Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Just GO for it, Already!

Just GO for it, Already!

by GerardWayisSex 5 reviews

Gerard and is friend are in highschool. Look at the new kid. Hey, he's kind of hot. Sexiness ensues. [Frerard]

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Romance - Warnings: [?] - Published: 2007-12-03 - Updated: 2007-12-04 - 2636 words

The following is a Frerard story with some humor, some romance, and some other random stuff. I have inserted myself into the alternate dimension of My-Chem-Doesn't-Exist-And-They're-Just-Weird-Characters in which Gerard and Frank are SOMEHOW the same age. I happen to be one of the friends. Don't worry people, my character doesn't like, fall in love with the other characters. I hate it when fangirls do that. It's retarded. They will never love you. Never. Plus, I think that in the end I would wanna be friends with these guys. BECAUSE I OWN LIKE THAT. Not really. I really suck. Anyway, read on. And give it a chance; I know it sounds weird...Oh, and another thing. Yes, that is how I actually talk. I speak very dramatically. If this had actually happened, that’s probably what I would have said. Read on. It’ll make sense.

Finch gave a low whistle and muttered something that sounded a lot like, "Daaaaammn, son..." under her breath. She poked her tongue out of the side of her mouth and looked past Gerard, who was sitting in front of her. Her friend gave her a confused look before turning his head around and letting out a confused, "What?" He looked around the cafeteria and saw nothing but the usual faces of students.

"I don't see anything," he said in his usual cautious, quiet voice. Finch placed her elbow on the table and leaned her chin on her hand. With her free hand she lazily pointed past Gerard.


Gerard looked around again. After a moment she saw his back stiffen, crisp wrinkles in the back of his black T-shirt stiff and prominent. She heard him let out a small, breathy, "Oh..." as he saw what she was pointing at.

There was a boy standing in the entryway to the cafeteria. His black schoolbag was slung over one shoulder, several dense-looking books tucked under his left (meaning Gerard and Finch's right) arm. He was looking down at a small piece of paper. The boy looked up and looked around the room with confusion and awkwardness. Finch started to chip off her nailpolish with her teeth.

"He's hot," She said bluntly. "And he looks confused. He's probably new."

"Yeah," replied Gerard. He hadn't turned around or taken his eyes off the student. "I think he's..." He swallowed quietly. “…C-New. Yeah, he’s probably new.”

He turned around to see a smirk slowly making its way across Finch’s face. It broke her usual statue-esque stoicism like a crevice forming in solid earth. She gave a low giggle, one that didn’t require her to break the smirk.

“What were you about to say?” She asked slyly. “Because as far as I know, cnew isn’t a word.” Gerard’s cheeks flushed a pale pink on his ivory skin. In contrast with his deep ebony hair, he looked like a doll.

“Nothing,” he replied. He turned around again to find the new student asking a very tall, muscular stereotype of a jock something. Gerard watched as the jock smirked, scoffed and turned away, rejoining his friend’s conversation. He could almost hear the thin, metallic laughter of cruelty. Finch gave an almost seductive sounding laugh.

“You think he’s cute, right?”

Gerard was quiet. His silence said more than actual words did.

Of course he thought the boy was cute. Fuck, Gerard thought he was smoking hot. The epitome of everything punk, rebellious and sexy. The student was oddly short, and even at the distance he was at Gerard could tell he measured in less than himself…and he was only five-seven. With two-toned hair (the part that hung delicately in front of his eyes was a deep, dyed black while the other was a bright yellow), fingerless gloved hands and black, tight jeans, the boy was definitely trying to say something about himself. What that was, Gerard was not quite sure, but he was guessing it had something to do with authority or sexuality.

“Let’s go bring him over here before someone else sees him and snatches him up,” Finch interjected suddenly, permeating her friend’s observations. Gerard turned around sharply.

“No!” He protested. “He’ll find someone else to sit with…we can sit with him tomorrow.” Finch looked impatient.

”Why,” she whined impatiently. “Look, nervous as you may be, I want to be his friend. If we don’t get him first, one of the Scenie Kids will snatch him in their disgusting little claws, dye his hair…/again/…and turn him into one of their clones.” Gerard opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off. “And if that doesn’t happen, he’ll be polluted by preppy little slut-faces who think he’s /oh-so sexy/. He’s new. The kids will flock to him like sharks to fresh blood.” She stood up and started to leave the table. “Let’s go get us some new kid.”

Gerard scrambled up from the table, leaving his books and his bag. He stammered out, “Hey, hold on! Don’t!” to her, but Finch was stubborn. She didn’t always get what she wanted but, God damn it, she was going to go down swinging. And right now she wanted the new kid, especially since her best friend was taking a liking to him. It was like killing two birds with one stone, really. Gerard was starring at the ground as they approached the boy, who was now standing with his back against the wall, looking around nervously for an empty table. If he had wanted to, he could have sat down with the self-proclaimed “Scene Kids” with their multi-colored hair who conformed to non-conform together. Sitting with the pretty, sparkly cheerleaders and their handsome boyfriends was out of the question. He didn’t seem to want to disturb the kids sitting in their own little group of friends and there wasn’t really an empty table. The discomfort radiated off of his body. Finch leaned against the wall next to him while his head was turned the other direction. He jumped, startled, when she suddenly tapped him on the shoulder and let out a loud, “Hey, there.”

He turned to her and gave a weak smile. “Hey.” Gerard didn’t lean against the wall. He stood adjacent to Finch with his hands in his pockets and alternated between starring at her and starring at the ground.

“Are you new here?” She asked. Finch immediately realized that she was sounding fake, using a sweetness to lure him in like using a bone to lure in a dog. She hoped he didn’t think badly of her already. The boy nodded and said he was. “You can sit with us if you like. Usually it’s just me and Gerard.” She motioned with her shoulder to her friend, who gave a quiet, “Hey.”

The boy smiled again and said, “Cool.”

Gerard tried not to stare, but he was even better looking close up. A self-consciousness that he hadn’t felt is what seemed like forever welled up inside his stomach. The boy was indeed short, probably only five-three or five-four with a strong jaw but boyish features and sleepy eyes. Gerard could see that his arms were lean but toned under the long-sleeved shirt he was wearing. There were tattoos on his fingers- letters of some sort, but he couldn’t read what they said. The two of them walked behind Finch, who lead the way to their table. They both were staring at the back of her head, watching her half pulled-back brown hair bounce as she walked. She sat down at a table in the very back corner of the room. No one else was sitting with them.

“We usually sit here every day,” she explained, leaning her arms on the table. When the two boys sat down (Gerard nervously sitting across from Finch and beside the new student), she held out her hand for the boy to shake. “I’m Finch.” The boy took her hand, smiled and gently shook.

“I’m Frank,” he said. Finch laughed almost to herself.

“Sweetness,” she giggled. “Two ‘Fs’ and a ‘G’.” She looked over at Gerard who had said nothing. “Again, this is Gerard, as he /doesn’t seem to want to introduce himself./” Gerard looked nervously over at Frank.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” he muttered. He held out his hand and Frank shook it. When he released his grip he looked back to Finch.

“Is that your real name?” he asked. “That’s pretty cool.” Everyone always asked that. It must have been some law she wasn’t informed about, but apparently it was in affect and everyone felt the need to follow it strictly.

“No,” she replied. “But nobody calls me by my real name…except my parents.” She winced.

“Well, what is it?”

She shook her head and gave a small laugh. “You don’t wanna know.” Gerard changed the subject suddenly.

“Where’d you move from?” He asked. For some reason, he spoke delicately, as if the question might be offensive. Finch watched as Gerard became immersed in Frank’s every word. She listened half-heartedly, not because she wasn’t interested (she actually was- this kid had a lot to say), but because watching Gerard’s golden-brown eyes light up when Frank would look at him was simply too cute for her female heart to handle. She tuned in just often enough to know that Frank had just come back from boarding school (she wondered how you went from the properness and stoicism of boarding school to the grimy public schools of New Jersey), he was an only child, loved the Misfits (she could almost feel Gerard’s heart leap, as they now shared something in common), had tattoos on his fingers that said Halloween (his birthday), and his last name had something to do with eyes and ears. After that, her mind drifted away and melted into a day-dreamy nothingness as it always did.

Frank stared at her for a minute. Her hazel eyes had glazed over.

“Is she okay?” he asked cautiously. Gerard waved his hand in front of her face. No response.

“Yeah, she’s fine,” he responded. “You were talking longer than a few minutes so she sort of…zoned out. But I was listening so…” He mentally slapped himself. Now he sounded eager. Too eager. Frank laughed. To Gerard, it sounded like an angel singing.

“I’ve been talking for like, fifteen minutes straight. What about you?”

Gerard screamed inside his head. He suddenly couldn’t remember anything about himself. It was as though everything had been wiped blank. Where did he live? How old was he? What were his interests? Fuck, what was his God damn name? He was sure this kind of thing only happened in movies and books and forgetting things about yourself was nearly impossible in the real world. He stumbled over his words for a moment, finding it unbelievably hard to talk and think at the same time before something random spilled out.

“I-I, uh…um…have a…brother…who goes here…too.” He thought he sounded so stupid. He just wanted to kick himself until he bled. He couldn’t even string one whole fucking sentence together. It was pathetic. It was beyond pathetic. There was no word in the English language-or any language, for that matter-for how pathetic and stupid he was being at that moment. Well, if he was being like that, Frank didn’t seem to notice.

“Really?” he asked. He actually seemed…/interested./ “What grade’s he in?”

Gerard ran a hand through his shaggy hair. “Yours I think. You’re a freshman, right?” Frank chuckled and shook his head.

“No, man,” he replied. “I’m a junior.” Gerard felt his heart nearly explode within his chest. The organ seemed to swell with humiliation and threaten to burst. He started to apologize frantically, muttering unhelpful things like, “Well, it’s because you’re so short- I mean, no, you just looked kinda young…Oh, shit, sorry, I mean…” Frank laughed as he shook his head.

“Dude, it’s okay,” he replied. “I get that all the time. I’m short. Some of the teachers thought I was in the wrong school. They told me the middle school was down the street.” Gerard giggled into his hand, the sound dry and androgynous: not unlike that of a small boy’s. Gerard stopped laughing and bit down gently on his lip. In doing so, he realized that Frank’s lip was pierced, a small metal ring gleaming on the very side of his bottom lip. Frank looked at him for a moment with large, sleepy eyes. He opened his mouth as though he was going to say something. Gerard held a breath inside his chest.

The bell screamed. Frank closed his mouth and scooped his books up in his arms. Gerard tried to smile, but found it difficult.

“Oh, /fuck!/” cried Finch, jumping up from her seat at the table. In the silence, her presence was almost completely forgotten. “Dude, Gee-Gee, what’d I miss?! Sorry I sorta dazed out, Frankie…” She gave a sheepish smile, the movement of her mouth accentuating the pink of her cheeks. Frank looked at Gerard.

“/Gee-Gee?/” he asked. Gerard shrugged and explained that, in a dyslexic moment while Finch was finding an adjective to describe Gerard’s current hair, she thought that “Druggy” and “Gerard” started with the same letter.

“Yeah, it’s like, /druggy hair, y’know? …Hey…/druggy…Gerard…/GEE-GEE!...Wait…/

Frank stared at him for a moment. Gerard shrugged again.

“At least yours makes sense…what class do you have next?” He waited as Frank fumbled with his schedule. Finch scurried up behind him to get a look at the paper. She burst out laughing.

“Holy crap, you and I are in Biology with the pedophile together,” she said through giggle. Gerard groaned.

“Jesus, I hate him,” he said as they started to walk out of the cafeteria, pushing past the crowd of students.

“Who?” Frank asked. They explained that the Biology teacher he and Finch would be sharing for the rest of the year had a strange taste in girls…their age. Frank suddenly stopped and cursed under his breath.

“I forgot my fucking book. I have to go to my locker.”

“We’ll go with you…if you want…” Gerard offered delicately. Frank shook his head.

“Nah, I know where it is. I don’t wanna make you guys late. I’ll find everything okay.” He turned around and fought against the current of students down to where the lockers were. Gerard sighed and looked despondently at the ground as they walked.

“He hates me,” he muttered. “You see how fast he got away from me?”

Finch groaned and rolled her eyes.

“Jesus H., Gerard,” she scolded. “He’s totally into you.” Gerard did a sort of twitch.

“What the hell do you mean? He’s straight as a fucking stick.” Finch scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“The whole time you thought I wasn’t listening, my Gay-dar was going off. Or, at least, my Bi-dar. Ask him out or something.”

“Are you fucking /crazy?!/” he sputtered. “I can’t do that! Dude…I’d be dead. Worse than dead. I’d be ripped into little pieces.” Finch rolled her eyes and stopped in the hall where they were about the part ways to head to their respective classes.

“Jesus Christ!” She cried. “Sometimes you have to just…do it! Just fucking go for it, dude!”

And with a weird little laugh she bounded off in the opposite direction, leaving her friend standing alone, confused, and with one hell of a look on his face.
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