Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Drowning Lessons
Drowning Lessons
0 reviewsThe last thing Frank needs is to be locked up in a mental institution, and his new, irritable but charming roommate doesn't make things any easier. [Frerard]
1Ambiance
This is a new story, another rp with "Sam":http://www.killing-everything-in-me.tumblr.com c: I hope you like it, R&R for more?
Frank was stripped of his clothes, in exchange for a white, zip up jumpsuit. He was given a backpack full of items he wished to keep, that he could not cause harm with (guns and knives were a no no, unless you hid them, and well). That's it. He was walked down the corridor of the Mental Hospital, two people gripping either one of his arms, making sure that he didn't misbehave, not a toe out of line. He bit his lip in anger, staring absently at the tiles passing under his chunky boots, as his footsteps echoed.
"Room 472." The nurse on the left arm spoke softly, pointing to the chalk board aside the metal door, covered in locks and bolts.
"Inmates; Gerard Way + Frank Iero. Breakfast; 10am. Lunch; 1pm. Supper; 5:30pm. Lights out; 9pm." He read the board correctly for once in his head, sighing. The nurses opened the bolt covered door, revealing a large room, with a bunk bed, a table with two chairs littered around it, and a tiny lamp atop the table. Frank was pushed into the room, hearing the heavy door slam behind him. He noticed a boy, his age, maybe slightly older, slightly scrawny looking, with messy, shoulder length jet black hair, sat at the table. Frank said nothing. He got shy around strangers, often resulting in embarrassing, profuse sweating and a locked tongue. He stood in the doorway, gulping anxiously, wondering if he should speak or not. The older boy flinched as the door shut. He didn't turn around; from the last few inmates he'd had, he decided it was best to keep his mouth shut and his head down. He continued sketching absently, his drawings perhaps a little graphic, or at least as graphic he could make them with a single pencil. Frank tapped his foot on the floor softly.
"Hi?" He spoke very quietly, close to a whisper, as he looked around the room. The scrawny looking boy nodded in acknowledgement.
"Yeah, I know you're here." He replied, perhaps a little rudely, before putting his head back down. Frank sighed, shrugging, seeing the boy's stuff on the bottom bunk. He climbed up the metal ladder, sitting on the lumpiest, most uncomfortable mattress, placing his bag by his pillow. The older boy continued sketching, turning his back to the younger boy. He hadn't even had a good look at him yet, but it was probably best that he didn't. Frank sniffed, rubbing his eyes as he flicked through his backpack, seeing some photo's and comics. He pulled out issue #74 DC comic. Turning quickly, the older glanced out of the window, calculating the time. He stood up, tucking his sketchbook under his arm, and heading towards the door. Frank gazed upwards, hearing footsteps, looking at the boy, confused. The older youth still hadn't turned to look at him.
"Don't look at me like that, I'm going to breakfast, and if you have any sense, you'll go early too." The older boy stated, staring at the door. Frank sighed, jumping off the bunk bed, walking towards the door. He bit his lip, and gestured for the boy to go ahead. The boy still hadn't had a look at him. He opened the door and walked through it, knowing he was guiding Frank through the institution. They came out into a cafeteria, which, like the rest of the facility, was a pure white. The elder boy gestured loosely.
"Food's over there. I sit over there." He stated, still having not met Frank's gaze, before walking over to the food base and collecting some breakfast. Frank grabbed a tray, walking through the food area, before being knocked over by an older boy. He sat on the floor, looking slightly confused, and a little scared. He rubbed the back of his head, sniffing gently. The older boy swiveled around at the noise, but didn't think to do anything about it. He stared at the younger boy timidly, before deciding not to get involved. He knew the boy that was currently standing over Frank, and didn't want to be involved. He went and sat at his own table, on his own, not eating his breakfast as usual and instead, returning to his drawings. A boy with erratic curly hair appeared behind Frank.
"Bob, come on. Step back, he won't steal kittens. Come on." The larger boy stood over Frank withdrew the scrap of fabric into his pocket and backed away from Frank. The curly haired boy held a hand out to Frank for him to take. Frank gulped, looking up at the boy with curly hair, and smiling faintly. He clambered upwards, keeping his head down, grabbing some toast and sitting on a table by himself, sighing. Ray retracted his hand disappointingly, and skulked off to his own table with Bob. The older boy hummed as he drew, vaguely listening to the drama in the main hall, resting his feet on the table, as he usually did. Frank ate his food and sighed, heading back to his room. He walked through the corridor, timidly, his hands tucked in the pockets of his jumpsuit, and his eyes trailing his boots with every step, along the tiled floor.
As the clock struck 5pm (or as the older boy had calculated so,) the elder was slung back through the door to his bedroom, from strong gloved hands, against the wall and onto the floor. He made a small, aggravated noise, and pushed himself up off the floor, gathering his sketchbook and pencils and blowing the air out of his face. Frank was sat on his bed, reading a thick book, jumping when he heard the door slam. His eyes gazed at the other boy for a second, before turning back to his book, flicking through. The older boy grumbled, cursing under his breath, tossing the hair out of his eyes. He stood in the middle of the room, rubbing at his knee with a slight hurt in his eyes. He skulked to the corner of the room, sitting in the chair and dusting through his sketchbook, upset that it had gotten dirty when he fell.
"Can you not grumble, please?" Frank asked, softly, not looking up, just focusing on his book, chewing his lip.
"Oh, does it bother you?" The older snapped, still a little upset. Deciding to keep quiet as possible, Frank sighed gently and turned the page carefully. The elder considered finally taking a look at the younger boy, but decided against it. He turned onto a new page in his sketchbook.
"Supper is at 5:30." He stated. Frank nodded, gulping, looking at his watch. He turned the page on the book and looked out the window, leaning over the bar of the bunk bed slightly. His book fell to the floor, with a loud thump, as he shook his head softly. The elder boy jumped at the noise and made another aggravated growl, making a large mistake on his sketchbook. He sighed; he didn't have an eraser. Frank flicked through his bag, climbing down from the bed, picking up his book, placing an eraser on the other boy's table, before sitting back on his bed. The older boy didn't meet his gaze, refusing to look up at Frank. He acknowledged him once he was back up on the bed.
"Thank you." He said, softly, for once, before using the eraser gently, to ensure he didn't damage it in any way.
"Keep it." Frank replied, keeping his head down as he continued to read his book.
"I can't," The boy replied, gazing at his work.
"Why?" Frank asked, softly, following each line in the book.
"Because it's yours and Reynolds says I can't take what is someone else's," The older boy said, obviously repeating something which had been instilled into him.
"Think of it as a friendly gesture," Frank smiled softly, still looking at his book, shrugging.
"That's what I said to Reynolds, but she disagreed." Frank laughed softly at the older boy’s strange sense of humour. He contemplated if he should turn around or not, but he decided against it. The older boy threw it back, without saying a word. A white clothed man stuck his head around the door.
"Gerard, Reynolds wants to speak to you." Frank caught it, stuffing it back in his bag. He sighed, putting his book down and turning his attention to the uniformed man. Gerard didn't move from where he was sat.
"I've already spoken to her today." He replied, nonchalantly. The young man sighed.
"Gerard, don't be like that."
"Tell her I'll speak to her tomorrow. I'm going to private meetings, isn't that enough?" Gerard sighed, lifting his head for once and giving a direct glare to the young worker, alight with flames and dashed with venom. Gerard continued staring until the young man nodded and left the room, swallowing nervously. Frank gazed at the other boy for a second, before sitting up, fiddling with his book.
"You're name is Gerard?" He asked softly.
"Yes, and your name is Frank," Gerard replied, avoiding his gaze, dropping it back to his work. Frank nodded.
"I've never met someone named Gerard," He shrugged, gazing at his book, yawning.
"Well, what a lucky fucking duck you are," Gerard responded casually, making small flicks with his pencil. Frank stayed quiet, sighing, pulling out a DC comic, reading.
After another hour of silence, Gerard abruptly turned off the light, staying sat down for a while, before getting up and heading towards the door.
"Turn the light on." Frank spoke softly, not moving.
"It's 9pm. Lights out." Gerard insisted, lingering by the door.
"Fuck." Frank spoke softly, sighing, pulling a small, hand held touch out of his bag.
"I'll be back in the morning." Gerard replied, opening the door. "If you dare tell a soul I'm gone, I will slit your throat, you hear me?"
"You wouldn't touch me." Frank smirked, speaking softly, reading his comic. Gerard turned, still not looking at Frank, gazing sadly at the ground.
"If only that were true. Maybe I wouldn't be in here." He pondered, opening the door fully.
"You can't look at me, you probably wouldn't try physical contact." Frank explained, gazing at the drawings in his comic.
"I haven't looked at you because I don't want to know you." Gerard shrugged, slipping through the door and shutting it quietly behind him. Frank sighed, mumbling to himself, not sleeping.
"Fuck this place." He growled.
Frank was stripped of his clothes, in exchange for a white, zip up jumpsuit. He was given a backpack full of items he wished to keep, that he could not cause harm with (guns and knives were a no no, unless you hid them, and well). That's it. He was walked down the corridor of the Mental Hospital, two people gripping either one of his arms, making sure that he didn't misbehave, not a toe out of line. He bit his lip in anger, staring absently at the tiles passing under his chunky boots, as his footsteps echoed.
"Room 472." The nurse on the left arm spoke softly, pointing to the chalk board aside the metal door, covered in locks and bolts.
"Inmates; Gerard Way + Frank Iero. Breakfast; 10am. Lunch; 1pm. Supper; 5:30pm. Lights out; 9pm." He read the board correctly for once in his head, sighing. The nurses opened the bolt covered door, revealing a large room, with a bunk bed, a table with two chairs littered around it, and a tiny lamp atop the table. Frank was pushed into the room, hearing the heavy door slam behind him. He noticed a boy, his age, maybe slightly older, slightly scrawny looking, with messy, shoulder length jet black hair, sat at the table. Frank said nothing. He got shy around strangers, often resulting in embarrassing, profuse sweating and a locked tongue. He stood in the doorway, gulping anxiously, wondering if he should speak or not. The older boy flinched as the door shut. He didn't turn around; from the last few inmates he'd had, he decided it was best to keep his mouth shut and his head down. He continued sketching absently, his drawings perhaps a little graphic, or at least as graphic he could make them with a single pencil. Frank tapped his foot on the floor softly.
"Hi?" He spoke very quietly, close to a whisper, as he looked around the room. The scrawny looking boy nodded in acknowledgement.
"Yeah, I know you're here." He replied, perhaps a little rudely, before putting his head back down. Frank sighed, shrugging, seeing the boy's stuff on the bottom bunk. He climbed up the metal ladder, sitting on the lumpiest, most uncomfortable mattress, placing his bag by his pillow. The older boy continued sketching, turning his back to the younger boy. He hadn't even had a good look at him yet, but it was probably best that he didn't. Frank sniffed, rubbing his eyes as he flicked through his backpack, seeing some photo's and comics. He pulled out issue #74 DC comic. Turning quickly, the older glanced out of the window, calculating the time. He stood up, tucking his sketchbook under his arm, and heading towards the door. Frank gazed upwards, hearing footsteps, looking at the boy, confused. The older youth still hadn't turned to look at him.
"Don't look at me like that, I'm going to breakfast, and if you have any sense, you'll go early too." The older boy stated, staring at the door. Frank sighed, jumping off the bunk bed, walking towards the door. He bit his lip, and gestured for the boy to go ahead. The boy still hadn't had a look at him. He opened the door and walked through it, knowing he was guiding Frank through the institution. They came out into a cafeteria, which, like the rest of the facility, was a pure white. The elder boy gestured loosely.
"Food's over there. I sit over there." He stated, still having not met Frank's gaze, before walking over to the food base and collecting some breakfast. Frank grabbed a tray, walking through the food area, before being knocked over by an older boy. He sat on the floor, looking slightly confused, and a little scared. He rubbed the back of his head, sniffing gently. The older boy swiveled around at the noise, but didn't think to do anything about it. He stared at the younger boy timidly, before deciding not to get involved. He knew the boy that was currently standing over Frank, and didn't want to be involved. He went and sat at his own table, on his own, not eating his breakfast as usual and instead, returning to his drawings. A boy with erratic curly hair appeared behind Frank.
"Bob, come on. Step back, he won't steal kittens. Come on." The larger boy stood over Frank withdrew the scrap of fabric into his pocket and backed away from Frank. The curly haired boy held a hand out to Frank for him to take. Frank gulped, looking up at the boy with curly hair, and smiling faintly. He clambered upwards, keeping his head down, grabbing some toast and sitting on a table by himself, sighing. Ray retracted his hand disappointingly, and skulked off to his own table with Bob. The older boy hummed as he drew, vaguely listening to the drama in the main hall, resting his feet on the table, as he usually did. Frank ate his food and sighed, heading back to his room. He walked through the corridor, timidly, his hands tucked in the pockets of his jumpsuit, and his eyes trailing his boots with every step, along the tiled floor.
As the clock struck 5pm (or as the older boy had calculated so,) the elder was slung back through the door to his bedroom, from strong gloved hands, against the wall and onto the floor. He made a small, aggravated noise, and pushed himself up off the floor, gathering his sketchbook and pencils and blowing the air out of his face. Frank was sat on his bed, reading a thick book, jumping when he heard the door slam. His eyes gazed at the other boy for a second, before turning back to his book, flicking through. The older boy grumbled, cursing under his breath, tossing the hair out of his eyes. He stood in the middle of the room, rubbing at his knee with a slight hurt in his eyes. He skulked to the corner of the room, sitting in the chair and dusting through his sketchbook, upset that it had gotten dirty when he fell.
"Can you not grumble, please?" Frank asked, softly, not looking up, just focusing on his book, chewing his lip.
"Oh, does it bother you?" The older snapped, still a little upset. Deciding to keep quiet as possible, Frank sighed gently and turned the page carefully. The elder considered finally taking a look at the younger boy, but decided against it. He turned onto a new page in his sketchbook.
"Supper is at 5:30." He stated. Frank nodded, gulping, looking at his watch. He turned the page on the book and looked out the window, leaning over the bar of the bunk bed slightly. His book fell to the floor, with a loud thump, as he shook his head softly. The elder boy jumped at the noise and made another aggravated growl, making a large mistake on his sketchbook. He sighed; he didn't have an eraser. Frank flicked through his bag, climbing down from the bed, picking up his book, placing an eraser on the other boy's table, before sitting back on his bed. The older boy didn't meet his gaze, refusing to look up at Frank. He acknowledged him once he was back up on the bed.
"Thank you." He said, softly, for once, before using the eraser gently, to ensure he didn't damage it in any way.
"Keep it." Frank replied, keeping his head down as he continued to read his book.
"I can't," The boy replied, gazing at his work.
"Why?" Frank asked, softly, following each line in the book.
"Because it's yours and Reynolds says I can't take what is someone else's," The older boy said, obviously repeating something which had been instilled into him.
"Think of it as a friendly gesture," Frank smiled softly, still looking at his book, shrugging.
"That's what I said to Reynolds, but she disagreed." Frank laughed softly at the older boy’s strange sense of humour. He contemplated if he should turn around or not, but he decided against it. The older boy threw it back, without saying a word. A white clothed man stuck his head around the door.
"Gerard, Reynolds wants to speak to you." Frank caught it, stuffing it back in his bag. He sighed, putting his book down and turning his attention to the uniformed man. Gerard didn't move from where he was sat.
"I've already spoken to her today." He replied, nonchalantly. The young man sighed.
"Gerard, don't be like that."
"Tell her I'll speak to her tomorrow. I'm going to private meetings, isn't that enough?" Gerard sighed, lifting his head for once and giving a direct glare to the young worker, alight with flames and dashed with venom. Gerard continued staring until the young man nodded and left the room, swallowing nervously. Frank gazed at the other boy for a second, before sitting up, fiddling with his book.
"You're name is Gerard?" He asked softly.
"Yes, and your name is Frank," Gerard replied, avoiding his gaze, dropping it back to his work. Frank nodded.
"I've never met someone named Gerard," He shrugged, gazing at his book, yawning.
"Well, what a lucky fucking duck you are," Gerard responded casually, making small flicks with his pencil. Frank stayed quiet, sighing, pulling out a DC comic, reading.
After another hour of silence, Gerard abruptly turned off the light, staying sat down for a while, before getting up and heading towards the door.
"Turn the light on." Frank spoke softly, not moving.
"It's 9pm. Lights out." Gerard insisted, lingering by the door.
"Fuck." Frank spoke softly, sighing, pulling a small, hand held touch out of his bag.
"I'll be back in the morning." Gerard replied, opening the door. "If you dare tell a soul I'm gone, I will slit your throat, you hear me?"
"You wouldn't touch me." Frank smirked, speaking softly, reading his comic. Gerard turned, still not looking at Frank, gazing sadly at the ground.
"If only that were true. Maybe I wouldn't be in here." He pondered, opening the door fully.
"You can't look at me, you probably wouldn't try physical contact." Frank explained, gazing at the drawings in his comic.
"I haven't looked at you because I don't want to know you." Gerard shrugged, slipping through the door and shutting it quietly behind him. Frank sighed, mumbling to himself, not sleeping.
"Fuck this place." He growled.
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