Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > You're Never Gonna Fit In Much, Kid.
You Talk To Me, But Would You Kill Me In My Sleep?
1 review"I walked into the small, high-ceilinged room with my head down, and made my way to my usual seat in the back corner. Only, it seemed to already be taken."
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‘Ello there, lovely readers of Ficwad! So, now that we’ve got my little intro-chapter-type-things outta the way, let the real stuff begin! Hope you guys like this, and like I said before, if you have any comments or advice or criticism, then please rate and review!
Rage and Love,
PrettyOddOwl
Ch. 4
"You Talk To Me, But Would You Kill Me In My Sleep?"
As the warning bell rang, I checked my schedule and saw that I had art first.
Awesome, I thought. Art was actually one of the few things that I didn’t suck at, and the teacher was pretty cool about letting me do my own thing, unlike the ones I had previously. Apparently, drawing yourself as a zombie isn’t exactly what most art teachers mean when they say “self-portrait”.
I walked into the small, high-ceilinged room with my head down, and made my way to my usual seat in the back corner.
Only, it seemed to already be taken.
I stopped to observe the black-clad figure that occupied my usual spot. It couldn’t be, could it?
As if feeling my gaze on him, the shadow of a boy looked up from examining the array of paints in front of him and caught my eye. It was him. The guy from the bus this morning. His slightly chapped lips parted into an apologetic half-smile as he must have realized where he was sitting. I tried to smile back, meanwhile glancing around to see if any of my “friends” were in this class. Of course I wanted to sit by this guy; he was gorgeous and intriguing and seemed nice enough, but I doubted they would’ve approved.
Seeing that the coast was clear, I walked the rest of the way back to the corner, and sat down in the seat next to the one that had been mine. His smile widened as he peeked out from under his inky hair, and his voice was soft and a little raspy when he spoke.
“Hi, I’m Gerard.”
“I’m Alexandria.”
His face took on a contemplative expression. It was cute, his deep hazel eyes glittering and delicate nose wrinkling.
"Huh, that's an interesting name. Don't think I've ever heard it before."
“Thanks. It’s a bit of a mouthful though, so I go by Dria.” was what came out of my mouth.
I didn’t go by Dria. I went by what my “friends” called me, which was Alex, a nice, ordinary, average name. Dria didn’t sound ordinary or average though. Dria sounded interesting and different. Like Gerard seemed to be. And like someone I wanted to be. Like someone I would’ve been if I hadn’t chosen to try and conform. I went by Alex, but for some inexplicable reason, I wanted Gerard to call me Dria. And so he did.
As the bell to begin class sounded, Mrs. Bardough walked to the front of the classroom and announced, “Good morning, class. As some of you have probably already noticed, we have a new student in here this semester. Gerard, why don’t you stand up and say a bit about yourself?”
The rest of the class followed the art teacher’s gaze, and turned around to face us, 30-something eager sets of eyes turned on Gerard. His pale cheeks tinged pink as he scooted his chair back and stood up.
“Err… Hi. I’m Gerard Way. I moved here from Meadowbrook High School this semester. I’m addicted to coffee, and need, at minimum, four cups a day to function properly. I have an awesome little bro named Mikey. He shares my addiction to coffee, as well as having a strange fondness for unicorns -Shit, he’s probably gonna kill me for saying that-” Gerard muttered quietly with a small laugh, then continued on. “Uh, let’s see what else… Oh, so my favorite color is red, my favorite month is October, coz’, ya know, Halloween, and my favorite band is the Smashing Pumpkins and I reallyreallyreally don’t like needles. So yeah. That’s me.” He grinned sheepishly and took his seat once again.
I felt my eyes go wide as I looked at him again.
“You like the Pumpkins?” I asked cautiously, trying not to go into complete fan-girl mode.
“Hell yeah, they’re beyond awesome!” He exclaimed animatedly.
“Oh my god, dude, I know right!” I agreed excitedly, losing it a little bit. I couldn’t exactly help it, though. I couldn’t remember how long it had been since I got to talk about the music I loved with someone who felt the same way, and didn’t just look at me like I was a freak, like the girls I tried to fit in with did whenever I excitedly mentioned a new single or something. I learned early on in my so-called “friendship” with them not to talk about my music. These one-sided discussions always ended in disappointingly clueless stares at best, and at worst, scoffing giggles and whispers of “emo” or “freak”. It sucked, but no matter how bad high school is, it’s even worse if you don’t have friends, right? Even fake ones.
As the rest of the period went by, I found out more about Gerard. He was an amazing artist, and unbelievably modest about it too. As we chattered back and forth about music and coffee and Halloween, I watched the way his hand moved the pencil across the paper like a ghost, leaving behind smooth lines and curved lines and jagged lines until, seemingly by magic, a tree began to take shape. It looked old and weathered and eerie, and strangely beautiful. By the time the bell rang, he was sketching in details, like gnarled knots on the branches and dead leaves littering the ground. As we packed up to leave, I asked him something that’d been going through my mind since his introduction speech.
“So, out of curiosity, why’d you switch here this semester?”
He bit his lip and looked down at his scuffed Converse as he answered.
“Uh... Bullies and shit. It got pretty bad, and my mum figured maybe it’d be better at a Catholic school, ya know? Since apparently Christian schools are all about accepting people and stuff.” he snorted.
“Well, maybe the schools are, but the students sure aren’t.” I half-laughed, rueful.
“I can tell.” he agreed, sighing.
“They’re all so much the same. Anyone different freaks them out, so they take it out on them. It sucks.”
“Yeah, it does. It sucks having them push you around all the time, when all you’re trying to do is be you.” he sighed again.
“Yeah, well. Sometimes it’s easier just to go along with them, do what they want. Better.”
He turned to look at me directly then, intense hazel eyes studying me. His expression was quizzical, a little sad, even.
“You really think so?” He asked, suddenly sounding older.
“Yeah, sometimes.” I shrugged noncommittally, like I didn’t care much either way. I couldn’t even believe I’d slipped and told him how I really felt anyway. That wasn’t supposed to happen.
As I swung my backpack over my shoulder and started to leave, I could hear the sound of Rachel and some of the other girls’ laughs drifting down the hall, signaling that they were headed this way. I hurried to out the door to join them, not wanting them to see me hanging around Gerard. I glanced back at him, and saw a hint of sadness, disappointment in his eyes as they caught mine, then darted quickly away as he tilted his head down again. I caught up with Rachel and the others, and tried to act interested in whatever supposedly hot guy they were giggling about instead of thinking about what Gerard had said.
He was almost perfect. He was gorgeous and smart and talented and caring and unafraid.
But he was different.
And being different resulted in nothing but trouble, as far as I was concerned.
Rage and Love,
PrettyOddOwl
Ch. 4
"You Talk To Me, But Would You Kill Me In My Sleep?"
As the warning bell rang, I checked my schedule and saw that I had art first.
Awesome, I thought. Art was actually one of the few things that I didn’t suck at, and the teacher was pretty cool about letting me do my own thing, unlike the ones I had previously. Apparently, drawing yourself as a zombie isn’t exactly what most art teachers mean when they say “self-portrait”.
I walked into the small, high-ceilinged room with my head down, and made my way to my usual seat in the back corner.
Only, it seemed to already be taken.
I stopped to observe the black-clad figure that occupied my usual spot. It couldn’t be, could it?
As if feeling my gaze on him, the shadow of a boy looked up from examining the array of paints in front of him and caught my eye. It was him. The guy from the bus this morning. His slightly chapped lips parted into an apologetic half-smile as he must have realized where he was sitting. I tried to smile back, meanwhile glancing around to see if any of my “friends” were in this class. Of course I wanted to sit by this guy; he was gorgeous and intriguing and seemed nice enough, but I doubted they would’ve approved.
Seeing that the coast was clear, I walked the rest of the way back to the corner, and sat down in the seat next to the one that had been mine. His smile widened as he peeked out from under his inky hair, and his voice was soft and a little raspy when he spoke.
“Hi, I’m Gerard.”
“I’m Alexandria.”
His face took on a contemplative expression. It was cute, his deep hazel eyes glittering and delicate nose wrinkling.
"Huh, that's an interesting name. Don't think I've ever heard it before."
“Thanks. It’s a bit of a mouthful though, so I go by Dria.” was what came out of my mouth.
I didn’t go by Dria. I went by what my “friends” called me, which was Alex, a nice, ordinary, average name. Dria didn’t sound ordinary or average though. Dria sounded interesting and different. Like Gerard seemed to be. And like someone I wanted to be. Like someone I would’ve been if I hadn’t chosen to try and conform. I went by Alex, but for some inexplicable reason, I wanted Gerard to call me Dria. And so he did.
As the bell to begin class sounded, Mrs. Bardough walked to the front of the classroom and announced, “Good morning, class. As some of you have probably already noticed, we have a new student in here this semester. Gerard, why don’t you stand up and say a bit about yourself?”
The rest of the class followed the art teacher’s gaze, and turned around to face us, 30-something eager sets of eyes turned on Gerard. His pale cheeks tinged pink as he scooted his chair back and stood up.
“Err… Hi. I’m Gerard Way. I moved here from Meadowbrook High School this semester. I’m addicted to coffee, and need, at minimum, four cups a day to function properly. I have an awesome little bro named Mikey. He shares my addiction to coffee, as well as having a strange fondness for unicorns -Shit, he’s probably gonna kill me for saying that-” Gerard muttered quietly with a small laugh, then continued on. “Uh, let’s see what else… Oh, so my favorite color is red, my favorite month is October, coz’, ya know, Halloween, and my favorite band is the Smashing Pumpkins and I reallyreallyreally don’t like needles. So yeah. That’s me.” He grinned sheepishly and took his seat once again.
I felt my eyes go wide as I looked at him again.
“You like the Pumpkins?” I asked cautiously, trying not to go into complete fan-girl mode.
“Hell yeah, they’re beyond awesome!” He exclaimed animatedly.
“Oh my god, dude, I know right!” I agreed excitedly, losing it a little bit. I couldn’t exactly help it, though. I couldn’t remember how long it had been since I got to talk about the music I loved with someone who felt the same way, and didn’t just look at me like I was a freak, like the girls I tried to fit in with did whenever I excitedly mentioned a new single or something. I learned early on in my so-called “friendship” with them not to talk about my music. These one-sided discussions always ended in disappointingly clueless stares at best, and at worst, scoffing giggles and whispers of “emo” or “freak”. It sucked, but no matter how bad high school is, it’s even worse if you don’t have friends, right? Even fake ones.
As the rest of the period went by, I found out more about Gerard. He was an amazing artist, and unbelievably modest about it too. As we chattered back and forth about music and coffee and Halloween, I watched the way his hand moved the pencil across the paper like a ghost, leaving behind smooth lines and curved lines and jagged lines until, seemingly by magic, a tree began to take shape. It looked old and weathered and eerie, and strangely beautiful. By the time the bell rang, he was sketching in details, like gnarled knots on the branches and dead leaves littering the ground. As we packed up to leave, I asked him something that’d been going through my mind since his introduction speech.
“So, out of curiosity, why’d you switch here this semester?”
He bit his lip and looked down at his scuffed Converse as he answered.
“Uh... Bullies and shit. It got pretty bad, and my mum figured maybe it’d be better at a Catholic school, ya know? Since apparently Christian schools are all about accepting people and stuff.” he snorted.
“Well, maybe the schools are, but the students sure aren’t.” I half-laughed, rueful.
“I can tell.” he agreed, sighing.
“They’re all so much the same. Anyone different freaks them out, so they take it out on them. It sucks.”
“Yeah, it does. It sucks having them push you around all the time, when all you’re trying to do is be you.” he sighed again.
“Yeah, well. Sometimes it’s easier just to go along with them, do what they want. Better.”
He turned to look at me directly then, intense hazel eyes studying me. His expression was quizzical, a little sad, even.
“You really think so?” He asked, suddenly sounding older.
“Yeah, sometimes.” I shrugged noncommittally, like I didn’t care much either way. I couldn’t even believe I’d slipped and told him how I really felt anyway. That wasn’t supposed to happen.
As I swung my backpack over my shoulder and started to leave, I could hear the sound of Rachel and some of the other girls’ laughs drifting down the hall, signaling that they were headed this way. I hurried to out the door to join them, not wanting them to see me hanging around Gerard. I glanced back at him, and saw a hint of sadness, disappointment in his eyes as they caught mine, then darted quickly away as he tilted his head down again. I caught up with Rachel and the others, and tried to act interested in whatever supposedly hot guy they were giggling about instead of thinking about what Gerard had said.
He was almost perfect. He was gorgeous and smart and talented and caring and unafraid.
But he was different.
And being different resulted in nothing but trouble, as far as I was concerned.
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