Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Nobody's Perfect, So Stop Trying.

4. I'm Not Okay

by BulletproofNinja 10 reviews

Gerard and Mikey talk in the bathroom...

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: G - Genres: Romance - Characters: Bob Bryar,Frank Iero,Gerard Way,Mikey Way - Published: 2012-05-16 - Updated: 2012-06-08 - 3633 words

Hey, fellow ficwadians!!! I decided to update extra early because of all the amazingly sweet reviews I received. FabulousRevenge I just have to say, your review made me smile like crazy and squeal like a five year old... :P Well, I hope you like this chapter, it's longer than the others but I hope it's alright.

Chapter Four- I'm Not Okay

Gerard's POV

The bell goes for the end of science and I pack my stuff away quickly. Taking one last look at Frank, I rush out the door. I make my way to English, ignoring the abuse hurled at me. I'm too absorbed in my own thoughts to even notice it. My thoughts about Frank. I know he only said one sentence to me but it's the fact that he actually spoke to me in a friendly voice that's left me confused.


I leave English as soon as the bell goes, practically running through the door to escape people. Shit, I have gym next.
"Fuck that." I say quietly to myself, and head to the back of the main building where all the gym ditchers go.
I find myself a secluded part of the clearing, up against a small tree away from all the other people surrounding me. In a way, I love being alone. It gives me a chance to take in my surroundings, although doing so usually reminds me of how fucked up this planet is. More people come into the clearing. Hardly any of them notice me and the ones that do just glance and look away again without a second thought.
I see some of Mikey's friends enter the clearing and they start laughing around instantly. I wait a few minutes to see if my brother comes or not.

Finally, I see Mikey enter the clearing with a small boy in tow. Frank. A slight pang of jealousy slices through me, but I ignore it. He's better off with my younger, nicer, more social brother. I do wish that I'd talked to him more in science, though. He probably thinks I'm some sort of freak. Well, I am a freak but I don't want Frank to think that. I know I'm obsessing over him a little bit, but he's the first person to talk to me in school in ages that isn't a teacher or a bully. Plus the boy is gorgeous. I didn't think I was gay but I guess I haven't really talked to a lot of people so I don't know if I like guys or girls. But I know that I like Frank. A lot.

Mikey and Frank close the distance between them and the three people who I know to be Ray, Bob and Alicia. As soon as they reach the group, Alicia lunges at Frank, attacking him in a 'hug'. Frank looks confused for a bit before hugging her back. They all sit down and I retrieve my sketchbook and pencil from my bag.

Seeing as Frank is there I decide to carry on with my drawing from earlier. I hunch over, trying to get the details perfect, trying to get the drawing to show his face in all it's beauty. His smile lines, the way his eyes crinkle up when he laughs and the glint in his eyes. I soon find myself lost in the drawing and I don't look up for a good fifteen minutes, using my mind to remember Frank's face.
I put my drawing away after a while and sit there with my head in my knees, just using the peacefulness of my surroundings to think. This perhaps isn't the best idea, because when I think, I get upset. I think about how Mikey looked this morning, how he looks whenever I refuse food. I know he's my brother and he's meant to care, but he needs to stop mothering me! There's nothing for him to be worried about, he's just overreacting. It's just a simple diet to make me look better. To make me happy.
I let my mind wander, not wanting to think anymore.

"Shut the fuck up!!!" I hear my brother shout. My head snaps up, along with the rest of the people in the clearing. Everybody here knows how strange this situation is. Mikey never gets mad at people, he's just too laid back. Something must have really upset him. He looks at me before standing up and storming off. I see Bob and Ray say something to each other, clearly confused. Frank then stands up, unnoticed by the two boys and follows Mikey.

After the shock of Mikey's outburst has subsided, everybody goes back to their regular conversations, and I continue with my self loathing thoughts. God, I'm pathetic. All I do all day is think of how hideous I am, it's taking over my life. This overwhelming need to be perfect, to fit in and be normal. I'm fed up of having to go through my school life being shoved around and beat up. I'm fed up of having to starve myself in a feeble attempt to look good. I'm fed up of life.

It isn't until I feel a tear fall onto my hand that I realise I'm crying. Tears that want to escape from my body, free themselves. God I wish I could do that, just get away from myself. I'd be happy then. The tears keep falling, but I can't bring myself to wipe them away. I know it's weird, but I like the feeling of tears on my cheeks. It's warm, but cool at the same time.

A few more minutes pass, and the tears cease to fall. I see Mikey emerge from the trees with Frank tailing behind him, Mikey's eyes are slightly red and puffy but he looks happier. Just before they reach the group on the floor they stop and Mikey clenches his fists and glares at the three of them, his happiness disappearing to be replaced by anger. Frank pats him on the shoulder, causing Mikey to look up. Frank says something to him which makes him relax and close the distance between him and the seated group. When he sits down, all three heads snap up, finally noticing Mikey's presence and their conversation comes to a halt. They all look to the floor, avoiding eye contact with Mikey, who just looks at each of them in turn. Frank joins them on the floor and I see him say 'Hey', causing Ray's 'fro topped head to lift up so he's looking at him. He stutters something out, but Mikey interrupts him before shooting a glance in my direction. I catch his eye and look away.

I retrieve my sketchbook from my bag once more for something to do. I carry on with my drawing of Frank, wanting to get it perfect so it captures the reality of his beauty. I make sure to add every little detail of his eyes, the glint of happiness and the unusual spots of a lighter colour. I find myself feeling a little bit envious of Frank. He's perfect, he's only been here a day and he's got friends, he's happy. He's accepted by others. I can feel the tears welling up and I decide that it's time to put the drawing of Frank away, turning the page and starting a new drawing. This drawing is kind of a vent for my frustrations and my depression, and in a weird way, I enjoy it. I enjoy the dark images created by my misery, so much that my whole sketchbook is full of them. The only drawing that isn't dark and depressing is the drawing of Frank. It's strange, whenever I think of Frank I get a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. I know it's cheesy but I genuinely do... Although it could be anything, I haven't been feeling too good lately. I can't actually remember the last time I felt good. Or happy. Man, I'm fucked up.

By the time the bell rings to signal the start of fourth lesson I've finished my new drawing. I hold it at arms length and look at it. It's got a dark theme to it, nothing in the picture is white. It's a wide, open clearing, not too different to the one I'm sitting in. The difference with the clearing in the drawing is that there are no people disturbing the scene, and the surrounding trees suddenly have a creepy edge to them, looking dark and intimidating. The main focus of my drawing is a large rectangular stone in the middle of the emptiness, standing out against the flat surroundings. The stone itself is crumbling, covered in vines and overgrown grass. For some reason the sight of the stone makes me feel sad. It's been left there to crumble to pieces and become overtaken by weeds, all alone. I know it's only a stone but it really does make me feel awful. I take another closer look at the stone and I discover more detail that I didn't realise I've added. It's writing of some sort. Gerard Way. It suddenly twigs in my mind. This is a gravestone. My gravestone.

By this time I'm really freaked out. I shove my sketchbook into my bag and run off, shooting past Mikey and his group of friends, heading for the guys bathroom. Once I reach them I lock myself inside one of the cubicles and sit on the dirty floor, my head in my hands. I sit there for what seems like hours and just focus on breathing. The tears that touch my cheeks falling fast. I let out a sob and try to collect myself again. But my thoughts keep going around and around in my head, all of them abusing me in different ways. The same insults as usual, but they still hurt and they make me want to shrivel up and die. I kneel down in front of the toilet and take a deep breath. I stare at the wall for a minute or so before sticking two fingers to the back of my throat, bringing up the non-existent contents of my stomach. I vomit a few times before the acid from my stomach starts to burn my throat and I just slump down against the cubicle wall. I've stopped crying now and I feel calm enough to leave the safety of the cubicle. I flush the toilet before unlocking the door and walking over to the bathroom sinks. I pull my bag up onto the side and rummage through it, looking for the toothbrush I carry around for such occasions as this. If I didn't do this, Mikey would guess what I was doing. I finish brushing my teeth and I put the toothbrush back in my bag just before somebody enters the bathroom. I freeze for a second, before hearing a soft voice. Mikey.

"Gee?" I turn around "You okay?"

His facial expression different to the one I saw not long ago. Sadder, more pained. This makes me feel even worse. I'm the reason for his misery. He's happy with his friends, he has fun and he laughs. I haven't seen Mikey smile around me for a long time. Not a genuine smile, just a false smile that never manages to light up his eyes. He used to be happy around me, before I started distancing myself from everybody, but that was a long time ago. I missed being the reason for the smile on my baby brother's face. I hate knowing that if I ever do see him smile that it's somebody else who caused it. I hate the fact that I'm a bad brother to him, when all he's ever done is care for me. I realise Mikey is still waiting for an answer.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" I fake a smile. Mikey raises an eyebrow.

"No reason, Gee. Just the fact that you ran past us with tears streaming down your face. And the fact that it's me you're talking to here. I know you better than anyone, and I know when there's something wrong." He says with a stern voice.

"Well, obviously you don't know me as well as you think you do Mikes, because there's nothing wrong." Pain flashes across Mikeys features for a second before he composes himself.

"Gee, I know you're bullshitting me, but I'm not going to push it. But you should know this, you can't hide from people forever. You can't keep starving yourself forever." I open my mouth to speak but he holds a finger up and continues "Don't even bother denying it, because it's painfully obvious. But you've made it clear that you don't want my help, so I give up trying." He lets out a shaky sigh. "I give up, Gee. You win." He sounds so broken that I just run forward and hug him.

"I'm sorry, Mikes." I whisper into his ear before he pulls away. He gives me a weak smile before turning and walking out of the bathroom, leaving me standing there alone.

I don't even feel upset by what just happened but I feel angry. Extremely angry, and I don't know why. I lean against the sinks and look in the mirror. I look at my reflection in disgust. In a deathly whisper, I say "It's your fault Mikey's hurting." I clench my fist. "IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!!!" I punch the mirror as hard as I can, shattering the image of myself onto the side. "EVERYTHING. IS. YOUR. FAULT." I emphasise each word with a punch to the now bare wall, making my knuckles burn. I take one last deep breath to calm myself down before walking out of the bathrooms and going in late to fourth lesson.

As I walk down the corridor, the blood from my hand drips onto the floor, leaving a trail of thick red behind me. I can't be bothered to clean myself up, I just let it carry on seeping blood. I like blood, it's always fascinated me. Whenever I used to hurt myself when I was little I wouldn't let anyone clean the blood away, I would just lick it up myself. And now that I'm older, nothing has changed. Whenever I cut myself, I just watch the blood make its way to the surface and watch it creep its way down my arm before I lick it away. I just like the taste of my own blood, which makes me seem even more like a wannabe vampire freak. I sigh as I enter the language block. When I reach my French class I am twenty five minutes late. I pull my sleeve down over my fist to cover the blood and knock on the door. I step in and recieve a glare from my teacher.

"Sorry I'm late, Miss." I say in a croaky voice.

Her face softens when she hears me talk and she just lets me go to my regular seat without having a go at me. I must sound rough. I make my way to the back, getting tripped up numerous times. I look up and see that the usually empty seat beside me is filled. By none other than Frank Iero. I sit down and take my bag off under his curious gaze. When I hazard a look at him I see that he is looking at me, lips pursed and he looks concerned. We carry on looking at each other for a few more seconds before he looks down at my hand. I quickly shove it under the desk before turning back to the front of the classroom. I just sit there waiting for the teacher to finish talking and I can feel Frank staring at me. I quickly turn to him, meeting his gaze. He just keeps on staring.

"Uhh.. Can I erm help you?" I ask sounding quiet and awkward. Frank flicks his hand out, gesturing towards my hidden hand.

"What did you do?" I have to break eye contact because his stare is so intense. I stare down at my feet for a few minutes before he speaks up again, "Why aren't you looking at me?" His voice sounds nervous, so I look up again and he looks distressed.

"Umm, are you okay? You, uhh, look kinda worried." He looks shocked for a moment, his mouth forming an 'o' before he relaxes again.

"Yeah, I'm fine, but why won't you look at me for more than five seconds?" I look down. "See? You always look away!" He doesn't sound pissed off, just curious.

"I dunno, because, uhh... what?" I blink.

"You know what? Nevermind." He chuckles. "But you are so adorable when you're confused." This makes my head snap up.

"You think I'm adorable?" I ask in a hushed voice. It's now Franks turn to look away.

"Um.. Yeah, you are. Problem?" His smirk returns, leaving me sitting there blushing.

"No. No, I was just..." I trail off, turning my gaze to the front of the classroom. The teacher is telling us to split into partners and practice some French shit, I dunno. Frank seems to have heard the bit about partners and he turns to me.

"Wanna work with me?" I want to say no. I never work with anyone, no one wants to or I just don't like them, but I want a chance to hear him talk more.

I want to listen to his deep, husky voice, so I reply, "Yeah, sure." and I attempt a smile. Franks face splits into a grin.

"Yay!!!" I can't help but chuckle at this. Frank continues, "We're not actually going to practice, are we?"

"No, I suck at French." I mumble. Frank looks at me, staring into my eyes.

After a few minutes of just staring at me, he smiles and says, "I knew it! See, you can look at me!!!" He giggles and I smile a little.

"Cute giggle." Oh God, did I really just say that? Frank's smile just widens and he thanks me. There is an awkward silence.

"I'm sorry, I'm not used to talking to people. That's why I don't look at you or speak very much. I never really know what to say." I admit in a rush. He looks up at me before giving me a kind smile.

"Well, I'm just gonna have to fix that, aren't I?"

For the rest of the lesson, Frank and I ask eachother questions to get to know the other a little better. I find out that Frank's favourite colour is red and black, his favourite band is Green Day and he loves dogs. Frank asks me the same questions, but adds an extra one.

"Guys or girls?" I stop breathing.

"Excuse me?"

"Do you like guys or girls? You know, which ones do you want to fuck?" He waggles his eyebrows at me but I just stay in my shocked state.

I'm a little shocked at how forward his question is, but the bigger part of me is starting to panic because I don't know what my answer is. I leave him waiting for an answer before finally settling on one. "Uhh... I don't really know, I haven't really dated before, you know?" I admit in a small voice. "But I think I'm gay." I add in a whisper so the other people in the class can't hear me.

Frank raises an eyebrow, and I wait for him to look at me in disgust and hurl abuse at me. But all he does is smile, yet again,

"Cool, me too." My heart flutters. Frank Iero? Gay? Of course, he would never go out with me, I'm too mentally unstable for him.

The conversation flows easier after that and I start to gain some confidence when I talk, speaking louder and looking Frank in the eye. When the conversation dies down, he furrows his brow and looks at me in confusion.

"You never did answer my question, you know."

I raise an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"What did you do to your hand?" He asks, looking down at my hand. I follow his gaze and see that it is still dripping blood, and the throbbing feeling suddenly returns.

"Oh, that? It's nothing, man." I try to sound nonchalant, but my voice is shaky so I fail miserably.

Frank scoffs, "Yeah, it's totally normal for a guy to have his fist covered in bloody cuts." I squirm in my seat. "Let me have a look." I pull my sleeve away from my hand so Frank can see the damage. Shit, it's cut up real bad, ripped skin that is currently oozing blood. He takes hold of my hand and I gasp from the shock that passes through me. Frank raises an eyebrow.

"Umm, your hands are, erm, cold." I lie. He just shrugs and carries on looking at my fists.

"What, did you punch a window or something?"

"Something like that." I blush. Frank just looks at me and shakes his head. He starts to pull my sleeve up, wanting to see if there was any more damage to my hand. I panic, not wanting him to see my wrists and I yank my arm out of his grasp. Frank looks confused.

"Gerard, you okay?" I shake my head, tears welling up. Luckily time is on my side and the lesson ends, the bell ringing out across the school. I stand up, grabbing my bag. "Gerard, what's wrong?" I manage to get out of the classroom before Frank has the chance to register what's happened, leaving him sitting there frowning.

Sooo.... How was it? R&R please for Skittle Ice cream
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