Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Just GO for it, Already!
"We'll be your anti-venom."
4 reviewsThose damn 'Scene Kids'. Always screwing things up. Good thing Finch saved Frankie...did she?
1Funny
Chapter four. Disclaimer: I do not hate ‘Scene’ kids...some of the time. I hate the kids in my school who call themselves ‘scene’. Oh, and some of these characters are based on real people, so if you recognize yourself or someone you know…well, it’s your fault for being a dick. So get over it. Another thing, there are several unintended puns in this chapter. I swear, I didn’t mean for them to come out that way. Just. Deal with it. Word.
Well, see now, this day hadn’t been bad enough. It really hadn’t. The cherry on top of nearly having a wet dream in study hall, losing hope in almost everything he held dear, and almost making his best (and only) friend cry was watching as all his hopes of happiness were raped from him. He wanted to scream, to jump out of his seat and pull Frank away from those hypocritical bastards who were going to pollute and corrupt and ruin his beautiful little angel. He wanted to rip out the girl with enormous black hair’s snakebites and shove them down her poisonous, ugly throat. He wanted to take the nearest sharp object (he didn’t care what it was- it could be a fucking pen for all he cared- as long as it could pierce flesh with enough force) and jab it into the face of the boy who looked more like a girl with a flat chest.
But mostly he wanted to cry. He forced himself to turn around, to look away, and bit his lip as tears threatened to burst through his eyes. Gerard had never been prone to crying exactly, but his emotions were vicious and unforgiving. And right now they were building up behind his eyes, clogging his throat like grime in a pipe.
Finch looked from the group of kids to her friend. Gerard could almost see the protective instinct click on like a switch inside her head. She stood up, the gesture sharp and angry.
“Wait here,” she growled, her teeth clenched, her eyes narrowed. Gerard flinched as he saw where she was heading.
“W-what are you doing?!” he cried. “No-don’t! Finch, stop!/” But she was already walking- thundering, really- towards the pack of kids and Frank, and like /hell if he was going over there. He felt his insides shatter like glass. He heart pounded in his chest, thudding against his ribcage so forcefully that he thought the organ would burst its way through its bone prison and land on the table, still throbbing and pulsing and bleeding. It was obvious Finch was trying to help, but this was going to make things /worse/. He felt a spasm of terror when Finch broke throat the tightly-knit group and began speaking in what he could only imagine was an angry, authoritative tone. With a sort of fearful twitch, he practically slammed his head on the table in order to avert his eyes. He placed his arms on the table and leaned his forehead on them as they were much softer and more comfortable than the table’s hard material. He was going to die. There was no doubt about it. But of mortification or a broken heart, he wasn’t sure.
---
Finch pushed her way past a boy with a septum piercing and a girl in green spandex pants. She put her hand on Frank’s shoulder and smiled broadly. She wasn’t sure what to make of his expression. It was somewhere between surprise, relief, and confusion.
“Well, hey there, Frankie!” she cried loudly, exaggerating happiness. She stood beside him and flashed teeth straightened by three and a half years of braces. She began speaking in her quick, spastic voice. “You’re going to sit with me and Gerard, right? You don’t want to sit with these…” she looked around the group and winced slightly. “…/people/, right> You’re all fine people, let me tell you! But I think it would be in Frankie’s best interest to sit with some fine folk like me and Gee!” Her words came out as one long sentence. He gave Frank’s shoulder a small squeeze as if to signal him of something. He wasn’t quite sure what it meant.
“Um, we were in the middle of talking to him” retorted on girl. Finch twitched with irritation as she saw who spoke.
Every group has a leader. Fuck, even anarchists have leaders (although that certainly does destroy the point). The queen of the Scene Kids happened to be this chick. Her hair was bleached white and puffed up near her scalp, long extensions flowing in a straight line down her back. It was a traditional Scene Girl haircut, other than the androgynous puff of multi-colored hair some of the other girls were wearing. Finch thought they all looked like rat’s nests. The girl had black eyeliner so thickly applied it gave her a raccoon-ish appearance. There was a piercing just above the right side of her upper lip- a Monroe or something.
Her name was Emmie. Actually, it was Meghan, nut nobody called her that. Finch would have criticized that as well, but considering her own circumstances, decided against it. The girl smacked her gum loudly and played with her Hello Kitty necklace.
“Well…” Finch began slowly, rolling her eyes as she let the word roll of her tongue. “…Like I said, Frankie’s sitting with us today.”
“What the /fuck!/” Emmie exclaimed. She clutched Frank’s other arm. With the two of them holding onto the boy’s arm, it looked like one human battle of tug-of-war had begun.
“You’ve been hanging with him all week!” The Scene Girl protested.
“Oh, so you’re keeping tabs now?” Finch asked sarcastically. “I didn’t realize he was anyone’s property.”
“Would you mind letting me go?” Frank interjected quietly. “You guys are pulling my arms off.” The two girls glared daggers at one another. Whether they heard Frank or not, it was impossible to tell. Finch suddenly huffed and used her free hand to point sharply behind her. It was where Gerard was sitting, hi head down.
“You know what?!” she cried loudly. At this point it didn’t matter who heard or saw, and she apparently could give a rat’s ass if half the cafeteria was starring at them (which they were). “There is a very sad boy over there and-“ She prepared to say something outrageously dorky and confusing. “-/this/ doctor’s prescribing Frankie!” She tugged Frank away from Emmie (who was pulled foreword and nearly tripped over her leopard-print slip-ons) and walked him away from the pack of kids.
“You bitch!/” Emmie called, clenching her fists and steadying herself. “Get /back here!”
Finch couldn’t resist. “Owned, bitch! /Owned!/” She felt very satisfied indeed. She let go of Frank’s arm once they were away from the group.
“That was a fucking /battle/, man,” she breathed.
“What the hell just happened?!/” Frank asked, slightly breathless. “Please, please, /never do that again…and why is Gerard upset?” He looked over to the table. Gerard hadn’t moved.
“To answer your first question, the Scenie Kids were trying to corrupt your innocence. They’re poison. I suggest you stick with us. We’ll be your anti-venom.
“But why are they-?”
“This is not the time for questions, Frankie-san!” Her pseudo-seriousness caused Frank to fight back a laugh. “Anyway, I’ll answer your second question when you’re older.”
“When’s your birthday?” he asked.
“March.”
“October. I’m older.”
“/Regardless!/” she continued loudly. “If all goes well, I promise I’ll tell you.”
“If what goes-?”
“There’s no time for this! We have a very sad boy to cheer up! Come! /Let us go!/”
Frank decided at that moment that this was the most interesting school he’d ever been in.
----
Gerard felt a tap on the back of his head. Quite frankly, he was sick of things touching his head. They only lead to trouble. This tapping was most likely caused by Finch. She would be there telling him that it’s all right, that things were going to get better. The same things were always repeated when his heart was broken. This wasn’t the first time. And it seemed like each time it hurt a little less, the expectation of the feelings being more than one-sided growing smaller and smaller. But not now. It hurt more than usual now, since there had been that tiny flicker of hope burning inside his chest. He shifted slightly, not lifting his head from his arms.
“/Go away…/” he muttered, hoping his voice wasn’t shaking too much and hoping he didn’t hurt Finch’s feelings…again. He felt his head being tapped on again. This time he sat up. “/What?/ I-“. Stopped.
“I just got my arms half ripped off,” Frank said. He sat down next to Gerard. “I’m not going anywhere.” Gerard didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or adjust his hair so it looked like he hadn’t fixed it at all or make sure there weren’t any tears on his eyelashes or any combination of the few. Actually, he wanted to do all of them at once. He silently cursed his only two arms. Frank leaned his elbow on the able and rested his chin on his gloved hand. His eyes looked large and sympathetic.
“So, what’s up, man?” he asked. “What happened?” Gerard swallowed. To him, Frank looked like an angel, despite the fact that he was just sitting there, doing nothing but look up at him.
“Um, it’s not important,” he replied. He glanced at Finch out of the corner of his eye. He wanted to hug her. Frank raised his eyebrows as if he didn’t believe him.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he relied through a smile. “I think I’m okay now.”
---
Emmie took a drag on her cigarette and tapped the ash off the end. She didn’t give a damn that she was in the cafeteria. Her sharp eyes dared any form authority to approach her. She exhaled, a thin stream of smoke flowing from her lips. Her back was against the wall.
“Who the /fuck/,” she hissed. “Does that bitch think she /is?/” She watched the group of three at their table. The boy with dark hair was sitting up straight again. The three were laughing at something. “Doesn’t she know…AUGH!” She threw her cigarette on the ground and stomped on it.
“Didn’t you take her boyfriend two years ago?” said the girl with snakebites. “And I heard that her friend is a fag and had a crush on that dude you were dating last year. Apparently he was like, really depressed about it and tried to slit his wrists or something.” Emmie folded her arms over her chest. She watched the group in silence for a moment. She opened her mouth to spew something nasty…then stopped.
Because the boy with long, dark hair was smiling. It was so faint…she almost didn’t see it. But it happened exactly after Frank’s hand grazed his. The dark haired boy’s eyes were dreamy. Emmie felt a smile slithering onto her face.
“Those fuckers are gonna get it.”
Well, see now, this day hadn’t been bad enough. It really hadn’t. The cherry on top of nearly having a wet dream in study hall, losing hope in almost everything he held dear, and almost making his best (and only) friend cry was watching as all his hopes of happiness were raped from him. He wanted to scream, to jump out of his seat and pull Frank away from those hypocritical bastards who were going to pollute and corrupt and ruin his beautiful little angel. He wanted to rip out the girl with enormous black hair’s snakebites and shove them down her poisonous, ugly throat. He wanted to take the nearest sharp object (he didn’t care what it was- it could be a fucking pen for all he cared- as long as it could pierce flesh with enough force) and jab it into the face of the boy who looked more like a girl with a flat chest.
But mostly he wanted to cry. He forced himself to turn around, to look away, and bit his lip as tears threatened to burst through his eyes. Gerard had never been prone to crying exactly, but his emotions were vicious and unforgiving. And right now they were building up behind his eyes, clogging his throat like grime in a pipe.
Finch looked from the group of kids to her friend. Gerard could almost see the protective instinct click on like a switch inside her head. She stood up, the gesture sharp and angry.
“Wait here,” she growled, her teeth clenched, her eyes narrowed. Gerard flinched as he saw where she was heading.
“W-what are you doing?!” he cried. “No-don’t! Finch, stop!/” But she was already walking- thundering, really- towards the pack of kids and Frank, and like /hell if he was going over there. He felt his insides shatter like glass. He heart pounded in his chest, thudding against his ribcage so forcefully that he thought the organ would burst its way through its bone prison and land on the table, still throbbing and pulsing and bleeding. It was obvious Finch was trying to help, but this was going to make things /worse/. He felt a spasm of terror when Finch broke throat the tightly-knit group and began speaking in what he could only imagine was an angry, authoritative tone. With a sort of fearful twitch, he practically slammed his head on the table in order to avert his eyes. He placed his arms on the table and leaned his forehead on them as they were much softer and more comfortable than the table’s hard material. He was going to die. There was no doubt about it. But of mortification or a broken heart, he wasn’t sure.
---
Finch pushed her way past a boy with a septum piercing and a girl in green spandex pants. She put her hand on Frank’s shoulder and smiled broadly. She wasn’t sure what to make of his expression. It was somewhere between surprise, relief, and confusion.
“Well, hey there, Frankie!” she cried loudly, exaggerating happiness. She stood beside him and flashed teeth straightened by three and a half years of braces. She began speaking in her quick, spastic voice. “You’re going to sit with me and Gerard, right? You don’t want to sit with these…” she looked around the group and winced slightly. “…/people/, right> You’re all fine people, let me tell you! But I think it would be in Frankie’s best interest to sit with some fine folk like me and Gee!” Her words came out as one long sentence. He gave Frank’s shoulder a small squeeze as if to signal him of something. He wasn’t quite sure what it meant.
“Um, we were in the middle of talking to him” retorted on girl. Finch twitched with irritation as she saw who spoke.
Every group has a leader. Fuck, even anarchists have leaders (although that certainly does destroy the point). The queen of the Scene Kids happened to be this chick. Her hair was bleached white and puffed up near her scalp, long extensions flowing in a straight line down her back. It was a traditional Scene Girl haircut, other than the androgynous puff of multi-colored hair some of the other girls were wearing. Finch thought they all looked like rat’s nests. The girl had black eyeliner so thickly applied it gave her a raccoon-ish appearance. There was a piercing just above the right side of her upper lip- a Monroe or something.
Her name was Emmie. Actually, it was Meghan, nut nobody called her that. Finch would have criticized that as well, but considering her own circumstances, decided against it. The girl smacked her gum loudly and played with her Hello Kitty necklace.
“Well…” Finch began slowly, rolling her eyes as she let the word roll of her tongue. “…Like I said, Frankie’s sitting with us today.”
“What the /fuck!/” Emmie exclaimed. She clutched Frank’s other arm. With the two of them holding onto the boy’s arm, it looked like one human battle of tug-of-war had begun.
“You’ve been hanging with him all week!” The Scene Girl protested.
“Oh, so you’re keeping tabs now?” Finch asked sarcastically. “I didn’t realize he was anyone’s property.”
“Would you mind letting me go?” Frank interjected quietly. “You guys are pulling my arms off.” The two girls glared daggers at one another. Whether they heard Frank or not, it was impossible to tell. Finch suddenly huffed and used her free hand to point sharply behind her. It was where Gerard was sitting, hi head down.
“You know what?!” she cried loudly. At this point it didn’t matter who heard or saw, and she apparently could give a rat’s ass if half the cafeteria was starring at them (which they were). “There is a very sad boy over there and-“ She prepared to say something outrageously dorky and confusing. “-/this/ doctor’s prescribing Frankie!” She tugged Frank away from Emmie (who was pulled foreword and nearly tripped over her leopard-print slip-ons) and walked him away from the pack of kids.
“You bitch!/” Emmie called, clenching her fists and steadying herself. “Get /back here!”
Finch couldn’t resist. “Owned, bitch! /Owned!/” She felt very satisfied indeed. She let go of Frank’s arm once they were away from the group.
“That was a fucking /battle/, man,” she breathed.
“What the hell just happened?!/” Frank asked, slightly breathless. “Please, please, /never do that again…and why is Gerard upset?” He looked over to the table. Gerard hadn’t moved.
“To answer your first question, the Scenie Kids were trying to corrupt your innocence. They’re poison. I suggest you stick with us. We’ll be your anti-venom.
“But why are they-?”
“This is not the time for questions, Frankie-san!” Her pseudo-seriousness caused Frank to fight back a laugh. “Anyway, I’ll answer your second question when you’re older.”
“When’s your birthday?” he asked.
“March.”
“October. I’m older.”
“/Regardless!/” she continued loudly. “If all goes well, I promise I’ll tell you.”
“If what goes-?”
“There’s no time for this! We have a very sad boy to cheer up! Come! /Let us go!/”
Frank decided at that moment that this was the most interesting school he’d ever been in.
----
Gerard felt a tap on the back of his head. Quite frankly, he was sick of things touching his head. They only lead to trouble. This tapping was most likely caused by Finch. She would be there telling him that it’s all right, that things were going to get better. The same things were always repeated when his heart was broken. This wasn’t the first time. And it seemed like each time it hurt a little less, the expectation of the feelings being more than one-sided growing smaller and smaller. But not now. It hurt more than usual now, since there had been that tiny flicker of hope burning inside his chest. He shifted slightly, not lifting his head from his arms.
“/Go away…/” he muttered, hoping his voice wasn’t shaking too much and hoping he didn’t hurt Finch’s feelings…again. He felt his head being tapped on again. This time he sat up. “/What?/ I-“. Stopped.
“I just got my arms half ripped off,” Frank said. He sat down next to Gerard. “I’m not going anywhere.” Gerard didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or adjust his hair so it looked like he hadn’t fixed it at all or make sure there weren’t any tears on his eyelashes or any combination of the few. Actually, he wanted to do all of them at once. He silently cursed his only two arms. Frank leaned his elbow on the able and rested his chin on his gloved hand. His eyes looked large and sympathetic.
“So, what’s up, man?” he asked. “What happened?” Gerard swallowed. To him, Frank looked like an angel, despite the fact that he was just sitting there, doing nothing but look up at him.
“Um, it’s not important,” he replied. He glanced at Finch out of the corner of his eye. He wanted to hug her. Frank raised his eyebrows as if he didn’t believe him.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he relied through a smile. “I think I’m okay now.”
---
Emmie took a drag on her cigarette and tapped the ash off the end. She didn’t give a damn that she was in the cafeteria. Her sharp eyes dared any form authority to approach her. She exhaled, a thin stream of smoke flowing from her lips. Her back was against the wall.
“Who the /fuck/,” she hissed. “Does that bitch think she /is?/” She watched the group of three at their table. The boy with dark hair was sitting up straight again. The three were laughing at something. “Doesn’t she know…AUGH!” She threw her cigarette on the ground and stomped on it.
“Didn’t you take her boyfriend two years ago?” said the girl with snakebites. “And I heard that her friend is a fag and had a crush on that dude you were dating last year. Apparently he was like, really depressed about it and tried to slit his wrists or something.” Emmie folded her arms over her chest. She watched the group in silence for a moment. She opened her mouth to spew something nasty…then stopped.
Because the boy with long, dark hair was smiling. It was so faint…she almost didn’t see it. But it happened exactly after Frank’s hand grazed his. The dark haired boy’s eyes were dreamy. Emmie felt a smile slithering onto her face.
“Those fuckers are gonna get it.”
Sign up to rate and review this story