Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > But No One Sees the Gnashing Teeth of My Heart [Frerard]

Crocodile Tears

by eccentricpaige 1 review

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Drama - Characters: Frank Iero,Gerard Way - Warnings: [?] - Published: 2012-08-13 - Updated: 2012-08-14 - 1854 words

With Wednesday comes a healthier reaction to breathing, and with this discovery I'm given the freedom to return to school. I drink some cough syrup just in case and stuff my jacket pockets full of tissues before my mother's gotten me into the car to take me away.

"Feeling better?" she asks with mild interest, and for whatever reason this bothers me immensely.

"Obviously." I state. Afterwards I can feel the heat practically rising from her skin, so I try to pull a cool save out of my ass and change the subject. "Mom, after school I'll need to take a detour to the library to work on a paper for English. If you give me a couple of dollars I can just grab dinner while I'm out and you won't have to worry about making the extra portion." This seems to give her something else to think about, and although she doesn't say a word, I can tell she's mulling things over in her head.

As we pull to the front of the school, she reaches in her wallet and pulls out a five. "Bring back change if there is any." I pocket the cash and exchange goodbyes before I'm off to another loud day to look forward to. Although the tiniest bit of guilt for lying to my mom hangs around in my mind, it's all extinguished when I see Gerard standing a few steps to the right of my locker, looking hopeful and somewhat uncomfortable.

"H-hey, Frankie." he says brightly in his own unique way. I nod in his direction with my best impression of a smile firmly glued to my lips before I side-step him to spin the lock. "Did you happen to bring my coat by any chance? I left it..." Gerard says patiently as he eyes the way my fingers move over the dial. I freeze for a moment in recollection before realizing that I hadn't seen it on the couch this morning before I left.

"Shit. My mom probably found it. Ha, she's going to think I'm a smoker." I say thoughtfully as if my brain is encased in air. I turn to look at Gerard and notice his wince has faltered.

"You think you'll be in trouble." he says, reaching out for a second before deciding to rest his hand on my locker door. I shrug like the matter's a nonissue before pushing the door shut and giving him my full attention.

"Probably. Doesn't really matter, though. Sorry, I'll have to get it to you tomorrow." I say, embarrassment beginning to creep onto my cheeks as I realize that the voices in the surrounding area have come down to only a low hum. What a spectacle we must be. But somehow I feel... proud? Like, Hey, I have a friend now too. It's a good feeling, even if no one is thinking any good toward us currently. Gerard notices as well and starts to shrink into his hoodie, like the attention's going to smother him, or possibly just set him on fire.

"S'kay." he says after a second. I sink down to the tiled floor in front of the row behind us and invite him to take a seat with my eyes and a nonchalant pat to the space right next to me. Gerard reluctantly follows my lead and sits, his body angled only slightly into me, as if to avoid having to be too close to anyone nearby. We chat lightly, not really looking at one another but for a moment or two at a time. It's awkward, like we were on stage. Like we should have known talking in private would be easy in comparison. Eventually the conversations around us begin to pick up speed once again, throwing a little relief our way for only a moment until the bell rings, putting us all back onto the schedule we allowed ourselves to forget about for a while.

"Walk me to class?" I say with a cheeky grin Gerard can't help but match.

"Of course."

We find ourselves in the Art room a few minutes later, the screen already on and our teacher giving us our usual instructions.

"You all have been at this for several weeks now. Think you're ready to start wrapping it up? I have one more project planned for you guys before winter break." she says loudly enough for the people in the back to hear her. I offer her an absent nod before directing my attention over to Gerard to ask him what he needs me to do.

"Uh, I think I have these legs down. And the... yeah, the seat looks fine, too. If you get some gloss, you can finish polishing the back of the chair, and then we'll pretty much be finished." he says, honestly giving his instructions thought. I smile and agree before walking off in search of said polish. Upon my return, I see Gerard putting incredible focus onto a few key spots where his brush is working steadily to fix whatever problem he must have noticed. We work in silence for a long while, probably longer than usual. The only thing that breaks the peaceful quiet is a rustling of paper from the front of the room where our teacher seems to be swallowed by mid-six weeks reports. I feel a laugh coming on, but nothing comes out of it and so I return to work until the bell rings, throwing my concentration completely off and shifting me into another gear so I can help clean our supplies.

"C'ya, Frankie." Gerard says quietly as we part ways in search of our respective classes. For whatever reason, the smile on my face just won't excuse itself, even as I try covering it.

In my second block class, I'm given a list of makeup work, including assignments from other teachers. Because a test is being conducted that I'm in no way ready for, I'm excused to the library to work on my past assignments in peace. As I'm walking the hall in the direction of the library, I pass by a very confused Gerard.

"You... don't you have English?" Gerard asks worriedly.

"Yeah, but she sent me here so I could get some work done. You following me?" I ask jokingly, eyeing the paper Gerard seems to be clutching with great strength as he absentmindedly allows it to wrinkle.

"No, actually I'm... oh. You were kidding. Yeah, I'm here for a paper. Fuckin' History..." Gerard says with little enthusiasm. I nod and gesture toward the door for him to open it and lead us in. He does just that before taking a seat toward the back window. I sit down next to him and begin working quietly on my worksheet as time ticks by. Nearly forty-five minutes later, I'm stuck with virtually no work left, but the will to return to class never visits. I excuse myself to use the bathroom and Gerard, in his desperate attempt to stay out of our librarian's line of questioning fire, decides to follow with the excuse of needing a drink.

"Seriously man, you're like a puppy." I say affectionately. Gerard smirks for a moment before running a hand through his hair.

"You've got me there. Listen, I-"

"Well. If it isn't the cry baby. Oh! And cry baby's boyfriend. You kids're cute, y'know." a kid named Dalton says creepily by the snack machines as he barges in on our conversation.

"What the Hell's that supposed to mean?" I ask, hoping for a bit of insight as to why such an attack is taking place.

"You've not heard? Jared over here couldn't keep the crocodile tears outta his eyes when we beat his ass a few days back. Couldn't you?" Dalton says with an uncanny resemblance to Satan himself. I roll my eyes and retort before thinking.

"His name's Gerard. And who the Hell's going to fucking judge him for crying when it's you idiots trying to make him play punching bag. You guys are fucking pathetic." I spit out, angry and ready for confrontation - a definite surprise, even to myself. Gerard's eyebrows shoot up in awe before he's behind me, defensively taking a stand in case things take a turn for the violent.

"You better tell your boyfriend to watch his fucking back, Way. Wouldn't want poor Frankie here to get his face ripped off 'cause he can't keep his retarded comebacks to himself." Dalton spits to Gerard's face. I look to each of them with such misunderstanding. It's like they know each other - like they're playing the roles of old enemies as opposed to the usual bully/classmate dynamic. Gerard rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath before turning to me.

"C'mon. I don't need a drink." I follow, dazed and still ready to fight if I have to. Once we enter the library again, the air reeks of forced calm and I have to try hard to breathe through the stifled mess of curiosity residing in my body.

"What was that?" I whisper, hoping for a clue. Mrs. Landon shoots a deranged look our way though, rendering the whispered conversation over before it ever properly began. I eye Gerard with little to no feeling, just blind wonder. He starts jotting something down on a scrap sheet of paper before pushing it my way.

Just another friend. he wrote neatly on the crumpled note. I stifle the urge to laugh before scribbling down an answer in a far messier script. Yeah, so it seems.

The note-writing continues for the better part of twenty minutes, me getting absolutely nowhere in my quest for knowledge on this weird subject. Gerard stays reserved, but never mean or even annoyed. He treats this as if we're just playing another Pre-school game; passing notes, if you like me check Yes or No. I can't help but crack up as he tries his fucking hardest to change the subject, succeeding every so often, but only so I can pull the direction of the conversation right back to where it started.

Thanks for speaking up to him, by the way. It was nice. he writes timidly just moments before the bell rings to direct us to lunch. I stick the note in my jacket before nodding. Gerard waits for me, his bag thrown lazily over his shoulder. Once my things are packed up, I give him full lead of the way as I follow in his footsteps over to the lunch room to try and endure another tasteless meal.

"Do you ever eat? I rarely see you..." I ask curiously as we pad down the hall. Gerard grins making some kind of throaty noise.

"Nah, not here usually. Don't exactly know why, though. I have free lunch."

"Me too." I pipe in. We walk in silence for another few moments before we're facing the double doors that'll throw us headfirst into chaos.

"Y'ready?" Gerard asks, Jersey seeping from his breath. I shake my head playfully before pushing the door open and greeting the broken Richter Scale with an unusually contented expression.
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