Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Shut Up, Mikey

Chapter 3

by StormVandal 2 reviews

For once, I'm trying to be invisible.

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Drama,Humor,Romance - Characters: Frank Iero,Gerard Way,Mikey Way,Ray Toro - Warnings: [?] - Published: 2011-07-28 - Updated: 2011-08-09 - 1274 words - Complete

Alright, Iero. You can do this. Just act normal. Be happy Frankie. Crazy Frankie. Hyper Frankie. Frank the lunatic. I think as I push open the doors to the cafeteria. By what I usually consider a miracle, Mikey, Gerard, Ray and I all have the same lunch period, which I usually spend bugging everybody while Mikey and Ray play hangman and Gerard draws.

With act normal... happy... crazy... hyper... running through my head, I go dashing up to the others, who are sitting around our usual table. I throw myself into an empty chair. Ray rolls his eyes without looking up from his notebook, where Mikey has scrawled a multi-word hangman.

“Hi Frankie,” he sighs.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Mikey asks, smirking because Ray only has one limb left to go on the little stick figure and there are still six blanks.

I pull a face. “Mikey, they’re serving Sloppy Joes. As in, beef. Or baboon butt, more likely. This place is a bit... questionable. And not exactly vegetarian friendly.”

All three of them look at me. “Baboon butt?” they all say in unison.

“Yup. You’re all eating baboon butt.”

Ray looks at his food suspiciously.
“You could get fries or something,” says Mikey.

“Those are probably cooked in whale blubber.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes. “Fine. Starve. See if I care.”

I raise my eyebrows at him. “Ru-ude.”

“Well, if you’re going to refuse to eat cafeteria food then why didn’t you bring a lunch?” Mikey persists.

“I did. It got smushed. Why do you care so much?”

Mikey shrugs. “Cause normally you eat like a pig.”

I scowl and throw one of Ray’s carrots at him.

“Hey. Frankie,” Gerard says. He slides his sketchbook towards me. It’s the red one. The one he lets me look at. He has another one that’s black, but he refuses to let me see a single drawing from it, even when I give him puppy dog eyes and beg and bribe him.

I take a look at the cartoon he’s drawn and laugh. “You’re good,” I say admiringly.

“Not really, but thanks,” he says, taking it back and studying it.

It’s when he says stuff like that that I kind of want to grab him by the shoulders and pour my heart out at him in the hopes that that would make him realize how amazing he is. But I never do. I somehow stay quiet every time.


The rest of the day is hell. Pure hell. I quickly lose count of the number of comments, taunts and insults thrown at me. By the end of the day I’m exhausted. It’s honestly tiring dealing with this shit.

On the bright side, Mikey disappears for a while right before last period and comes back reporting that Gerard still doesn’t know what’s going on.

“How is that even fucking possible?” I ask in amazement.

He shrugs. “Well, people don’t talk to Gerard.”

“Yeah, but Mikey, people don’t talk to me either. Doesn’t stop them from shouting shit at me.”

“Well, he did ask me why so many people are looking at him funny and laughing.”


“I told him I wasn’t sure.”

I sigh heavily. “Thanks,” I say. Mikey may be postponing the inevitable or whatever, but I really want the inevitable postponed as long as possible.

After the final bell rings, I grab my stuff from my locker and head out as quickly as possible, hampered a bit by the massive crush of people attempting to do the same. It’s a bit fortunate though, really, because I’m so small that in the crowd, people don’t notice me. It’s almost relaxing today, although usually it drives me fucking nuts because it means I get jostled a lot.

But when I finally get out into the courtyard and split away from the pack of people, it all starts again. This one kid throws rocks at me, causing me to back into a corner. Which is stupid of me. If it had been one of the lacrosse guys, like Zach or Matt, then they would have beaten me up again because I’d have had no escape route. Luckily, this kid backs off, laughing and I sink to the ground, leaning against the wall with my knees up to my chest and my arms over my head a bit.

For once, I’m trying to be invisible.

It works for a while. Then, from above me, a familiar voice says, “Frankie? What’s wrong?”

Oh shit. No. Gerard, go away. Please.

He sits down beside me. “Were they giving you shit?”

I nod slightly, not looking at him. Go away, go away, go away, go away, go away....

There is a silence, and then, suddenly, out of fucking nowhere, Gerard wraps his arms around me. I put my head on his shoulder. I don’t mean to. But I can’t help it, never can.

“I’m getting lots of hugs today,” I say with the best joking tone I can muster.

“Yeah, well, it seems like you need a lot of hugs today.”

He starts to rub small circles into my back with his thumb. I shiver, wishing he weren’t so fucking nice, so fucking affectionate, god damn it.

“I just wish I could make them stop,” he murmurs, pulling me closer, like he’s trying to shield me.


I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting the urge to do something stupid. I should move, I find myself thinking for the second time that day. Except this time, it’s more for my sake than his, because if I don’t move, I am going to fucking lose it.

Then Gerard elbows me in the ribs, effectively snapping me out of thoughts of grabbing him and kissing him passionately.

I open my eyes, look up, and freeze.

“Well, isn’t this romantic?” sneers Zach.

I scramble to my feet. Gerard gets up too, stepping in front of me.

“Leave him alone,” he says angrily. “You’ve done enough damage today.”

“Sure. I’ll just leave you two lovebirds alone,” he says smugly.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Gerard growls.

“You don’t know?” Zach crows.

He pulls the crumpled page from my notebook out of his pocket and hands it to Gerard.

I stand there, horrified, as Gerard uncrumples it. I open my mouth to tell him not to read it, but no words come out. I helplessly watch as his eyes scan the page.

He looks up at Zach. “You’re telling me Frank wrote this?” he asks evenly.

“Well, duh.”

He looks back down at the page. “This isn’t even his handwriting.”

I almost let out a sigh of relief. Thank god my handwriting looks different when I’m upset.

“Look at the handwriting on the back,” Zach instructs him.

He obeys for some reason. “Okay, so, that’s Frank’s handwriting. But you could have taken this and then written the other thing.”

“No I couldn’t have.”

“Why not?”

“It’s all written in the same ink.”

Oh fuck.

Gerard looks at me. “Frank?” he asks calmly, like he’s waiting for my side of the story.

There are a million excuses I could give him, but my mouth doesn’t work and my thoughts won’t collect themselves and so instead I run.

A/N: So obviously updates have been really forthcoming with this one. There should be another within a few days. :) thanks for reading!
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