FicWad

Anxious, I sat in the waiting room. My parents had urged me to take this job. I was interviewing for the local newspaper's comic artist. The ad for the job was shown in the paper I had read about a week ago. Drawing was one of my passions. Being paid for it would be amazing. I was asked to bring a portfolio of some of my "best" work. No matter what anyone else told me, I always managed to think it was shit. The ad had given no limitations. They only asked for originality and creativity.I had begun to perspire and I was sure my temperature had risen a few degrees. I swallowed my nerves.God, it's hot in here. The suit and tie I wore felt like a stuffy straightjacket. I wasn't used to them. I was only sixteen, and I hardly ever wore them except to funerals. I actually wanted this job somewhat and I wanted to be taken seriously. I looked around the room. It was much too quiet. You could cut this kind of silence with a knife. Finally, the secretary said my name.

"Mr.Way?" Her voice was high pitched and slightly annoying.
"Yes?"
"Mr. Banks will see you now. Come with me.”
I nodded in reply and followed her through the door into the busy workroom. We stopped when we reached his office. She opened the door for me and led me in.
“Mr.Banks. This is Mr. Way.”
“Nice to meet you, kid.” I shook his hand. I felt like Peter Parker talking to the editor of The Daily Bugle. He sure as hell looked like him.
“Likewise,sir.” I managed to force a smile.
“Debbie, you may leave.” The secretary took her cue and left us.
“So, kid, you’re first name is Gerard?”
“Yes, sir. Here’s my resume and portfolio.” I handed him a bundle held by a file folder. He opened it and took a few minutes to look it over. He seemed shocked when he began to look at my drawings.
“Something wrong, Mr. Banks?”
“No, no. It’s just. Damn, kid.”
“Damn, what, sir?”
“You’re good. These drawings and sketches are phenomenal. How is it that you’re only sixteen?” His compliments gave me confidence.
“Thank you, Mr. Banks.”
“How bout your schedule? Do you need to have flexible hours?”
“I only have school. The only thing I would request is weekends off, sir.”
“Sounds reasonable. I got one other question for you.”
“Yes, Mr.Banks?”
“When can you start?”
“Anytime.” My head was swimming with happiness and optimism. That wasn’t an everyday thing for me.
“How bout tomorrow, after school?”
“Of course! Thank you so much, sir!”
“Start thinking about what you want to do for your first comic strip for next week’s paper. We’ll chat about it tomorrow. Be here at 4:00 p.m. sharp. Got it Way?”
“Yes, Mr.Banks.”
“Alright. Well I have to get to a meeting. You scat. I’ll see you at four.” I nodded with a geniune smile this time. I stood and shook his hand. I retrieved my portfolio and resume and made my way out the door. I shuffled through all the busy writers. I was ecstatic. I couldn’t wait to get home. Once out of the building, I loosened my tie and began my walk home. My car had broken down about a week ago. Ironically, the day I had read about the job. Lucky for me, the office was pratically around the corner from my house.
I walked into my kitchen to find my mother making dinner.

“How’d it go?”
“I got the job, Ma!”
“What? Already?” She immediately lit up like the night sky.
“Mhmm. I start tomorrow after school!” I felt stupid, but I couldn’t help but feel giddy.
“Wow, hon.That’s great!”
“I know.”
“I’m proud of you. I can’t wait to tell your father. Well, you go get some work done. Dinner’s in an hour.” I hugged her and she planted a kiss on my cheek. I headed down the stairs to my room. It was a mess. Dark. The only ray of sunshine came from the single window embedded into the wall. Even it, was covered with a sheet. My clothes were everywhere. Along with posters and sketches. CDs had been scattered across my bed.Mikey must have gone through them while I was in my interview. I tossed my things on the bed along with them. Not a second later, there was a knock at my door.

“Yeah?”
“Hey, bro, it’s me. Can I come in?”
“Yeah, sure. C’mon in.” Mikey peered his head in through the door.
"Hey."
"Hey."
"How'd the job thing go?"
"Start tomorrow."
"Dude, seriously?"
"Yep. After school. Four o'clock."
"Killer. Good job, man."
"I have a friend I want you to meet, he's coming for dinner. You up for it?" Mikey continued.
"Yeah sure, do I know him?"
"I don't know. His name's Frank."

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AN: This is my first ever Frerard fic. I got the idea from the song Cubicles by My Chem. Sorry, this one's short. Tell me what you think. No Frerard action in this chapter. Sorry. =[. Giving the backbone of the story first. I’ll get to the good stuff soon enough. I promise! Forgive me if it sucks! Reviews are awesome! They motivate me to update more often!