phys Ed? I mean, what if he’s good? I suddenly felt myself start to panic as I imagine him laughing at me, along with-- “It fucking sucks” he adds bitterly. I inwardly smile as I feel the panic wash away, and manage a feeble smile.
“U-Um…F-F-Frank?” I called quietly
“Yeah?”
“Th-thanks f-for l-letting meh-me s-s-sit w-with ya-you’ I stuttered out, blushing violently. He smiled shyly, and I turned around, starting to make my way back towards the depressing brick main structure, my feet squashing the already decomposing previously bright colored leaves, their striking brightness engulfed by the angry monster that is winter, his brown mushy claws tearing away the colors. A monster that, no matter how cold, is one I actually love dearly.
“Hey Gerard?” I spin around, surprised as I realize Frank’s not following me, as I was kind of expecting him to be. I blush once again, my cheeks mimicking the shade only a tomato should be allowed to have. “Wanna skive?” I stood there, frozen in place not quite sure what to do…I mean, as much as I hate Phys Ed…and if we got caught this sure as hell wouldn’t help with the whole ‘conflict causing’ issues…but at just the thought of spending more time with Frank, and his bewitching hazel flecked russet eyes and the ’Halloween’ inked onto his calloused, strong fingers made the corners of my mouth twitch into an excited smile. But what if…he was just doing this out of pity…to try and be nice? Or to set me up and humiliate me later? Yeah, that’s gotta be it. And I’d almost been dumb enough to follow along with it. I looked up at him again, preparing to spit in his perfect face or something but when I did so I was met with his sparkling, enchanting brownish-green eyes, and I knew otherwise. He seemed to genuinely want to spend time with me, and I couldn’t help but grin. Someone wanted to spend time with me. And not just anyone; charismatic, cute, black haired and Misfits liking Frank. I nodded, signaling I did wanna skive, and his own grin spread up to his pierced ears, and he waved me over. I skipped over to him, the butterflies returning in my stomach, but this time tingling with excitement, not stinging with fear. He traipsed down the fence until he came to the end, where a couple of turned over kaki plastic garbage bins sat, covered in rotting leaves and other muck. “Give me your bag” he commanded, still beaming with what seemed to be excitement. I did so, and watch him slide both my weathered old bag and his, which wasn’t in much better condition, in a small hole under the fence. He then hopped onto the nearest upside down bin, hauling himself up and leaning against the top of the fence. “Ya coming?” I nodded, my heart suddenly pounding furiously in my chest. I climbed up beside him, nearly toppling over as he caught me, trying to suppress a giggle. I blushed a deep red again, this time probably looking more like an eggplant than a tomato, and mentally scolded myself for having no sense of balance. He passed one leg over the fence, balancing himself on the one, and grinned, his eyes still sparkling.
“Y-you d-do th-this a-a-a lot na-no?” I could feel the red/purple in my cheeks go darken even more, as I realized I’d just practically admitted I was a newbie at this. He playfully cocked an eyebrow and smirked, and held out his hand. My heart skipped a beat as I took it and his calloused fingers brushed over my own spidery ivory ones and I could swear I felt him tense a little too. Frank jumped over first, as I sat there, dangling one leg over each side of the fence, supporting myself mostly on my arms.
“Hurry up! The last thing we need is to get caught” he said, a little concern rising in his voice. Indeed, we could hear the students arriving into the gym, and if one of them was to poke their nose ’round back, we’d be sitting ducks. I cringed
“u-um…F-Frank… I-it’s ra-really h-h-high” I admitted sheepishly, feeling about half my age, which was seventeen. He chuckled softly before reaching out tentatively to grab my hand. I tensed once more at the contact of his bare skin against mine, and bit my bottom lip as he tugged at his lip ring. I could feel my cheeks prickle, but right before the color rose again he violently tugged on my arm, forcing me to crash down over him, unwillingly straddling his hips with my own. This time it was his face that mimicked the color of a root beet. We stayed there a few long, awkward seconds before we noticed an old woman who was packing groceries into her car staring at us, a disapproving look spread across her face. I shot up off Frank, turning my face away from him.
“m-motherfucker” I mumbled playfully, trying to break the tension. His smirk returned, as he led me along the other side of the fence, until we were seated against the grayish teal brick façade of the supermarket, hidden by a dumpster, between the fence, a small patch of dehydrated stray grass, and the dumpster itself and the back wall of the supermarket. Over the fence, we could see the Gymnasium’s roof, but unless you were standing on said roof, we couldn’t be seen, and I don’t think teachers would be patrolling outside school grounds, which relieved me a little…I was, honestly at first terrified of getting caught. He picked at the black nail polish on his nails, as I twirled a damp twig between my fingers. I grabbed my messenger bag and plopped it onto my lap, pulling out a pack of fags, offering one to Frank as I placed mine between my parted lips, watching him do the same, staring at his smooth, think pink lips that looked so---wait, what the fuck?
“So, um…how come you moved here?” he asked, I glanced at him, alarmed. How exactly was I going to tell him that…what if he wouldn’t want to hang out with me anymore… “Um…you don’t have to tell me” he added quickly, upon realizing he’d caught me off guard. I nodded apologetically, watching the smoke escape his parted lips, as he gently tapped the bud, the cinders falling to the ground, only to be smashed by his worn black converse. “So…um…how about 20 questions?” he asked shyly, I smiled and nodded in agreement, hoping they’d be questions I could nod too. “Um…so…how long you’ve been smoking?” I chuckled softly, causing him to blush. I held out both my index and middle finger. “Two…?” he trailed off, expecting me to continue. “Two what?”
“y-years” he nodded awkwardly, his eyes darting around.
“It’s your turn now” he added precipitately, I gulped, realizing I’d need to talk some more, correction-- stutter helplessly. I grinned, realizing what I could ask.
“H-How c-come y-you w-wanted to na-know?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow, surprised at myself. His cheeks flushed flamingo pink, making him look even--Gerard…do not finish that sentence.
“I’m not very good at coming up with good conversation topics…” he admitted, laughing slightly, probably to try and soothe the uncomfortable silence growing around us. I nodded again, wishing I could ask more…wishing I could-- “I have a question…I mean, I know I already asked but--” he bit his lip, as I tensed up, figuring out what would come next “How come you don’t…talk? I mean, I’ve barely heard you say anything, you just nod and gesture and--”
“I-I St-st-stutter” I cut him off sharply, self-hatred spreading through me, as I felt disgusted with what I’d just said.
“…so?” I turned to face him, disbelief splattered across my face, I was expecting to find some sort of mocking in his comment, but searching his face I found none. I was about to get up and leave when I saw something flicker in his eyes concern. He actually…wanted to know…I still wanted to leave, to get up, to storm out…but, he was the only thing closest to a friend I had next to Mikey…and….I don’t want to ruin that, he’s been really nice, nicer than anyone’s ever been at least, anyone from school…I felt like he deserved to know. I gulped again, lowering my head.
“I-it m-makes meh-me u-u-ugly” I admitted quietly, my eyes beginning to well up with a salty mixture I knew so well…

Frank’s POV:
“I-it m-makes meh-me u-u-ugly” he said quietly, barely audible. I stared at him with disbelief. Ugly? UGLY? He was…anything but…his ghostly white skin, so beautiful in contrast with his dark, midnight black hair that swept over his imaginative, artistic, innocent yet clouded, hazel eyes that--Frank! Stop acting as if you liked him! but do I? No. Maybe it’s just…that…Just…Friendship. Friendship, that’s what it is. Ugly…how could he think that though?!? I couldn’t--wouldn’t let him think that. Fuck, in three days I’d dreamed about him twice…he was just so…FRIENDS, he was friendly Frank. I sighed exasperated as my heart and mind seemed to argue back and forth.
“Y-you t-think s-so t-too” I turned to Gerard, who was bent over himself, cheeks glistening with tears, wetting the rough material of his jeans.
“What?”
“Y-You t-think I-it m-makes m-me u-ugly t-too” he repeated shakily. You know what? Fuck you mind.
“Gerard look at me. Look at me” I commanded, stunned at how stern I sounded. “You are not ugly."
“ Y-yeah r-right”
“I’m serious…please…don’t be scared to talk”
“p-promise y-you wa-won’t t-tell p-people?” he demanded, his voice still shaky.
“promise”
“I-I-I’m n-not…” he began to stammer out
“Huh?”
“I-I-I-I’m n-not sc-scared t-to t-talk a-around ya-you” he admitted, a smile lighting up his face. I suddenly felt a very strong connection to him…like I’d found…a friend. A real friend…and it struck me how much trust he was putting into me…realizing that this was for him, a big deal, and that he trusted me enough for it not to be a handicap around me…and I’d only known him for….not even a day…but it was liked we’d known each other forever. I had the sudden urge to know more about him his ivory skin, his ebony hair, his button nose, his eyes, which were now sparkling, surely only reflecting the sparks off mine. “s-so…h-how a-a-about tw-twenty qua-questions?” he grinned, as I replied enthusiastically.
“I’ll start” I announced “Um…do you have any…hobbies?”
“I-I…I-I l-like t-to d-draw”
“really?” he nodded, parting his lips.
“D-Do y-you?”
“I play…guitar…music really”
“S-Sweet…m-my b-brother p-plays b-bass”
“you have a brother?” I asked, intrigued, I was an only child, as much joy as that brought to my parents…Gerard nodded again
“M-Mikey…h-he’s t-two y-yeas y-younger…h-he’s ma-my b-best f-friend…”
“I’ve never had a best friend…I mean, since I was a little kid, his name was Trevor…he moved away when I was six…he was the only person who called me Frankie” I said, sighing as I remembered the little I could
“M-Mikey c-calls m-me G-Gee” he said, smiling.
“Gee?” I questioned. Gerard nodded.
“Y-you c-can c-call m-me t-that I-if y-you l-like” he added, his smile broadening. I flashed a grin at him.
“If ya call me Frankie” I playfully nudged his arm, resulting in the two of us play-tackling each other. We spent the rest of what should have been the Gym hour learning about each other, like friends. Real friends. Like we’d known each other for a while…I couldn’t describe the feeling…I felt, complete…like I’d found someone to laugh with…talk to…I learned he was also into Stephen King, had a strange obsession with Calvin and Hobbes, and dreamed to be a comic artist…I giggled when the first question he asked me was why I had ‘Halloween; tattooed on my hands, and he smirked when I told him…we were…friends

---


I trudged along the sidewalk, repeatedly kicking it softly out of habit with the plastic tip of my shoes. The previously slight cloud cover had now grown to a thick, heavy slate colored canopy, as cars passed by with the headlights on, probably heading to stores in preparation for the big rain storm that seemed to be sitting on the horizon, waiting for just the right moment to pounce. Once again I found myself thinking about none other than Gerard, and the time we’d spent that afternoon, and his smile and his--damn it Frank, now not the time to--If I cut off your arms and cut off your legs would you still love me anyway? If you’re bound-- “Hello?” I answer the phone, my misfits ring tone shuts off
“Frank, it’s me”
“Mom?”
“Yeah, remember, you gotta see Dr. Mitch at 5pm” I let out at loud, exasperated sigh, and, after telling her that I ‘love her too’ hang up the phone, and kick a nearby lamppost a little harder than necessary.
“Fuck” I swear at both returning to see Mr. Bald-man and at the fact my left foot is now in pain, and to thank is my stupidity. Nice going Frank. Before flip my phone open again in order to see the time; which indicates 3:49 pm. Still got time. I turn onto my street, approaching the small beige house numbered 567 and turn onto the lawn; the driveway’s empty, no one’s home. I jog up the weathered overused wood steps and duck under the porch’s cover just as it begins to rain, and unlock the front door, shivering as it’s gotten drastically colder. I slam the painted red door behind me and stroll into the kitchen, flipping the coffee maker on, and shit up on the counter, as the heat from the coffee machine warms me a tiny bit. We still haven’t had any snow yet, which is fairly rare considering December is only a three days away. I, for the hundred and first time today find myself in a day dream about, well, you can guess can’t you? Thought so. Is it really more than friendship I’m feeling? No…I don’t think so…I mean, I’ve never had an ‘official’ girlfriend before…all I’ve really had were one time flings, shall we say…and it’s always been girls…could it be both? The signature beep of the coffee machine lets me know that my caffeine fix is brewed, and I hop off the counter with a mug and pour it in, leaning over it as the warm, familiar smell floats in through my nostrils and warms my entire body up. Grabbing a pack of skittles and my cup I walk up to my room, setting my snack down on my desk before turning around to my bed, where I last left pansy and pick her up, setting her on my lap, and rummaging through my pockets before finding a pick. I start strumming a few random chords, soon getting into it, and am then head banging as much as I can while seated, bobbing back and forth, as I lean over her, pouring my heart out into the song …I’M MELTING IN YOUR EYES, I LOST MY PLACE, COULD STAY A WHILE AND I’M MELTING…
“FRANK!” I jump up, nearly hitting my head on the wall, and put Pansy down right at the same time my mother walks into my room, big heather bags under her eyes, her slumped figure entering my dark-red painted room. “You have to be with Dr. Mitch in 9 minutes!” My eyes widen and I grab both my keys and IPod, running down the stairs and out of the house as I pull my Black Flag hoodie up over my head, my feet slashing in the puddles created by the rain, which is still pouring evenly, the bottom of my jeans swishing in the polluted water, as I run as fast as I can, down one or two avenues before finding the one where the dreaded office is. I run across the grassy patch out front of a McDonald’s, the green and red street lights blurring in the distance. I run across the avenue, almost getting knocked over by a small truck, hop over the sidewalk and literally sprint up the steps that lead to the squeaky clean, and now slippery wet siding of the office, and push open the glass door. I shake my hair like a dog, hoping to dry it off a bit, and pad over to the receptionist, aka miss double bubble, and don’t even bother smiling. Neither does she.
“He’s waiting for you” she says, her voice still fake with the pretend accent I can’t quite place. I knock on the door, greeted by an exasperated ‘come in’. I do so, trying to mumble some apology as to why I’m late, but John just shrugs. He is, today wearing a sky blue shirt, with palm trees over it, and is sitting in the small circle of light his desk lamp is creating, turned on because of the low amount of natural light out today. He grins, plopping his chubby, hairy hand on his desk, as I sit down on the chair, cuddling my legs again.
“So, hi there Frank” I manage a mix between a bored expression and a fake smile, forcing him to roll his eyes. “Not very well I see” I shake my head
“Nah I’m okay” I say flatly
“Okay then…how was your day?”
“normal…”
“Nu-uh, Frank, how was it?” he repeats, as I continue to stare at him blankly.
“I ‘unno…regular”
“Well, whatcha do?” he leans forward, fixing me with his unsettling eyes. “anything special?” I can feel myself start to smile, but stop myself, as I’m not sure it’s really his business. “You smiled…what happened?” he asks, as if we were gossiping like twelve year olds. I blink, annoyed and decide on telling him. “I met a friend”
“What’s his name?” he inquires, leaning back again
“Gerard” I fight to keep the corners of my lips from twitching into a grin
“Oh, I know a Gerard.” he adds matter-of-factly
“It’s the same Gerard I think”
“…Way?”
“yeah”
“oh…well that’s good…he seems like an okay kid” okay?
“…okay?”
“yeah…quiet” John corrects. I tug gently at my lip ring, wondering if John’s hiding anything. Deciding to let it slide, I slump down in the chair. “Anything else?” I shake my head. “And um…how’s it going with…your father?”
“Haven’t spoken to him” I state, crossing my arms across my chest, anger starting to rise inside of me again at the mention of my father.
“Oh…well, we can continue that another time…” I nod; grateful I won’t need to think of him. “So, how did you meet Gerard?”
“He was new today” I lower my knees, crossing one leg over the other, keeping my arms across my chest. John spins around in his chair, and moves to slightly to the right.
“Oh, and did you hang out a lunch or something?”
“Yeah”
“Oh…okay…Oh, I wanted your permission to look into your medical record”
“…why?”
“It’s my job, but I rather have your permission” I sigh, not to sure I want this guy stuffing his leaky red nose in my business, but then again, I don’t have that much to hide. After one or two minutes of debating with myself, I nod
“go ahead” he grins, and as he’s about to say something Mrs. Bubblegum pokes her one-too-many -nose-jobs nose through the door.
“John? Mrs. Kaspers is here” she announces, John looks up at her
“Oh, okay, send her in” and then to me “Let’s continue this tomorrow, I’ll take a look at that record of yours” he waves, and I turn around and walk out, not even wanting to look in the receptionist’s desk, as I can hear the highly disturbing chip chip chip of a nail clipper and the repetitive scr-scratch of a nail file. I pull my hood back on before walking out into the rain, hoping coming here wouldn’t become a daily routine. My feet slugged along the sidewalk turned small-torrent as less and less cars were now on the avenue, as I began running. Fast. Finally I climbed up the stairs and ducked under the porch, opening the front door. I walked into our kitchen, what I usually do out of habit, noticing a small loose sheet of paper on the table.
Gone out for groceries, be back for dinner
Love,
MomI picked it up and placed it back on the table, wondering how my mom would say ‘love’ to me all the time by phone, or in writing…but I’d never heard it from her. She could never say it to my face. She never had. Sighing, I galloped up the stairs, walking into my room and opened the computer. I sat with it on my bed, as my settings popped up and later started playing music off of it. I soon got annoyed at the crap quality, turning it off and inserting the CD into the CD players, listening to Green Day blast out loudly, and I fell back onto my bed, nearly hitting my head with Pansy.

I spent the whole evening like that, listening to CD after CD day dreaming on my bed, only to later here a key turn in the door downstairs. I didn’t pay much attention to it, figuring it was my mom and laid back down on the bed, but shot up as I heard footsteps slump up the stairs. Loud, manly footsteps. And then nothing. Not footsteps, just the end of Green Day’s Good Riddance, the last few notes before the door burst open, revealing an okay looking mid aged guy, wearing a grey and light green suit and what I referred to as 'penguin shoes'. You know, those shiny pointy shoes that make people waddle like penguins, yeah, my dad owns a pair. He tapped his toes three times before advancing towards me, I gazed at him expectantly.
“You’re home early” he stated matter-of-factly
“John had another client”
“John? Client? What the fuck were you doing?” See, that’s something about my dad. No matter what you tell him, he thinks it means you were getting it on with some whore, and half the time he expects that whore to be a guy. And another thing, if I swear, he hits the roof, but it’s okay for him to swear at me all the time, especially cuss about me. I roll my eyes
“John Mitch” I correct coldly.
“Oh. And?”
“And what?”
“Have you made any progress?”
“The hell I have” I shoot back
“I can see, still listening to that pathetic shit” he argues back, sarcasm in his voice. I cock my head to the side a little, almost challenging him to say something else. What did I say? He doesn’t scare me much.
“I’m not gonna change”
“Well see about that” and with that, he turns his heels and walks out of my room, disappearing into his before calling over his shoulder “When your mom comes home, get your ass downstairs and make yourself USEFUL for once” and shuts his bedroom door. I sigh, angered and slam the door to my own room, waiting patiently for my mom to come home, not doing anything in particular.

I’d just finished putting the food away, as my mother’s slim figure was bent over the stove, stirring what appeared to be tomato sauce, before pouring some into another pan and cooking in separately.
“This will be yours, your father wants meat in his” she says, adding meat to the larger coated aluminum pan, and pouring half the pack of pasta into the boiling water, as I set plates down on our table, folding the napkins and setting the flatware down. I filled three glasses with water, placing one ahead of each plate, before returning to see my mother cook. She called out to my father, signaling dinner was ready, and he walked in, now in his suit pants but with a regular cotton shirt, slippers over his knit socks. He glared at me before picking up the pasta and serving us all, as my mom served them their tomato sauce, as I poured my meat free one. I’m a vegetarian, I have been since I was about eight, and, you guessed it, another thing that turned my father against me. Apparently not wanting to eat something that was cruelly slaughtered makes me less of a man. I sat down opposite him, not wanting to look at him as I gulped my food down, barely chewing it.
“Frank slow down” ordered my mom, in a softer voice.
“It’s useless Leah” intervened my father. My mother looked at him, slight exasperation in her face before she resumed eating. We ate the rest in silence before;
“So, how was school?” I glare at my mom apprehending, before sighing and saying a meek
“OK just school” I lied, not wanting to tell them about…well…Gerard.
“Saw a whore after school did we?” spat my father. I stared at him again, as my mom lowered her head into her hands again. I got up, shoving my plate across the table and kicking my chair, before taking the stairs two at a time. Swearing at myself the whole time…why did I let his comments affect me? I should know by now to expect getting them, it’s been sixteen years. But I can’t. I just can’t. I fell down on my bed, slowly falling asleep. Darkness surrounding me…

“How come you don’t…talk? I mean, I’ve barely heard you say anything, you just nod and gesture and--”
“I-I s-stutter”
“…So?”
“I-it m-makes meh-me u-u-ugly” he said quietly, barely audible. I stared at him with disbelief. Ugly? UGLY? He was…anything but…his ghostly white skin, so beautiful in contrast with his dark, midnight black hair that swept over his imaginative, artistic, innocent yet clouded, hazel eyes that-- “Y-you t-think s-so t-too” I turned to Gerard, who was bent over himself, cheeks glistening with tears, wetting the rough material of his jeans.
“What?”
“Y-You t-think I-it m-makes m-me u-ugly t-too” he repeated shakily. I looked at him, my jaw dropping.
“Gerard…you look perfect to me…” he smiled sheepishly, as we magically drifted closer…closer…closer….his thin, pink lips only centimeters from my own…
“Y-you ra-really th-think th-that?” he asked, grinning, leaning in close, his lean fingers dancing up my arm, approaching my neck…I could smell charcoal, graphite, coffee and lavender and a tiny hint of smoke as he came closer.
“yeah” I closed my eyes, closing the distance between us, our lips brushing against each other’s, as my hands curled up into his ebony black hair, his tongue tracing my lip ring, begging for entrance, it was a little sloppy, for he seemed new at this, which made me smile into the kiss “your perfect” I mumbled as our tongues interlaced “mmm…” our noses gently nudge each other, as I brought one hand to his cheek, slowly massaging it, rubbing my thumb in circles, earning a small content sigh from him, as his hand slowly glided down my back, over the Keep The Faith tattoo, and further, further down---

I shot up, mumbling his name as I looked around, greeted by the glow of the street lamps through my closed window, and the few posters it illuminated. I felt a sudden loss as I realized it was a dream, and, upon realizing I wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, I pulled my hoodie over my bare chest and padded over to sit by the window. Maybe I did like him…a lot…I emptied the content of my pockets, looking for my lighter and flicked it on, watching the flame dance around, warming me a little…I like to do this sometimes…it helps me think…put things into perspective…Sit by the window in the dark, music softly playing, as I watch the flam flicker on and off, warming… or did I just want to know him better? I did…but there was something else too…like when he landed on me, straddling me with his hips…I had tensed at the friction…and I felt my stomach clenched at the thought of it again…but I wanted more…It wasn’t like with some random chick…maybe it was just some school girl crush…nothing much…just a little attraction…the flame kept flickering slightly, as I stared at its reflection the window, my ears focusing on the album that was currently playing softly
…In your eyes
LIKE MY FIRST TIME
THAT I CAUGHT FIRE
JUST STAY WITH ME
LAY WITH ME
IN YOUR EYES
COULD STAY A WHILE
AND I’M MELTING
IN YOUR EYES
LIKE MY FIRST TIME…
That I caught fire…The flame my lighter produce died out…as did the warmth…as I realized I liked Gerard…had I caught fire? Kinda… and it’d be dangerous, scary, and exhilarating. Because now I knew I could no longer argue when my father called me a fag…only now I felt a sudden pang of pride at the word, even if it was meant to be insulting…something about it excited me, as I smiled into the darkness, the last of the flame burning out.


I caught fire…
Gerard…
…a school girl crush?



And there ya have it folks!
I'd really love a few reviews, just to get an idea of what you guys think...pleeeease? offers freshly baked chocolate chip coffee cookies
oh, and if you haven't already, check out CosmicZombie's new story "Be My Detonator" it's really really good!
xx,
a