Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Fuck The Title I Can't Think of One
Hey guys! Sorry it's been so long, my Frerard mojo isn't working... I've been obsessed with an online video game. So, if you haven't checked it out the last chapter of It Would Seem I'm going to Hell has been posted. That story inspired the chapter name. Kind of. No, not really. Anyway... I got shit to do, if I don't post another chapter by the 9th Happy Borthday Gerard Way! Eh... Enjoy.
FtTICToO chapter 8
I wasn't done staring at Gerard, though. Ray even left me alone at lunch on most days to stare at the boy that puzzled me so much. There were more lockers, at least twice a week, and without fail he'd be there every day. Every day he'd be there right on time, his time, not too late to keep me from having a panic attack, but late enough to not have to deal with his friends.
He was an exceptionally sneaky person, I learned. He could get away with being intoxicated, because he wasn't a loud drunk, he just acted normally. He could get away with liking the things he liked because he was smart enough to hide it, and well educated enough to know what everyone else liked. He could get away with saving Frank on his biweekly trips to the lockers because no one knew any better, and he intended to keep it that way.
Gerard was also the master of evasion, as I quickly found out. I asked him, every day, what he was about to say to me the first time he pulled me out of that locker. He didn't answer, wouldn't look at me. Sometimes he just walked away. I just couldn't get him to spill his guts to me. It was annoying,mute so intense and intriguing. And... I started to feel something beyond intrigue for Gerard.
I... Was surprised, to say the least, when I woke up with a disgusting sticky substance--semen-- in my pajama bottoms. Well, that wasn't the surprising part, nocturnal emissions aren't that rare, but it was more than that. I had been dreaming abut Gerard. Or more specifically, Gerard and I. I remember we were both coved in a good layer of sweat, our bodies on fire with the intensity of our deeds. I was ramming in and out of him, he was screaming my name as I hit his prostate over and over.
I was so surprised, not only that it was Gerard I had a dirty dream about, but more that I was into dick. I spent all my time being curious about Gerard and listening to music alone so I had never pondered much on my sexual orientation. For once, I hadn't wondered about it, gone out of my way to figure it out. I didn't care about myself and the mysteries of me, why should I when I could be researching everyone else? When I liked someone, then I could worry about it. I guess I had to worry about it.
The dilemma; I liked the foster kid my parents were taking in for a year or so. He could be anywhere, across country for all I knew, in twelve months. I didn't want a relationship that could possibly go nowhere like the one that I could possibly have with Gerard. I thoughtc he was heterosexual, too. Isn't it a rule? To be popular you either have to be the muscley straight/deep in the closet dude or have pretty titties. Gerard... Heterosexual. I was certain of it. Gay boys aren't popular.
But then, Gerard wasn't really conventionally popular.
But I still wouldn't place my bets on Gerard being gay. Not really because of the probability of him being gay, something I didn't calculate, but for fear that he wouldn't be gay as well. What if he stopped saving me from lockers and claustrophobia? What if he helped the others at school shove me into the locker? I don't think I cold handle that.
I... Is it a risk I should have taken? Just kissed him as he pulled me from a locker? Maybe ruined everything we had half constructed, or possibly put the last brick on the building of our relationship? Did we even have a relationship? I didn't know. But I wanted to find out.
So I asked Gerard. Not the most discreet way of going about it, and I shouldn't have done it in a school hallway. It's not like I knew how Gerard would react. But that's it; I didn't know how Gerard would react, so I should have asked him the questions I had at home. Where if something sparked an awful memory, he could freak out without possibly losing his cool, his popularity. But I just had to know.
"Gerard, are you a homosexual?" I asked one day as he helped me out of a locker.
Gerard froze up. He was shocked by the audacity of my question, no doubt. It was rather straightforward, wasn't it? Well, I didn't know any better. To me, it was just a question. To Gerard... It was an inner battle.
"I... I-I-I I'm straight? No, I'm gay. Wait. I'm straight. I'm not... But I have to be straight." Gerard just kept muttering to himself with wide eyes, unable to figure out his sexual orientation. He kept arguing about it to himself. How could he just not know? I wanted to ask.
Then he started crying. On school grounds, where a passerby could easily see. His tears we thick and he was still trying to answer my question, but he couldn't. Something was blocking him. Something was keeping him from answering. I pulled him into a hug, probably not the best thing to do with potential bullies in the area, on the prowl for homo blood.
"Dad said... Dad said I have to be straight!" Gerard sobbed into my shoulder. Oh. "He... He said I couldn't be into guys, that it was immoral and wrong! He said... He said I wouldn't be no son of his if I was homo..." Gerard was bawling into my shoulder, soaking my shirt with snot and tears. I pulled my arms around him, rubbing his back as he continued. "But Frank... I think, I think I am gay!"
Gerard cried harder than before, a heart wrenching sob that could only mean true self loathing. Someone as beautiful as Gerard shouldn't have to cry for something so awful, something so stupid a homophobia. He should never have to cry. No one should, really. I hug him tighter.
I let out a little huff of a laugh. "So if I were to ask you to go out for a coffee you'd refuse?"
He tensed up again, then relaxed his shoulders and body. His sobs became less, his breathing more regular. He took a deep breath, and even though it w shaky it was stronger than before.
"You'd want to date a broken freak like me?" He asked.
I nodded. "Yes. We can... We can get through all of this. High school and such."
He lifted his red and raw face up to look m in the eyes. His own hazel orbs were pained, but happy. "I would love to." And he kissed me, pressing his lips to mine in a simple, chaste thing.
It was perfect, and so much more so because we didn't get caught and beaten to a pulp. Homo-hater free, a press of the lips slightly salty from Gerard's tears. I'll get him through this.
FtTICToO chapter 8
I wasn't done staring at Gerard, though. Ray even left me alone at lunch on most days to stare at the boy that puzzled me so much. There were more lockers, at least twice a week, and without fail he'd be there every day. Every day he'd be there right on time, his time, not too late to keep me from having a panic attack, but late enough to not have to deal with his friends.
He was an exceptionally sneaky person, I learned. He could get away with being intoxicated, because he wasn't a loud drunk, he just acted normally. He could get away with liking the things he liked because he was smart enough to hide it, and well educated enough to know what everyone else liked. He could get away with saving Frank on his biweekly trips to the lockers because no one knew any better, and he intended to keep it that way.
Gerard was also the master of evasion, as I quickly found out. I asked him, every day, what he was about to say to me the first time he pulled me out of that locker. He didn't answer, wouldn't look at me. Sometimes he just walked away. I just couldn't get him to spill his guts to me. It was annoying,mute so intense and intriguing. And... I started to feel something beyond intrigue for Gerard.
I... Was surprised, to say the least, when I woke up with a disgusting sticky substance--semen-- in my pajama bottoms. Well, that wasn't the surprising part, nocturnal emissions aren't that rare, but it was more than that. I had been dreaming abut Gerard. Or more specifically, Gerard and I. I remember we were both coved in a good layer of sweat, our bodies on fire with the intensity of our deeds. I was ramming in and out of him, he was screaming my name as I hit his prostate over and over.
I was so surprised, not only that it was Gerard I had a dirty dream about, but more that I was into dick. I spent all my time being curious about Gerard and listening to music alone so I had never pondered much on my sexual orientation. For once, I hadn't wondered about it, gone out of my way to figure it out. I didn't care about myself and the mysteries of me, why should I when I could be researching everyone else? When I liked someone, then I could worry about it. I guess I had to worry about it.
The dilemma; I liked the foster kid my parents were taking in for a year or so. He could be anywhere, across country for all I knew, in twelve months. I didn't want a relationship that could possibly go nowhere like the one that I could possibly have with Gerard. I thoughtc he was heterosexual, too. Isn't it a rule? To be popular you either have to be the muscley straight/deep in the closet dude or have pretty titties. Gerard... Heterosexual. I was certain of it. Gay boys aren't popular.
But then, Gerard wasn't really conventionally popular.
But I still wouldn't place my bets on Gerard being gay. Not really because of the probability of him being gay, something I didn't calculate, but for fear that he wouldn't be gay as well. What if he stopped saving me from lockers and claustrophobia? What if he helped the others at school shove me into the locker? I don't think I cold handle that.
I... Is it a risk I should have taken? Just kissed him as he pulled me from a locker? Maybe ruined everything we had half constructed, or possibly put the last brick on the building of our relationship? Did we even have a relationship? I didn't know. But I wanted to find out.
So I asked Gerard. Not the most discreet way of going about it, and I shouldn't have done it in a school hallway. It's not like I knew how Gerard would react. But that's it; I didn't know how Gerard would react, so I should have asked him the questions I had at home. Where if something sparked an awful memory, he could freak out without possibly losing his cool, his popularity. But I just had to know.
"Gerard, are you a homosexual?" I asked one day as he helped me out of a locker.
Gerard froze up. He was shocked by the audacity of my question, no doubt. It was rather straightforward, wasn't it? Well, I didn't know any better. To me, it was just a question. To Gerard... It was an inner battle.
"I... I-I-I I'm straight? No, I'm gay. Wait. I'm straight. I'm not... But I have to be straight." Gerard just kept muttering to himself with wide eyes, unable to figure out his sexual orientation. He kept arguing about it to himself. How could he just not know? I wanted to ask.
Then he started crying. On school grounds, where a passerby could easily see. His tears we thick and he was still trying to answer my question, but he couldn't. Something was blocking him. Something was keeping him from answering. I pulled him into a hug, probably not the best thing to do with potential bullies in the area, on the prowl for homo blood.
"Dad said... Dad said I have to be straight!" Gerard sobbed into my shoulder. Oh. "He... He said I couldn't be into guys, that it was immoral and wrong! He said... He said I wouldn't be no son of his if I was homo..." Gerard was bawling into my shoulder, soaking my shirt with snot and tears. I pulled my arms around him, rubbing his back as he continued. "But Frank... I think, I think I am gay!"
Gerard cried harder than before, a heart wrenching sob that could only mean true self loathing. Someone as beautiful as Gerard shouldn't have to cry for something so awful, something so stupid a homophobia. He should never have to cry. No one should, really. I hug him tighter.
I let out a little huff of a laugh. "So if I were to ask you to go out for a coffee you'd refuse?"
He tensed up again, then relaxed his shoulders and body. His sobs became less, his breathing more regular. He took a deep breath, and even though it w shaky it was stronger than before.
"You'd want to date a broken freak like me?" He asked.
I nodded. "Yes. We can... We can get through all of this. High school and such."
He lifted his red and raw face up to look m in the eyes. His own hazel orbs were pained, but happy. "I would love to." And he kissed me, pressing his lips to mine in a simple, chaste thing.
It was perfect, and so much more so because we didn't get caught and beaten to a pulp. Homo-hater free, a press of the lips slightly salty from Gerard's tears. I'll get him through this.
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