FicWad

hey guys!
How are your summers going? Internet's finally working properly again, so...yeah
I'm really sorry about the long wait, but there was really nothing I could do about it.
I wanted to upload a really long chapter as kind of a sorry for not having been aorund these past two-ish weeks, but I really thought about it, and I like this chapter better like this, meaning a bit shorter. It's not short or anything, but it's not like, really long. But yeah, I think it fits better like this...the tittle comes from Green Day's Nimrod :)
oh, and I uploaded a frerard one-shot recently, and I'd really appreciate it if you checked it out! (I'm not like forcing you guys or anything) but if your interested it's called the thoughts of angels and here's the link: http://ficwad.com/story/163221 :D

NIMRODS AND THE GROUCH


EHEM. Gerard was still sitting on his unmade bed, all the clutter on it swallowing him, like a beet root in a hurricane. But a safe, uninjured beet root in home territory. I, though, had hurriedly pounced off the bed, only to tumble backwards against a pile of what seemed to be a messy heap of pencils, comic books and socks, landing amongst the scattered hard covers and stray footwear. Mikey had taken a triumphant one step forward, the steaming mugs in his hands shaking as he tried to restrain his laughter, his eyes fixed on his fuming brother. As soon as the cups were safely on Gerard’s desk, he and Mikey kept their similarly hazel eyes on each other’s; Gerard’s showing an unpleasant mix of frustration, annoyance, and embarrassment, while Mikey’s sparkled in amusement, his lips twitching upwards despite his attempts to keep a straight face. I was, on the other hand, to preoccupied trying to determine whether the pink fluffy unicorn sock next to me was really Gerard’s, and if he actually wore it.
“W-What d-do ya-you wa-want?” barked the obviously pissed (and still slightly tipsy) Gerard, as he glared at Mikey like the bully who’s just been defied by the school nerd.
“I thought you guys might like some coffee…” he chortled, hiding behind his glasses, which managed to reflect the canary yellow glow of the ceiling lamp. Looking up from the bubblegum unicorn garment I stole a quick glance at Gerard, alarmed by what I saw. He was fuming. Literally. As if his blood was boiling beneath his skin. His usually sweet, unsure golden eyes were still unsure (I couldn't help but think they'd always be), but angry, upset, and embarrassed. And probably at me. At what I’d done. I lowered my head, hoping my dark bangs would help hide me, hoping I could, again, turn back time. I’m starting to really need that time machine. Mikey seemed to notice this as well, since the smug expression on his face was wiped off by one of concern. I noticed him look uncomfortably from me to Gerard and back again, only to then fake an interest in the carpet floor. It was all suddenly very clear to me: I had absolutely no reason to be here. I wasn’t allowed to just intrude on his life and embarrass, hurt, and angry him. Giving him anything was completely out of line, and painfully stupid. But he seemed so happy when I gave that stuff to him…he seemed so touched. Shut up, Frank. I noticed a pair of hurt, angry hazel eyes on me, flaming, dancing, and screaming green-flecked golden orbs drilling holes into my skull. Gerard. He didn’t seem to want me here right now.

“Um…I’m gonna…go. I’m really sorry I came…I didn’t want to bother you guys” I quickly got up, only to tumble over again, realizing my feet were still tangled in the long pink sock.
“Wh-whaa-- d-don’t g-go” Something tumbled after me landing besides me with a loud thump, a lump of ebony black hair covering their ghostly angelic face. Something else in the room, a little further away seemed to chuckle.
“You…don’t want me to go?” I asked, my mind suddenly feeling as if I was the drunk one, foggy, but not pleasantly as I would've liked it to be.
“n-no…b-but I-if y-you w-want t-t-to…g-go a-a-ahead” he answered dryly, spitting out some of the flooring he’d managed to get in his alluring mouth. Something chuckled by the door again, causing us both to look up, until Gerard growled “G-get o-out.” I raised my eyebrows, staring in turn from Mikey to Gerard, surprised when Mikey just stayed in place, my heart sinking when I realized he’d meant me. He was indeed mad at me. Telling me he didn’t want me to get out was just an attempt to be nice, to suppress his anger…right? Yes. How could I be so stupid not to see it? He had every single reason to be mad at me, hell he had every reason to beat me to the ground with a horn rimmed bat. I’d bailed on him, only to reappear later at his house, with no explanation, only some shitty gift to try and apologize and had then mortified him in front of his brother, not to mention nearly kissed him. Fuck, I was only about one second away from kissing him. The ceiling lamp seemed blinding as I got up, as I began to feel like I’d puke, chunks filled with angry little monsters begining to rise up my throat. I thought I’d buried those butterflies in John Mitch’s duckling-shrine office? Oh don’t think of him now too.

“Fine. I’ll go” I snarled, suddenly as angry as I‘d been earlier, and somehow choosing to redirect it at him. If he was gonna be mad at me, I might as well be at him. I started in direction of the door, passing a wide eyed Mikey.
“Wa-wait F-frank I-I me-meant Mi--”
“I know what you meant. I’m sorry” I yelled out, balling my fists and slamming the wooden door behind me. I nearly flew out of the house, tripping over the last step and tumbling onto the sidewalk, landing headfirst into a huge pile of coffee colored shoveled snow.



The ice cut into my bear skin, my eyes growing dry, stinging as if someone had drawn a flame across them and stuck needles in both pupils. I stumbled out of it, my brain completely frozen, my lips rock hard. I spluttered out some ice chips, before rubbing my eyes rapidly, trying to get rid of the burning sensation. I heard a few footsteps run down the patio stares and onto the sidewalk, and turned around to see, under the glowing street lamp, two similar faces, only one with glasses, and one absolutely beautiful, that I could recognize anywhere. Fuck. Before I could rationalize properly, my legs started to run on their own accord, forcing me away from the house I’d just been in, past the glowing lights and along the dark, damp, and slick streets, cars glinting in the corner of my frozen eyes, as I kept running along the narrowing streets, the worn soles of my scruffy shoes trailing behind me, until I reached a winding street that looked all too familiar. I slowed down, stomping angrily along the sleek sidewalk, angry with myself, my actions, Mikey, Gerard and anybody else who’d cross my path. You’d call this just another teenage mood swing? Well a pretty fierce one.


I grabbed the jingling, glimmering keys out of my pockets and rammed them into the keyhole, trying the best I could to open it. I tried once, twice, a third time. It wouldn’t budge. The key just lodged itself, shining up at me as if taunting me. I tried again, frustrated sighs escaping my lips as I began pounding on the door, willing it to open.
“Just open the DAMN DOOR!” I screeched, only to force the grandma that lived next door to poke her ill-tempered hairy overly-powdered nose out the window.
“What’s with you kid? D’ya girlfriend dump you?” I turned around, glaring at her. “If she did I can see why” she snickered, before shutting the window, a sharp snap in the silence I’d disturbed. I sighed again, trying to control myself, but all I managed was to choke on thin air. Genius. Just genius. I turned back to the stubborn wooden door, turning the keys one more time, leaning against the door until it finally snaps open, so fast that I tumble through, landing face first with the first of the cream carpet flooring. I hastily get up, scratching my now itching nose (thank the idiot invention that is uncomfortable flooring), and slam the door behind me, only to notice an immobile figure on the couch, staring blankly at the television.
“Couldn’t even open the door?!?” I snarl, upon recognizing the fancy, clean cut suit and the perfectly combed hair. I wait there, expecting an answer, or some snide comment but all I get is the monotonous clikity-click of the kitchen ceiling fan, playing hide-and-seek behind the kitchen walls. Deciding not to think any more of it, I disappear up the stairs, slamming my bedroom door open, and slipping through right before it bangs closed again, and tripping over my muddy laces. I don’t even bother to turn on the lights. Sinking onto the floor, everything washes over me. Swallowing me, devouring me, consuming me. Frustration. Anger. And an ever lingering feeling of shame. Couldn’t I do anything right?

First, I’d managed to run away, probably hurt Gerard’s and my mom's feelings, only to return later from the opposite comfort I was seeking, accidentally telling that dude at Starbucks I was gay (smart move, dumbass), go off to Gerard’s, make a terrible first impression on Mikey, almost kiss Gerard, only to be caught by his brother, tumble backwards off the bed and into a pile of socks, anger Gerard some more, got him to pity me (no, don’t go my ass), not take the hint causing him to yell at me to get out, missed a great opportunity to seriously injure myself, couldn’t even open a goddamn fucking door, managed to attract un unwanted remark from The Grinch’s cousin across the street, and was now pathetically crying my case in the dark. The cold, spitting, truth-revealing eternity of ebony skies. It was completely silent, except for the occasional car honks outside and the low, distant rumble of the television, and the only thing I could clearly hear were my screaming thoughts, thoughts that were screaming, pounding, yelling, and assaulting me, torturing me for the truth I didn’t want to see. The truth that my father was right. All I could do was fuck up. A tear found its way down my cheek, as I slapped it away angrily, only to be followed by another, and another, and another. Soon, rolling beads of guilt were strolling down my cheeks, leaving behind soft, moist trails…Drop by drop, everything seemed to wash away, as if someone was scrubbing my mind clean, as if everything was meant to drip away as sleep’s warm, welcoming arms opened up to me, gently rocking me back and forth, until the tears managed stopped too.

I dragged my hand along the tall, prickly grass, that seemed to stretch on for miles, a few light violet and ivory white wild flowers mixing in with the long, wild strands of a moisture filled color, a rich, healthy green that had fried out a little in the heat. I looked above me, my floppy bangs falling back and brushing against the top of my ears, their black mixing in with the hoodie I kept closed. The sun was almost blinding, warm sunrays brushing against my skin, burning slightly, but pleasantly so... As if nature had all of a sudden gotten sick of snow and had tipped the earth around. The trees around were a rich, fresh green, with a slight hint of teal blue, but still a rich, healthy, summery emerald. I sighed contently, my palm grazing the slightly bushy ends of the grass. Summer. As if the fact I’d recognized the season made it come to life, I suddenly felt warmer, heavier. I quickly discarded my hoodie, just letting it drop into the grass, watching it disappear through the soil, as if it had vanished in thin air. I kept on walking, deciding not to think much of this. Everything seemed so…perfect…warm…I had a slight, unsafe felling inside me, but I didn’t despise it. Actually it was quite the opposite. I welcomed it, as it was familiar, as it felt right. In it’s place while I was here, in an unknown field, not preoccupied about anything. I kept on going forward, slowly approaching a dark tree, it’s bushy leaves casting a threatening shadow over the immensity that was the sun bright field. I kept on walking towards it, as small whimpers became audible…I approached it some more. Someone, was kneeled by it, wrapped in what seemed to be a dark, long medieval cloak.
“H-he…h-he j-j-just l-left…” they whispered…they sounded…familiar. I approached them cautiously, leaving a short distance between us.
“Who?…who left?” I asked, my voice barely venturing above a whisper. The person in the cloaked just scoffed, before turning around to face me, their cloak shielding their face.
“Y-You” they sneered “Y-YOU! F-F-FOR TH-THE SA-SECOND T-TIME! O-OR W-W-WAS I-IT TH-THE TH-THIRD?!? O-OR W-WAS I-IT…S-S-SIMPLY B-B-BECAUSE Y-YOU CA-CAN’T MEH-MEASURE TH-THE CO-CONSEQUENCES O-O-OF WH-WHAT YA-YOU D-DO?!?” Smoke erupted out of their mouth as they yelled, wailing their arms around. I stepped back, taken by surprise, and leaned against the tree’s trunk, which simply seemed to fall back as I rested against it, for I soon found myself on the ground, struggling to back away from the snarling, approaching cloaked figure. “e-e-every t-time…e-every t-time …a-and f-for eh-eh-everything y-you r-run, o-o-only ta-to c-c-come b-b-back.” I attempted to cramble away, but found myself tangled in long, growing, slithering vines. The cloaked figure leaned in closer, closer, and closer…as the scent of coffee, book pages, watercolors and smoke blocked out the rest of the summer air that I had been breathing just a moment ago, and I faintly managed to recognize empathetic hazel eyes, that were coming closer…and closer…and closer…They pursed their lips, as I copied their actions, expecting a heart-melting, much expected kiss but instead cringed as they simply spit on me, their saliva dripping off to the side of my burning cheek.


I jolted awake, my first reaction being to wipe off my face, but found nothing…no spit…nothing dripping off to the side, apart from sweat. Burning, yet chilling at the same time, sweat. The dream started replaying before my eyes…the field…the figure…the hazel eyes…they smelled, so familiar…familiar or not, they were right. Precisely accurate actually, not simply hovering around the truth. I ran. I ran, only to come back, only to run again…it was an ever repeating pattern, one that never seemed to end…I couldn’t even see the beginning anymore. I rolled over…staring blankly at the reflection an amber street light cast on the wall across me, a few shadows hidden in it. He was right. Right. Right. Right and right some more. I shook my head, trying to make the thought slip out, as if they had never existed…the glow of the street light had turned a slightly darker shade of russet, painting out a clear shape on the otherwise black wall. I leaned my head into the pillow, trying to focus on how soft it was against my moist cheek. The tears had dried earlier on, but the sweat remained, only reminding me of the well-known cloaked figure. I tried my best to slip back into sleep, only forcing myself back awake when every time I found myself fantasizing about certain lips against my own, and soon felt myself being spit on right after. It took about, well, what seemed to be an eternity of that repeating pattern before I exasperatedly got out of my bed, all the presumed warmth having evaporated, leaving me a shivering runaway wreck.





drip, drip, drip I stared blankly as coffee machine sputtered out the last few drops, not really wanting to have to get up to go refill the black ceramic cup that was placed on the counter in front of me. I drifted my eyes away from the last few brewing drops of ebony energy and over to the stove’s neon green clock display, which nicely indicated it was none other than only 7 minutes past 6am. I’d been here, sitting at the table staring blankly at the white coffee machine for the past four hours, just watching the refills brew, the sugar dissolve, the draining cup of coffee, and finally back to the brewing refills. My head felt as if it weighed twice as much as it should, simply because the caffeine high I should be on hadn’t taken affect yet. My head rested in my cupped, inked hands as I aimlessly twirled a calloused finger through one of the longer, licorice colored strands. drip drip drip

“Frankie?” I glanced up quickly, meeting my mom’s questioning eyes, eyes similar to my own. Plain. “What are you doing?” she asked, concern washing over her face. I chose to ignore it, my weighing eyes pleading me to let them close.
“Well, clearly not sleeping” I growled, snapping my head away and slowly rose, cup in hand and wobbled over to the coffee machine, which had just beeped it’s ready signal.
“Well I see that” she chuckled, trying to lighten up the mood. I simply glared at her, not really in the mood to crack a fake laugh. I picked up the black refilled mug and trudged out of the kitchen, dragging my feet aimlessly up the stairs, finally reaching my room. I could tell by the way her eyes trailed after me she’d wanted to add something, but we both didn’t seem to know what, and that even if we did, we knew she’d probably never say it.

I closed the wooden door behind me fairly softly, and sat down on the edge of the bed, both hands snugly wrapped against the steaming cup, warming my palms. My eyes darted around the room, the already dark red walls darkened as the sky was an endless canopy of shaded graphite clouds, almost as if someone had smoothed there edges out with their finger, allowing the lines to bend and blend in with each other, allowing it to become an ever-ending sea of dark, cotton clouds. Looked like it would snow again. I took a long, soothing sip from my…seventh? Eight? Cup of coffee and simply laid back on the dark covers, staring blankly at pansy over in the corner.


Gerard’s POV

“f-f-fuck o-o-off M-Mikey” I seethed, stomping off to my room, the bottoms of my black pajama bottoms trailing after me over the worn flooring.
“But, Gee!” he whined, trying to catch up with me. I flicked the light on, watching a yellow veil drape over my cluttered room before slamming the door, and kicking it violently,only forcing it to open again, leaving me face to face with a similar face to my own, only a little leaner, taller, with black white rimmed glasses. No house glasses today?
“w-what d-do y-you w-w-want?!?” I growled, positioning one hand on each side of the painted door frame to keep him from entering.
“I’m sorry…” he mumbled, chewing nervously on his bottom lip
“W-what th-the f-f-fuck M-Mikey?!” I turned around and stomped off to the wooden desk, rummaging through it, tossing used pieces of sketch paper around the room, some of which directed at my brother.
“I’m real fucking sorry…” yeah, sure.
“T-t-then wa-why d-d-did y-you l-let h-him th-think I-I m-m-meant h-him?” I asked fuming, still digging through the heaps of paper, pencils, paintbrushes and coffee filters.
“I didn’t think he’d react that way!” he wailed, waving his lanky arms about, his glasses reflecting the lamp, again. I sighed, I knew he had a point, and I knew it wasn’t that farfetched either. But, still... He still shouldn’t have. “Gee I’m so sorry! I’ll…--”
“W-WHERE T-THE F-F-FUCK A-ARE TH-THEY?!?” I cut him off, kicking the desk furiously, before sinking back down on the floor, the overhead light spinning above. I let myself fall completely to the ground, burying my exhausted head in the crook of my elbow, my jet black hair falling over my face comfortably. A few tears started to form, right as I felt a pair of familiar arms rest on my back, before Mikey’s figure fell over my own, cradling me.
“what is it your looking for?” he asked quietly, rubbing my back in a soothing manner.
“th-th-the…I-I-I h-h-had s-s-some w-w-w-wat-t-ter bah-bottles f-f-filled w-w-ith b-booze s-s-somewhere” I managed quietly, trying desperately to keep any more tears from falling.
“shhhhh” my brother’s familiar voice cooed, rocking me back and forth a little
“c-c-can y-y-you ha-help m-me l-l-look f-for th-them?” I asked, sitting up a little, already expecting him to agree.
“no” I stopped dead in my tracks, and turned my head to the side a little, so I could face him
“n-n-no?” I repeated unsurely.
“no” his voice was stern, authoritarian, and left me, once again feeling like the youngest out of the two of us.
“w-w-why n-n-not?”
“goddamn it Gee! I don’t want you slipping back into your old habits! You’ve been shitfaced practically all afternoon, and yesterday as well! Isn’t that enough?!?” he shot up, his voice up a few octaves, leaving me a frustrated lump on the floor that chose to stare out the window
“W-well…I-I w-w-wouldn’t b-be l-l-looking f-for th-them I-I-if I-it wa-wasn’t f-for--”
“for what?” he asked, rolling his hazel eyes behind his lenses.
“f-f-for…f-f-for…n-n-othing” I didn’t know what for…for what? Frank? School? The fact that I can’t communicate with people properly? I closed my eyes, resuming my earlier position on the floor, wrapping myself up in a large iron maiden hoodie that happened to be right at the foot of the bed. I felt Mikey sink down beside me, resting his head on my shoulder, his mousy brown strands falling over my shoulder slightly. Silence settled in all around, and just took over undistrubed, at least for a little while.

“you seem to really like him” he whispered cautiously, breaking the silence while staring blankly out the window. I shook my head
“I-I-I j-j-just w-want h-him a-a-as a-a f-f-friend…m-more th-than a-a-anything…” I pressed my head against his own, wrapping an arm around him as he did the same. I don’t really have anyone besides Mikey, and now Frank, and I just didn’t want to lose him…If I had ever ‘had’ him. The sky had faded into its nightime shade perfectly, the damp roof shingles of neighboring houses reflecting off the pale moonlight, mixing in with bright, car headlights and the little we could see of Newark’s skyline far, far, far off in the distance, a few, barely distinguishable well lit concrete skeletons, poking into the night’s cold, crisp air.