FicWad

Like I said, it's published but only it's actually day time so yay? Umm anyways if there are any mistakes I apologize for that my beta has not reviewed and probably wont cause I was being an asshole. Anyways I hope you enjoy it. I know my writing in this chapter is a bit too rushed but I want to give you guys the feeling that a lot of time has passed within the story. anyways I hope you enjoy!!!!



The autumn leaves scrape across the sidewalk, surreptitiously shying away from the cold wind. It’s nearing Halloween, my birthday, and the wind has been rising in tunes of jubilant crescendos. Every night the lanky branches of the trees near my bedroom, have tapped their thin, barbed fingers across the surface of my window.

The spindly trees have precipitated their monochrome leaves. Showering the streets with a symphony of reds. The rain did not relent until the streets were coated with the corpses of the leaves. Every footstep that treads the ground has landed with a crisp crunch, echoing the memory of something that use to be alive.

As I walk through the streets, earth serenades me. With a cold, gentle hand the wind caresses my cheeks, whistling in my ears. The leaves brush against my clothes, rustling and cracking beneath my feet. The morning’s sunrise flashes in my eyes. My lips curl into a smile against the sun.

Monday mornings have never felt any better.

Upon nearing the school’s front entrance, I remain content. Unfazed by the atmosphere, I enter the school with my usual apathetic grace.

The air conditioner is still vilely cold, scratching at my skin. And the lights are still a rotten yellow that scorch my eyes. However, upon conjuring a new perspective for the day, everything seems different.

A week has passed and this evening I shall be performing for the school’s annual music festival. Upon my reluctance to find a signer to accompany my guitar Gerard has offered to sing for me. Much to my surprise, yet simultaneous expectation to his character, he has a very talented voice. Despite the fact that it is not the best nor the most beautiful voice I have heard (And that I do confess rather frankly) he makes up for it through his raw presentation of tones.

The capacity at which he can modify his silky, nasal, voice to a lower octave is, in better words, unexpected. I must admit to myself that the way he rolls his tongue, accentuating the constants is…also unexpected. However I cannot pinpoint an actual word that describes the way my stomach flips whenever he does rolls his constants, especially his r’s.
His performance for me was initiated in my room, of course that being said, we were both a bit high. Perhaps, it crossed my mind after we came down, he thought I would have forgotten about his talent if he sang to me while under the influence to evade any sort of embarrassment. But being Gerard, he is not too inclined for humbleness, so one can never tell.

Despite being under the influence of the sacred plant, I can clearly etch every staccato, syllable, allegro and crescendo of every note that passed his lips, into my mind. All the music pouring from his lips engulfed me in pure musical pleasure.
His voice sounded so close and melancholy. So unlike Gerard who is usually so far from my comprehension, always full of his own jokes. I felt like he let me in just a bit, and in return I felt some understanding thread between us, pulling me closer to him.
And that’s when something inside me popped a bit. Perhaps a new idea or stronger feeling. Because I lunged from my bed, grabbing on to his shoulders, his eyes shining with something I am too ineloquent to describe, and hugged him. A very gripping hug that overwhelmed me with a possessive sensation. My hands curled around the nape of his neck, arms pressed hard against his shoulders, feeling every taut muscle that twitched beneath his shirt. With my nose near his hair and my ear next to his, like a dying man, greedy to take his last lunge of air before passing, I inhaled his sweetly scent, and I heard and felt the hitch of his breath.

However, I had to pull back, despite my aching desire to remain at his side, stealing his warmth, feeling his muscles, synchronizing our breathing. Because if I held to on too long, something else would have happened, and that would have been too weird, for I am not mature enough to face anything beyond the realms of my normalcies.
So I pulled back, my hands still gripping on to his shoulders. We stared into each other, two pairs of eyes reflecting one another in a dance of understanding. The minutes passed and each second went uncalculated by me, for my mind had frozen in activity. Only it was not frozen, more like it had taken a slumber under the warmth coming from his eyes.
And then the high came down. And as if we have both woken from the dead, we lurched backwards, I coughing into my hands in order to prevent him from seeing the heating in my cheeks, and him giggling with something keen to embarrassment.
Even now, sitting in this cold, dull, English classroom, I can feel my cheeks return to the burning of that day in my room.

After school, Gerard and I walked towards my home in order to rehearse for our performance. We had both agreed to compose our own song in an act of rebellion against my insufferable teacher. The song consists of three bridges, two crescendos, four main riffs –each pair different- and two guitar solos. I, very much hating the song I was supposed to perform, have whole heartedly put my devotion into creating, perhaps the most offensive material one can make. Of course, this doesn’t necessarily mean it consists of curse words, because it doesn’t, I once heard a man say that the worst vulgarity is found within the common words we speak, hidden within the structure of our vocabulary, however I do not recall who that man was.

Ray has finally met the elusive Gerard –as he so likes to title him- and has in fact helped us compose the song. Much to my gratification, his enthusiasm over Gerard’s voice, and Gerard himself, has eradicated the suspicion he once harbored for him.
As we sit on my bed rehearsing, Gerard continues to glance at me. My hands begin to perspire and my fingers are starting to slip from the chords. He looks worriedly at me biting his lip, as I struggle with my solo. The g string on my guitar, gives a horrendous, metallic shrill after my pick had scraped it the wrong way. The clang resonates and I quit playing, with a huff of frustration I put my guitar on my bed. I fling myself backwards, the bed springs squeaking. I comb my hair back in exasperation, droplets of sweat clinging to my soaked hands.

Gerard continues to stare, for once looking out of his depth. His bushy eyebrows furrow, and his bottom lip begins reddening beneath the force of his sharp teeth. Finally, as if experiencing an epiphany, his head jolts. He pulls something out of his jacket and hands me a pink mushy apple. This has been apple number 52, not that I’ve been keeping an actual record.
His pale hand brushes over my shoulder, then begins to travel towards my head. Gerard leans over my face, his fingers tangling with the tendrils of my hair.

“I know you’re nervous,” He starts, biting his lip, “I really didn’t see you as the timid type, shying away from the limelight, but now I see the appeal. It’s okay though. I’ve been nervous of many things. However the stage has never made me anxious.” His hand continues to play with my hair, we gaze into each other’s eyes, I, clutching the apple he gave me.

“Then what have you shied away from?” I ask, my voice soft, awed. He bites his lip, brows furrowing in discomfort, “Something, I’m not too comfortable to talk about. Something…. Not good.” I nod my head, not expecting anything further. “But,” He continues, “Right now I’m shying away from giving you any answers. So that’s something right?” He smiles, but his smile is a bit diluted. My lips mirror his.

“I’ll get over it, once I’m the stage the adrenalin will kick in, make everything better.” I state. I slowly get up, allowing him to back away and take a bite out of the apple. Never in my life have I ever consumed as many apples as I have been being around Gerard.

“It’s called a beauty of bath apple by the way.” He states.

“It’s hardly beautiful, what a strange name.” I say, mostly talking to myself. “Anyways, let’s continue rehearsing.”

I pick up my guitar and we begin to perform for each other.

Upon the stage, Gerard and I greeted the people. We played our song, and astounded all of them.

Like I said, the adrenalin did make everything better. I smiled at the sea of strangers, I glanced at Gerard and we shared grins. I danced with my guitar, with Gerard. It was as if all the nervous energy that I had possessed before had never inhabited my state of being. I felt alive, in a weird sense as if I were a celestial being reigning gracefully over a world of adoring mortals. I felt like flying, like for once I belonged. I felt as if my mind had finally fled from the enslavement of my body. An astral projection floating over the crowd, detached, lucid and living.

But in the detachment, a strange chill froze my flying for a few seconds that in my lucid state felt like hours. Because I saw her, that girl from that party, smiling admiringly at Gerard. Her body poised patiently amongst the people, as if waiting.

But that moment only lasted a second, as the ending of our song was erupted by the cheers of the people. We smiled at them, bidding farewells and leaving the stage.

Backstage I was greeted by a hug from my best friend his enthusiasm a bit too far due to the chill that lingered on my spine. I smiled faintly at him. A bit dazed, it took me a while to alert myself to what happened afterwards.

Because then Gerard hugged me, and said into my ear, “I have to go somewhere really quick, sorry. Don’t forget I’m taking you out on your birthday Frankie boy.” And in a rush, he dashed over to the exit.

Afterwards, still feeling a bit numb, a cacophony of yells ascended my way.
“FRANK IERO!!!” Oh, it was my name. I sobered up upon looking at the figure stomping towards my left. It was Mr. Perez, and he looked an awful lot like Satan.

“YOU,” He fumed, “You insolent little child how dare you!!! How dare you ruin my festival with your wretched music!!!!I should have never---“His voice faded out from my ears, I blocked him, I glanced over at Ray and by the sight of his grimace I can tell that Satan was saying very terrible things.

I didn’t hear the rest of what he said, why should I? All useless, tripe. Besides I had other things on my mind. Did Gerard see her? Is he with her right now? Is that why he left in a rush? These stream of questions flooded my mind.

I was abruptly snapped from my thoughts. “Strike two Frank Iero!!!” Mr. Perez finished with an air of finality and stomped off. But his words remained. They struck me like a whip, harsh and fast, the sound of the strike echoing, making me jump out from my hazed mind.

Well, fuck. An emptiness pooled within my stomach. I really need to get high now.



Hoped you guys liked it, I know kinda rushed but I had to. ANYWAYS RATE AND REVIEW PLEASE!!!