FicWad

I march up the steps of my high school, feeling like complete shit. I swing the front doors open and stomp in, walking straight towards my locker. Jack Taylor and his cronies yell their morning insults at me as I slouch pass them, walking towards my locker. I mutter insults under my breath as I swing my locker door open and immediately start looking for my history textbook. When I finally find it, under a pile of old physics notes, I close my locker shut with a loud crash, and a bitchfaced cheerleader shoots me a dirty look, as though I've mortally offended her. I give her a look of mock apology, then slop off to my history class, internally roaring FUCK MY LIFE in my head.

It's going to be a long day.

**

It is.

After what seems like centuries, I emerge from my physics class and head towards the cafeteria, stuffing my notes in my duffel bag as I walk. The familiar babble of conversation reaches my ears as I sit myself down at one of the empty tables, mocking me and my friendless existance. I pull out a pack of potato chips and a tomato sandwich from my bag. You see, I refuse to eat school food on principle. The vegetarian stuff they have here is fucking disgusting. The lettuce tastes like cardboard, the wholemeal bread tastes like its been dragged through sewage.

I swear it is. It's not just me being bitchy.

I start to nibble at my food, wallowing in self pity; and wondering what the fuck I did in my previous life to end up in such a shithole. I'm sixteen; a skinny, tattooed outcast at the bottom of the social food chain with zero friends. I'm even outcasted by the self proclaimed outcasts. Nobody looks at me, everybody acts like I have the plague.

Boo-fucking-hoo.

I am brought back to reality by a loud thump, and I look up to find that a dark haired boy has seated himself next to me.

I am at a complete loss for words.

Because seriously, what the fuck?

A few people turn to stare at us. Rather, a few people turn to stare at me. They're probably wondering why Frank fucking Iero has a lunch partner today. I fight the urge to stand up and yell at everybody to just fuck off.

But I don't.

Instead, I just stare at the dark haired boy with my mouth slightly hanging open, as though I can't believe he's there. Perhaps my subconscious finally conjured a friend for me out of thin air?

Embarrassingly, the first thought that registers in my head is Shiiiiiit, he's pretty.

Ok, not pretty... but he's not what you'd call manly either. There really is no other way to describe him... His face is alabaster pale, his hair is charcoal-black, and his eyes are a warm hazel. His face is so... feminine.

Did I just think that?

Oh no no no no no no stop it, Frank. There's no need to start up the 'Frank the Fag' rumours again.

I suddenly realise that centuries have past since he sat down, and I still haven't said hello.

"Er, hi there." I stutter, turning red as my voice cracks from lack of use. The boy laughs, his face creasing up, and all of a sudden I want to drop everything and lock myself up in one of the empty classrooms. Why, why, WHY do I have to be so socially retarded? He must think I'm such a faggy... fag.

The boy manages to stop sniggering, then shoots me a beam. "I'm Gerard. I just moved here. You are...?" He trails off, looking at me expectantly. Unfortunately, I am far too busy focusing on his mouth, or rather, his tiny teeth to reply. His teeth are like marshmallows. Tiny little-

"Hey!" he snaps his fingers directly in front of my face. "Your name is...?" I turn a fiery shade of scarlet. Oh God. WHY am I so fucking GAY today?

FRANK, GET. A. GRIP.

"My name's Frank, Frank Iero." I squeak, not unlike a dying mouse. "Hello, Frank, Frank Iero." Gerard smiles that scary, not-very-sane smile of his, and proceeds to jabber away about the food here being so completely shit.

I just gape at him, opening and closing my mouth like a goldfish. Why is he here? What does he want from me? Oh my God, he knows I'm sad and alone. He's going to introduce me to drugs to "make me feel better", then I'll get caught and sent to rehab and I'm not even sixteen yet... what a BASTARD! Who gave him permission to sit next to me anyway? I don't want drugs. I bet he's got a fuckload of cocaine in his pockets... he's just waiting to hand it to me. I HAVE TO GET AWAY FROM HERE OH MY GOD I HAVE-

"Hellooooo? Frank?" All of a sudden I realize that Gerard is frantically waving his right hand in my face. I practically go purple and babble, "Hahahah Gerard, sorry about that, I was just staring at the... um... vending machine! It all looks so yummy!" I give a gay little wave in the direction of the school's only vending machine, which is like, 95 years old and only sells moldy pop-tarts. Gerard scrunches up his nose, confused. "Err..Really?"

Well of course I wasn't looking at the fucking vending machine. Oh shit, now what?

Quick, Frankieboy, salvage the situation. This dude could actually become your first friend!

"Umm, yeah." I mumble. "Hey, Gerard, w-why are you here?"

Gerard gives me a withering look, as though its obvious.

My face goes puce. Again. "I- erm. I mean, if you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly Mr Popular."

Gerard looks down at his food, as though he's thinking. Pondering over my question. Finally, he says, "You looked sad."

His response drilled its way into my head, sending my thoughts screaming in shocked confusion, crashing into each other like bumper cars at a fun fair. Was his purpose in sitting next to me supposed to brighten my day a little? Was Gerard supposed to be my ray of sunshine, so blindingly bright and warm, yet at the same time, so very dark and mysterious?

He did more than brighten my day, I can tell you that.

3 Months Later...

It was a Friday afternoon, and school had just ended. I waited at the gates, like I always did, and waited for Gerard to show up. I half expected him to be an hour late, because he might've gotten detention again. But he does turn up early today, his alabaster pale skin practically shining in the sunlight. I try not to stare, and instead, mumble something about having to be home by nine sharp.

Three months later, and nothing much has changed. Gerard and I still have lunch together at school. Occasionally, he'll invite one of his friends from art class, a certain Jack Taylor (do NOT ask me how they got aquainted. I swear, Jack Taylor just exists to annoy me) to sit with us. And the whole time, they'll talk and laugh and basically hit it off while I sit there like a fucking potato.

Anyway.

We began walking to Gerard's place. Its Friday. And Friday is when I head over to Gerard's place to watch classic zombie flicks. His house isn't too far, just about three or so blocks away from school. By the time we reach his front door, Gerard has already given me a long, detailed explanation about his latest artwork. Not that I mind. I like hearing him talk, especially about art. He always gets this weird, animated look in his eyes. It makes him look even more beautiful.

Ok. I still, sort of, kind of have a teeny bit of a crush on Gerard. But its just an itsy-bitsy crush. Not an OH-MY-GOD-WE'RE-FUCKING-SOULMATES-LET-ME-HAVE-YOUR-BABIES type crush. Its... innocent. Innocent-ish.

Anyway. Over the course of six months, I've learnt that Gerard has a brother, Mikey. They live with their Mom, who works at a DVD store. Gerard tells me its hard, seeing his mother work her ass off everyday, so that they can have a relatively normal lifestyle. His face kind of seizes up whenever he says this, as though it hurts to talk about it. I'll always give him a light pat on your back, unsure of what to do or say. (Because I'm socially retarded like that. Bite me.) In return, he'll always manage to smile at me, showing off his lovely little teeth.

When we finally get to Gerard's room, I launch myself at his CD collection. His room is basically my idea of heaven. Band posters line the walls, random sketches are pinned to a desk next to his bed, and the only sources of light in the room are a couple of lightbulbs, hanging dangerously from the ceiling. Gerard sits on his bed, and lights up a cigarette, and offers me one. I accept it, and for a few minutes, its just the two of us, smoking toxic fumes into our lungs. Yay.

"So," Gerard finally says, breaking the silence. "Tell me about yourself, Frankie. You know, I've known you for three fuckin' months and I don't even know your middle name!" I flush slightly and I proceed to blabber on about my seemingly boring life. I live with my Uncle James, my parents died when I was two in a car crash (Gerard looks stricken, and tells me he's sorry for my loss, I tell him its alright, I never knew them anyway). I confess that as soon as I get home, I drop everything and start strumming on my guitar. I confide in him about how I always feel alone, like nobody understands me, I'm going to die a broken man, leaving nothing behind (Gerard smirks at this point and call me "an over dramatic moron", poking me in the ribs and making me grin like a madman for some fuck knows reason). "...That's it. Oh, and my middle name's Anthony... yeah." I end stupidly, shrugging my shoulders. Gerard sniggers at my ending speech, then all goes quiet.

Then the cold hard truth hits me like a tidal wave: I like him. I really, really like him. "Um, Gerard...." I begin. But he cuts me off. "Yeah, um, Frankie, there's this guy, um, you know Jack... Jack Taylor? Yeah, of course you do, he, um, he asked me out yesterday, and well, I said I'd go, and I was just wondering... y'don't mind me being gay, do you?" His eyes seem to plead, his face tenses up, as though if I say no, he'll burst into tears and leave me feeling like a complete asshole.

"...No. I don't mind, actually. I mean, I'm, er, what's the word? Gay as well..." (Is it just me, or did his eyes briefly light up? Eh, Frank, its just you.) "It's just... Jack? Of all people, Jack?" I manage to blurt out. "What's wrong with Jack?" Gerard looks at me quizzically.

What's wrong with Jack?

Where do I begin?

I don't know whether to start laughing or crying. "Gerard, the guy fucking hates me, he's made it his life's work to completely ruin me just because I look different and I'm so fucking short. Believe me. He's the reason why I was always alone before you came along. I'm okay with the whole gay thing, duh, but Jack? Seriously, Jack? He'll force you to leave me, then I'll really be alone. Haven't you seen the way he glares at me during lunch?" I look at him, exasperated, begging him to understand. Gerard just sits there, looking so innocently confused. Well. Obviously, he hasn't seen the way Jack Taylor glares at me during lunch.

"Right." he finally mumbles. "Thanks for the advice, Frankie. Oh, and um, for the record, even if he does threaten me with a grisly death, I don't think I could ever leave you alone." This last proclamation makes me blush so hard, I'm surprised Gerard doesn't look at me like I'm an imbecile and tell me to leave. Instead, he pulls me into what I like to think is a friendly hug. We spend the rest of the day watching Dawn of The Dead and eating popcorn. When I leave at 8.30, Gerard pulls me in for another bone crushing hug, which I don't mind at all, really. I close my eyes and take in his scent, trying to stop my heart from leaping out of my chest and doing the happy dance. Because finally, I've found someone who understands me.

**

My joy lasts until tomorrow. When I walk into school, the first thing I see is Gerard holding hands with Jack Taylor. My heart starts to beat at a million miles an hour, and warning bells go off in my head.

HE'S JUST BEEN USING YOU. my mind screams.

He lied to me. Gerard lied to me. He's a lying... liar. Gerard turns around and meets my gaze. His face violently contorts from sheer happiness to shame. I shake my head disappointedly at him and head to class, trying not to cry, wondering what the fuck I'm going to do now.

**

For the next month, I avoid Gerard Arthur Way like the plague. I don't need to see him, I don't want to see him, and I don't want to be reminded that I am a bloody idiot who goes around believing what random people say to me because I so desperately want to be loved and liked. Of course, Gerard tries to talk to me, I have to give him brownie points for perseverance. But in the end I always shuffle off, trying to ignore his strangled cries as he tries to explain himself. I convince my Uncle James to let me get a part time job at a supermarket to take my mind off things. I could use the extra cash to buy a new guitar, anyway.

Everyday after school, I trudge to the supermarket, work there until 7.30, then head back home to finish my homework and play my guitar. By this time, I've made a new friend, Bob, at school. The guy has the build of a Mexican wrestler, so Jack doesn't even attempt to threaten him. One Friday afternoon, when I'm walking to work, I notice Gerard Way walking about fifty metres behind me, listening to music and trying (and failing, might I add) to be inconspicuous. Word has gone round school that Jack and Gerard, the wonder couple, had broken up, so my spirits were slightly lifted. Seeing him trying to crawl back to me was both amusing and heartbreaking at the same time. I refuse to acknowledge his presence, instead, I practically run to the supermarket and start my job, feeling rather at peace with myself.

Finally, I'm letting you go. Lalalalala. I'm fine, perfectly fine. As I rearrange the pickle jars on the shelves, Gerard waltzes in the supermarket, dressed in a employee uniform, and I try not to start hurling jars at him as he shoots me a slightly cocky smile. "What the fuck are you doing here?" I hiss, malice lacing my voice. "I'm working here now, Frankie." he grins. "Go work somewhere else!" I spit, and he shrugs, before walking towards the toiletry section to rearrange toilet paper. Inside I'm seething in outrage.

How dare he crowd me, just as I am about to be ok for once in my life? I hate him so much. He's making me want him, and he probably knows. How despicable could he get? Stopping me from trying to walk away, when every fucking day for the last month, I had to see him walk hand in hand with my worst enemy? I want to scream at him, to make him realise what the fuck he'd done.

But then again, at the same time, I wanted to kiss him, to see how it'd be like...

Oh shut up, Frank.

That's just the stupid hormones talking. You hate Gerard Way. Detest him, even.

From that day forth, my life consists of pizza, music, and sleep. Nothing more. I see Gerard at work, and at school, occasionally. I see him trying to catch my eye, him ebony hair tucked behind his ears. I just bite my lip and look away. From the corner of my eyes, I can see the hurt flash across his face, as though what I'm doing is really, really killing him.

Maybe it is. So what? I tell myself, selfishly. He's got his boyfriend, he's got his pretty little life. So fucking what?

This goes on for about another month, until one day, when I'm stacking cereal on the shelves, Gerard grabs me by the back of my shirt and drags me, swearing and yelling, into the storage room, where he slams me up against a wall and starts kissing me furiously.

I'm too shell shocked to move.

I'm only aware of Gerard's tongue making its way into my mouth, infecting me. Two minutes later, he stops and leans against the adjacent wall, sweating profusely. "I'm sorry, Frankie. I had to. I've waited a whole month. I can't wait anymore. I... I think I love you." he stutters, looking into my eyes, desperately searching for some sense of understanding. Those last three words send my spirits rocketing to the ceiling, then smashing back down to the storage room floor, ripped to smithereens. "Do you hate me?" he asks quietly, as though he's frightened. "I'm so, so sorry about the whole Jack thing. As lame as it sounds, I only wanted to see if you'd be... jealous." He mumbles.

Jealous? What the... thats just lame. "You've been watching too many episodes of Gossip Girl." I give him a quiet, shy smile. Gerard beams back. "So... so you don't hate me? Really?" I stare at him for a few seconds, in the dim light, trying to register my thoughts, my eyes sweeping over his pale face, his dark eyes, and his soft black hair.

"No," I finally say. "No, I don't hate you." He leans in again for another kiss, and we stay there until our manager hammers away at the storage room door with his fist, asking us what the fuck is going on in there, and if we valued our jobs, we would get our asses out of there in two seconds flat and finish up with the cereal boxes. Gerard shouts a reply, then gives me one last kiss on the forehead, while I whimper like a pathetic baby, feeling giddy with happiness.

Two days later...

We're at Gerard's place, eating pizza and watching a horror movie, my head resting on his shoulder. Just like old times. Then I finally pluck up the courage to ask him a question that's plagued me for years. "Hey Gee... what's love?" he looks at me silently, confused. "I mean," I babblt, "Is this" I gesture at the two of us, "love?" He brushes a stray bit of hair out of my eyes, and looks at me intensely. The answer is in his eyes. His eyes are positively shining with adoration.

All for me.

Only me, and no one else. My heart starts to ache so badly with want that it's starting to physically hurt. Gerard leans in for the millionth time that day and kiss me square on the lips, sending my spirits soaring. There's no need for him to answer. I get it. I get it now.

[A/N: This was a oneshot... it made me feel all gay and embarrassed and asdfghjkl. But anyway. R&R? :}]