Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3580923.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/F, F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      My_Chemical_Romance, Fall_Out_Boy, Panic!_at_the_Disco, Mindless_Self
      Indulgence
  Relationship:
      Frank_Iero/Gerard_Way, Mikey_Way/Pete_Wentz, Lindsey_Ballato/Gerard_Way,
      Lindsey_Ballato/Jamia_Nestor, Bert_McCracken/Gerard_Way
  Character:
      Frank_Iero, Gerard_Way, Mikey_Way, Pete_Wentz, Ray_Toro, Lindsey_Ballato,
      Jamia_Nestor, Bert_McCracken, Brendon_Urie, Ryan_Ross, Alicia_Simmons,
      Patrick_Stump
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_High_School, Angsty_Frank_Iero, Gerard_has_a_lot_of
      sex, Frank_gets_jealous, Frank_wants_to_have_sex_with_Gerard_but_he_is
      awkward_as_fuck, Mikey_is_basically_cool_as_fuck, Asexual_Mikey_Way, Pete
      Wentz_MySpace_Whore, Lindsey_Is_A_Goddess, A_Goddess_on_the_cheer_squad
      with_many_opinions_regarding_authority_and_nudism, Jamia_has_a_massive
      crush_on_her_mostly_straight_best_friend_Lindsey, There_was_this_one_time
      Lindsey_punched_Brendon_Urie_in_the_balls_and_it_was_cool_as_fuck, Sex,
      Sex_is_mentioned_a_lot, New_Town_AU, Frank_is_victim_to_many_short_jokes,
      Slut_Gerard_Way, He's_still_awkward_and_nerdy_as_fuck_though
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-03-20 Completed: 2015-08-06 Chapters: 21/21 Words: 69683
****** The Elite Club Of People Who've Seen Gerard Way Naked. ******
by penceyprat
Summary
     Frank is a hopelessly short, hopelessly desperate, and just generally
     hopeless highschooler, whose only friend is the amazingly tall kid
     with the 'fro: Ray Toro. School is mundane, school is just, well,
     school: Lindsey Ballato is a goddess, Pete Wentz is emo, and Brendon
     Urie totally deserved getting kicked in the balls last summer, but
     then Mikey fucking Way turns up and before Frank knows it he's over
     at the Way household and swooning over an unfairly hot older brother
     who has totally just made out with an overly casual Lindsey Ballato.
     And that's not even to mention Gerard's past and sort of ex-boyfriend
     Bert McCracken who he kind of did, kind of didn't leave in the old
     town he and Mikey just moved from. Gerard is older and world's away
     from Frank's league: he's like Lindsey Ballato - unobtainable and
     godly, and most definitely a member of the elite sex club that Frank
     reckons Lindsey's involved in.
     And this elite club of people who've seen Gerard Way naked? Let's
     say, Frank Iero wants in... to Gerard's pants. However Mikey thinks
     that it's less of a club and more of a support group.
***** When The Book Title Is So Long That It Needs Punctuation At The End Of It
*****
Frank mum meant well, she was over enthusiastic and she was trying way too
hard, but still, she meant well, and really, it wasn't as if she'd bullied him
into this, she'd only signed Frank up to the football team without his
permission, after all.
Football was just not Frank's kind of thing: he saw no point in kicking a ball
around a pitch for an hour and half whilst being criticised by just about
everyone for being unbelievably shit at it. Sure, Frank liked balls, except he
really preferred the kind of balls that came with a dick attached to them, and
not the kind that you kicked around a football pitch: touching balls, rather
than kicking them, that was more Frank's style - hey, maybe his mum should have
signed him up for the basketball team instead.
Of course, Frank was about three foot tall, and even his mum knew that
basketball was a lost hope for him.
Really, Mrs Iero just wanted something that looked good on Frank's college
application form: something to brag about to Jenny at work whose son was some
sort of world renowned super athlete or something, with at least four hundred
and twenty Olympic gold medals, and all still at sixteen years of age.
Frank was nothing in comparison, of course, but he had a hell of a lot more to
him than being someone's trophy son, and he knew that for sure, because even if
he was absolute dogshit at football, he was pretty kickass at guitar, and an
absolutely astounding homosexual.
Homosexuality being one of Frank's very few talents, of course.
But then again, Frank knew that the majority of the other guys here were either
here for the same reason as Frank, or for the excuse to talk to Lindsey
Ballato.
Lindsey Ballato being the head cheerleader, but a fucking kickass one at that,
and let's not even mention how goddamn hot she was: Frank maybe gay, but he
most certainly was not blind, and Lindsey Ballato was a whole new kind of
attractive altogether: it was backbends and red lipstick and short skirts and
that way she'd kicked Brendon Urie in the balls last summer.
Lindsey was the kind of girl you were stupid not to be scared of: she was a
million miles out of everybody's league, and she was that one girl that all the
other girls seemed to worship as some sort of goddess (either via compliments
or jealousy) due to the fact that she just about looked like a goddess, and
well, she slept with a damn lot of people, but it was somehow sophiscated and
worthy of envy.
Lindsey Ballato wasn't a quick five minute 'it'll be horrible anyway so it's
best just to get it out of the way' ordeal with some guy she barely knew, and
she most certainly wasn't bending over for everyone in the whole school: it was
like she was millions of miles above everyone else entirely: elite, it was like
Lindsey Ballato's sexlife was the kind of thing that involved an elite club and
champagne and enough acid to neutralise Ryan Ross' bathtub.
And Frank, just like everyone else was in awe of her, but of course, Lindsey
Ballato was hardly the pivotal point of Frank Iero's existence (although the
same couldn't be said for many other guys on that football team). Frank's
existence seemed to hold little substance - it was just day in and day out: he
was average and far more complacent than he ever would have expected.
Frank had a best friend, and a dog, and a guitar, and there was little else he
could possibly fathom having, besides a boyfriend, of course, but Frank's
lovelife was worse than Pete Wentz's, and Pete Wentz was the kind of guy who'd
put you in his MySpace top eight if you let him fuck you.
Pete Wentz a 'successful' MySpace whore with a spectacularly emo fringe and
raccoon eyes: he was pathetic and desperate, and an avid user of the high
angled scene kid selfie style, and still, Pete Wentz got laid more often than
Frank Iero did.
Frank had loads going for him, or at least that was what he was sure to
convince himself of: he was 'cute', he was 'funny', he was 'musical', and
well... if he actually managed to find another gay guy, chances were that he
would be the only other gay dude they knew, so really, Frank had that going for
him at the very least.
Pete was bi, though, and should absolutely no interest in Frank or his humour
and guitar skills and dogs, (like seriously, Frank had more dogs than he had
friends) which was disheartening, but Frank doubted that Pete Wentz was really
the kind of person he wanted to date.
Anyway, Frank didn't have a MySpace so he doubted he was even eligible to be
Pete Wentz's boyfriend.
"You survived without getting stomped on or squashed then?"
Six feet tall.
Ray Toro was six feet tall, and Frank Iero was about six inches tall - fucking
hell, Ray Toro's dick was probably bigger than Frank was, not that Frank had
ever spent enough time with it to actual gather serious and accurate
measurements.
"Alright, alright, bigfoot, shut the fuck up." Frank rolled his eyes in his
best friend's direction: the two making their way to biology together, which
was not a lesson that Frank was looking forward to, to say the least, and
especially not after having wasted away the entirety of his lunchtime standing
awkwardly in the corner of a football pitch, and just to make his mum happy.
"Bigfoot?" Ray snorted at that one. "Go pick on someone your own size, huh?"
"What? Like a three year old child?"
Frank was well aware of just how ridiculously short he was, and just how much
worse it was when he stood next to Ray, and really, he wished he just could
have been more height conscious at the start of Freshman year when he was
choosing the asshole he'd be stuck with for the next four years of hell, but
hey, Ray had been at least six inches shorter three years ago, whereas Frank
hadn't seemed to have grown in the slightest, which left him rather worried
regarding the possibility of him just staying this short forever, because he
was really not up for that.
"Alright, Frodo, come on, play nice." And Ray was fucking immensely proud of
himself for that one.
"Do not bring the Lord Of The Rings into this." Frank demanded, his eyes
widening in anger, making it overly obvious as to why 'bigfoot' was his only
friend in the whole school.
"Hobbits are normally nice." Ray grovelled as they reached their biology
classroom.
"Shut it, Gandalf." Frank made his way inside, groaning as he came to remember
that he'd been given the absolute honour of sitting next to Pete Wentz and his
spectacularly emo fringe in biology from now on. He used to sit with Ray, but
there'd been a certain incident with a frog and some asshole's lunchbox that
Miss Whelan hadn't taken all that kindly to.
"How's it going, shorty?" Height jokes were a first world problem that Frank
Iero faced on a daily basis, but Pete didn't know that whenever Frank was sad
he looked through Pete's profile pictures because they were so ridiculously emo
that you physically could not be sad when you remembered that they existed.
"At least I can actually see from behind my fringe." Frank grumbled, shoving
one headphone in as he turned away and attempted to just get away with staring
out of the window for the duration of this lesson, but of course, God hated him
far too much to just let that happen.
"You've not seen the new kid, have you?" And even worse, Pete Wentz was
actually attempting to make conversation with him, dear lord.
"No..." Frank shook his head, and gave in, turning back to Pete, leaving him to
continue in his great anecdote of how he most likely going to get this person
to let him suck them off.
"Yeah, you were in the staring at Lindsey- uhh... I mean football team... all
lunch, weren't you? You're not sporty, Iero, it's just obvious why you're
there."
"Well, I'm not straight either, so you've got that wrong." Frank knew that
coming out to people at school wasn't exactly the best of ideas, but there was
no greater joy in this world than telling Pete Wentz that he was wrong.
"And the plot thickens..." Pete snorted, his eyes widening as soon as he
realised that Frank was actually serious. "Okay, but we can't date, because
you're not emo enough for me, like you wear black, but your eyeliner game is
poor, and your hair is kind of short, and you don't have a MySpace, so I'm
sorry Frank, but you're just a poser, and I don't date posers."
"Yeah, I don't want to date you." Frank groaned, knowing he'd regret letting
this slip, because within seconds the whole damn school would know, but then,
'the new kid' walked into the room: at least ten minuets late by now, but he
did an excellent job of drawing the attention away from Frank.
He was kind of tall, but not as tall as Ray, with lanky arms and legs that
looked far too thin to seriously support his weight, dressed in black skinny
jeans and a leather jacket that went against uniform code that made him far
much cooler than Frank would ever be already. His hair was a light brown, but
most of it was covered by the big grey beanie that sat a top his head.
"I don't want to date you either, but holy fuck, I want to date him." And yeah,
Frank had called it, grinning a little as Pete gestured in the direction of
leather jacket guy who was already a million miles cooler than Frank, despite
the fact that he'd only just walked into the room.
"He's definitely out of your league." Perhaps it was kind of harsh, but Pete
Wentz's profile picture made him look like a small emo turd in comparison to
leather jacket guy, who fucking scowled as he made his way into the room,
finally getting the attention of the teacher, who'd been engrossed in her
laptop for the last ten minutes, because yes, quality teaching.
"Yes, I know, that's why I have to pounce before he realises that." Pete’s
dating strategies were questionable, to say the least.
"Late, aren't we? You're Mikey, aren't you?" Miss Whelan glanced leather jacket
guy up and down, scowling a little as she did. "You're going to have to take
your jacket off - it goes against uniform regulations."
All eyes were upon leather jacket guy- Mikey... right now: this was initiation,
just how he responded to her request would determine his reputation for the
rest of his time here, and from the smirk on his lips, he knew it.
Mikey took his jacket off, alright, he took his jacket off to reveal a black
shirt with the words 'fuck you' printed on the front in bold white lettering,
and well, Miss Whelan looked like she'd had a mini heart attack in response.
"You want me to take this off too?" He asked, his tone surprisingly calm, and
holy fuck, this guy had to have planned this, because the teacher was shocked
into silence and people were fucking clapping.
"Just go sit down. There's an empty chair there, Mikey." Miss Whelan finally
regained her composure, gesturing towards the empty desk in front of Pete and
Frank's, and Pete was dying and Frank was close to punching himself in the face
right now.
"Oh fuck, I'm screwed, this is the kind of guy that's going to be Lindsey's
next boyfriend, not mine, not in a million years."
And yeah, Pete was kind of right: Mikey looked like he really did belong in
Lindsey Ballato's elite sexclub with champagne and drugs and shirts that said
'fuck you' on them.
But, by some miracle, Mikey sat down and turned around to face the two of them,
grinning a little as the teacher yelled something about continuing with last
lesson's work before she went into the stock room to have an emotional
breakdown.
"How would you rate that out of ten?" He asked, actually talking to the two of
them, and Pete seriously looked like he was about to fall off his chair, which
was amusing, if anything.
"That was fucking brilliant." Frank spoke his mind, because hell, Miss Whelan
was probably rocking back and forth in the corner of the stock room right now
and it took a hell of a lot to accomplish that. "You planned that, didn't you?"
"Ah, my secret!" Mikey grinned, his eyes widening in mock horror, before
glancing at Pete who had appeared to have just frozen in place with his mouth
wide open. "So, I'm Mikey... and... you are?"
"I'm Frank, and that's Pete, and I think you may have killed him." Frank gave
Pete a little prod, causing him to jump and blush like hell as he remembered
that Mikey was real and actually talking to him.
"Holy fuck that was amazing, you are amazing, you're like royalty, can I bow to
you, I-"
"Please don't." Mikey interrupted him, blushing a little, and turning to Frank
a little more. "That's my work for this year done: people have their impression
and now I can fuck off and get high all year in the background. This wasn't
even my idea, it was my brother's: he's great with ideas, you know?"
"What? No, in the scenario in my head you start dating Lindsey Ballato and
you're her boyfriend cool, cooler than us all and she does a backbend to suck
your dick and you punch guys like me and I will sit in the back of biology
wondering whether I want to be you or do you- you're not just allowed to fuck
off and get high." Pete came on a little strong, well, to say the least.
"I don't want to date Lindsey, or you for that matter. I don't want to date, I
don't want to make friends, that's not how I work... this... this is just an
assessment of my perform - Frank gave me his opinion, and that's fine, I've
done, my work is fucking done, and if that teacher’s not going to come back
then I'm just going to leave now." And with that, Mikey Way grabbed his leather
jacket, putting it back on and making his way out of the classroom, and leaving
Pete Wentz to slam his face against the desk, and Frank to cringe across the
room in Ray's direction.
"My whole life is ruined." Pete grumbled, the table muffling his words. "I knew
it would never work but he's not even going to date Lindsey so I don't even
have the image of them fucking to jerk off to this is literally the worst thing
that has ever happened to me."
"I reckon you might want to re-evaluate your priorities." Frank suggested,
knowing that Pete wouldn't listen, but fuck, it whatever, he'd tried.
"Yeah, alright, Bilbo." Pete was, of course, utterly unconvinced.
"It's Frodo, actually."
"Whatever."
-
Gerard Way was supposed to be doing something, but the something was just
something he couldn't quite recall.
In fact, maybe he was supposed to be doing someone, but still, with his knees
pulled up to his chest as he sat on his mum's kitchen floor, he couldn't recall
it for the life of him.
He was alone and very, very naked: his mum being at work and Mikey being at his
new school today, and Gerard just wished he could have woken up earlier to
actually wish Mikey good luck before he went, because he very well could have
been slaughtered, and that very easily could have been the last that Gerard Way
would have ever seen of his brother.
But instead, he sat naked and absent minded on his kitchen floor, pushing
another strand of dyed black hair behind his ears as he wondered just how long
it would be before he'd probably have to put some clothes on, sure he loved
Mikey, but not in the way that would involve seeing him naked.
Gerard was weird, but nowhere near that weird.
His head was a mess and this new town fucking sucked, but at least he didn't
have to go to school like Mikey: he was supposed to go to college or something
but it became evident that that really hadn't happened, so now he was just
waiting to be lumped into some shitty internship at his mum's work or
something.
All his friends, all of his fuckbuddies were in the next town over and that
fucking sucked, because Gerard was naked as it was, and no one would be home
for a good few hours now.
Surely, he could just jack off but that was never as good, and he fucking
needed someone to talk to right now, but the nakedness was really a huge
problem right now.
And it was a problem that was only exaggerated as the fucking doorbell rang,
and if Gerard knew anything with his at best C grade exam results, he knew that
he really should not answer the door naked.
He went for a hoodie on the sofa that was probably long enough to make it look
like he at least had underpants on underneath, and a blanket wrapped around him
like a burrito, before making his way to the door: he could just play the ill
card, and the person at the door would soon fuck off and it would all be okay,
he promised himself.
"Uhh... hey... sorry to like... bother you but my friend kinda threw her school
bag over your fence into your garden..." Gerard was faced with a teenager who
looked like she should most definitely be in school right now, but fuck it,
Gerard didn't care, he just wanted to get back to sitting naked on his floor.
"Yeah, whatever, the garden gate's like open, just go fucking get it,
whatever." Gerard slurred his words a little as he spoke: exhaustion as opposed
to intoxication, but regardless, it didn't exactly make the best of
impressions.
"You're naked under that blanket, aren't you?" Teenager one's friend appeared
from apparently nowhere, smirking as she looked Gerard up and down, which made
him feel just a little uncomfortable, to say the least. "Not much of a talker?
Okay, I'll just go get my bag-"
"Why did you throw it over my fence?" Gerard suddenly found himself asking,
although he knew the right thing to do here was to just close the front door
and hope that they fucked off as soon as humanely possible.
"I meant to throw it, but just not over your fence... like a fuck you to
school, and the biology lesson I'm supposed to be in right now." She explained,
with an enthusiasm that seemed to please Gerard. "I'm Lindsey, by the way, and
this is Jamia, and I really would love to have a conversation with you about
fucking with authority and the like, but, you're naked, and if my mum told me
anything it was don't go into the homes of naked men that you don't know."
"Yeah, because that applied the other-" Jamia interrupted with a raise of her
eyebrows.
"That was different: that was a nudist party - the whole point of it was being
naked, to like, make a statement."
"And to show your tits off?" Jamia added for Lindsey, because well, if it
wasn't true then Lindsey had something wrong with her.
"Maybe- hey, naked dude, are you a nudist?" Lindsey turned back to Gerard with
the least discreet 'I wouldn't mind seeing you naked' grin at all.
"I'm Gerard, not 'naked dude', but not particularly, but I see nothing wrong
with self expression and art, and the human anatomy is a form of art so-"
"Well, you're either a nudist or a pervert, so I'm glad you went for the
former, because you're kind of cute, huh? Jamia, don't you think he's kind of
cute?" She turned to her friend with a grin.
"I'm far too gay to pass any judgement, you know that, Lindsey." Jamia rolled
her eyes, wishing that she could pretend that Lindsey wasn't totally stalling
to flirt with this fucking random ass naked guy, who could be a fucking serial
killer for all they knew. "Anyway, can you just get your bag and we'll leave?"
"Hey, Gerard, was it? Look, I'll give you my number and we can discuss being
naked together at a future date, how about that?" Lindsey was forward in the
same way Pete Wentz was, but Lindsey was so ridiculously hot that her tactics
seemed to actually work.
"You're a teenager." Gerard pointed out, a little awkwardly, but he actually
managed to speak, so he deserved some credit for that, at the very least. "I'm
nineteen, nearly twenty."
"I'm seventeen, that's two years, I'm not a fucking preteen, anyway, whatever
you say, you're new here, aren't you? Just saying that I have a lot of
connections, okay, you don't need to fuck me, but I'm just telling you that
when I offer my friendship, it's something you want to accept." And with that,
Lindsey grabbed Gerard's arm and scribbled her number across it, before leaving
to retrieve her bag.
"Sorry about her- she's over confident and ridiculously attractive, but she
means well, I promise, she's a great friend, and she's definitely a little
stoned right now." Jamia added with an apologetic smile in Gerard's direction.
"Yeah, she's pretty cute, I guess, I mean, I'm not the 'relationship' type, but
she offers interesting beliefs regarding authority and rebellion-"
"Yeah, Lindsey's not the relationship type either." And with that, Jamia turned
away to return to Lindsey, leaving Gerard to close the door behind him and
reassess his life right now.
Because fuck, Gerard missed his hometown and his boyfriend as much as he missed
the heated floor in his old house which allowed him to sit naked on the kitchen
floor without getting a cold butt.
-
***** Frank Iero Is Not A Pregnancy Test *****
Gerard had met him four years ago, when Gerard was fifteen, and he was just a
little older. It was everything that drugged up teenage Gerard Way could have
dreamed of, and perhaps even just a little more, but by no means was it ever
anything special, yet still it was just enough to preoccupy his mind no less
than four years later in a completely new town.
Because they'd broken up: it had ended at least twenty times by now, but
despite that, despite every spited, meaningful insult, nothing could ever quite
really be physical enough to actually keep Gerard from thinking about him.
He wasn't even that beautiful, he wasn't even that special, in fact there was
absolutely nothing special about Gerard’s kind of boyfriend back in their old
town. In fact, the guy was kind of messy, unkempt and intoxicated at the best
of times, but four years ago, much the same could be said for Gerard, but now,
he'd like to say that things had changed a little.
He'd lost the awkward stubble at the very least, and the zombie look in
sleepless eyes, and the plethora of dark red bruises left around his
collarbones: sometimes hickeys, sometimes not. But the same could be said for
him.
Him.
It almost felt ominous, like Gerard's boyfriend was some sort of great
overshadowing figure to be feared and not a twenty year old stoner named Bert
McCracken, who was barely making it through college in the next town over.
He wasn't anything special, and they both knew it, but still, Gerard was
'obsessed', Gerard cared and Gerard fretted over ever little aspect of their
'relationship', because it was always there, at least to some extent, and
distance hadn't proved to break that, at least not yet anyway.
Gerard had sent Bert some sort of awkward good morning text about an hour ago,
despite the knowledge that Bert absolutely never got up before eleven, even
when college was involved, because hey, the guy just didn't care, and Gerard
couldn't help but admit that he liked that about him.
It was always so casual, so easy, and most of the time the two were both far
too intoxicated to even notice the world around them, and Gerard really did
like that, but this was withdrawal, because Bert was a drug of sorts, and not
just a supplier, and hey finding where to get drugs in this town was proving to
be an awfully big pain in the ass.
Bert just didn't really care: he and Gerard talked everything through, and Bert
just gave a drunken nod in response, no matter whether it was 'do you want
anything from Starbucks?' or 'can I fuck this hot guy I met at a party last
night?'. Bert didn't much see the point in the traditional aspects of
'relationships' or the traditional aspects of anything whatsoever: everything
was a bit unorthodox with him and for the rebellion hungry teenager, it had
been exactly what he'd needed.
They'd met at a party.
Fifteen year old Gerard Way didn't tend to frequent parties, but Jeph had
talked him into it: something about being his best friend and that girl in
their English class that had asked Gerard on a date last week, and Jeph had
felt personally offended when Gerard declined.
Gerard didn't tend to get invited on dates, and especially not by pretty girls
who liked the shitty ass poetry the teacher made him read out in class, but
maybe Gerard didn't want to go on dates with pretty girls who liked poetry and
always arrived to class on time.
It wasn't the girls thing, though.
Gerard wasn't gay. Hell, Gerard hadn't had the slightest reminiscent of a clue
as to what he was at the ripe old age of fifteen, needless to say, Bert had
helped a little; it wasn't Bert directly, though, and more of the places Bert
had taken him to, the people Bert had introduced him to, and the kind of orgies
that a sixteen year old kid should never have been involved in.
But now, age nineteen, Gerard could just about, somewhat confidently, say that
he was pansexual, and horribly attracted to Bert McCracken, despite the
distance, and the way he stunk all the time, and that stupid kind of beard,
kind of stubble, and the grease in his hair, and the way he couldn't even
remember what the guy was like sober, but Gerard still liked him. Gerard wasn't
sure why, but he owed him an awful lot, that was for sure.
The party they'd met at was exactly the kind of thing that Gerard had grown to
hate: the kind of thing in those teen movies with the red cups and assholes
around every corner, but entirely far more drugs, and definitely a couple of
prostitutes in there somewhere.
Jeph knew that Gerard didn't want to be there at all, and Gerard knew that Jeph
only wanted him there so he could provide him with moral support when the girls
he asked to make out with him inevitably rejected him, but Jeph wasn't quite as
cruel enough as to just leave poor fifteen year old Gerard Way stood awkwardly
by the drinks table, drinking the night away until he inevitably rotted away of
alcohol poisoning: fifteen year old Gerard Way was somewhat of a lightweight,
to say the least.
So, Jeph had introduced him to a friend, and that was exactly how Gerard had
come to spend his first night with Bert McCracken.
Bert was the opposite of shy, and drunk, but not drunk: Bert had never been a
lightweight and was pretty much in control of what he was doing, except just a
little more irrational than he should have been, and that was exactly what
Gerard needed that night, because Jeph had gotten unfortunately lucky and
Gerard didn't see him again until maths class on Monday morning.
It was alright though, because Bert was alright, and an absolute expert at
making Gerard blush, and well, let's just say that Jeph wasn't the only one
that got lucky that weekend.
Gerard didn't talk to Jeph anymore: something about getting sober last year
that neither Bert nor Gerard had particularly agreed with at the time, and then
some fight that Gerard could even remember. Eighteen year old Gerard could only
remember the nosebleed and the blood on his boyfriend's face as the front door
slammed behind Jeph and he grew the courage to make his way back downstairs.
Bert had told him that it was alright, but Gerard wasn't convinced, and he'd
insisted that they went to the hospital, Bert got angry: angry, and come ten
minutes later, Gerard's face kind of looked like Bert's.
Eighteen year old Gerard Way ran home and didn't speak to nineteen year old
Bert McCracken for a good two weeks, but it was inevitable: they'd met again at
the park - Gerard had gone out for a cigarette and some time to think: his dad
had just left his mum, and well things weren't exactly 'easy' at home, and as
Bert sat down on the bench beside him with biggest smile and the most
believable apology that he'd seen all week, Gerard had taken him back within
seconds.
And that was just how it had always been, and they were both more than okay
with, despite its obvious flaws: at least for the most part anyway.
Nineteen year old Gerard Way glanced at his cellphone as it vibrated against
the kitchen countertop: a stupid place to leave it when he was making coffee
within centimetres of it, and well, Gerard wasn't exactly the most coordinated
of people in the morning, but somehow this time, God had taken enough pity upon
him to ensure that his cellphone remained unscathed.
He glanced at the screen, his eyes widening a little as he saw that Bert had
actually texted him back: the two hadn't spoke in a week, because well, Bert
wasn't exactly thrilled to hear the news that his on and off boyfriend of just
about four years was moving away from him, but it became apparent that they'd
gotten to the apology stage now.
The message was so typically Bert that Gerard reckoned he could have identified
it even without the contact name displayed above it: 'morning beautiful. how's
the shithole? you're missing me, I know you are. tell me if the prostitutes are
as good as they are at home'.
And really, Gerard just couldn't help but smile, giving his coffee a stir,
before abandoning it to text his almost boyfriend back.
'It's almost afternoon, asshole. It's kinda shit and yeah I miss you.
Unfortunately I haven't had any encounters with prostitutes yet.'
And Gerard opted for a couple of kisses on the end of his message: it was just
flirting, but it was far too mundane for Bert, who much preferred to call hand
jobs under the table at family dinners flirting, as opposed to a couple of 'x's
at the end of a text message, but, it'd do.
'I knew you would hate it - see I was right when I told you not to go. I miss
you lots though.'
Bert even returned Gerard's gesture with a couple more kisses and some weird
emoji that Bert had definitely deemed sexual before sending.
'Yeah I guess so.'
Gerard wasn't quite sure what to make of this town yet; he'd hardly been here
for any time at all, but in comparison to his hometown and Bert's apartment, it
looked like hell itself.
'I have college in ten minutes so I'll call you when I get back and we'll talk
properly. I love you sweetheart.'
And with the heart emoji that Bert McCracken most definitely didn't give out
like it was nothing, Gerard was head over heels once again, and he even smiled
at prospect of living out the rest of the day: what could he say - Bert
McCracken did strange fucking things to him.
-
Frank Iero was growing increasingly tired with his life and the monotonous beat
of existence: he was over school and the daily routine and being nobody: he
wasn’t hated, he wasn't a target of bullies, he wasn't anything, he wasn't
noticed at all - he was just that short kid who was friends with the guy with
the afro.
That was exactly all that Frank Iero was, and exactly all he'd ever be.
And now, this sounds like a perfect opportunity to run in with an 'Until...'
and reel off some cheesy unbelievable statement about his whole neighbourhood
blowing up or something, and really, it was awfully close to going just like
that, but for some reason, it didn't, and it wasn't going to be as easy as
that.
Frank Iero texted his friend Ray Toro about skipping school entirely, and Ray,
being Ray told him 'no, absolutely not', and Frank being Frank found himself
innately inclined to go against every word he said, but his mum was yelling at
him to get dressed from downstairs, and with a great deal of reluctance, he
pulled his clothes on and made his way downstairs, grabbing some form of
breakfast on his way out the front door, and met Ray Toro in person at the
street corner no less than three minutes later.
This was much the same everyday, and honestly, Frank didn't even know what he
wanted from life, but the one thing that he knew for certain was that he didn't
want this.
"You're not going to skip school today." Ray told him in person this time,
perhaps just to enforce the message, and Frank only shrugged it off, saying
very little in return and leaving Ray to continue the conversation for the sake
of saving them the awkwardness. "I met this girl last week, I think you'd like
to meet her-"
And just like that, Frank had given up on his sanity completely, just looking
his best friend in the eye and telling him the most truthful thing he'd said in
the last five years. "I'm gay."
Ray was a little taken a back, and well, Frank was quite honestly surprised
that Pete hadn't told everyone by this point, but perhaps Mikey Way's existence
had simply sent him into cardiac arrest and he'd died before he could tell
anyone.
Frank laughed at the notion of Pete dying: it seemed ridiculous - Pete was the
kind of guy that when faced with death would probably just look him in the eye
and say "no", or something ridiculously Pete like "bagsy not me, try the guy
next door who stole my bike ten years ago", and with Pete's ridiculous luck, it
would probably work.
Because if Pete Wentz could get people to willingly have sex with him, he most
likely possessed the power to be immortal.
"O...Okay..." Ray's response was a little delayed, but Frank was far too amused
with the mental image of Pete straight out refusing to die, that he couldn't
even care. "That's okay with me."
"Good, okay, just wanted to get that off my chest." Frank gave a little shrug
of his shoulders as he quickened his pace and continued walking to school.
-
Lindsey couldn't figure out for the life of her as to why on earth Frank Iero
had joined the football team.
She was only vaguely aware of his existence, and up until all of ten minutes
ago, he'd been nothing more than that short kid stood in the corner looking
like he'd rather kill himself than be here, but when she'd pointed him out to
Jamia, she'd learned that he was in fact Frank Iero, and that he was in fact in
her English class - not that she'd ever actually noticed him before, but then
again, Lindsey didn't tend to pay all that much attention in school.
"Why is he here if he looks like he hates it so much?" Lindsey whispered to
Jamia: her eyes remaining almost fixated upon poor Frank, stood in the corner
of the football pitch, shivering in a football kit that was far too big for
him.
"Oh come on, Lindsey." Jamia just rolled her eyes at her best friend; the two
of them were sat on the edge of bleachers, shivering a little and just trying
to show even a vague interest in the football game before them.
Honestly, the cheer squad did barely anything for the amount of credit they got
for it: it was some sort of formation with pom-poms and some sort of chant that
some fuckwit on the football team had come up with every time anyone scored a
goal, and considering the actual intelligence of the fuckwits on the football
team, that most certainly did not happen often, and well, Lindsey and Jamia had
been sat here in vague conversation for the past fifteen minutes.
"What?" Lindsey's eyes widened in response to the rather vague opinion Jamia
had expressed a few moments earlier.
"Everyone knows that the majority of the guys here are here for you." And not
only did Jamia know this fact like she knew anything, she fucking hated it more
than she could ever fathom, but of course, with the way she felt towards
Lindsey, she couldn't exactly blame them either.
Lindsey was fucking hot - there was no question about that, whatsoever.
"Well... that's debatable, but, I've been staring at the kid for like the past
five minutes now, and not once has he ever made eye contact with me: he's here
for another reason, but fuck me if I know." And really, Jamia would very much
love to provide Lindsey with the knowledge necessary to take her up upon that
offer.
But Lindsey was unfortunately straight, and Jamia was just unfortunately in
love with her, and Frank, the kid shivering on the corner of the football pitch
- he was just unfortunate.
"The game's going to end in a few minutes - how about you just ask him?" Jamia
suggested, just praying that this one conversation wouldn't end up with Lindsey
dating him, because well, with Lindsey's history, that wasn't exactly to be
unexpected, but fucking hell, Jamia reckoned she'd rather shove a croquet
mallet up her ass than deal with another of Lindsey's fuckboy boyfriends.
But at the very least, they didn't seem to last long anyway... Lindsey usually
dumped them before Jamia was brought to the point of manslaughter, anyway.
"I'll just call him over now - no one's going to miss him there, and from the
looks of it, I think I'll be doing him a favour." Lindsey's face ignited with a
grin that Jamia had just learned to fear, because this was another one of her
ideas, and well, it was only Monday, and Jamia was not ready for this shit: not
at all.
"Hey, Frank!" She raised her voice, causing the kid to turn around, and
practically die on the spot as he came to realise that Lindsey Ballato was
calling him over. Frank glanced back at the football pitch, before shrugging
his shoulders in a gesture that vaguely translated as 'fuck it', and made his
way over to Lindsey and Jamia.
"Uhh... hi." This was the first conversation Frank'd had with Lindsey
throughout the entire duration of his life, and well, to say the least, he was
more than a little confused as to why there had even been a first.
"Why are you here?" Lindsey asked rather bluntly, moving up and gesturing for
Frank to sit between her and Jamia. Frank felt just a little obliged to do as
she said, because well, it was Lindsey, and he still had absolutely no fucking
idea as to why he was talking to her, let alone what he was supposed to answer
her question with.
"I-I-I... I-"
Jamia let out a deep sigh, interrupting Frank before he could embarrass himself
further. "She wants to know what the hell you're doing on the football team
when you look like you'd rather be anywhere but here."
"Exactly!" Lindsey chimed in, over exaggerating her words as she spoke. "You
can't fucking play, and you're not here to stare at me, because I've been
staring at you for the past five minutes and not once did you notice me, so-
there's no explanation- I... you have to be a masochist!"
"Uhh... I don't know what that is." Frank uttered out in perhaps the most
awkward manner anyone had ever spoke in before.
"Basically you get off on making yourself suffer- it's like... getting punched
in the face and having a wank over it- well that's kind of extreme, but like...
you're on this football team because-"
"My mum made me do it." Frank finished for her: his cheeks a horrible shade of
red in response to Lindsey Ballato's overly casual approach to the discussion
of masturbation, because, sure he was gay, but this was still Lindsey fucking
Ballato, and Frank still wasn't sure if this was some fucked up dream where
he'd end up getting punched in the face by Lindsey and being forced to get off
on it... and all with Jamia just sat there.
"Yeah, that explains it." Lindsey let out a sigh, rolling her eyes a little.
"I'm kind of disappointed actually, I've never met a masochist before, and I
think it would be rather interesting- are you sure-"
"I'm positive."
"Yeah, shut up, you're not a pregnancy test, Frank." Lindsey grinned, before
her face fell, her eyes widening a little. "I did take that pregnancy test at
yours the other day, didn't I, Jamia? Because I was fucking stoned and I'm-"
"You did... you're not pregnant, Lindsey: if you were, don't you think I would
have brought it up by now?" Jamia grimaced a little at the notion of Lindsey
being pregnant, because maybe she could tolerate the fuckboy boyfriends for
short periods of time, but fuckboy spawn? No fucking chance, and she doubted
that Lindsey would still be her best friend if Jamia murdered her child.
"Uhh..." Frank's cheeks flushed red with the information that he probably
wasn't supposed to know. "Can I go now?"
"No." Lindsey answered him outright and without a moment's thought.
"Why not?"
"Because if you feel like you have to ask for permission, you're going to
listen to me if I say no." Jamia rolled her eyes at Lindsey, because this
fucking psychology bullshit again, and still, somehow, despite all the shit
Lindsey put her through, Jamia was still furiously attracted to her. "I feel
like this conversation didn't really achieve much: I now know that your mum's a
pushy mum, but- hey... hey, Jamia? Hey...." Lindsey smirked that smirk that
signified the formation of an idea in her mind, and Jamia was already scared.
"What?"
"That party. He can be your date-" And needless to say, that was an idea that
both Frank and Jamia protested to.
"Uhh... I'd rather not." Frank blushed, but kept true to himself, because no
hetero, man, no fucking hetero.
"What happened to the asking me for permission to leave attitude?" Lindsey
pouted in a way that left Frank unable to determine whether she was being
serious or not. "Anyway, why not?"
"I'm gay." This was the third person he'd told this week: seriously, Frank Iero
was on a fucking homosexuality roll here.
"Okay, do you have a boyfriend then, because there's a guy I owe a favour to,
and-"
"You can't prostitute him in return for favours." Jamia piped up, after
recovering from the presence of another homosexual, because, fuck, she really
wished she could just say it like that: just come out to Lindsey like it was
nothing and never be forced to endure the hells of heteronormativity again, but
of course, it was never that easy.
"You can hook me up with a guy?" Frank was almost reluctant to believe it, and
was only now beginning to understand just how much of a freaking goddess
Lindsey was.
"Several, in fact- not at the same time, unless, well- I know people, I know
gay people, and Frank, you have been added to my web of homosexual connections,
of which I am the matchmaking spider." And it was metaphors like this that
proved just how little attention Lindsey paid in English classes.
"I don't like spiders." Frank found his excellent social skills acting before
his sanity, once again.
"Don't be rude." Lindsey rolled her eyes, pulling her cellphone out of her
pocket to check the time. "Look, give me your number and I'll see what I can
do."
"I-I..." Giving girls his number was not a situation Frank Iero had ever
expected to be in, and he found himself utterly dumbstruck as Lindsey continued
to stare at him like he was some sort of attraction in a freak show.
"I'm not psychic, you're gonna have to type it in yourself." Lindsey passed
Frank her cellphone, and still, he was practically frozen on the spot.
"Come on, do you want to get laid or not? I haven't got all day." And with
that, Lindsey stood up, making her way towards the changing rooms to get ready
for her next lesson, leaving Jamia to watch as Frank painstakingly typed his
number in and gave the phone to Jamia.
"Sorry... she's a bit... well... you know..." Jamia let out a sigh, and another
as she came to realise just how often she found herself apologising for
Lindsey's existence.
"It's fine, I'm not used to girls actually talking to me... and well... I'm not
good at doing straight things like giving girls my numbers... I guess."
"Don't worry, I'm not good at straight things either." And with a wink, and
Lindsey's phone in her hands, Jamia left too, but she had to take a quick
detour to have a homosexual breakdown in the toilets before she could actually
bring herself to face Lindsey again.
And well, Frank, Frank sat there smirking like hell, because this was the kind
of anecdote that would give Pete Wentz a freaking heart attack when he told
him, and there was nothing more than Frank loved in this world than causing
Pete Wentz extreme emotional pain.
-
***** Pete Wentz's 'Cool Idols' *****
"It's not Pete anymore, just P. Wentz." Pete, or 'P. Wentz', not that anyone
would ever call him that announced in a somewhat offended response to Frank's
incredibly selfish use of his real name and not the stupid fucking nickname
he'd given himself.
Seriously, Frank was just surprised, and actually somewhat relieved that Pete
hadn't gone full scene kid and gone for something like Pete Princess, or Pete
Paranoia, Pete Please Fucking Stop You Piece Of Shit- perhaps not the last the
one.
"Why?" Ray dared to ask the guy: Frank had clearly scene why this could be a
very bad idea, but Ray clearly needed to step up his game here, as he continued
to query the emo mess as the three of them walked to English.
"Because it sounds cooler than Pete, and I'm cool, you know, so I need my name
to reflect my true identity, so P. Wentz is cool, also I took inspiration from
P. Diddy because he's cool, and you have to have cool idols if you want to get
anywhere in life."
And Frank wouldn't be wrong to assume that poor Mikey Way was another one of
Pete's 'cool idols'.
Pete's persistence in gaining Mikey's affection hadn't at all faltered, and
Frank couldn't help but feel like it had something to do with Mikey's absence
of late, and really, he couldn't help but feel sorry for the guy - he hadn't
really made friends, he'd just been admired from afar: he gave the cool and
distant impression, but there was something about him that just screamed very
fucking alone, but he was none of Frank's business, and if he continued not to
show up to class, then Frank's guilt couldn't trick him into doing something
about it.
"Also, since you guys are awesome, you're gonna get new names as well- you
can't like have F. Iero and R. Toro because that's like copying me, so I'm
gonna have to give you cool names that Frank doesn't quite deserve because he
doesn't have a MySpace but I'm going to let you off because you were there when
Mikey Way asked my name and your job is to remind me on a daily basis that he
is in fact real."
"Pete, dude, seriously, if you just stopped obsessing over the guy and treated
him like a normal fucking person then maybe he'd actually want to talk to you-
" Frank didn't know why he had bothered at all, but he found his efforts
severely underappreciated in the fucking shocked glare he received in response.
"It's P. Wentz not fucking Pete have you been listening at all? You know who's
called Peter? Fucking Perfect Peter from Horrid Henry and he's about the
biggest prick in the whole word! You know who's called P. Wentz? Fucking me!"
It seemed as if Pete was more than just a little proud of his new scene kid
name, and Frank was beginning to feel kind of bad for taking that away from
him.
"Anyway, you two can be Ray Revenge and Frank Frozen-"
"Frank Frozen are you fucking serious?"
Of course Ray found this absolutely nothing more than stupidly hilarious.
"Dude, just let it go."
"Yeah, I'll let go of you, off the edge of a fucking cliff? How about that?"
Frank was being rather icy about this, but then again, if you were locked up in
a castle for years and years you kind of would be, wouldn't you?
"Maybe you should be Frank Frightful instead?" Pete suggested, and smiling for
real, unlike Ray who was just smirking his fucking asshole head off.
"How about Frank Go Fuck Yourself?" Frank suggested, before pushing his way
into the English classroom, and being eternally thankful of that kid who had
moved schools, allowing him to sit through this hell alone.
"That's not alliteration, Frank! This is English, come on, get learning!" And
it seemed that Ray was entirely far too eager to keep up with Pete's fucking
'joke', despite Frank's ever-growing disgust.
And perhaps everything was okay then, as Frank condemned himself to staring out
of the window as the teacher mumbled on about Shakespeare or something, because
that was just about the only thing they actually did in English, but whatever,
it wasn't like Frank cared at all, was it?
But, come twenty minutes into the lesson, and the classroom door slamming open
as the only guy capable of giving Pete Wentz a heart attack walked in, and now,
Ray, who was sat next to Pete, was paying for being an asshole to Frank in the
form of having to put up with the emo mess sat beside him.
"So, Mikey, you did finally decide to join us, did you?" The teacher asked,
pulling on that 'I'm an arrogant little cocksucker' voice as they grovelled on
about punctuality and other shit that Frank didn't care enough for to listen
to, but then before he knew anything, he found Mikey fucking Way sitting down
beside him, and Frank was pretty close to making some sort of daring escape
through the classroom window.
"Sorry... I guess I'm disturbing your nap or something here." Mikey let out a
sigh as he leaned back in his seat: looking directly at the teacher as he
continued to talk to Frank - clearly having some serious talking in class
experience, not that he seemed like the type at all, but whatever.
"It's fine, I'm just having some sort of crisis because I remembered that Pete
Wentz exists and how much of a little shit he is." Mikey laughed nervously in
response, daring to pull his gaze across the classroom to meet with Pete's, and
even if only just for a second, he knew it was a mistake.
"Yeah, he's kind of weird... I guess." Mikey pulled his sleeves further down
his arms so they covered his hands: a sort of absent minded, but oddly adorable
gesture. "I'm glad I'm not sat next to him, if I'm honest. You're probably the
only guy I can vaguely stand in this school, but you're still also kind of
annoying, but less annoying than everyone else: you're kind of look like you
think you're better than everybody else and that you hate this place and it
serves you no purpose."
"So do you." Frank retorted, only half offended.
"I know, but you're giving me a run for my money when it comes to being the
aloof, mysterious asshole, but like, you actually talk to other people, and
show up for class, so I guess I'm winning for now." And Frank began to wonder
if this whole school, and this whole new town was nothing more than a game for
Mikey - it was messed up, but incredibly fascinating, and to say the least,
Frank was intrigued.
"So I need to step up my game, huh?" Frank chuckled, not entirely sure as to
why he was going along with this, but it certainly gave him something to keep
him occupied other than the teacher's voice.
"Something like that." Mikey mumbled, holding back his smile, because any sign
of actual friendship between him and Frank was absolutely affecting his 'cool'
facade, because well, he didn't want to let Pete down, being his 'cool idol',
after all.
"Have you fucked Lindsey yet?" Frank was rather blunt about it, but it became
apparent that Mikey was rather blunt about everything and didn't seem to care
what Frank thought at all.
"I have no intention of doing so. She's pretty, yeah, but I don't want to fuck
her - I don't care about her, she's just some girl who everyone seems to think
is the fucking daughter of God, like seriously, female Jesus: you lot worship
her." And well, Mikey wasn't wrong, because Frank still wasn't fully over the
fact that she'd spoken to him last week.
"I know, but anyway, she spoke to me last week and-"
"Oh, so did you sleep with her?" Mikey countered, smirking like a fucking
idiot.
"No, I'm gay." And Frank's tone was sarcastic enough to pull it off like a joke
if Mikey pulled the homophobe card on him, but it was far from that: the guy
only nodded - indifferent: he genuinely did not give one single fuck, and Frank
decided then and there that he really did like Mikey Way.
"Who's the male version of Lindsey in this school then? I bet you want to sleep
with him." Mikey teased, laughing a little, because hey, this was the most fun
he'd had all week.
"The last person she'd slept with - it changes regularly and I'm really not up
to date, anyway, she got overly excited about the fact that I'm gay, you know
like straight people are like 'oh my god my gay friend' like your sexuality is
the most important thing about you- fuck, I don't know what I'm saying, you're
heterosexual, you're not going to understand me."
"No one's going to understand you if you keep making assumptions about people,
especially the kind that aren't true." Mikey leaned back in his chair,
stretching a little, before continuing. "I'm asexual, Frank."
"You don't look much like a plant."
Frank held Mikey's fucking astonished glare for far too long before bursting
into a fit of giggles, and Mikey almost slapped him.
"Very aloof, very fucking mysterious - I hope you're proud." Mikey rolled his
eyes, turning away from Frank for a moment. "Frank, do you want to be as
amazing like distant and cold as me?"
"And as arrogant too?" Frank raised one eyebrow, leaving Mikey to roll his eyes
and reconsider ever talking to this guy in the first place.
"Something like that, anyway, bunk off with me next lesson, I want a smoking
buddy, or something like that." Mikey's 'I don't need friends' facade was
slipping just a little there, but whatever, Frank was eager at anything
opportunity to get away from fucking Pete Wentz right now.
"Yeah, because we're not going to get caught stood around the back of school
smoking when we should be in class-"
"Fucking amateur, Iero, seriously, I'm not that stupid, we're going to leave
school, we're going to go back to my house, and you should think yourself lucky
that I'm actually choosing to spend time with you, because I'm not, my
brother's boyfriend is supposed to be visiting him today and I fucking hate
that guy."
"Oh so your brother's gay?" Frank asked just about the straightest thing he’d
ever said.
"He's pansexual." Mikey corrected with a sigh. "And he's very proud of it, like
the fact that he's attracted to all genders is his fucking tagline he's such a
fucking prick, I hate him, but he's my brother, so like, you know, I don't hate
him... but his boyfriend is literally the worst person in the world, like I
wouldn't be surprised if the guy had an angry pitchfork mob running after him,
but yeah."
"Why's your brother dating him if he's such an asshole?" It wasn't Frank's
business, but he was blunt enough to ask nonetheless.
"Because he's an asshole too and they have that in common." Frank couldn't help
but laugh as Mikey only rolled his eyes. "They've been together on and off for
four years now, and there's very little I can do about it: there a big part of
each other's life, but at least now with the move, by tomorrow morning, Bert
will have pissed off again and I can happily forget he exists, but of course,
Gerard can't, can he? Gerard's my brother, by the way."
"Maybe you just need to find him someone else." Frank suggested, as the bell
rang for the end of the lesson.
"Maybe I do." Mikey added, grabbing his bag as everyone stood up, and turning
to Frank. "So have you chickened out yet or not?"
And before Frank could respond, Ray to him across the classroom, interrupting
his train of thought. "Frank, you walking to Maths with me, or are you
preoccupied here?" And an eyebrow movement that Frank would kill him for.
"I'm just talking to Mikey a moment, I'll see you later or whatever." Or
whatever, because Mikey didn't make it sound like they'd really be returning to
school at all.
"Just talking?" Mikey smirked after Ray had gotten out of earshot, and the two
left the classroom. "I expected better, kid, I really did."
"You know I'm still up for it - he's just going to turn into my fucking mum and
tell me not to and then fucking report me to the police or something." Mikey
rolled his eyes at that, the two of them making their way to the edge of the
school grounds and exiting via the stupidly conveniently placed footpath, like
seriously, did they even care? You could just walk the fuck out.
"Why are you friends with him then?"
"Because he's too tall and I'm too short, and I've got nobody else."
"What a sob story, I'll be sure to donate monthly to the 'get Frank a friend'
charity."
"How about the 'get Frank a boyfriend' charity?"
"Don't be a slut about it." Mikey rolled his eyes and quickened his pace,
leaving Frank to struggle a little to catch up as the two made their way
straight out of school and to what Frank assumed to be Mikey's house, or if
not, the warehouse he was going to murder him in, but whatever, it would
probably still be better than maths.
-
Gerard was just a little stoned, and very, very turned on.
His perspective on right and wrong shifted greatly when drugs came into play,
and when Lindsey Ballato turned up at his door, without Jamia Nestor this time,
and offering him some weed to get her bag that she'd totally accidentally
thrown into his garden again, she'd ended up pressed against the wall with his
lips on hers.
Gerard was just a little upset, and perhaps even really emotionally unstable
with Bert having called him an hour or so earlier: something about difficulties
and a moan in the background that Gerard assumed he wasn't supposed to hear.
But whatever, he was stoned enough now for it not to matter at all, and Lindsey
was kind of cute actually, and well supportive, and very willing to help him
get revenge on Bert, because they'd made it clear that this wasn't soppy or
romantic, because neither Gerard nor Lindsey did soppy or romantic: this was
just hormones and revenge, which were two things Gerard was very fond of, to
say the least.
Gerard hadn't actually made out with a girl in an awfully long time now, and it
was quite a pleasant change, and he was pretty sure that she'd gotten bright
red lipstick down his necks, but that was nothing in comparison to his latest
batch of hickeys.
Of course, he'd gotten revenge, not in lipstick, but in hickeys, and everything
was just needy moans and messy kisses as the two forgot about the whole world
around them.
Lindsey thought the guy was pretty hot, and she was feeling pretty lonely right
now: Jamia was being off with her, and the last guy she'd got with had pissed
off to Australia, and she hated him now, or something like that. Honestly, she
didn't even care about him, but it was more fun to say that she had.
For Lindsey, it was all about fun, and making out with Gerard Way was most
definitely fun, and most definitely something she'd just ticked off her bucket
list.
"Mmm... you're hard, aren't you?" She pulled away, smirking at Gerard as she
grinded against his hips a little.
"Mmm...." Was Gerard's response, proving that eloquence and hormones didn't
exactly go all that well together.
"Want some help with that?" She continued, pulling away further. Gerard nodded
without thinking at all. "You gotta return the favour, though - understand,
fuckboy?"
"I'm not a fuckboy-" Gerard protested, cheeks bright red.
"You want me to suck your dick or not?" She didn't wait for a response before
sinking to her knees and leaving Gerard's slightly askew set of morals to deal
with not thinking about his sort of boyfriend as some school girl sucked him
off- but of course, this wasn't just some school girl, this was Lindsey fucking
Ballato.
Although, Gerard didn't quite seem to grasp her popularity and goddess like
status at all, because if he had, he probably wouldn't have agreed to this at
all, because she was definitely ruining his mysterious outcast credibility with
her popularity right there, but she was cute and she was just about to put his
dick in her mouth as the front door opened.
"Gerard?" Mikey called out, surprised not to have seen him and Bert just openly
fucking on the sofa in front of them or something, and well, when he walked
into the dining room, he really was in for a surprise.
"Fuck." Gerard practically threw his head back against the wall, zipping
himself back up as Lindsey got to her feet. "My brother." He added as a
whispered explanation, and that was all the two got before Mikey opened the
dining room and from the millions of hickeys on their necks, could just about
piece together what had happened.
"Oh hi Frank." Lindsey piped up, seeing Frank peering into the room from behind
Mikey.
Frank blushed in response, because this was an all new kind of awkward. "Hi..."
Had Mikey gotten 'Bert' and Lindsey Ballato mixed up or something?
"I thought Bert was coming over today." Mikey snapped, clearly not approving of
what had happened between his brother and the girl Pete had wanted him to fuck.
"Yeah, he fucking changed his mind didn't he, Mikey?" Gerard rolled his eyes at
his brother, moving away from the wall so Frank could get his first glimpse of
him properly, and hot fucking damn.
Frank Iero had never related to the female population of the school in their
wishes to be Lindsey Ballato so much. Gerard was pathetically hot, and Frank
was just pathetic.
"So you go fuck some random girl-" With the amount of school he'd not actually
turned up to, Mikey was still to actually meet Lindsey Ballato, which was some
sort of never before seen kind of crazy experience.
"Mikey, that's Lindsey Ballato." Frank added from behind Mikey, although he was
spending far more time staring at Gerard than he was Lindsey.
"Oh... right, okay-" Mikey's cheeks went a horrible shade of red, his mind
focused on nothing but Pete's weird sexual fantasy involving the backbend and
whether or not that was something his brother had just experienced.
"Oh, Mikey Way- sorry, I haven't met you yet, I've heard quite a lot about you,
but you're never actually at school, are you?" Lindsey smiled at him, and
continued like she wasn't about to suck his brother's dick before he walked in.
"You're not at school now either, you know?" Mikey raised one eyebrow, as
Gerard continued to stand there awkwardly in what was probably the most awkward
experience of his life, but then, he actually seemed to notice Frank's
existence, and well, he couldn't help but wish that he'd turned up before
Lindsey had.
"Yeah, well, I'm making up for it - I was supposed to have 'sexual education'
right now-"
"Not with my fucking brother home." Gerard let out a sigh, rolling his eyes a
little. "Mikey, why are you even here? Go the fuck back to school."
"Tell that to your girlfriend, how about that?"
"She's not my girlfriend-" Gerard protested, shaking his head a little.
"I'm really not." Lindsey added. "I would fuck off now, but I'd really rather
not go back to school, you know?"
"Okay, just go fuck my brother where we can't see or hear you, huh?"
"Actually, I need to talk to Frank." She glared at Mikey, pushing past him and
grabbing Frank by the hand.
"You fucking him too?" Mikey called out after her: it was pathetic, but
whatever, he didn't like her, but then again, Mikey didn't tend to like any of
the people Gerard fucked or kissed or whatever.
"No, I'm fucking talking to him about the guy that I'm trying to set him up
with."
And oh fuck, Frank liked guys and Gerard was about to bang his head against the
wall right in front of his brother because he really did not know what to feel
right now.
-
***** Lindsey Ballato's Three Step Guide To Becoming Something *****
Gerard Way had fallen asleep with his head buried face first into the sofa, and
his legs curled up against his chest, and a half eaten packet of Doritos
knocked off the table beside him and now residing in crumbs and mess all over
the carpeted surface of the living room floor: his mum would kill him.
Thankfully, somehow, Mikey was the first to wake up, stumbling down stairs in
boxers and the first shirt he'd pulled off his bedroom floor in a half asleep
state; it was probably something to do with the fact that it was a Saturday and
Mikey had found an absolutely wonderful 'gift from heaven' esque dealer, which
he was not quite so inclined to share with his older brother.
The seventeen year old found himself rolling his eyes as he peered into the
living room: the TV still on in the background at the lowest volume, displaying
some sort of news show that he knew Gerard hadn't been originally watching; he
grabbed the remote from the coffee table and switched it off as Gerard let out
a loud sigh in his sleep, rolling over and burying his face deeper into the
couch cushions.
Mikey thought it best just to leave his brother in peace like this, even if Mrs
Way would not be quite as inclined to do the same when she noticed the Dorito
crumbs all over the carpet; he eventually settled upon brushing the major
crumbs under the sofa and pulling the coffee table closer to the sofa in an
attempt to disguise the mess at all.
Mikey placed the packet back on the table, and in doing so, happened upon his
brother's cellphone: the screen illuminating in a burst of unwelcome bright
light as the device vibrated against the coffee table. Mikey valued his
brother's privacy, but his own curiosity was a demon he couldn't quite ever
overcome, especially as he knew he'd receive no repercussions for the deed as
long as he was careful.
With a cautious glance in Gerard's direction, Mikey inhaled sharply and grabbed
the device; Gerard's passcode was his date of birth and had been for years now,
and Mikey wondered why he'd even insisted that Gerard change it in the first
place.
Mikey didn't exactly mean to go all super privacy invasion suspicious mum mode
and like look through everything on there, but he did indeed settle upon
opening the messages app, and in turn, Gerard's conversation with Bert.
He scanned the messages quickly, and didn't bother to scroll too far up, as he
was rather satisfied to see that Bert had texted Gerard something about them
being 'done' at about four in the morning, which Gerard had presumably fallen
asleep before receiving; Mikey marked it as unread and moved onto the most
recent conversation - the one that had alerted Mikey to the phone's presence in
the first place.
This one took Mikey by surprise, to say the least.
The contact name didn't exactly give took much away: a simple 'F', but the
messages said everything Mikey could ever want to know and more.
There was some serious flirting, but some fucking middleschooler flirting, and
in fact it was awkward and painful to read, but then Mikey's eyes flickered
across the most recent message: 'Meet me today?'.
Mikey didn't even quite know how to react as he marked the message as unread
and put the phone back down on the table, letting out a deep sigh, before
exiting the room and making his way into the kitchen.
So, his brother was getting laid, again? After the whole thing with Lindsey a
few days ago, and after Bert breaking up with him at four in the morning- and
fucking hell, he didn't even know that Bert had broken up with yet. Mikey could
hope that the trauma of a break up would deter his brother from going and
fucking another innocent victim, however, he knew Gerard well enough to say
that that was most certainly not the case.
Eventually, he settled upon simply brushing all thoughts of Gerard out of his
head, and making some coffee.
He made his way back upstairs as the kettle boiled: putting some jeans on over
his boxers, and grabbing a hoodie from the floor, and his phone from the side.
He finished in the bathroom just as the kettle had finished boiling, and he
made his way back downstairs just in time to see a very groggy looking Gerard
emerge from the living room like some sort of coffee zombie.
"Morning." Mikey raised one eyebrow at his brother as he made a dash for the
kettle, pouring the hot water into the mug he'd prepared earlier, because
apparently Mikey's life was fucking Blue Peter. "This is my coffee." He added,
with a stern glance in his brother's direction.
"I'm ill." Gerard announced, rubbing his eyes. "I need coffee."
"If you're ill then you need to go to the doctors." Mikey told his brother,
taking a second to reminder himself that he was in fact the younger one here.
"I'm not making you coffee: you can make it yourself."
Gerard groaned and pushed past Mikey to the kettle, leaving the seventeen year
old to take a seat at the table, and sip his coffee elegantly like a classy
fucking lady as browsed through his own text messages.
Mikey was significantly less popular than Gerard, with only one text from Frank
that made very little sense and was probably sent to the wrong person anyway;
he responded with the first emoji he saw, which just happened to be that
fucking moon, but whatever, it was most definitely appropriate in consideration
of just how early it was, like ten in the fucking morning? Early as fuck, for
sure.
"You're going out?" Gerard finally noticed the fact that his brother was fully
dressed, and met it with disbelief, because it wasn't like Mikey Way was the
most sociable of beings, not that Gerard was either, but whatever.
"Yep." Mikey rolled his eyes, turning his phone screen off and putting the
device back in his pocket, before looking up to face his brother.
"Why?" Gerard continued to look at him with a great deal of suspicion, which to
say the least, was not a gesture that Mikey particularly appreciated, but
whatever.
"Because I want to?" Mikey raised his eyebrows, actually rushing to finish his
coffee now, and just so that he could get the fuck out of the house without
Gerard performing some serious police investigation or something.
"Well, that's blown my mind- what the fuck is that?" Gerard groaned as a loud
blaring sound resonated throughout the house.
"Your phone. Answer it before mum wakes the fuck up and slaps you for it."
Mikey let out a sigh, finishing his coffee and trying his best not to think too
hard about just who it could be calling Gerard right now - Bert, or the
extremely mysterious and elusive 'F'.
-
Lindsey Ballato finished her cigarette in two minutes, stubbing it out against
the tarmac of the play park with her heel, as she leaned back into the swing,
casually moving a little, as she pulled her cellphone out to check the time,
because yeah, she was right - that motherfucker was late.
'That motherfucker' being of course none other than Frank Iero, who was
slightly dubious about Lindsey's extravagant matchmaking scheme, and was far
more interested in the phone number that he'd acquired from her last night,
well Jamia.
Jamia was turning out to be Frank's best friend at this rate, and mainly for
the fact that she was super fucking observant, and well, they were sort of
partners in homosexual crime right now: some sort of mission to split up
whatever thing was going on between Lindsey and Gerard so that they could date
them.
The mission wasn't exactly having a very high success rate, and mainly due to
the fact that Lindsey was oblivious and stubborn as fuck, but Gerard was rather
happy to receive a text from a slightly drunk Frank Iero late last night, and
Frank would call that his greatest victory yet.
Of course, the asshole still hadn't replied to him about meeting him today, and
Frank found himself stuck with Lindsey and her desperate attempts to find him a
boyfriend.
Maybe he should just shut the fuck up and let her do it, because Gerard liked
Lindsey, and Gerard sort of already had a boyfriend, and Gerard was just
fucking confusing, but also really hot, and way out of Frank's league, yet
somehow Frank had landed himself some sort of friendship was Lindsey Ballato,
which may or may not be on the premise of his sexuality, which was a particular
straight person quirk that Frank didn't really care for, but whatever.
Frank arrived ten minutes late, and in that time, Lindsey was on her third
cigarette, and was doing a wonderful job in ensuring that all mothers who
actually wanted their children to play in the play park didn't actually go a
ten metre radius of her.
Frank had to give her credit for that, because she did indeed look punk rock as
fuck, and Frank couldn't even begin to imagine just how long those boots with
the platforms and the buckles that went up to her knees had taken to get on
this morning.
"Iero. Late, much?" Lindsey raised her eyebrows as Frank approached the play
park. She gestured to the swing beside her as he closed the gate behind
himself, and a mother scowled at the two of them from a distance, and Lindsey
made a point not to give one single shit.
"Slept in or something." Frank mumbled, putting his hood down as he sat down
beside her.
"Or something?" Lindsey rolled her eyes at the emo mess beside her.
"What?"
"Basically you're late because you woke up with an extreme case of morning wood
and you had to get yourself off before leaving the house, because that would be
awkward, but then you found some really great porn and got distracted- I would
suggest some examples, but I don't actually tend to watch gay porn... lesbian
porn, sometimes, but a dude sticking his dick in another dude's butt? Nah,
sorry."
"I was actually waiting for someone to reply to a text message-"
"Cellphones are portable, Frank, that's the point, you could have very easily
received the message on your way here." Lindsey let out a sigh, and passed a
cigarette in Frank's direction, which he took with question or concern for his
lungs, because it was Lindsey fucking Ballato, okay?
"Still didn't get a response." Frank muttered, putting the cigarette between
his lips and taking the lighter from Lindsey's palm, lighting his cigarette,
and passing the lighter back to her.
"Tragic." She let out a sigh, gaze fixated upon the grey, cloudy skies. "I
think it's gonna rain soon, and this isn't waterproof mascara, so you can hurry
the fuck up with your cigarette, and we can go meet that guy."
"Oh- you've already- set me up... oh..." Frank's eyes widened as he did all in
his power not to think about Gerard fucking Way, and well, failed tremendously.
"Gabe Saporta. His name sounds like Gay Supporter, and I thought you might
appreciate that." Lindsey explained, grabbing her cellphone and sending a quick
message to the gay supporter in question.
"Wait so is this guy actually gay, or are you just going off his name?" Frank
asked, his eyes widening, as he took a moment to consider just what the fuck
he'd gotten himself into, and why he was just so inclined to listen to every
fucking word Lindsey Ballato said, and without question too.
"We'll find out soon, won't we?" She giggled, pocketing her cellphone and
turning to Frank, who was very firmly shaking his head at her.
"Jamia is much more bearable than you." Frank rolled his eyes, taking a long
drag of his cigarette: in no hurry to finish it, but he didn't question the
fact that Lindsey would slap him if her make up started to run.
"Jamia's cute, she's just nice, she's funny, cute, amazing, but she's not the
girl who kicked Brendon Urie in the balls last summer." Frank knew he most
definitely going to repeat the first half of that sentence to Jamia when he got
the chance.
"She could be the girl who kicks him in the balls this summer." Frank added
with a shrug of his shoulders.
"Or it could be you: you could be the boy who kicks him in the balls." Lindsey
glanced back up at the sky. "Anyone could make it here, you know: it's just
luck, I'm honestly nothing special, Frank, I'm just a pretty face with a short
temper and high standards. And you, you're two steps of the way there."
Lindsey stood up as Frank finished his cigarette, stubbing it out against the
tarmac, before following suit.
"Which two?" Frank couldn’t help but ask and with an uncontrollable curiosity.
"How about you find that out for yourself, huh?"
-
Gabe Saporta seemed far more interested in Lindsey than Frank, but then again,
Frank wasn't exactly surprised, because despite being a raging homosexual, he
was still far more interested in Lindsey Ballato than he would ever be in
himself.
Gabe had weed, though, and lots of it, so the situation kind of made up for
itself, and well, Frank wasn't exactly a '420 enthusiast', but if Lindsey
Ballato was telling him to do something, he found himself doing so regardless.
He smoked far more casually than the other two: disinterested and barely
listening to their conversation, and his whole heart stopping at the text tone
that they didn't even notice.
A fucking text from fucking Gerard Way was far more important than anything
else in the world to Frank right then.
He glanced up at Lindsey and Gabe and noted just how close they were getting,
and Frank wondered just how on earth he'd ended up third wheeling on what was
supposed to be his own date, even if it was one he’d been set up in. He
wondered if Lindsey would go as far as to kiss Gabe in front of him: Frank
didn't particularly care, he was just curious - curious as to just how far
Lindsey would go, and as to just how far he'd continue to put up with it.
Frank had low standards.
He was unaware, of course, but Lindsey was, and she knew that was what he was
missing, and perhaps this was just some elaborate exercise in which to
highlight it for him to see, or perhaps that would be the excuse Lindsey would
stitch together in her head when she found herself in Gabe's bed the next
morning.
Frank just genuinely didn't care about Gabe, though: he wasn't particularly
good looking, and the message from Gerard still lay unread on his cellphone.
Frank glanced down at it and felt his heart skipping a beat as he did so.
He mumbled something about the bathroom, and Gabe pointed vaguely to his left,
leaving Frank to wander off in that direction and lock himself in the bathroom,
and then finally read the message, because it felt important, like a private
ordeal: something special, and Frank was ridiculous, and he knew it.
'Sure. I'm kinda sad but you can make me happy'
The text was in response to Frank's from several hours ago now: the one about
hanging out today, and holy fuck, Frank's heart was exploding, and he was
beginning to wonder just whether they’d ever look to see if he'd died in the
toilet or something.
'When? Where?'
Frank wondered if his response was too eager, and in turn, Frank wondered if he
cared, and well, he didn't quite get the time to fully figure it out before
Gerard had responded, telling him to come over whenever, and just like that,
Frank was unlocking the toilet door, and creeping through the kitchen, and then
unlocking the backdoor with the key on the side, because face it, neither
Lindsey nor Gabe would miss him, and even if Lindsey did actually happen to
notice his absence, she'd text him, or she'd be preoccupied with something
else, and it'd be forgotten.
But Frank didn't care, because Lindsey didn’t mean bad - that was just who she
was, and that was alright, as long as Frank could be who he was, and it turned
out that who Frank was, was the guy who sneaked out through the backdoor to
avoid third wheeling and go 'comfort' the older brother of one of his very few
friends.
God, Frank just hoped that Mikey wouldn't be in.
-
Thankfully, he wasn't, and Gerard didn't mention too much about, so Frank
treated it with the same disregard as the two made their way upstairs and into
Gerard's bedroom.
He muttered a quick apology about the state of the room, but Frank didn't care,
and in turn, Frank muttered a quick apology about the state of his existence:
Gerard didn't care.
Gerard didn't even seem to hear him, actually, and well, Gerard was like
Lindsey in a lot of ways.
As the nineteen year old lit a cigarette, grabbing his ash tray from the
windowsill, Frank stood there watching, and marking Gerard up to Lindsey's
three step criteria for being worth people's time: three steps to becoming
something, or whatever.
It was obvious that Gerard had the pretty face, and the high standards: high
enough to ignore Frank's menial mutterings, but not high enough as to ignore
Frank completely; Frank wondered if he was really just here to keep Gerard
company when he was sad, but he'd ended up pushing the thought out of his head
before it could really start to bother him.
Frank was unsure about Gerard having a short temper, though: he seemed pretty
passive when the whole ordeal between him, Mikey, and Lindsey had occurred, and
it puzzled Frank, because Gerard would definitely rank as high as Lindsey, or
if not, higher, or the scale of importance, well in the mind of a highschooler,
but Gerard was a strong nine, and Frank was a two at best.
Pete Wentz was a four.
Although, that had something to do with the amount of people he'd slept with,
and Frank was well, a sad little virgin, and Gerard Way was probably the
opposite of a virgin, and Frank wasn't listening to a single word the nineteen
year old was saying at all.
"You're not listening." Gerard noted with something vaguely resembling a smirk:
something that puzzled Frank. "That's funny."
"I- I'm- sorry-" Frank stuttered out, taking a seat beside Gerard: a seat on
the bed, and perhaps he most awkward seat Frank had ever found himself in.
"Doesn't matter." Gerard gave a shrug, accompanied by a puff of nicotine. "Tell
me what you were thinking about - it's probably far more interesting than my
sob story anyway."
"I was thinking about you." Frank found the words tumbling from his lips before
he could stop himself.
Gerard chuckled, raising his eyebrows, and turning to face Frank with a greater
interest. "About fucking me? Or just how wonderful I am in general?"
"I-I-I-..." Frank's cheeks blushed such a deep scarlet that Gerard wondered if
he'd pass out from it: thankfully, he didn't.
"I was talking about how my ex-boyfriend broke up with me last night, just so
you know, because you weren't listening." Gerard finished his cigarette,
stubbing it out in the ashtray, and then pushing the ashtray into the furthest
corner of his bedside table.
"Oh- I'm sorry-"
"So you can fuck me if you want to, just saying." Gerard paused, moving closer
to Frank. "Or I could fuck you? If you want."
"I-I-..."
"Anytime you want, Frank, just tell me: it's an offer, it's a thing - I'd say
yes if you asked, nothing more, nothing less." Gerard stood up, and made his
way across the room: getting another cigarette from the packet he'd left on the
dresser. "Think about it?"
-
***** Frank Experiences Ridickulous Problems *****
Frank's heart was fluttering as the wall shook behind him: two wrists pinning
him against the plaster, and another's lips on his his, Frank's sense going
numb with the sensation that could only be described as weightless, because
maybe his heart had just been beating so fast that it was nothing but broken at
this point, because whatever it was, Frank was certainly losing breath, and
there certainly wasn't a lot of blood in his ehad right now, but then again,
they could easily be mere side effects of the fingers leaving cold trails down
his chest and stomach until they finally reached the waistband of his boxers.
"Let me fucking touch you." And there was no denial in the fact that the voice
was familar: perhaps even too familair, in fact, but still, Frank couldn't
quite place it, until he found his gaze reaching those perfect hazel eyes, and
realisation came like a kick in the balls, but Frank didn't have much to ponder
over, before his pants were at his knees and, well, Gerard's hand was curling
around his dick.
And fuck.. fuck... nothing had ever felt better, and Frank was just about as
certain of that as he was certain that he was dying on the iniside right now.
"So fucking perfect, so fucking hot, and so fucking mine." The voice, now
undeniably Gerard's, whispered against his ear, breath hot on his neck, and
really that wasn't the only part of Frank that was alamost uncomfortably hot
right now.
And as Gerard's hand tightened around Frank, before the seventeen year old even
knew what was happening, he was coming absolutely fucking everywhere.
And before Frank even knew what had happened, he woke up in his bed, alone, and
groaned as he pulled his hand away from himself and glanced at the alarm clock
on his bedside table - 6:57. Frank sighed, sitting up in bed, and cringing at
the awfully big mess he'd made, because although Gerard had been nothing but a
fantasy, the feelings going through Frank right then most definitely were not.
And fuck, Frank was going to have to wash his fucking sheets and everything
sucked, everything, except his dick, because that realy was not getting sucked
right now, and Frank was nothing but disappointed, and somehow still turned on,
even as he turned his alarm clock off and forced himself out of bed, and into a
very, very cold shower.
Of course, the freezing temperatures did nothing to subdue his raging
homosexual fantasies, whoich he'd seemed to have been cursed with every since
he'd made the absolute fucking mistake of going to meet Gerard last week, when
he could have been a wonderful untraumatised third wheel with Lindsey and Gabe,
who had turned out not to be a gay supporter seeing as he practically hadn't
left Lindsey's side all week, and what had happened after Frank had left was
pretty easy to guess.
Frank ddin't mind at all, though, as he was far more preoccupied with fucking
unfairly hot Gerard Way, and his habits of sleeeping with the whole world, and
flirting with awkward teenagers, especially Frank, and in all honesty, there
hadn't been a night that Frank had woken up with clean sheets since Gerard had
just brought up the casual 'fcuk me' offer, which of course, Frank had been too
awkward to accept befeore it drove him crazy.
Of course, Mikey would have probably killed him when he inevitabitly did find
out, and well, Frank knew gerard well enough to know that this wouldn't be a
happily ever after kind of thing, and really, Frank wouldn't even be surprised
if the guy was already back with Bert, and had forgotten all about what he'd
said to Frank.
But of course, Farnk's head had ensured he knew that he could never, ever
possibly even fathom forgetting the way Gerard Way made him feel.
Frank glanced down at his dick in the shower, muttering something like, 'you
fucker', before rolling his eyes and getting out of the shower and attempting
to pull in his best 'I didn't have a sexdream about your brother' facade to
face Mikey with today.
Because Mikey certainly seemed to have a very stubborn habit of despsising
everyone his brother had ever slept with, and well, Lindsey Ballato was the
living proof of that, because hating Lindsey? Well, that just wasn't natural.
-
"Frank? Are you even listening?" Ray was acting in a very maternal fashion
towards Frank's lack of participation and interest in their History project,
but then again, it wasn't exactly Frank's idea to let both Pete and Mikey into
their group.
Sure, Frank did actually value Mikey as a friend, but the longer these fucked
up sexdreams went on, the less he could look the guy in the eye without feeling
the urge to spurt out a 'hail Mary' or two, which most certainly wouldn't go
without question.
"Nope..." Frank mumbled, throwing his head down against the desk, and closing
his eyes for second, before Ray fucking slapped him across the afce, and that
definitely fucking counted as absue and Frank was going to call the police
right this fucking instant.
"Frank, you're letting me down, you're letting the group down, and you're
letting the fucking country down." Ray continued in his efforts to get Frank to
give one single fuck, but found them yielding little results.
"Good, America can go fuck itself." Frank grovelled, only to be jabbed in the
side by an extreemly agitated Mikey Way. "What?"
"Do you wanna bunk off after this?" Mikey asked, and fuck, now, now Frank was
listening, and now Ray's eyes were widening in an 'oh, fuck no, you will not do
that' manner.
"Please." Frank groaned, forgetting all about Mikey's Way's motehrucking home
and the motherfucking older brother thatw as there right now in favour of
saving him from more of this hell.
"I mean, we could just go now, this substitute is hardly going to notice."
Mikey suggested, only for Ray to finallly butt in: completely astounded by the
fact that Frank would ever do this, ever. In fact, he was motherfucking
disappointed in him.
"Frank, are you serious right now? You could get in trouble, you are not- no-"
"Ray, I think sometimes you forget that you aren't my mum." Frank added,
rolling his eyes a little, and bracing himself as Pete returned from sharpening
his pencil or something for seven hours.
"Mikey Way would you like me to sharpen your pencil?" And Frank couldn't help
but laugh, because with the nerves and velocity that the words left Pete's lips
with, it couldn't help sound an awful lot like some sort of fucked up nerdy
euphemism.
"Uhh..." Mikey dragged the sound out, glancing between Ray and Frank, who were
both laughing their motherufkcing heads off, and glaring. "No? I'm- I'm not
exactly sure what you're asking..."
"Mikey, let's just go?" Frank pulled his head away from his hands and motioned
towards the door, because seriously, facing the guy he'd thought about whilst
coming for the past week was far better than this fucking shit.
"Where?" Pete, of course, had to ask, staring at Mikey in nothing short of a
creepy stalkerish manner.
"They're bunking off." Ray grumbled, orlling his eyes, because as Frank's
mother, in spirit, he felt as if he couldn't possibly allow this to happen.
"CAn I join?" Pete asked with excessively dilated pupils, which lead to beg the
question, just what had he been doing 'sharpening his pencil' for so long.
"If he's going then I am, because fuck it, I'm not doing this shitty ass
project alone." Ray concluded with a sigh, and Frank reckoned it'd be to worth
taking Pete just to ensure that Ray didn't go all fucking maternal on his ass
and fucking tell on them; he conveyed this all to Mikey in one expertly
perfected, totally realistic glance.
"Fine."
-
Mikey really wasn't a people person, and that was true throughout all aspects
of his life; Frank was just that obligatory 'we're in highschool be my partner
in group projects' friend, and he had most certainly not prepared to drag both
Pete Wentz and Ray Toro home with him before lunch, because this was running a
serious risk of actually being worse than school, because with school, it
wasn't like he was forced into Pete Wentz's vicinity, was it?"
And Gerard was possibly even less pleased to see three random teenagers in his
house than Mikey was, although, that definitely had something to do with
Frank's presence and the offer that still hung unaddressed and awkward in the
air.
And well, the eye contact, it was both deadly and inevitable, and Frank found
himself standing at loss for breath in the iving room of the Way household.
"Mum is going to kill you for smoking inside." Mikey addressed his brother,
finding no need to introduce Gerard to Pete and Ray, because well, to them,
Gerard would be nothing more than that dude, whereas Frank could only yearn for
and dream for such a simply basis and menial relationship.
"Let her. Fucking let her." Gerard put the cigarettes between his fingers and
got up to face the four teenagers. "You too many friends now, Mikey, am I
seriously supposed to remember all their names?"
"If you just fucked off and took your cigarette outside you wouldn't have to
worry about their existence at all, you could just pretend that they don't even
exist." Mikey suggested with a glare in his brother's direction.
"Yeah, maybe, let me kidnap Frank for a minute or two, though: we need to
talk." Gerard seemed to have no concern for subtely, and both Frank's heart and
Frank's stomach were doing metaphorical backflips right now.
"You met him like once?" Mikey responded with confusion, unlike Ray, whose face
was making it evident that he was drawing together some kind of uncomfortable
conclusion here.
"Yeah, that's not structly true- come on, Frankie." And with that, Gerard
grabbed Frank by the arm and pulled him throughout the house and through the
backdoor, and Frank's heart didn't start beating again until Gerard had him
slammed up against the backgate.
"Fuck..." Gerard let out a sigh, putting his cigarette back to his lips and
steepping away, just taking in Frank, and every stupid thought in his head
right now. "You really are gorgeous, you know that?"
Frank blushed, shurgging a little, at an utter loss for words. "I... I.. you
too."
"Oh I know." Gerard smirked, giggling a little too, before leaning back against
the gate with Frank at his side. "You thought about my little proposition yet?
Because yeah, I was rpetty fucked up, but it still stands: if there's anything
that never fails me, it's my di- I... is this too much?" Frank shook his head
before he could speak
"Never fails you?" Frank raised an eyebrow: his voice cracking a spiked with a
nervous kind of poison. "So you've never had an awkward wet dream about someone
you shouldn't have and woke up fucked up and cursing?" Gerard remained silent,
his eyes widening a little. "Because I have, every fucking day since you...
you... you and I- and it's fucking killing me."
"You should be embracing your attraction towards me. You should be embracing
your sexuality, your hormones, your emotions, everything. You don't want to
suppress things, Frankie, that's when things get fucked up, and we can't even
fuck now, because Mikey's brought over half the fucking school-"
"I can promise you that the school has more than six pupils." Frank added, and
for what purpose, he didn't entirely know, but whatever.
"I can promise you that I really don't care." Gerard snapped back before he
could really assess just how upset it could make Frank. "Bert still hasn't
spoken to me." He added a moment later, shurgging it off a little. "It's
probably a good thing, but it doesn't feel like that inside."
"If you're happy, you're better off without him-"
"But, Frankie, I'm not, because I'm a little fucking whore, both in bed and for
people, for attention, for everything: I need people to tell me I'm beautiful,
and that they want to fuck me, because I can't just tell myself that. I'm not
self-confident, Frank, I assure you, I'm just fucked up and arrogant, and kind
of broken too, it seems."
Gerard paused, lighting another cigarette in the silence.
"You know how they say your soulmate is your other half? I don't think Bert's
my soulmate, I don't think we really fit, but I think it's close enough, and
really far better than the alternative, because my other half. I'm just a half
on my own: incomplete, or something, I guess."
"You're not incomplete-"
"Then tell me why I need you so much right now.
-
"You always look hot, Lindsey." Jamia let out a sigh, looking up from her
cellphone as Lindsey put on what was probably the forty seventh slightly
different outfit this evening.
"I do, I do, but I want to be hot and fuckbale, maybe I just want to be pretty,
like... I want people to see the pretty face and not the short skirt and boobs-
not that there's anything wrong with that- of course there isn't, I- I wanna be
cute, you know what I mean?" Lindsey let out a sigh, sitting down on the end of
Jamia's bed in nothing but a bra and panties and Jamia was getting so serious
lesbian feels right now.
"You are cute." Jamia promised her with what was probably the worst diguised
blush in the whole world. "You're really cute."
Lindsey let out a sigh and pulled on a random shirt. "Maybe I just shouldn't go
to this party."
"Why on earth not?" Jamia exclaimed, pocketing her cellphone in order to turn
her full attention to her unfairly beautiful and overhwelmingly attractive best
friend.
"Because Gabe's not that hot, okay? I was kind of stoned, and I don't really
like his friends, and I've been with him for like five days now - that's way
too long."
"You definitely have commitment issues." Jamia smiled, shuffling a little
closer to Lindsey in the most heterosexual manner she could muster.
"Guys get dull pretty fast, it's not my fault I need to keep things going." And
Jamia was so damn close to suggesting that she tried girls instead, but Jamia
at least had the dignity not to ruin her life over some stupid little crush.
"So what do you want to do tonight?" Jamia asked, her eyebrows raised a little.
"You want it to be just us, or do you want invite some other people over,
because like my parents aren't here this weekend, so-"
"I like Frankie, you know, Frankie who likes cock? But I think he kind of hates
me because I was supposed to be setting him up with Gabe, but like that didn't
happen... I don't know... shall I just text him? Invite him over or something?"
She asked, and Jamia only shrugged, because really, there was no point
attempting to argue with Lindsey Ballato. "No, seriously, Jamia, do you want
Frank here? Or do you not like him? You didn't want me to talk to him that one
time and-"
"No, Frank's cool, he and I are friends." Jamia smiled and nodded, because
Frank Iero was probably the only one of Lindsey's 'friends' that she could even
fathom tolerating, and she was most definitely going to make the most of this
before Lindsey inevitabily got tired of him.
Lindsey seemed to always get tired of everyone. Except Jamia.
And that was something that Jamia could never quite put her finger on.
-
Frank hadn't really planned on being Lindsey Ballato's cliche gay best friend,
but the alternate was staying at home and fretting over this mess he'd gotten
himself into with Gerard Way, so he reckoned being forced into taking some
weird Buzzfeed quiz about dicks by Lindsey Ballato was probably the best he
could get out of this evening.
"What is your ideal length?" Lindsey asked, reading from the screen of her
laptop in an accent that had spawned from the half empty bottle of white wine
beside her, because even wehn she was getting tipsy, Lindsey was still classy
as fuck.
"F-Fuck I..." Frank blushed, turning to Jamia for support, who only shook her
head and continued persuing Lindsey's DVD collection.
"You can pick from 'short but sweet', 'average length but astounding ability',
'on the large side', 'riDICKulously big', and 'size doesn't matter to me'."
Lindsey read the options aloud, leaving both Jamia and Frank in tears, because
oh Buzzfeed, you tried.
"It's more about who's it is really, isn't it? I mean, if they're ugly as fuck
I'm still not gonna like, but if they're like-... like... cute... I-" Frank
cheeks burned up until he was resembling a homosexual tomato, and that really
wasn't a good look.
"You like someone, don't you?" Lindsey slammed her laptop closed and jumped
onto the bed beside Frank: eager with curiousity and doing a wodnerful job of
intimidating poor Frank Iero.
"Leave him alone, Lindsey." Jamia shook her head from across the room, but
Lindsey wasn't listening at all.
"I-I-..." Frank swallowed hard, looking down as all of his thoughts focused
upon that one motherfucker. "I... guess..."
"Who?" Lindsey continued, her head practically exploding with excitement.
"It's none of your business, Lindsey, if he wants it to be secret, then it can
stay that way-"
"Jamia already knows, I guess..." Frank shrugged, continuing to blush like
hell. "It's kind of awkward, though. Just tell her, Jamia."
"What? She knows?" Lindsey exclaimed, finding herself seriously personally
offeneded by this.
"He likes Gerard." Jamia let out a sigh, putting the DVD collection to one side
and meeting Lindsey's gaze in order to read her reaction. "I gave him Gerard's
number and I think he's never going to stop thanking me for it."
"That's cute."
Needless to say, Frank blushed, and he blushed like hell itself.
"You don't mind? I mean, you and him... I-" Frank stuttered out, his words
getting lost in his throat a little.
"Nothing, Frankie, it's me, you know me, don't you?" Lindsey giggled, and
pulled Frank into her side. "I think I'm going to go for Mikey now anyway, he
seems apprehensive and I like a challenge: it's more fun that way, don't you
think?"
"Mikey's asexual." Frank pointed out. "Sorry to burst your bubble but he really
doesn't wanna fuck."
"I'll go for a kiss instead then?" Lindsey grinned, leaning back on the bed,
and leaving Jamia to roll her eyes and text someone randomly to apologise for
Lindsey's existence because it had become somewhat of a coping method at this
point.
"Good luck fighting Pete Wentz off him." Frank giggled, not expecting his
statement to catch Lindsey so much by surprise.
"Pete likes him?"
"Totally fucking pathetic stalker head over heels likes him: it's ridiculous."
Frank confirmed, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Like you and Gerard then?" Lindsey said with a smirk. "You turn into a tomato
whenever someone even says his name, how has he not even noticed yet?"
"No... he knows... it's just weird, it's just Gerard, he's like you, he does
fucking and not feelings and well, I'm just fucked and in entrely the wrong
way."
"He's a very good kisser if it's any consolation."
"To my wet dreams, yes, but to my sanity, fuck no."
-
***** In Which Pete Asks Mikey To Be His Sugar Daddy *****
"I've made a plan."
"What?"
"A plan."
"What kind of plan?"
Lindsey Ballato, stood in the morning light of Jamia Nestor's kitchen, opened
her laptop and placed it on the dining table, only leaning down to press a key
on the keyboard, before making her way towards the fridge, in search of
something to eat.
"You made a freaking powerpoint?" Frank exclaimed, looking up from his cup of
coffee in order to catch a glimpse of just what Lindsey's elusive plan was.
"I stayed up until five making this shit, be fucking grateful, Iero." Lindsey
muttered for the kitchen, making herself a cup of coffee as she pulled some
sort of edible generic breakfast food out of the fridge. What she ate isn't
important, okay?
"What exactly is this a powerpoint about?" Jamia dared to ask, hitting space
bar and pulling up the next slide, which was... interestingto say the least.
"Is that Gerard-"
"This is the plan that involves getting Frank with Gerard and me to seduce
Mikey, or something like that." Lindsey explained, pouring milk into her coffee
in a manner that bared a striking resemblance to that one milk obsessed kid who
was friends with Brendon Urie, who she was famous for kicking in the balls last
summer.
"And what am I supposed to do? Watch awkwardly?" Jamia retorted, leaning back
in her chair, and getting as far away from this fucked up plan as she possibly
could.
"Whatever you want: join in, try and fuck with us, huh?" Lindsey smirked,
taking a seat at the table with her coffee.
"Seriously, what the fuck is that?" Jamia asked, gesturing to the powerpoint
slide that Frank hadn't taken his eyes off since it'd come on.
"Oh, well, I did some stalking, as you do, well, you know, that's just every
single photo of Gerard Way on the internet that I could find ever, arranged in
chronological order." Lindsey shrugged it off, simply like she wasn't a fucking
psychopath, as Jamia took another look at the slide.
"This is some crazy shit-" Frank exclaimed, shaking his head as he finally
managed to take his eyes off the computer screen. "He does look really damn hot
with red hair, though."
"Told you: you would have never known that without my help, anyway, if you've
finished here then we can move onto the next slide." And Frank, albeit a little
reluctantly, moved to the next slide, not really sure what to expect at all.
"How much stalking did you do?" Jamia exclaimed, her eyes widening as a slide
full of far too much information about Gerard Way filled the screen.
"A lot." She admitted, giggling a little. "I feel like Frank needs the help,
though: he's an awkward little shit. I know nothing about Mikey, though: it's
more fun that way."
"Lindsey, this isn't a game-" Jamia protested, but as usual, Lindsey wasn't
listening.
"It kind of is, don't you think, now don't be such a bitch about things, look,
come on, do you want me to find you a guy? Do you feel left out? Is that what
this is?" She asked, leaving Jamia to just shake her head at her best friend,
before standing up. "Jamia? I'm sorry, okay?"
"Whatever." Jamia shrugged it off, making her way upstairs without another
word.
"What did I do?" Lindsey exclaimed, turning to Frank for sympathy, or well,
anything really.
"I can't explain... I... it's complicated." Frank let out a sigh, knowing that
'she's in love with you' wasn't exactly going to get the best response at all.
"Really, look, it's nothing, just be nicer to her, okay?"
"I was- okay..." Lindsey shrugged it off, exiting the powerpoint and checking
MySpace, because spiritually, she was in fact Pete Wentz. "You don't mind me
trying to set you up with Gerard, though?"
"God, you can try, I doubt it'll work though, because we won't work: he's
Gerard, and he's quick fucks and no feelings, and I want to date him, and...
I'm a little fucking pathetic faggot, and he's Gerard Way."
"Now what's that supposed to mean, huh?" Lindsey raised her eyebrows, finishing
her coffee.
"I'm not important, I'm not pretty, I'm just Frank, whereas Gerard, he's just
amazing..."
"Frank, do you really think I'd be talking to you right now if you weren't
important?" Lindsey asked, getting up from the table. "Look, get yourself ready
or whatever: we're going to try our luck with Gerard and Mikey, yeah? I'll go
talk to Jamia, apologise or whatever - she'll be fine."
Frank just nodded, remaining seated as Lindsey made her way upstairs after the
poor girl that was desperately fucking in love with her.
He grabbed his cellphone, checking his messages: unsure quite how to react in
regards to the new one from Gerard, because dear lord, this boy was either
going to change his life or ruin it, but Frank hadn't the slightest clue as to
which one.
'I really need you.'
Frank sighed at the message, and considered just deleting it and pretending
that it didn't send properly, because god that would probably be easier than
replying to the shit that Gerard had probably texted him whilst high or drunk
or something.
'I want you right now.'
Another. And Frank's heart practically fell from his chest and onto Jamia
Nestor's kitchen floor as he read the message.
'Good morning.'
Frank went for the generic response, or basically, just the first thing he
could come up with that wouldn't kill him instantly.
'Come over.'
And Gerard continued to make it evident that he wasn't going to bother with
being discreet about this one.
'I'm so hard over you. I think about you all the time.'
And Frank's sanity was catapulted out of the nearest window, feeling a certain
unwanted tightness in his jeans as he genuinely considered jacking off Jamia's
fucking kitchen, but no, he could make it to the toilet first, he totally
could, and he totally would.
'What do you think about?'
Frank sent the message as he locked the toilet door behind himself, throwing
his body back against the wall and letting his jeans bunch up at his knees as
he held his cellphone in one hand and his dick in the other.
'Fucking you so hard that you can't walk properly for days, mostly. Sometimes I
just tease you because you want it and we both know that.'
Frank's breaths were heavy and hitched against the bathroom wall, his hand
moving faster than ever before as he struggled to tap out a one handed a reply.
'Please.'
It was simple, but it was enough, and Frank's head was hardly in an eloquent
frame of mind right now.
'You're getting off right now, aren't you?'
Frank jolted a little into his hand at that: he was close, and Gerard was
fucking driving him crazy here.
'Yes.'
And then silence: nothing. Just the little 'read' message at the bottom,
leaving Frank alone and short of breath with his own hand for entirely too
long.
'Come for me.'
And within seconds, without any second thought, Frank did: his head slamming
back against the wall, as he struggled to place his phone safely on the shelf
on the side.
He met his own reflection in the mirror; he was fucking ruined and he knew it,
and he'd just jacked off in somebody else's house, but Frank couldn't care at
all.
He grinned at his reflection, cleaning himself up and pulling up his jeans,
before turning back to his cellphone and reading the one new message, from
Gerard, of course.
'Fuck, you're amazing.'
And a cute little heart emoji, that was totally uncharacteristic of Gerard, but
kept a smile securely upon Frank's face for hours afterwards.
-
"Gerard, you should do something with your life for once, you know?" Mrs Way's
suggestion went amiss as Gerard stumbled into the kitchen at twelve noon, only
having dressed himself ten minutes prior.
"Mhmm." Gerard shrugged it off, not really having paid all that much attention
to what his mother had been saying in the first place.
"You could start by actually listening to me when I'm talking to you." She
suggested, turning to face Gerard as he began to make himself a coffee. "And
stop drinking twelve cups of coffee everyday, how about that?"
"I'd die without coffee." Gerard's statement was heartfelt, and well, kind of
true, but Mrs Way didn't seem to think so at all.
"I doubt it, honey, I really do." She turned back to her cooking. "This is
lunch, you know, and you got up like ten minutes ago."
"I woke up hours ago, I just didn't get out of bed." Gerard rolled his eyes,
grabbing his cup of coffee, and burning his mouth on it, but drinking it
regardless because he was metal as fuck.
"And what on earth were you doing in bed for hours?"
"I don't know." Gerard shook his head, making his way towards the kitchen door
with a grin; his answer was unimaginative, but he reckoned he really could not
get away with telling the truth, which was 'I was too busy jacking off over
this fucking boy called Frank, who might actually be perfect' wasn't exactly
the best thing to tell your mother whilst she was making lunch, or any time at
all, for that matter.
"Gerard?" Mikey addressed his brother as he made his way into the living room,
taking a seat besides the seventeen year old on the sofa: Mikey was watching
Star Wars - what was new?
"Yeah?" Gerard asked, his eyes ignoring Mikey in favour of Star Wars, because
okay, Gerard was a massive nerd - what was new?
"What's going on with you and Frank?" And at that, Gerard nearly spilt his
fucking coffee all over himself, but at that point, he was most definitely
giving Mikey his full attention.
"What do you mean?" Gerard asked, playing the innocent card, which may or may
not have been slightly ruined by his previous minor heart attack at the mere
mention of Frank's name.
"What do you thinkI mean?" Mikey rolled his eyes, putting Star Wars on pause,
and turning to face Gerard properly. "You talking to him the other day?
Everything, I mean, you're not quite as discreet as you think you are."
"So what do you think's going on?" Gerard asked, biting his lip, because fuck,
he was most definitely blushing like a fucking idiot right now: there wasn't
one single question about that.
"You're fucking him." Mikey decided to be blunt, and well, Gerard was just
forever grateful that their mother couldn't hear them from the kitchen.
"I haven't fucked him, not even once." And Gerard wasn't even lying: it wasn't
like Mikey had mentioned anything about sexting, was it?
"You're letting yourself go, Gerard." Mikey snorted, shaking his head at his
brother. "Try to fuck someone other than my best friend, though, please."
"I thought you were 'the mysterious Mikey Way: too cool for friends, too cool
for anyone'?" Gerard raised his eyebrows, laughing a little as Mikey gave him a
gentle slap that he kind of really did deserve.
"Frank's alright: he's a nice guy, and he's not weird, he's the person I can
tolerate the most, so therefore he's automatically my best friend. Ray's
alright too, but we don't tend to speak, and Pete, goddamn, Pete makes me want
to shoot myself, Gerard."
"Slight overreaction?" 
"No, I'm deadly fucking serious: he's like obsessedwith me, it's just kind of
creepy, goddamn, I just- how can I be like stop it, please, you're creeping me
out, I'm not that great?" Mikey whined, leaning his head onto his brother's
shoulder.
"He's just got a crush on you: it's cute." Gerard giggled, and he totally
deserved that slap too, even if his bruised arm was starting to disagree.
"Whatever, I don't like him-"
"Have you even spoken to him?" Gerard wasn't convinced at all, and well, it was
just anything to piss Mikey off, because he was a nice caring brother like
that.
"No, but-"
"Ha, there you go, motherfucker!" Gerard pointed enthusiastically at Mikey.
"Talk to him, give him a chance: maybe he's just nervous, maybe he's just an
awkward fucker like you, come on, look me in the eye and tell me he's ugly."
"He's not ugly, okay, but he's not cute either!" Mikey protested, but Gerard
wasn't having any of it whatsoever.
"At least I can accept when I have a crush, Mikey."
"Crush? It's a crush, is it? It's not- not a 'fuck' thing... this is a
thingthing?" Mikey stared at his brother in disbelief.
Gerard blushed, not having given his words much thought before they'd slipped
out. "I guess."
-
Mikey was tall, in fact, Mikey was fucking lanky and fucking tall, and perhaps
the sole advantage of that was getting away with buying cigarettes when the
cashier was too tired to ask for I.D., and Mikey was most certainly ensuring he
used these 'powers' to their full extent in the new town where no one had to
know that the tall, lanky guy in the joy division shirt was actually only
seventeen.
He exited the small off license situated on the street corner with a packet of
cigarettes in his hand, stopping outside to fumble with opening the packet,
placing one in his mouth, placing the packet into his pocket, retrieving his
lighter from his pocket, lighting the cigarette in his mouth, putting the
lighter back in his pocket, and finally taking the cigarette into his fingers
as he exhaled.
It sounded far more complicated than it was, and well, Mikey had practiced the
ordeal near enough every day of his life.
"How can you buy them when you're underage? Are you like in some secret gang or
something and you have the shopkeeper's owner held hostage, so they're forced
to sell you the cigarettes, despite the fact that you're seventeen?"
Mikey looked up, and shook his head immediately, because who else could he
possibly have been expecting, other than Pete Wentz.
"No." Mikey took another drag of the cigarette he shouldn't legally have just
bought. "I just look older than I am, and a lot of the time, they don't give
enough of a shit to check."
"Cool!" Pete exclaimed, his eyes practically bulging out of his skull, because
Pete Wentz literally could not handle Mikey Way's existence, and you know what?
Same, to be honest. "Can you buy me cigarettes?"
"Pete, you don't even smoke..." Mikey trailed off, his face contorting into an
expression of confusion, but Pete's grin never faltered, and Mikey began to
wonder whether this emo lump in front of him was actually human at all.
"I just want to see you do it, it's so cool- buy me something, Mikey Way!" Pete
exclaimed, like a fucking three year old child.
"I'll buy you some baby food, because you're acting like a fucking toddler
right now." Mikey rolled his eyes, leaving Pete to look personally offended,
and indeed resorted to flipping Mikey off.
"Buy me something, please, I'm broke as fuck." Pete pleaded, his tone taking a
more serious tone, but it was Pete, so, well, you weren't exactly getting
anything meaningful by far. "Please, I'll kiss you if you do."
"As if I needed any more motivation notto." Mikey rolled his eyes, turning away
from Pete. "I'm not your fucking sugar daddy, Pete, buy yourself something."
And with that, the seventeen year old made his way down the road, but the
fucking opposite way to his house, because there was no way he was going to let
Pete know where he lived.
And perhaps Pete just couldn't take the hint, as he found trailed after Mikey
within seconds.
"Maybe you could be my sugar daddy." Pete suggested, all puppy dog eyes, and
Mikey considered whether just punching the guy in the face was a viable option
here.
"Pete, please stop flirting with me- I... I don't like you, I'm sorry, but I
don't-"
"Oh you think I'm flirting with you?" Pete exclaimed, his eyes widening as he
began to gesture wildly with his hands. "Don't get so big headed, Mikey Way.
I'm far too cool for you, you know that."
"Sure." Mikey narrowed his eyes, taking another drag of his cigarette,
reckoning that dying of lung cancer would be more enjoyable than continuing to
engage in conversation with Pete Wentz.
"Does this mean you're a flaming homosexual then?" Pete's face lit up moments
later. "Because there was a suspicious lack of no homo in that sentence."
"I'm asexual, if you must know." Mikey stopped for a moment, bracing himself
for the 'are you a plant?' and the 'what the fuck is that?' comments, because
those were always great fun.
"I'm bi." Pete added, pausing for a moment, and meeting Mikey's gaze as he did
so. "Asexual's the one where you don't want to fuck anybody isn't it?"
"Yeah, that's the one." Mikey nodded.
"I would actually die." Pete confessed, hand on his motherfucking heart. "So,
wait, do you not like want to date anybody ever?"
"That's a different thing, that's aromantic - asexual and aromantic are too
different things, and sexual and romantic attractions don't always match up,
okay? So, I'm asexual and homoromantic."
"So you want to date dudes, but not fuck them, or get fucked, or anything, like
you just want to kiss and hold hands and be cute?" Pete was showing an actual
interest in not being an uneducated little prick, which was a pleasant surprise
for Mikey, to say the least.
"Yeah, pretty much. I just don't experience sexual attraction, it's like I want
to kiss and cuddle you really damn hard, but no fucking, please." And Mikey was
sort of losing himself in actually getting to talk openly about his sexuality
to someone that actual gave a fuck for once. 
"So, you don't ever get hard?" Pete exclaimed, his eyes widening tremendously.
"Or like jack off?"
"Not like... I get morning wood, and well, sometimes it does just happen, but I
don't get hard over people... and sometimes you're hard and you have to just to
make it go away, but like, it's not a recreational activity or anything, I
don't know - it's different for different people as well." Mikey paused,
finishing his cigarette and stubbing it out with his shoe. "It's like a
spectrum, as well, so like, people experience it on varying degrees."
"I've never really thought this much about sexuality." Pete admitted, walking
just a little closer to Mikey. "It was always just like, yeah, Lindsey
Ballato's hot, and fuck, her boyfriend's hot too... okay, I'm bi."
"Gerard, my brother, he's pansexual, he had this big self discovery hippie
phase a few years ago, and it was like constantly in my ear: I couldn't help
but pick some of it up and actually look into it, I mean, fucking hell, this is
important, because there was once a time that I thought I was heterosexual,
like damn, no."
"Have you ever actually, like... like... like..." Pete's cheeks flushed pink.
"Fucked anyone?" Mikey raised his eyebrows, and Pete nodded, his face still
bearing resemblance to a sunburnt tomato. "No, I mean, I've never wanted to. I
just kind of know. I gave this guy a blowjob, though, once, like last year, and
I was kind of drunk... it was weird."
"You don't like blowjobs?" Mikey shook his head. "There's no fucking way we can
be friends."
And as Pete Wentz made Mikey Way laugh, the whole fucking world fell apart.
-
***** And Then What?;) *****
It wasn't a crush, per say, but Gerard had been forced into doing the washing
up by his mother, and he was smiling - needless to say, he was thinking about
Frank.
But it wasn't a crush, because he wasn't thinking about Frank smiling or being
'cute' or anything else sufficiently pathetic; Gerard was thinking about Frank
Iero fucking coming all over himself while thinking of him.
It wasn't a crush.
It was an affliction, lust, or something, because those were the feelings
Gerard had, and not, fucking pathetic ones.
He didn't even get all fucking gooey over Bert, or at least when they were
dating, even with the four fucking year relationship, he could never quite
achieve head over heels love, but there was no denying the fact that his heart
was beating a little faster as he stood washing the plates.
However, he still wasn't entirely sure as to whether that was do with some
bullshit lovey chemical in his brain, or just the extra blood needed in his
dick right now, because fuck, Frank Iero coming was hot, and Gerard needed to
finish the washing up right the fuck now so he could go and jack off for at
least twelve years, which was a great idea in Gerard's mind, after all, it
wasn't the only amazing idea of Gerard's that lasted twelve years, was it?
The nineteen year old cursed his mother for not just buying a goddamn
dishwasher, like he chimed in with a haven't you people ever heard of buying a
goddamn dishwasher? However both Mikey and his mum were out, and that was
exactly why he'd been lumped with dishwashing duty, so they didn't hear him,
which was probably a good thing, but whatever.
Gerard finished a few more dishes, before going 'fuck it' because he was
nineteen and super mature and why the fuck would his mum possibly insist that
he actually helped around the house for once in his life? Like oh my god,
sounfair! 
However, by the very moment he had his bedroom door locked behind him, Gerard
was thinking about a whole lot more than the washing up and his mother, Jesus
Christ he definitelywas not thinking about his mother as he fell back against
his bed and shrugged his jeans off, cursing them for being fucking skin tight,
and then later cursing emo culture for making him even want to wear this shit,
but he looked good in skinny jeans and everyone fucking knewit.
With the jeans off and lying in a heap on the floor, he soon had his right hand
around his dick, already half hard, because insane thoughts of Frank Iero did
that to a guy, fuck, he- Frank didn't even know what was happening right now as
Gerard bucked his hips up into his head - sofucking close and he'd barely even
started yet; he'd be ashamed, if he was anything but incredibly fucking turned
on right now.
He let out a strained moan, fisting the sheets with his left hand as all kinds
of thoughts flooded his head, and fuck, Frank, Frank needed to know he was
thinking about him like this, because this wasn't something Gerard did for
everyone, and goddamn, Gerard needed to fuck that guy and he needed to fuckhim
right now.
And that was exactly how Gerard found his cellphone on the pillow beside him,
on speakerphone and dialling Frank, but never fast enough as Gerard attempted
to slow the movement of his hand, just in the hopes of lasting long enough for
Frank to at least pick up, because fuck- but fuck, he needed this, and he
seriously reckoned he hadn't been this turned on in forever, and surely that
meant something, but Gerard wasn't exactly in the position to contemplate the
meaning of his entire fucking life right now.
"Hello? Gerard?" And that fucking voice. Fuck. Gerard found himself responding
with nothing more than a choked, half muffled, desperate kind of moan. "Are
you- okay? Ge- oh my god, you- you, you're not, I-"
"Touching myself just thinking about you, Frankie." He managed to force the
words out, gripping himself a little tighter as he did so, and really neither
of the two could have expected the kind of moan that came from Gerard's lips as
he did so.
"Fuck- Gerard- I... I have to go and meet Lindsey in like two minutes- I-"
"No, no you don't, fucking listen to me: you're gonna get the fuck back into
bed and you're gonna get your hand around yourself and you're going to let me
tell you everything I want to do to you right now."
Gerard pulled his hand away from himself with a great deal of reluctance,
biting down on his bottom lip just to hold out a little longer as he listened
intently to the sounds of Frank shuffling around in his room, and then a
zipper, a fucking zipper,and fuck.
"I-I... I'm... yeah..." Frank's words were strangled, his voice lowered and
Gerard couldn't help but wonder if his fucking mum was in the next room,
oblivious to her little innocent saint of a son getting off with another man.
"I wanna fuck you so bad, Frankie, so bad, all I could think about this
morning, fucking you,and the way you moan - I wanna make you moan like that."
And almost as if on cue, Frank was moaning like fucking hell itself. "I wanna
get you naked and fucking on your knees, I wanna spread you apart, I wanna
fucking tease you forever, I would if I could, but goddamn, I couldn't last
that long just looking at your pretty little ass, and- I'd finger you, and
you'd look so pretty press back against me, because you're such a slut for me,
Frankie, but no, I wouldn't let you, I'd throw you back down onto your hands
and knees, and grip your hips so fucking tight that they ache for days as I
fuck you so hard and so deep into the fucking mattress: your prostate again,
and again, everytime and you're going be screaming for me to let you come, but
I'm not gonna let you until I've filled your fucking ass with my come, and then
I fuck you once more with everything I've got and then, then you're going to
come so fucking hard-"
And almost like fucking magic, Frank did.
"Did I say you could come?" Gerard snapped, his breathing heavy as he imagined
Frank spread out there with his own come all over his chest, and within
seconds, he found himself in much the same state. "Fuck."
"Did I say you could come?" Frank asked, chuckling a little, and if Gerard was
there he knew like fuck that he would have fucking slapped him, or wait...
"I'm gonna spank the fuck out of you if you don't shut up."
"And then what?" And Gerard could hear the wink in Frank's voice.
-
Mikey wasn't exactly sure what it was about Pete, but there was most definitely
something, and there was most definitely somethingin Mikey too that ensured
Pete hadn't been fucking punched yet.
The two were sat in the park, Pete having managed to sit cross legged on a
swing, and Mikey sat normally on the one beside him, waiting for the inevitable
moment when Pete fell the fuck off that thing and cracked his skull open, but
Pete didn't seem all that concerned for his own safety at all.
"Do you ever stop smoking?" Pete asked, watching as Mikey lit what was probably
his fifth cigarette. "You have an increased risk of lung cancer, you know?"
"Really, no one has ever told me!" Mikey exclaimed in a half-hearted sarcastic
sort of manner.
"I did, just now." Pete watched as Mikey put the cigarette to his lips and
exhaled with very little care.
"I was being sarcastic, you idiot." Mikey couldn't help but let his lips crack
into a small smile as he turned back to face Pete, who was looking at him with
an unplaceable, just... odd kind of expression.
"Oh." Pete found himself just sat there, kind of awkwardly returning Mikey's
smile, but happily doing so. "Are you still going to smoke even though it's bad
for you?"
"Yes." Mikey uttered with a kind of sincerity that made the both of them laugh.
"Why?"
"I... actually kind of don't know." Mikey admitted, brushing his hair away from
his face. "It's just a thing, I'm just... I guess I kind of picked it up from
my brother, he smokes a lot, and my mum smokes too, but I guess I smoke the
most, like I spend all day smoking, Gerard spends all day jacking off or
fucking or whatever, and my mum spends the whole... fuck I don't even know what
my mum does, nagging the both of us, probably."
"Has your brother ever considered a career in prostitution?" Pete asked, and it
was kind of a genuine question.
"I'd say he has far too much self respect, or well, far too big an ego for
that." Mikey laughed it off, brushing off the fact that Pete Wentz was
continuing to make him laugh for the millionth time, because okay, maybe they
kind of were friends at this point, but... but... but... fuck. "But I'll
definitely suggest it as an option. My mum's been nagging at him just to get a
fucking job for weeks now, like I'm sure she imagined some kind of grocery
store clerk kind of thing as opposed to hooker, but, we'll see."
"Do you still hate me?" Pete kind of burst out with the question, catching
Mikey just a little by surprise as he did so.
"No, I... I don't know, I just... I got the wrong impression of you, maybe...
you're kind of awkwardaround people, new people, all people actually, and I
just thought you were being a creep, or something." Mikey paused for a moment,
trying his best not to upset Pete. "No offense or... I... I consider you my
friend now, anyway, so it's-"
"I'm autistic." Pete let out a sigh, looking anywhere but Mikey, because his
reaction was something that Pete could not face. "Asperger’s. It's... not
important, I don't usually tell people, well anyone, but you actually pointed
it out and asked."
"Oh my god, fucking way to make me feel like a douche." Mikey exclaimed,
grabbing Pete's hand in an effort to gain his attention once more, or just to
get the fucking guy to look at him, however it didn't exactly go as well as
expected.
Pete jumped, and Pete jumped like fucking hell itself, and fell the fuck off
the swing. He fell onto the weird soft thing they put underneath the swings at
least, so Mikey didn't have to drag his ass to the hospital or something, but
he didn't look particularly happy about it.
"Ow... I..." Pete looked up at Mikey: at least he'd landed on his butt, but,
still, it fucking hurt. "Sorry."
"Why the fuck are you apologising to me?" Mikey shook his head and put his
cigarette between his lips as he got up to help Pete to his feet.
"I made you feel like a douche." Pete explained, blushing a little.
"And I made you fall off a swing." Mikey put his cigarette between his fingers,
laughing and shaking his head a little. "You alright, for serious?"
"Yeah, I'm, my butt hurts, but otherwise, I'd say I'm alright."
"Good, do you want to like sit down, somewhere, you can't fall off of?" Mikey
asked, smirking a little. "The bench or something?"
"But that's so hard, my butt's going to kill me, I-"
"Sit on my lap." Mikey grinned, taking a drag of his cigarette. "We just have
to hope that doesn't get hard, otherwise your butt is going to be in a whole
new kind of trouble."
"Mikey-" Pete protested, wide eyed and not entirely sure as to whether Mikey
was being entirely serious or not, but before he knew what was happening, Mikey
was dragging him over to the bench and sitting him down on his lap.
"Better?" He asked, holding his cigarette out in his hand away for Pete.
"I should fall off swings and hurt my butt more often."
Mikey grinned, blushing just a little, but goddamn, this wasn't a crush, this
was... honestly, Mikey didn't have a fucking clue what this was.
And perhaps he was just as hopeless as his brother when it came to crushes and
feelings, almost.
-
"You have an awful habit of being late, Frank Iero." Lindsey smiled at Frank as
he approached her, sat in the park, on the swings, as usual.
"I thought Jamia was coming." Frank raised an eyebrow at the empty swings
beside her, and then that one swing that looked like it had been upturned and
someone had, well, fallen off it or something else equally as ridiculous.
"She's being weird with me." Lindsey shrugged it off, in much the same manner
that Frank had shrugged off her comment about being late, so really, they were
kind of even at that point. "I think it's to do with her being single, and-"
"Lindsey, trust me, just leave it, just leave her be... she'll tell you
eventually, or at least I fucking hope she does, because it's going to drive
both me and her insane otherwise." Frank cracked a smile as he took a seat in
the swing beside her.
"It's fucking frustrating, though, because everyone knows that I tell Jamia
everything and I would tell her it all without a fucking moment's thought,
but..." Lindsey stopped, the swing coming to halt as she began to kick the dirt
below with her feet. "I don't get it - I just don't, and I think that's that."
"She'll tell you eventually." Frank added after a moment, cringing a little as
he received a text message, because it was either going to be from his mum,
or... Gerard, and well... either would be terrible with Lindsey around.
"Who's that from?" And of course, Lindsey had to ask, didn't she?
"G-Gerard."
'We need to fuck for real at some point, before I go crazy.'
And an 'x' that was so fucking out of place that it almost seemed lost amongst
a message that Gerard Way had sent.
"Ooh, what does it say, come on, tell me." Lindsey demanded, and well, if there
was ever a moment for promptly dying on the spot, it was now.
"It's private- I-"
But Lindsey was snatching the phone from his hand before Frank could protest,
and a face of shock turned into one of intrigue as Lindsey scrolled up and
fucking threw the phone back at Frank.
"Oh my god, you're getting laid, Frank, you're getting laid, Jesus Christ, why
didn't you tell me before?" Lindsey exclaimed, almost genuinely excited for
him, which was kind of weird, to say the least.
"It's kind of not your business, Lindsey." Frank blushed, texting Gerard back
with a quick, 'I can't talk right now sorry', because Lindsey had totally
ensured that the message flagged up as red and Frank just couldn't deal with
Gerard getting bitching about him now replying or anything.
"Whatever, Frank, I don't get you sometimes, you know? I really don't..."
Frank wasn't listening, but it wasn't like it even mattered, as Pete Wentz and
Mikey Way appeared from seemingly nowhere, and Lindsey had something other than
Frank to occupy her time with.
Sure, Frank liked Lindsey, but Lindsey wasn't exactly a fucking saint, and
Lindsey wasn't exactly the person you'd trust, and well, Frank could deal with
that, at least for the most part, however Jamia couldn't, as she'd done nothing
but put the devil up in heaven and forced herself to deal with the
consequences.
Of course, nothing was Jamia's fault, nothing was anybody's fault, but Frank
watched as Lindsey called the two over, and he reckoned that he could totally
start sexting Gerard right then and right there, if Mikey just didn't happen to
be Gerard's brother, because that totally fucking ruined that idea for Frank.
"Hey Mikey Way." She smiled up at him, twirling her hair a little, and Frank
just wanted to punch her or somebody, and he looked up at Pete, and came to the
blatant and shocking realisation that Mikey Way and Pete Wentz were hanging out
together and by choice, and damn, there was no denying the fact that Pete
looked awfully fucking proud of himself.
Frank didn't say anything, because it wasn't his place and he reckoned that
from the side glance Mikey gave him, he respected that.
Mikey found himself ripped away in small talk with Lindsey Ballato, and Pete
Wentz just standing there, awkwardly, kind of jealously watching, and Frank
went fuck it to his entire life and got up, gesturing for Pete to follow him as
the two made their way over to the grass a couple of metres away from the
swings and sat down.
"Jamia's not here, so I guess it's my job to apologise for Lindsey Ballato's
existence today- good god, am I the back up Jamia?" Frank exclaimed, finding
himself thrown into shock with the sudden realisation as he followed Pete's
gaze back to Mikey. "What's the deal with you and Mikey then?"
"I don't know." Pete laughed a little, stopping himself from staring before
Mikey could fucking notice.
"At least you two are talking now." Frank added, meeting Pete's gaze with
something like a smile, because okay, Pete could most definitely be annoying at
times, but he still didn't hate the guy.
"He's amazing, he's super lovely." Pete confessed before he could stop himself,
and was blushing a horrible shade of red when he came to realise just what he'd
done. "I just need to tell someone, sorry."
"How about you tell him?" Frank suggested, a small smile tugging at his lips;
Lindsey most definitely wouldn't like that, but any deterrent from her
attraction towards Mikey would leave Jamia fucking over the moon.
And Frank felt sorry for Jamia more often than not, and he strived to fix that,
because she most certainly didn't fucking deserve it, and he didn't reckon that
Lindsey meant it either, but... people could make a real mess of the world
around them if they simply neglected explaining and confessing what the fuck
was going on in their heads.
"I can't, I... I... can't." Pete shook his head firmly, blushing at the mere
notion of it.
"You can do anything, Pete Wentz, you fucking hear me?" Frank grinned, glancing
down at his cellphone again, because fucking hell, Gerard just didn’t
understand 'not now', did he?
"Are you going to tell him?" 
And Frank jumped like fuck as he realised Pete was reading the messages over
his shoulder.
"I... I reckon he already knows, if I'm honest."
"But you didn't like tell him upfront?"
"No, he just sort of... we just sort of... things just worked out, I guess."
"Do you think Mikey will just sort of work things out?"
Frank looked up and across at Mikey, and the way he smiled at Lindsey, and how
his heart was plummeting for Pete. "No, Mikey's fucking stupid and stubborn and
arrogant and weirdly full of himself, you're going to have to tell him."
"I thought you liked him? Why are you saying that about him?"
"I do. Everyone has flaws, and you can't help but pick up on them, but you
accept them, and you look past them, don't you?"
Pete looked back at Mikey and nodded.
-
***** The Story Of How Gerard Way Died *****
If Gerard knew anything, it was that he most certainly wasn't doing the washing
up again, and perhaps even this was a better alternative.
And this was making conversation with Mikey about something they vowed that
they'd never mention, because these were the stupid feelings that plagued their
hearts and minds and meant everything but nothing at all, and regardless of
their significance or otherwise, where just absolutely impossible to ignore.
Because whatever this was with Frank, because it was something, because it had
lasted long than a week, it had nothing to do with Bert McCracken, and still
Gerard was interested, and that was absolutely out of the ordinary for him.
Sure, it didn't sound like anything much, but Gerard was pretty damn special
and perhaps not in the best way.
And of course, it wasn't like Mikey was particularly happy to admit the way he
felt about Pete either, and they were both very much in the same boat here, but
of course, always just as reluctant to admit it, or even to admit to anything
at all.
The two were sat at the kitchen table, meeting one another's gaze in a pathetic
attempt to ignore the pile of washing up they'd been tasked with sorting out,
because they were going to be realistic here and admit that the likelihood of
the washing up actually getting done was just about as likely as either brother
getting himself together enough to sort out the feud between his head and his
heart.
But dancing in thought around the notion was most definitely an easy
alternative with which to waste away time totally notthinking any homosexual
thoughts at all, because, of course, no homo was the motto that the Way
brothers lived by everyday of their lives.
The two jumped a little as the screen of Gerard’s cellphone, laid on the table
in front of him, lit up, displaying a text message, and of course not just a
text message.
It was the first text message in weeks now, and from one single glance at the
contact name, Mikey already knew what this was.
And Gerard did too, even if he was just a little more reluctant to admit it.
The contact name in question, being, of course, 'Bert'.
The message was illuminated on the screen for a painful thirty seconds, before
the screen faded to black, and Mikey turned to face his brother with a raise of
his eyebrows. "Don't you fucking dare fuck up your life again, you hear me?"
"M-Mikey..." Gerard stumbled out, perhaps even just a little taken aback at the
fact that Mikey had even spoken up, having anticipated a prolonged silence,
lasting perhaps even as long as it would take Mrs Way to come home and shout at
them about the washing up still remaining untouched, but perhaps Mikey was just
a little saner than Gerard thought he was.
"Don't reply to that douchebag, and don't you fucking dareget back with him."
Mikey snapped, gesturing to Gerard's phone as he spoke, and of course meaning
Bert, and not the phone itself, because that would be pretty damn ridiculous
indeed.
"I'm not- I..." Gerard let out a sigh, grabbing his phone from where it lay,
and turned the screen on, letting his eyes glance over the message, before
putting it back down again, because he reckoned Mikey might fucking smash it if
he didn't.
'I miss you. I'm sorry. I love you.'
And more kisses than Gerard deserved, but just enough to sink his heart right
back down into the depths of the motherfucking ocean, because he was getting
okay again, but now Bert was back, and now everything was back, and his head
was fucking on fire.
"I'd rather you fucked Frank than ever talked to him again." And Gerard didn't
doubt that Mikey meant that one little bit.
"I'm not going to reply." Gerard added, blushing a little, not quite wanting to
meet Mikey's gaze.
"Good."
"Do you mean that?" He asked a few moments later.
"Of course I do - why the fuck would I say it if I didn't mean it, Gerard?"
Mikey sighed out, shaking his head a little, catching sight of the washing up
on the side as he pulled his gaze back to face Gerard's, and wincing a little
as he did so, because there was most definitely more of it than when he'd last
looked; it was like there was sentient bacterial life growing and multiplying
in the corner of his kitchen, and with how long it had been there now, Mikey
didn't exactly doubt it all that much.
"So, what would you say if I did fuck Frank?" Gerard asked, stretching his legs
out under the table and putting them up on the chair opposite, gaining a little
raise of eyebrow from Mikey, who was just taking a silent minute to comprehend
what Gerard had just fucking said.
"You're thinking of fucking Frank?" Mikey asked, almost praying that he hadn't
heard Gerard right, because dear god, he hadn't really wanted this at all, and
dear god, Gerard had to be joking here, hadn't he?
"Well no, me and Frank are thinking of fucking, and yes that's different,
because it's a mutual thing and I'm not some asshole who keeps praying on your
friends and fucking them; Frank likes me too." Gerard let out a sigh, his
cheeks burning up a little at the thought of Frank, and dear god he was going
soft or something, and he didn't particularly want to entertain the
possibility, but if Mikey was going to give him the green light when it came to
Frank Iero, he would most certainly put himself through this.
"So if I say, yeah, I don't mind that you and Frank fuck, then you promise me
you won't get back with Bert again, like block him or something, because if it
really is a matter of Bert or Frank, then I'm going to say Frank without a
moment's thought, because hey, Frank is my best friend, but Frank isn't a
manipulative douchebag-"
"Neither's Bert..." Gerard began, cutting himself halfway through the sentence,
paused in thought for a moment.
"Fucking look me in the eyes, Gerard, and say that again, because you don't
believe it nearly as much as you want me to." Mikey shook his head, glancing
again at Gerard, and then the fucking washing up, and then back at Gerard.
"Fine, he's not part of my life anymore." Gerard shrugged it off, grabbing his
phone and deleting the messages from Bert, then even holding it up to Mikey to
prove his point. "Anyway, how are things with you and Pete?"
"He's not- it's not like that!" Mikey stammered out, his cheeks burning up into
a fucking horrific shade of crimson.
"Mikey-"
"It's not-"
"Hey, if you do the washing up, I promise I won't mention it again." Gerard
suggested, leaning back in his chair and smirking, as Mikey got to his feet
without a fucking moment of thought.
"Deal."
-
This was Lindsey's idea, as things often were, and in turn, it was Lindsey's
fault that she was sat in the corner of some shitty half party, half drug deal,
watching as the most beautiful girl in the world flirted with millions of
fuckboys, who quite frankly couldn't even dream of being worth her time.
And in most cases, Lindsey knew that too, but Lindsey loved leading boys on,
and Jamia knew that the absolute worst person to fall in love with was the one
who played with hearts like it was a sport, a hobby, even, but still Jamia did.
Quite honestly, Lindsey was easily the worst person for Jamia to fall for; she
was straight, she had serious commitment issues, she was chasing after Mikey
Way as of this week, she was her best and only friend, she probably wouldn't
react well to homosexuality when it was directed at her, she was blind as fuck
when it came to feelings, and she was the most annoying girl in the world.
But still, in Jamia's jaded eyes, she was the Aphrodite of not even just this
town, but this universe, and Jamia was fucking stricken, in fact, more like hit
in the face with a baseball bat.
And she had a million better things to do with a Saturday afternoon than watch
a girl from the corner of a room that faintly smelled of weed; a room full of
people she didn’t know and didn't care for, except the one - Lindsey Ballato.
She was the pivotal point of this room, the world, the universe, Jamia's
existence, anything, and this was getting seriously pathetic, and close to
destroy Jamia from the inside out, but she let it, like she let Lindsey do what
she liked, because the girl was beautiful, and Jamia was a sucker, a sucker for
beautiful girls.
And of course, getting out of the closet, and over Lindsey, and on with her
life was just daunting when she could sit her comfortably for another fifteen
minutes at least as Lindsey flirted with a boy that neither of the two girls
knew the name of.
At least Jamia had reassurance in the fact that she wasn't going to sleep with
that guy or anyone at this party, because she was absolutely fucking deadseton
Mikey way, and Jamia didn't know whether to be jealous or feel sorry for him.
She'd already tried texting Frank to waste away the minutes, and perhaps for
just a little moral booster, but with the fact that he hadn't even seen the
messages, Jamia could easily assume that he was either dead or with Gerard, and
well, in her mind, the two were practically the same thing.
But, hey, at the very least, Frank was having some luck in his romantic
endeavours, and Jamia had to envious of that, because here she was, after
months of pining over some stupidly beautiful, fucking stupid girl, she was
still sat in the corner of the room watching from afar.
Because not only was she not Lindsey's girlfriend, she wasn't Lindsey's best
friend, either.
Sure, Lindsey was her best friend, but it wasn’t a mutual thing, as Jamia knew
like she knew that she was fucked, that Lindsey would give that title to a
poor, unsuspecting, sort of overwhelmed Frank Iero.
And sure, Jamia loved Frank, who was most certainly a nicer friend than Lindsey
would ever be, but she couldn't quite see what was all that special about him.
But then again, Lindsey was doing that weird straight girl thing where they
seem to think gay guys are like accessories or something, but of course, that
couldn't possibly apply to lesbians, because fuck, Jamia would let Lindsey
objectify her or whatever, fuck, she didn't care, she just wanted-
Something.
Perhaps even just a way out of this mess, but she didn't get quite as long to
have an existential crisis as she would have liked, before Lindsey made her way
back across the room, grinning at her as she held a bag of cocaine in her hand.
That was Lindsey's 'stupid idea' grin, and Jamia knew it well, but even after
the millionth time, she was still absolutely in no way prepared for what
Lindsey could possibly be about to suggest with a bag of cocaine held so
casually in her hand.
"I have some coke." She gestured towards the bag with her free hand as she
approached Jamia, taking a seat beside her on the weird kind of decaying sofa
that Jamia had claimed in the corner of the room.
"I can see that." Jamia kept her response kind of empty and devoid of
expression, but Lindsey didn’t seem to pick up on it, let alone care, but Jamia
was used to this in a fucked up way, she really was.
"So I suggest we get high as fuck and then maybe I'll have the guts to just
spring it on Mikey-"
"This is about Mikey Way?" Jamia exclaimed, her heart sinking to her
motherfucking knees- in fact, falling straight, well gay, out of her chest and
onto the fall, where Lindsey's feet could fucking trample on it. "Why is
everything about Mikey Way?"
"I want to fuck him. It's good to have some ambitions in life, you know?"
Lindsey gave Jamia a friendly, painfully heterosexual shove, leaving Jamia to
groan, and not in the way that she wanted Lindsey to be making her groan.
"He's just a fuckboy - there's nothing special about Mikey Way." Jamia sighed
out, repeating those words, or some variation of them for what felt like the
millionth time, but of course, still Lindsey couldn't even fathom considering
the notion of listening, because it was just Jamia, after all - what could she
know?
"He's kind of mysterious and cute, don't you think?" Jamia shook her head. "I
don't know, he just seems interesting, he's not like everyone else, you know,
because like fucking boys, I've done that a million times before, whereas,
Mikey seems just a little harder and far more interesting to get, you know?"
And Jamia was millimetres away from suggesting that Lindsey Ballato tried
fucking girls, before the guy Lindsey had been talking to a few minutes prior
made his way across the room, standing before Lindsey with that sleazy fuckboy
grin that Jamia had seen far too many times for her liking.
"We should get away, you know, you and me." He began, talking to Lindsey like
he hadn't even noticed Jamia's presence, and well, Jamia wouldn't be all that
surprised if she hadn't.
"I'm with my friend, sorry, fuck off." She gestured to Jamia as some sort of
half-hearted form of excuse, and the guy let his gaze fall upon Jamia for a
moment, before turning back to Lindsey with an even sleazier grin.
"She can join in too, if you want-"
But he didn't quite get to finish that sentence; the impact of Lindsey's fist
against his face finishing it for him.
And Jamia was perhaps even more in love with Lindsey Ballato than she had been
before.
"Let's go, come on." Lindsey grabbed Jamia's hand, not knowing just what it did
to the poor girl, as the two dashed out of the house.
"That was a good punch, don't you think?" Lindsey grinned as they ran down the
front path and onto the road.
"It was amazing, you're amazing."
And Lindsey smiled, bag of coke in one hand, and Jamia's in the other, because
they'd ground to a halt now, and Lindsey still hadn't let go.
-
Mikey didn't need telling twice when Gerard had suggested that he might want to
give him the house to himself for the afternoon, because with their
conversation earlier that day still fresh in Mikey's mind, he had very
reasonable suspicions as to just what could possibly going on in his absence,
and well, he really just did not want to know.
Gerard had sent two texts, received one reply and six emojis, before he took a
shower, even washing his hair and pulling on a shirt so clean that it had to be
Mikey's, and as he faced himself in the mirror, he found that he looked an
awful lot like he was getting ready to go out on a date, and god, fucking hell
no, this wasn't what this was.
Gerard ran a hand back through his head, letting his fringe fall further across
his face, and picking at a spot on his face, making it a little more prominent
to ensure that he looked just a little less like he was trying too hard.
Because Frank was just coming over and it most certainly wasn't anything more
than a hyped up suggestion of sex, and Gerard had just been seeing an awful lot
of his right hand lately, and was perhaps just a little too over excited about
nothing, because come on, Frank was young and awkward, how 'amazing' was this
really going to be?
And the guy was like three feet tall; it wasn't like his dick was particularly
going to be anything worth marvelling at, and yet, Gerard was trying, and he
didn’t know why, because Frank was fucking messed up, head over heels for him,
and well, Gerard could probably get away with not even bothering to put clothes
on to answer the door, and Frank would still be begging for everything and
anything Gerard suggested.
But Gerard wasn't like that, Gerard was trying, and the more he looked at his
reflection in the mirror, the more he began to believe Mikey, and the more he
began to believe that there was perhaps just a little more to this than he
would ever like to have admitted.
But he didn't have awfully long to ponder upon the flaws of his head and his
heart, before the ring of the doorbell resonated throughout the house, and
Gerard was making his way down the stairs, almost two at a time, and stopping
at the front door, just breathing in and out for a moment or two, putting
himself back together, before finally placing his hand upon the door and
opening it for Frank.
"Hey." The younger boy was blushing, and he had indeed made just a little more
of an effort than he would like to have admitted, which succeeded in making
Gerard feel that just a little bit better about himself.
"Hey." It also succeeded in ensuring that Gerard stood there like a dummy, just
staring at Frank, and those tight jeans and that fucking shirt on him, and dear
god, those jeans were so tight that he reckoned he was going to waste his
lifetime away just by staring at Frank Iero's ass.
"Are you going to invite me in or what?" Frank asked, noticing Gerard's staring
and beginning to smirk, raising his eyebrows a little as he did so. "Or just
stare at me forever."
"I'm just thinking about fucking you, Iero, don't you fucking worry." Gerard
played it off casually, because yeah, that was casual for Gerard Way. "But come
on inside." He stepped aside, gesturing for Frank to make his way into the
living room, as Gerard locked the door behind them.
The nineteen year old, however, hadn't particularly expected that Frank would
be stood waiting and watching for Gerard to turn back around, before pinning
him back against the wall and connecting their lips.
Gerard smirked into the kiss, not having exactly anticipated it, but he most
certainly had no intentions of objecting to this at all.
He let his hand fall down Frank's back, settling onto his ass, releasing a
little nervous kind of moan from the younger boy as he squeezed a little;
Gerard used this moment of shock to his advantage, moving them so that Frank
was the one pinned back against the wall this time and with Gerard smirking
down at him.
"Fucking beautiful, fucking hot, you're fucking amazing." Gerard whispered,
breath hot against Frank's neck, before connecting slightly parted lips to
pale, tender skin of Frank's collarbone, and releasing a trail of embarrassing
little breathy moans as he did so.
"Yeah..." Frank moaned, throwing his head back against the wall as Gerard
continued to apply more pressure to his neck, only encouraged by every fucking
stupid little nervous sound the boy had emitted.
But eventually things had to move on, Gerard pulling his lips away as his mind
lit up with the prospect of another better idea, because ideas, they were
Gerard Way's speciality, after all.
"We're here for real now, aren't we, Frankie?" He began, watching as the
sixteen nodded, nerves practically radiating off of him. "So what am I going to
do to you like this? Because there's a lot I'd love to, but I couldn't possibly
decide, so, I'll leave that to you, huh?"
Frank blushed, grabbing Gerard by his shirt at the shoulder, "I-I-... f-fuck
me... please..." Frank trailed his gaze back up to meet Gerard's once more, the
older boy moments away from fucking losing it, and by that, laughingat Frank.
"Please?" Gerard shook his head in disbelief. "Did mummy tell you to always
remember your manners when you're about to be fucked?"
And Gerard thought he had this one, fucking thought he had Frank all figured
out, but then with a moment or two of reflecting over his life and existence so
far, Frank pushed his dignity aside for obscenity and the way Gerard looked
when he wanted him.
"No, but daddy did."
And that was the story of how Gerard Way died.
-
***** Memes And Emotional Trauma *****
Come something like two in the morning, and Frank was something like asleep and
Gerard was something like drunk, and something like something had happened
between the two of them mere hours before.
Explaining to his mother and brother just what Frank Iero was doing in his bed
was a hurdle Gerard had settled upon facing in the morning, and two am Gerard
knew himself well enough to know that nine am Gerard would hate him for a
decision like that.
Two am Gerard was stupid, stupid enough to think that Frank was actually asleep
and that he could get away like this, just stopping himself, time and time
again, because Gerard had laughed at Frank for calling him 'daddy', okay,
perhaps it was a joke, perhaps it wasn't, but Gerard had laughed, and Frank had
lost all confidence and they'd ended up sitting there fully clothed and kissing
perhaps once or twice as Star Wars played on in the background.
"Fuck..." Gerard muttered aloud, leaning back against the wall of his bedroom
as he brought the can of beer to his lips, and Frank pretended to be too out of
it to hear, but with Gerard so close and so beautiful, he couldn't be anything
but wide fucking awake in that moment.
Gerard needed some consolation, something, anything more than shitty cheap
alcohol and the mind numbing solitude of late night/early morning thoughts in a
far from empty mind, and that was how his hand reached to the bedside table,
and his cellphone was unplugged, and the little screen illuminated his face in
a way that Frank pretended not to notice.
Gerard had forgotten, both all about the texts, and all about the promise he'd
made to Mikey, because as he opened his messages app: intent on texting someone
who could get him something more hard hitting than alcohol at two in the
morning, he found himself letting out a sigh as his gaze fell upon Bert's
contact name.
And then, like he hadn't already had enough of a heart attack, his phone
vibrated in his hands: another message, and just what Gerard needed, and just
enough to fuck everything up completely.
'Please be awake. I'm sorry. I love you.'
And Gerard knew better than to reply to it, but he glanced at his shaking
fingertips, and then Frank's 'sleeping' form, and the Star Wars DVD case next
to the TV in the corner of his room, and Gerard didn't know better at all.
And Gerard made mistakes and sinned like it was all he had ever been made to,
because when Gerard fucked up, he fucked up spectacularly, and when he took
Bert McCracken back, it was always late at night, without the aid of sanity.
And he was well aware of the grave he was digging himself, but he dug it with
disregard and in fact enough vigour for him to be dressing himself for his own
funeral in that very moment.
'Hey'.
Gerard's reply was innocent at first, and somewhat tentative, but Bert had seen
it within seconds, and the nineteen year old's whole body shook in response,
because he was scared, and he wasn't ready, and he was glancing across at
Frank, but Frank was still 'asleep' and Frank didn't look up.
'I love you.'
Bert was drunk, and Gerard knew that he was in too deep already when he could
sense the intoxication within eight fucking letters, but of course, they were
eight slightly important letters, and still, despite his state, Gerard didn't
once doubt that Bert might not mean them.
'It's late.'
Gerard had opted for a neutral response, glancing up at Frank once more: part
of him just begging him not to get himself into this mess again, and just curl
up next to boy and let things sort themselves out until morning, and then maybe
they'd try again another night, and maybe they'd get to more than just kissing,
and maybe, just once, just maybe, Gerard could admit to himself that this thing
with Frank was more than just a fuck.
'I know. Call me or go back to sleep.'
And Gerard was something like too tired, or something like too drunk to
question Bert's response, and found himself glancing back at Frank and how
beautiful he looked, and the space in bed next to him, and then Bert, and his
voice, and advice, and the way he could make everything okay within seconds,
and suddenly Gerard was fifteen again, and so fucking scared, and so fucking
naive, and it was Jepha and that party, and Gerard wasn't even sure he was in
control of his fingers as he pressed the call button.
"I was kind of hoping you'd go to bed, you know? I'm tired." Bert mumbled,
opting for something slightly more imaginative than a generic 'hello' kind of
greeting.
"Hello to you too." Gerard let out a sigh, leaning back against the headboard,
too distracted by nearly knocking the can of beer over to notice the way Frank
stirred in bed and looked up as Gerard began to speak.
"I miss you, Gee, come back, and let me fuck you, and take me back, or
something, and... we work, you know we do." And Bert had a point, and it was
two am and Gerard was alone, and Frank was very much awake in bed beside him.
"I miss you too, Bert." Gerard sighed out, his chest practically burning up as
the words left his lips, almost like his body knew what kind of mess he was
getting himself into here, and was even trying to prevent it, but of course, it
wasn't quite trying hard enough, or perhaps Gerard was just defiant enough.
"I love you, Gee." Bert continued, yawning a little as he spoke from the other
side of the phone.
And silence, suspended breathing, as every nerve in Gerard's body began to
scream out in an odd, painless kind of pain. "I... fuck, Bert... I'm... it's
late... I'm kind of drunk... I..."
"Who's in the bed next to you?" Bert's question was direct, because there was
no questioning the fact that they knew each other well enough by now.
"No one-"
"Who?" Bert grew impatient, as he didn't exactly appreciate being lied to, but
of course, who did?
"Frank." Gerard finally pushed the response out, and the body stirred in the
sheets at the sound of his name, turning so he met Gerard's gaze; the two
engaged in eye contact as Gerard trembled a little.
"Get rid of him and come back to me." And Gerard wondered whether the
definitely not asleep Frank could hear what Bert was saying, because if he'd
heard any more of their conversation, the thought did truly terrify him.
And Gerard reckoned that he was just as terrified of Bert having even the
slightest notion as to the contents of his and Frank's conversations,
especially the ones yesterday, before he quite had the chance to fuck things
up.
"I'm sorry." Gerard spoke aloud, his gaze burning into Frank's; he, himself,
unsure as to exactly who his words were directed at, as he hung up, and placed
the phone back on his bedside table, and lay down beside Frank.
"Were you apologising to me or him?" The two had laid in silence for a good few
minutes, until Frank broke it with the question that even Gerard didn't quite
know the answer to.
"I don't know." And Gerard answered with little but honesty, because it was two
in the morning, and his head knew little better than his heart.
"Well that's fucking great, isn't it?" Frank snapped, turning over and away
from Gerard.
"Frank-"
"Fuck off."
And Gerard didn't even try to fix things, because it was too late, and this was
his second, perhaps third fuck up, and it was little but his own fault, and it
was exactly that that kept the nineteen year old lying still yet without sleep
until something like four in the morning.
-
On the other side of town, two different people woke up in bed together,
however their night had ended more so with cocaine and awkward hand holding, as
opposed to lying and broken promises, and stupid decisions, but in reality, the
situation wasn't all that much better.
Because Jamia didn't have a fucking clue what she was doing in Lindsey's bed,
letting herself get this close, and this attached, and in fact, in the morning
light, perhaps the sole thing she did know was that Lindsey was unfairly
beautiful, even with fucked up hair, no make up, and tired eyes.
And Jamia reckoned that she most definitely would have rather fallen off a
cliff than fallen for Lindsey Ballato, and it wasn't like such a statement
wasn't within reason.
"Fuck, I can't remember last night at all, you know?" Lindsey groaned,
stretching and sitting up in bed, and kicking Jamia's leg a little,
incidentally, of course, altogether Jamia would really much rather that Lindsey
broke her leg than her heart.
"Mmm..." Jamia could remember everything, and of course, that was down to the
amount of coke Lindsey had done, and the amount she'd drank afterwards, and not
that she was at all embarrassed or feeling the awkward social pressures the
slightly homosexual connotations of her prior actions, of course.
"Fuck, I look like shit." Lindsey grumbled, stumbling out of bed to assess her
appearance in the mirror, and leaving Jamia to shoot herself and frantically
disagree with her.
"You don't." Jamia's was sort of monotone like she didn't really mean it, but
of course, in reality, she most certainly could not mean it more, and that was
a truth that haunted her in every waking moment.
"I think I texted Mikey last night, at like one in the morning..." Lindsey
mumbled aloud, just deciding to casually change in front of her bedroom mirror,
as Jamia threw her head back against the pillow and forced herself to look
away, because fuck, fuck this, absolutely just fuck it.
"No, I stopped you... well... I didn't, but you didn't have any signal, and I
deleted the message before it could send." Jamia explained, as she glanced
around the side of Lindsey's bedroom that she wasn't naked in, and considered
if she could manage to off herself easily within the next few minutes or so,
because that would most definitely be easier than listening to Lindsey drone on
about Mikey fucking Way for one fucking moment more.
"You're such a good friend, Jamia, you're my best pal, for real, you and me...
we're gal pals."
"I thought Frank was your best friend." Jamia sat up, having already died
internally, and finding herself more disappointed than she should have been at
the fact that Lindsey was fully clothed.
"Fuck off, Frank's my gay friend, where as you-"
"Don't fucking- no... gay friend.... no, Lindsey... that's fucking... no...
don't, just don't. He's your friend, not your gay friend." And there was of
course, also the fact that if Lindsey had to have one designated gay friend,
Jamia had totally gotten in there before Frank had, so he could totally just
fuck off with that one.
"Well... he's gay and he's my friend...?" Lindsey raised her eyebrows, turning
back to face Jamia, looking perhaps even hotter than she had five minutes ago,
and in turn, Jamia wanted to stab herself even more than she had five minutes
ago.
"Is the fact that he's gay really the most important thing about him? Because
that's what 'gay friend' connotes, because you don't have 'straight friends'...
they're just friends..."
"I don't have straight dude friends, Jamia, I have people I've fucked, and I
have you, and you're my best pal, and I have Frank, and 'just friend' sounds a
bit lacking, if you know what I mean?" Lindsey continued to argue her 'point',
and Jamia kind of considered slapping her across the face, but of course, she
couldn't quite ever bring herself to do so.
"Then how about short friend, or guy friend, or friend who I haven't fucked-"
"But the reason I haven't fucked him is because he's gay-"
"Fuck, Lindsey, you're so fucking shallow, you know?" Jamia got up, practically
yelling at Lindsey at this point.
"Oh do go on, talk to me about shallow, why don't you, Jamia Nestor?" Lindsey
snapped, glaring at her 'gal pal' as she pulled some more clothes on, before
making her way towards the door and a rather theatrical exit, only turning back
to utter one final question
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"All you ever care about is yourself, and you don't need to lie here, because
we bothknow it."
Jamia shook her head, somewhat defeated at this point, "no, Lindsey, all I ever
care about is you."
And with that, and continued silence on Lindsey's part, she made her exit.
-
And Pete was cute, but not that cute, or at least Mikey wouldn't admit that to
himself, as he sat there, making a pathetically tragic effort when it came to
not staring at him, because he totally fucking was, and Pete could talk for
what seemed like years when he was interested, and it was killing Mikey,
because he smiled through every word and made stupid jokes, and fuck, Mikey's
continued attempts of a 'no homo' nature were falling flat as of recent.
He'd gotten up at nine in the morning on a weekend just to hang out with Pete,
and perhaps just avoid Lindsey Ballato who said she was going over to see
Gerard today, and Mikey was just genuinely terrified that she'd try 'flirting'
with him again, because he was anything but interested, and he really would
much rather waste away his life staring at some cute emo wreck as he continued
to deny all attraction towards him.
Pete had started this conversation about some obscure metal band at least
twenty minutes ago, and Mikey was beginning to wonder if Pete actually needed
to breathe at all, because it was beginning to concern him now, but watching
Pete smile at practically nothing was quit easily the best thing that Mikey Way
had ever seen.
Not that he'd admit that to anyone, and especially not Gerard, despite how
Gerard was totally in the same situation with Frank, however, of course, in
reality, Mikey hadn't a clue regarding the nature of Gerard's situation with
Frank as of two this morning, as he'd managed to leave the house before even
his mother had woken up, let alone Gerard.
Mikey was just relieved in his belief that Gerard was done with Bert now, and
when inevitability struck, and he did indeed find out, it would surely break
him.
"Mikeyway..." The seventeen year old jumped a little as Pete laid his head back
into his lap, grinning up at him like an idiot.
"Yeah?" Mikey responded, groaning internally as he could feel his cheeks
flushing a horrible shade of scarlet.
"Can I ask you something?" And Pete was all wide puppy dog eyes and racoon
rings of eyeliner as he met Mikey's gaze, his lips slightly parted.
And Mikey was dying, because that was the kind of question that would ruin the
entire world, but still he nodded, because if Mikey had difficulty when it came
to anything, it was Pete Wentz and saying 'no' to him.
"Why do you always wear that same hoodie?" And the trivial nature of Pete's
question almost had Mikey dying right then and right there, because from the
sincerity in Pete's gaze, Mikey was expecting something more along the lines of
'will you marry me?', and of course, because no homo, Mikey could make
absolutely no opinionated statement regarding Pete asking for his hand in
marriage.
"Because it's comfy... and it's the darkest black, like you know how some
blacks fade? This doesn't, and it keeps my emo game high, and it matches my
passive aggressive, world hating, misunderstood, goth stoner aesthetic
perfectly."
"You're cute." Pete giggled, burying his head against Mikey's hoodie, and
leaving the taller boy's cheeks burning like fireworks... like the fourth of
July.
"You're... you're..." Mikey shook his head, biting his lip, because fuck, no
homo, goddamn.
"Amazing?" Pete sat up, grin already plastered onto his face, "yeah, I know."
And Mikey saw no point in arguing at all. 
"I like that hoodie, though, it's fine that you wear it all the time; it's so
you, and I like it, and I like you, and you're the best friend I've ever had,
and..." And Pete really needed to pick up on his homo game right now, but he
just couldn't quite bring himself to let the truth slip out, because Mikey was
so much cooler than him, and he couldn't help but feel like a dandelion beside
a rose.
"You know Frank?" Mikey changed the subject in the silence, perhaps just to
avoid further embarrassment, or perhaps they'd just never know why Mikey Way
was just so romantically incompetent, which was a real damn shame, wasn't it?
"Yeah, Frank Frozen, if we're using his cool name, you remember? What was
yours, I can't remember?" And it was exactly then that Mikey thoroughly
regretted changing the subject to something Pete felt at all comfortable with.
"Nope." Mikey shook his head, reaching into his pocket and lighting himself a
cigarette, because he needed one at this point.
"You can be Mikey Meme-"
"Not Mikey Mouse?" Mikey raised his eyebrows, because he certainly heard that a
million times before... when he was about seven, but Pete was special and a
part of him kind of liked that.
"No, Mikey Meme: I'm original." And Pete was entirely too proud of himself.
"And you're Pete Pepe, then?" Mikey raised his eyebrows, continuing to
reference totally serious meme culture that wasn't trashy at all, because as
everyone knew, Pepe the frog was the most exquisite of memes; it never died,
only aged like a fine wine.
"Yes, and we can be memelords together!" Pete exclaimed, sitting up with
entirely too much vigour. "Mikey Way will you be my memelord?"
"What does that even mean?"
"What does that even meme..." Pete's face fell into a grin, "meme, hey? Meme,
like as in, you know, meme? Anyway, you don't know what a memelord is? Why are
we friends, Mikeyway?"
"I quite honestly don't know." Mikey continued, taking a drag of his cigarette
as Pete continued to grin at him like an idiot.
"Because you're amazing, perhaps even as amazing as me." Pete continued,
pausing for a moment, and pushing Mikey's fringe back into his face.
"What?" Mikey was left in confusion as to why Pete had appointed himself his
personal hairdresser now, and well, who wouldn't be?
"Your emo game was getting weak, Mikey Meme." Pete moved so he was sat beside
Mikey and pulled his cellphone out. "Now, we can take a selfie-"
"Pete, I-"
"Pete Pepe." Pete corrected with an unnervingly sincere look in his eyes.
"Pete Pepe..." Mikey trailed off, shaking his head, because what the fuck had
he gotten himself into here? "Why are we taking a selfie?"
"Because, Mikey Way, let me tell you a secret, your face is my aesthetic, and
this would absolutely make my instagram theme."
-
***** The Kind Of 'Advanced Hugging' Where Dicks Are Involved *****
It made little sense at all, and had Lindsey Ballato just laid there on her bed
for perhaps even hours afterwards, as she pondered what Jamia could possibly
mean.
Because it wasn't like she'd really given Lindsey much of an explanation, was
it? 
It was all words, loud and with a conceited, hidden meaning, and then, simply
nothing, and silence besides the slam of a door, because Lindsey had fucked up
for sure, Jamia had managed to convey that at the very least, but she just
couldn't figure out how.
And after something like an hour of just in bed in a state of contemplation
that made her wonder just why she'd wasted so much time on Jamia, not that time
spent thinking of her was necessarily wasted, but, fuck... nothing made sense,
and if Lindsey was sure of one thing in that moment it was the aforementioned.
And after that hour had elapsed, not that she'd been timing it or anything, she
just grew tired of being tired, and got over being 'over it', because there
were better things to do than mope around and obsess over something that was
now little more than entirely out of her control; Jamia was Jamia, Jamia was
her best friend, and they'd always been best friends, and perhaps they always
would be, and Lindsey had an odd kind of faith in that.
Perhaps it was even that faith that had left her to leave the house with so
little on her mind, because this was just an 'off' day, and it'd be fine
tomorrow, or perhaps the next day, and they'd be fine, because they always
were.
But deep down, Lindsey couldn't help but feel like, this time, somehow,
something was just a little bit different.
She soon shook the notion, though, texting the something like the first six
guys she came across in her contacts list, and agreeing to go over to the house
of the first one who'd replied: fucking Brendon Urie, but it wasn't like
Lindsey was in the right mind to at least have the dignity to be picky at this
point, and well, it seemed like she did indeed owe Brendon Urie's balls an
apology after all.
Of course, as to how such a debt would be settled would all be decided in
Brendon's house, Brendon's bedroom, perhaps, and it wasn't Mikey, and it didn't
matter, because even now, Lindsey's stupid infatuation with Mikey didn't
matter; she just needed someone, and someone who would text back within twenty
seconds, and someone that she could get to care after a blowjob or something,
because if Lindsey had learned anything in life, it was that kindness most
certainly did not come free.
She was certain she'd regret this tomorrow, or perhaps even as soon as it was
over, or perhaps even whilst it was happening, but that meant nothing in her
head right now, which was little more than a disarrayed mess of complex
thoughts and stupid feelings, and of course, the world's worst emotions.
And she was perhaps even so fucked up to look at Brendon Urie like he was akin
to Jesus or some other deity, or perhaps it was just the light from his hallway
behind him as he opened the front door and smiled at her.
"Hey, what's wrong?" He asked, looking Lindsey up and down with widened eyes
and raised eyebrows, and perhaps just too much distance between the two of
them, because if Brendon was honest, he'd never really recovered from that
incident last summer.
"Nothing's wrong, Brendon, I just, I just... want to seeyou." Lindsey brushed
it off, pulling on the world's worst excuse for a smile as she stepped inside
and closed the front door behind her.
"Something's seriously wrong if Lindsey Ballato optionally wants to speak to
me." Brendon snorted a little, watching as Lindsey glared at him a little, and
the boy with the massive forehead felt a sudden increase in concern for his
balls, and dear god, those boots Lindsey was wearing today - no thanks.
"Wow? Is that what you really think of me, huh? I'm not such a heartless bitch,
you know? If it's anyone being heartless right now, it's you-"
"Come on, come on, Lindsey, just tell me what's up." Brendon shook his head,
perhaps even going as far as to smile at Lindsey, which seriously meant
something in regards to the circumstances. "This isn't... this isn't-"
But before Brendon could even figure out what the next word in that sentence
was, Lindsey had him pushed up against the wall and her lips on his, and
perhaps she was something like okay for four point five seconds, but it all
faded away as Brendon pushed her away from him, and she plummeted back down to
reality.
"Don't fucking kiss me, Lindsey, just talk to me." Brendon shook his head,
making his way down the hallway into the living room and gesturing for Lindsey
to follow; the two taking a seat on a sofa with a very suspicious white stain,
which both had made more than ample effort in avoiding. "Come on, I know
something's up, just tell me."
"It's complicated-"
"Isn't everything?" Brendon raised his eyebrows, shaking his head a little as
he did so. "Don't use that as an excuse, or at least tell me why the fuck
you're optionally speaking to me right now if it isn't for advice, because
that's the only use I could possibly have to you, come on, now, don't fucking
kid yourself."
"Don't be so harsh on yourself-"
"For fuck's sake, Lindsey, I didn't kick myself in the balls, did I?" Brendon
shook his head, pausing for a moment as he contemplated his next words, and
just what the hell could possibly come of this mess. "Which boy fucked you over
this time?"
"Why do you automatically assume that it's to do with that? Is the fact that I
get with a lot of boys the most important aspect about my personality?" Lindsey
retorted with an unexpected amount of vigour.
"Well, not your personality, but you... like... that's what people know you
for, come on, you can't deny that."
"Ever heard of feminism, Urie?" Lindsey shook her head with a sigh, deciding
against giving the fuckboy enough time to construct some form of response.
"Anyway, me and Jamia had a fight, and it wasn't pretty... it was... it's a
mess, and I don't know why it's affecting me this much, but-"
"Because she's your best friend?" Brendon raised his eyebrows at that, but
didn't comment further, perhaps just for the sake of his balls.
"It's something more than that - it has to be."
"Are you sure you're not just a bit gay for her?"
"Fuck off." Lindsey shook her head, perhaps speaking before she could even
process what Brendon was really saying, but perhaps, just perhaps, that was for
the better. "I'm straight, she's straight, we had a fight, that's that."
And to some level, even Lindsey herself knew that deep down, it really wasn't.
-
There was a note on the refrigerator door from his mother, a text from Mikey,
and Gerard was nothing but grateful to be alone, well, besides the sleeping boy
upstairs.
Because his head was little more than the definition of a mess, and Bert had
been relentless in texting, even after the call, and Gerard couldn't even
chance glancing at them long enough to delete them, and of course, Gerard
couldn't even imagine facing Frank like this, because he'd fucked up big time.
This was new; this was all kinds of news, and all kinds of different, and for
one simple reason, and that was for the fact that unlike Bert, Frank actually
gave a fuck, about Gerard, about them, about anything, and Gerard just didn't
know whether he liked that or not.
Because sure, it was nice to feel like you've fucked up completely and then for
the person you thought would hate you to think of it as nothing at all, but in
turn, it's little but hellish for that same person to turn away and simply
smile in response to whatever you told them.
Frank, on the other hand, always cared, and perhaps even just a little too
much, but that could easily be Gerard being stupid, and well, Gerard often was.
And with his phone so close to him on the counter top, today was little more
than another countless example, because as the nineteen year old made himself a
coffee, he knew that the matter of unlocking that phone and reading those
messages was little more than an inevitability, and it lay hand in hand in that
state with Frank walking down those stairs, and screaming at him, or perhaps
worse.
And still, with all this time, the nineteen year old still hadn't so much as a
clue as to what he could say to either of them, and perhaps even the longer he
spent pondering upon it, the more hopeless it seemed, and the more hopeless he
seemed.
His phone began to vibrate against the countertop with more force this time: a
call, but Gerard was intent upon ignoring it, as he busied himself with drawing
out his every action as he attempted to make this damn shitty cup of coffee,
and well, he nearly had somewhat of a heart attack as he nearly found himself
dropping the aforementioned coffee, as the ringing came to an abrupt halt.
"Well, it didn't look like you were going to answer it any time soon." The
shorter boy added as explanation, as he held Gerard's phone out in his left
hand, putting it on speakerphone, and meeting Gerard's gaze, as Bert began to
speak.
"Hey, Gee... mmm... I'm a bit drunk, but I really do think I love you, and I
really do think you love me too, so come on, baby, s-say it, mmm?" 
And Frank raised his eyebrows, glancing between the phone in the palm of his
hand, and Gerard: frozen, and almost lifeless, with a cup of coffee in his
right hand.
"Go on then, 'Gee'." Frank made an effort when it came to glaring at the older
boy, growing impatient as he waited for the response, for the end to this all,
because Frank's heart was held up high by a thread, and at this point, Frank
would perhaps even prefer the freefall and the safety of the floor than this
kind of hellish, uncertain limbo. "We're waiting, aren't we, Bert?"
"Huh? Who's this?" Bert asked, just a little confused as to what the hell was
going on, "where's my baby Gee?"
"This is Frank, you knowFrank.Gerard told you about me when he thought I was
asleep, but I was awake the whole time, and now he's fucking the both of us
about, because he can't decide who he loves." Frank paused, meeting Gerard’s
eyes as he continued, "so honestly, I'm just as eager to find out what he has
to say for himself as you do."
"I didn't expect you to be this feisty, you know?" Bert mumbled at Frank from
down the phone, before continuing to address Gerard, "anyway, come on, Gee,
fucking say something, anything, how about that, huh?"
"I don't know-"
"You said that already." Frank snapped, glaring at Gerard with everything he
had left. "You said that last night, and you said 'I'm sorry' too, and you
didn't mean either of them, so come on, fucking say something you mean for
once, will you? Surely lying to yourself all the time must get so fucking
tedious."
"Okay..." Gerard stepped forward, closer to the phone, ensuring that Bert could
hear him too, "something I mean? I like Bert because he doesn't care about
anything, whether that's me fucking up or me in general, and I hate him for
exactly the same goddamn reason." Gerard paused, avoiding Frank's gaze as he
did so, "and I like Frank because he cares about everything I say and
everything I do, and I hate him for precisely the same reason."
"Fuck-"
"Bert's familiar, it's been forever and I feel safe with him, and he gives me
free drugs, and sometimes it's dull, and we don't live in the same town
anymore, and Frank's new, and inexperienced, and cute, and it's stupid, and
he's Mikey's friend not mine, and he's overacting, because he's in high school,
this is a high school thing, and-"
"Fuck-"
"Mikey doesn't want me to be with Bert, Mikey doesn't want me to be with Frank
either, perhaps it makes sense now, so thank you for allowing me to express my
emotions: I don't love either of you."
-
And that was how, Lindsey had ended up back at her house, and in turn, how
Gerard Way had ended up on her doorstep, because it was sad smiles, and
understanding, because in a low-key thing of way, Gerard reckoned that perhaps
he and Lindsey would always have something, even if it could never be serious,
and perhaps it was even better off that way.
But, the two didn't exactly leave much time for talking things through, to put
it simply, and Lindsey's empty house was definitely put to full use, as was the
lock on her bedroom door, because, you know, just in case.
And Gerard didn't think of either Bert nor Frank as he, to put it bluntly,
fucked her, and in the same way, Lindsey didn’t think of Jamia either, and
perhaps it was easier for her in that moment, because she was certainly far
from coming to terms with her sexuality, but in the scheme of things, this mess
in Lindsey Ballato's head could be compared to little but hell itself.
And as they continued not to think about other people, the two slowly moved
away from one another as the heat and irrationality faded away from the
situation and the two fell back on the bed, still completely naked, but side by
side, and perhaps just a little more certain of the fact that they had fucked
up their lives than they were something like fifteen minutes prior.
Because this wasn't pleasure, or fun, or anything, really, this was just what
needed to happen, and perhaps this was the best thing Lindsey had going for
her, because Gerard was the only boy in the world who thought about her in the
same way she thought about him.
That lovestruck vibe was the absolute bane of her existence.
And for Gerard, things were just simpler to deal with when you could deny their
existence completely, and you had someone to lie to you about everything being
okay, and Lindsey was hot, and perhaps her body was somewhat of a distraction
from the mess last night and the two men that he'd rejected for the sake of his
own arrogance, or something along those lines.
The two worked, and most certainly in the least orthodox of ways, but they
worked, and that was that, and that was definitely one of Lindsey's better
orgasms, not that Lindsey had really had many when she'd been fucking so many
fuckboys, after all.
Gerard thought of it less as sex, and more so as stress relief, and the kind of
intimacy that made him feel okay again: an alternative to talking things
through, or a hug from a close friend, because actually, this was a hug from a
close friend, just perhaps an advanced hug... a hug when his dick was involved
too.
And Gerard was just glad that all hugs weren't like that, or perhaps, he
wasn’t, because if that was what hugging was like, he reckoned he'd be doing it
a hell of a lot more often, and a hell of a lot less with his family,
because... yeah, maybe hugs should stay the way they were.
The nineteen year old wasn't much of a fan of change, after all, and it should
in this four year mess of a not quite relationship with Bert, and the fact that
he didn't even question the fact that getting back with him was an
inevitability at this point, it was just that Frank had thrown himself into the
mix, and this wasn't how things usually were, and Gerard was fucking done when
it came to dealing with it.
"So are we at the explanation state yet or not?" Lindsey broke the silence with
a blunt enough tone to make Gerard jump a little, and in turn, Lindsey giggle a
little, and perhaps then a little more in realisation at just how messed up
this situation was.
But like, fuck the mainstream, and this totally fulfilled Lindsey's pretentious
art fuck goth hipster aesthetic.
"The what?" Gerard asked, turning to Lindsey a little, and raising his
eyebrows, brushing the locks of dark hair that had fallen into his face away
from his eyes as he did so.
"You're fucked up, I'm fucked up, we fucked, and now we explain - I reckon
that's how it works, don't you think?" Lindsey met Gerard with a smile, before
pausing for a moment, as the two laid in silence. "There's this whole damn mess
with Jamia, and then talking to Brendon Urie about it was the worst decision in
the world, and I'm all bad decisions and good fuck, and perhaps I need
something else in my life."
"What happened with Jamia?" Gerard asked, watching as Lindsey's gaze grew
distant and somewhat contemplative, and even just a little softer in a way.
"We had an argument; some stupid shit, and then Brendon's advice was limited to
telling me to date her or something along those lines, and it's stupid, but I
started thinking about it, you know? And it's weird, because I have fucked so
many boys, but just boys..." Lindsey trailed off, meeting Gerard's gaze, "what
do you think I should do?"
"I think you should realise that your life isn't bad porn and that the
situation to all girl on girl arguments isn't a fuck or something along those
lines: apologise to her, for Christ’s sake, Lindsey."
"But it's hard, and I... I'm good with the other kind of hard, if you know what
I mean?" And Gerard probably should have slapped her for that one. "And now
come on, it's your turn, Way, tell me all about how you ruined your life today,
why don't you?"
"Yesterday, I invited Frank over, and it wasn't a date, but it was a date, but
don't tell anyone I said that, especially not Frank, especially not Mikey, but
we ended up staying over, but nothing happened, because he made a joke or
something, and I reacted badly, and I thought he was asleep, and he wasn't, and
Bert, my ex, called me, and... Frank heard everything we said, and it was
messy, and messier this morning, and Frank got Bert on speakerphone and made me
pick between them, and it was horrible, so I rejected both of them, and got the
fuck out of there, and I, didn't know where to go, you know? And I saw you
posted that status about fuckboys, and you're... you're easy to talk to-"
"Fuck, you mean." Lindsey rolled her eyes at him, "I'm easy to fuck, you mean."
"That's not what I-"
"It's what everybody means, isn't it, Gerard?"
-
***** Jamia The Crafty Lesbian Goth Witch *****
"Pete, I'm not coming into school-" Mikey groaned shaking his head at the
shorter boy.
"Legally, you have to." Pete added, although everyone knew by this point that
Mikey Way simply did not give one single fuck.
"What because you're scared of some kid you made a slightly passive aggressive
comment about on twitter last night?" Mikey raised eyebrows, shaking his head
at the boy that he couldn't help call his friend, because fuck, yeah, Pete was
pathetic, but Pete was his pal, and that was final, and to an extent, really
not Mikey's decision.
"Yeah, I'm... I'm... nervous." Pete stressed, blushing a little, and brushing
his fringe down into his face to hide the scarlet red colour his cheeks were
turning.
Mikey chuckled a little: not at Pete, but at the situation and the way Pete was
reacting. "It'll be fine, I promise, look... I've got maths homework I haven't
done today as well, and, look, hey I promise I'll come in tomorrow, does that
make it better?"
"No." Pete snapped, folding his arms like an angry five year old, leaving Mikey
to severely reassess his life and his friendship choices.
"Well, what can I do, Pete?" Mikey let out a sigh, stretching a little as he
did so. "I can't come in, and you're nervous, and you're nervous for no reason
and it's gonna be fine-"
"Can I skip with you?" Pete asked, all wide eyes and intrigued smile, and Mikey
knew then and there that this was absolutely the worst idea he'd ever heard,
but simultaneously, the only one that Pete would settle for.
"Fuck, fine... but when you get into trouble and shit, that's anything but my
fault, you got that?" Mikey waited for Pete to nod in response, before letting
him inside, the two walking past a particularly emo looking Gerard sat in the
kitchen, mouthing something to his cornflakes, and well, Mikey would do and
slap his brother across the face, and happily too, but they had guests, so yeah
that was pretty unfortunate.
"You have a really nice house, Mikeyway." Pete said as he followed Mikey up the
stairs and into quite easily the messiest bedroom he'd ever seen. "You also
have a really nice face, and a really nice personality, and you're just really
nice. I really like you, Mikey." Pete let out a sigh as he fell back onto
Mikey's bed.
"Mmm... I like you too, Pete." Mikey nodded, somewhat absent mindedly as he
grabbed a hoodie, because damn, it wasn't hot in here. "So, do you actually
care to elaborate on this whole passive aggressive mess or not?"
Pete blushed a little as Mikey sat down beside him on the bed, because like
they were dangerously nearing homo territory, and Mikey was like no thanks
Pete, but Pete was in an extremely homosexual mood, as it happens. "Well, I may
have made some sort of vague comment about those dicks on the football team
that are like destined to die alone, and maybe I should have chosen someone
less physically strong than me to emotionally attack."
Mikey shook his head, laughing a little as he did so. "You're kind of
ridiculous, you know that, Pete?"
Pete nodded, sighing a little, "yeah, I don't make sense, I know."
"No," Mikey met Pete's gaze with a newfound sincerity, as the taller boy
grabbed a packet of cigarettes from his bedside table and began to light one,
"I didn't mean it like that, and I won't ever will. I meant ridiculous like
funny, ridiculous like cute."
"Well, if that's you flirting with me, Mikeyway, you're doing a pretty shit
job." Pete let out a sigh, grinning like an idiot as he began to lean back
against Mikey's bedroom wall, leaving the taller boy to simply shake his head
in disbelief at the idiot that he'd let into his house.
"No, that's me being nice to you, Pete." Mikey explained, moving so he was sat
beside Pete, too with his back pressed up against the wall. "You're just so
damn ridiculous, you know?"
"And you're such an ass." Pete shook his head, grinning a little as he leant
his head onto Mikey's shoulder in a manner that Mikey couldn't even bother
fighting, because fuck it, this was Pete Wentz', and okay, he was kind of cute,
but he was totally wrecking Mikey's whole 'aloof and mysterious' aesthetic.
"Okay-"
"You're lucky I like ass- like I really like ass." Pete added, grinning like he
was insanely proud of himself, and well, Mikey was kind of lost as to what the
hell he could respond to that with. "Your ass is my favourite, honestly, you're
my favourite anything, Mikeyway, you're just so good, so nice in everyway."
"Compliments are not your forte, are they?" Mikey raised an eyebrow, but he was
blushing nevertheless.
"You're blushing." Pete noted, smirking to himself in achievement, even going
as far as to push Mikey's hair from his face to take his red cheeks in in full.
"It's hot in here-" Mikey went for what was easily the worst excuse Pete had
actually ever heard, but it was amusing nonetheless.
"Yeah, that'll be me." Pete smirked, raising his eyebrows in a manner so smug,
Mikey wanted to fucking slap him."Or you, actually, because you're pretty damn
hot, Mikey, you really are, so like, I think it's a joint effort between the
both of us, what do you think?"
"I think you should shut up." Mikey rolled his eyes, shaking his head at Pete
in something not far off disbelief.
"I think you should make me." Pete smirked, laughing his fucking head off as he
laid his head into Mikey's laugh. "I really like making you blush, you know?"
"Yeah, I've noticed." Mikey let out a sigh, watching as Pete, shuffled scarily
close to his dick, but thankfully just laid his down inches away. "What is it
with you, what is it with this?"
"You're cute, I like you." Pete mumbled, kind of half asleep, with his eyelids
kind of half closed. "No homo, though, Mikeyway, god, it couldn't be homo!" He
exclaimed, leaving Mikey to shake his head in disbelief, as slowly, but surely,
Pete Wentz fell asleep in his lap, and dear god, Mikey wanted to shoot the
previous version of himself who'd thought letting Pete stay here with him today
was a good idea.
But, it was also kind of cute, and Mikey was kind of flattered, and his heart
was kind of beating a little too fast, and Mikey was kind of absolutely fucked
when it came to Pete Wentz, but there was absolutely no way that he was
admitting that to himself.
-
Mikey had eventually moved Pete into his bed, and made his way downstairs,
perhaps just to see if his brother had stopped looking so morbidly emo whilst
eating cereal yet; he had no such luck, as he walked into the dining room and
found Gerard muttering something to himself as he battered a dozen Coco Pops
with his spoon.
Tentatively, Mikey took a seat beside his brother, and fixated his gaze upon
the mess he was making inside of that cereal bowl. "In the kindest way
possible, what the fuck are you doing?"
"Mmm..." Gerard groaned, pushing the cereal bowl down the table and throwing
his head down in place of it. "I fucked up."
"Wonderful." Mikey let out a kind of disappointed, yet expectant sigh, because
Gerard was always fucking ruining his life somehow, and in fact, Mikey had
become somewhat accustomed to it as of recent, which really didn't bode well
for either of them psychologically. "Care to elaborate?"
"Frank." He grumbled, turning to face Mikey, and watching as his face fell.
"I... I don't even know, I really don't know what happened, but now he hates
me, now everyone hates me, and I slept with Lindsey, and even that ended in an
argument, and you know what? Nothing makes sense."
"Maybe you should stop sleeping with the whole world?" Mikey added as just a
casual suggestion, because he knew his brother well enough to know that there
wasn't a chance in hell that he could just nothave sex.
"Mmm... but then it's boring." He let out a defeated sigh, before turning to
Mikey and raising his eyebrows a little, turning the tables, perhaps, "why's
Pete Wentz upstairs, in your bedroom?"
"Because I was too stupid to say no to him." Mikey let out a defeated kind of
sigh. "I hate him, but I really don't, like you get that?"
"Yeah, all the time with people I wanna fuck, Mikey, therefore you have a thing
for Pete, can confirm, I am illuminati as fuck." Gerard grumbled, sitting back
in his chair, the stomachache as he did so, giving him a million reasons to
regret the vodka from last night.
"Gerard there's 'people you want to fuck' and 'people you haven't met yet'."
Mikey shook his head a little, "you're the whore, I'm asexual, it's quite
ridiculous, don't you think?"
"Hey, don't call me a whore!" Gerard protested, somehow caring just the
slightest about his reputation for the first time ever.
"Gerard, your email address is 'gwhore69-'" Mikey protested, but Gerard wasn't
having any of it.
"I made that when I was drunk." And that was literally all he had to say for
himself, and perhaps that was simply for the better, because Mikey was rapidly
losing patience. "Look, Mikey, just... what's going on with you and Pete?"
"Nothing!" Mikey protested, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Well, what's going to happen with you and Pete?" Gerard smirked at him,
obviously far too proud of himself for that one.
"Well, I don't know, I don't have a time machine, do I?" Mikey let out a sigh,
happy that at the very least, this wasn't a situation that Pete himself was
involved with, because then, he reckoned he really wouldn't ever hear the end
of it.
"So, you don't know, so things could happen, hey, M-" And that was the very
point that Mikey slapped his brother.
"So, what's happened with Frank? Explain in detail before I ask Frank myself
and take all he says as the absolute truth, no matter how much he paints you as
an asshole."
"Okay, fine he slept over, there was awkwardness, and I thought he was asleep,
and I was on the phone to Bert at like two-"
"Bert?" Mikey exclaimed, his eyes widening furiously. "I fucking- why? Gerard,
why? Why the fuck do you need Bert McCracken in your life?"
"He called, not me, and I don't know it was late, I was kind of lonely, and
drunk, and confused, and I don't know, but Frank was awake and he could hear
the whole thing and in the morning he did this shitty thing where he got Bert
on speakerphone and made me pick between the two of them right then and right
there-"
"If you chose Bert I will not hesitate to throw you out a window-"
"I chose neither." Gerard let out a sigh, letting his gaze hit the floor. "And
now they both hate me, and then I was more drunk and lonely, and Lindsey
Ballato seemed like a good enough bet, because she was fucked up like me then,
and we fucked, and it wasn't anything special, but we got into a fight
afterwards; I think she's starting to hate this presence she has as 'school
slut', or whatever, which is very much not Lindsey, but I don't know... I think
something big has changed in her personal life or something-"
"Why don't you just ask her?" Mikey raised his eyebrows, shaking his head at
his brother. "Instead of making assumptions, why don't you just ask?"
"Because she's probably going to be at school right now-"
"That's the worst excuse I have ever heard in my life, Gerard Arthur Way,
fucking sort your life out, okay? I'm going to talk to Frank about this and
you're not going to talk to Bert, ever, got it?" Gerard nodded, because fuck,
Mikey did kind of scare him when he was angry.
"And do I not get to talk to Pete about what's going on between you two?"
"No, I- Pete's... no." Mikey shook his head a million times over, having
perhaps just as many heart attacks as Pete Wentz himself appeared in the
doorway, half asleep, and smiling like an idiot.
"Mikey, you abandoned me-"
"You fell asleep." Mikey sighed out, shaking his head, and shooting Gerard a
'help me' glance, which his brother took great pleasure in ignoring as he got
up to make himself his seventeenth cup of coffee that morning.
-
The two were on the outskirts of the city, sat in some half polluted field,
which some farmer would probably end up kicking them out of, but Frank reckoned
when he came close enough to see the 'voodoo doll' Jamia was making of Lindsey
Ballato, he may be more than a little concerned.
In fact, Frank was a little concerned, perhaps more than a little concerned,
but he kept quite and continued to smoke without judgement, and mostly for fear
than Jamia would combat his opposition to the idea of making voodoo dolls, by
making one of him, and then proceeding to burn that too.
Sure, Frank wasn't exactly the type to believe in voodoo dolls and that kind of
shit, but he also wasn't just plain stupid enough to fucking try risking his
chances.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Frank couldn't stop himself, as Jamia
snatched his lighter from his palm, and clicked it a few times, before pausing
to answer his question.
"Fuck, do I know, Frank? Do I have a fucking clue about anything at all? No, I
don't, but I'm still going to fucking do it, because I'm not like Lindsey, I
don't care, I'm not made up entirely of ego and people's expectations; I'm a
person, not a fucking doll, Frank, and you get that, don't you? Because without
this exterior," Jamia held up the doll, waving it almost dangerously close to
Frank's face, "she's nothing."
Jamia threw the doll to the dirt floor and set fire to it with the lighter.
The two watched in silence as it burned into a horrible blackened mess worthy
of some shitty tumblr horror blog; the doll had never been to much of a great
standard to begin with, starting off as a pom-pom and pipe cleaner contraption:
a pipe cleaner torso, two pipe cleaner arms, two pipe cleaner legs, one pom-pom
head, and two pom-pom boobs - different sizes, which was a detail Jamia had put
the utmost spite into, and of course, Lindsey's face, cut out from a photo of
Jamia and her, that Jamia had perhaps once cared for.
As the craft material 'voodoo doll' Lindsey burned away into an unnerving
blackened mess, Frank took a moment to remind himself just how fucked up and
scared teenage girls were, especially as Jamia turned to him with a smirk, "do
you want to make one of Gerard?"
Frank laughed a little, and shook his head; sure, Gerard was a dickhead, but
Frank wasn't going to go as far as to burn a crudely made voodoo doll of him,
sure, Frank would ruin Gerard's chances with Bert, but this? No, he'd already
fucked Gerard enough, he reckoned.
Frank hadn't noticed Jamia taking her cellphone out to take a photo of the
voodoo doll mess, until she let out some sort of horrified shriek and nearly
dropped her phone into the half burned out mess of kids craft materials and
bitter emotions.
"What?" Frank exclaimed, eyes widening like hell, "Jamia, I'm gonna set this
fire out, before you step in it." He shook his head, pouring some of his can of
diet coke onto it to settle the flames.
"Frank." Jamia shook her head as she cradled her phone in her hands, "look, on
Snapchat, look, fuck- don't even, I've screenshotted it, I don't even care, I
want her to know-" Jamia held her phone out to Frank, who, after a moment's
tentative reluctance, took it from her grasp, and well, had nothing short of a
heart attack as he laid his eyes over the snapchat that Jamia had
screenshotted.
The photo was pretty simple: taken by Lindsey, and with Gerard beside her, the
two laying in bed, with the bottom half of the photo scribbled over in black,
making it beyond obvious that they were at least topless together, in that bed,
and of course, the caption, written in innocent little white letters on that
fucking bitch of a black banner, lay: 'guys eat your hearts out - G's best in
bed', and a winky face emoji that Frank kind of wanted to punch out of the
screen, but he didn't exactly get too much chance, before a text message
notification appeared at the top of Jamia's phone:
A simple, 'what the fuck?' from the contact name 'Whore Bitch', which Frank
assume was Lindsey, and then, just as that notification disappeared,
'screenshot? really. wow.'.
"Jamia, she's... texted you." Frank let out a sigh, handing the phone back to
her, and watching as her eyes ignited in something that really did nothing but
a truly wonderful job of unnerving Frank. "You probably shouldn't reply."
"Says who?" Jamia glared at him, and before Frank could consider replying, his
own phone was vibrating in his pocket, however he found he had a call, not a
text, and not from Lindsey, but from Gerard, and he probably should have
followed his own advice and not answered it, but fuck, Frank was just kind of
honouring the miracle that they'd somehow managed to get reception in a fucking
field.
"You saw the snapchat, didn't you? Fuck, it's not like that- it's... I..."
Gerard starting speaking, practically yelling down the phoneline the very
moment Frank had picked up.
"It's what, Gerard? You know what me and Jamia are in a field right now, and
she just burned a voodoo doll of Lindsey and offered to make one of you and
burn it for me, and I said no, but you know what? I regret that now."
"What the fuck?" Gerard wasn't quite expecting that kind of response to say the
least. "Look, Lindsey's just bragging, she's just... I didn't even know she
took the photo, and it wasn't like that, it wasn't planned: we were both upset
and there was one hell of a fight, and Frank please, I’m calling you, because I
care about you, and I-"
Frank directed his words at Jamia, but spoke loud enough to ensure that Gerard
could hear, "hey, Jamia, can you make that voodoo doll right the fuck now?"
And Gerard could just about catch Jamia's, "fuck yeah, Frank, fuck yeah."
"Voodoo dolls, really, Frank?" Gerard shook his head in disbelief, "call me
back when you're not so stoned, how about that? Because I want to sort things
out, I really do, but we can't when you're acting like a child-"
"I'm not the one fucking the entire town, Gerard, now come on, don't kid
yourself; we have nothing, there's nothing to sort out. Delete my number, I'm
Mikey's friend, not yours."
Frank grinned as he hung up the phone and saw Jamia retrieving the bag of pom-
poms and pipe cleaners from her pocket, like some sort of crafty lesbian goth
witch.
-
***** Gerard Way's Beautiful Cock *****
Gerard reckoned he'd prefer anything to this, and knew very much in that moment
that he actually did despise his mother.
Fuck, he'd probably do the washing up and clean both his and Mikey's room over
this, and for the boy who couldn't get out of bed before noon most days, that
certainly meant a lot.
But this, with this kind of fucking hell, Gerard had woken up at nine in the
morning, and had been dragged unwillingly by his mother to the record store
down the road, and fucking hell, she really should have asked him before
getting him a job.
And then there was the 'it's music, Gerard, you like music', and his mother
smiling at the shop owner like she was performing some sort of slave trade deal
here, before leaving her nineteen year old son to glare and groan at a country
record on the shelf as he wondered just what the fuck he'd done to deserve
this.
The owner looked at least forty, so there was no way Gerard was sleeping with
him, which had made this at least a hundred times more pointless, because
Gerard reckoned he could see the worth in anything that may just possibly
involve a chance of him getting laid, or something else along those lines.
And Gerard was about to stab himself in front of this forty year old called
Gregory, because he was a lazy little brat and couldn't deal with this shit,
until Gregory just happened to mention this other employee that Gerard would be
working with.
"His name's Jimmy, he's a couple of years older than you, and he's experienced,
he knows what he's doing." Gerard reckoned the latter part of that sentence
wasn't supposed to be taken the way Gerard had, but Gregory had had him at 'a
couple of years older', because there was someone here he could fuck after all.
Of course, Jimmy had to be late, and Gerard was left manning some shitty cash
machine that he didn't understand in a place he'd first seen all of ten minutes
ago, but he guessed he was going to be paid for this (unless his mum had been
more serious on the slave labour thing than Gerard had hoped) and that was
good, and it gave him something other to think about than Frank, didn't it?
Not that Gerard was bothered about Frank, anyway, because the way it seemed,
Frank most definitely wasn't bothered about him, and more than anything Gerard
was certain that he wouldn't be the pathetic clingy ex-boyfriend, but perhaps
the idiot planning to fuck a co-worker he hadn't even met yet.
Gerard just knew that if Jimmy wasn't attractive then he really was going to
punch himself in the face here; he'd probably fuck him regardless - he'd been
here five minutes and he was already bored, although this place was hardly much
of a social hub, seeing as Gerard hadn't even know of its existence much longer
than he'd known that it had existed at all.
Jimmy's eventual arrival caught Gerard by surprise: the bell chiming and Gerard
having some sort of heart attack as a boy with fucking black spiked up hair
walked in through the door and raised his eyebrows at Gerard.
"Oh so you're the new kid, then?" His lips contorted into a smile as he joined
Gerard behind the corner, watching with entirely too much amusement as the
nineteen year old found him blushing like an idiot.
"You could say that, yeah... I think my mum just sold me into slave labour here
though - she didn't tell me about this until literally fifteen minutes ago and
I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing here." Gerard let out a sigh, leaning
against the wall as he watched Jimmy put his bag down under the counter and log
onto the system on the computer - something Gerard had failed to do.
"Oh do you need your mummy to come and take you to your first day at work?
You're a big boy now, huh? How fucking old are you, come on..." Jimmy let out a
chuckle, leaving Gerard unable to decide if this dude actually despised him or
was just putting far too much effort into a terrible kind of joke.
"I'm nineteen." Gerard answered his question, although he wasn't exactly sure
why he'd done so. "My mum just got me this job because I've been telling her
that I'll get one for months now, and well... I kind of like sleeping in until
noon and doing little other than drink coffee and jack off."
"You can drink coffee and jack off here if you want: we have a coffee machine,
and a toilet, because I'm not all that interested in your dick, sorry, but of
course, no homo, wow, I talked about your dick, I must be a flaming gaylord-"
Gerard shook his head, "I'm not one of those people."
"So how many dudes have seen your dick?" Jimmy turned to him, his eyes widening
as his lips formed something like a smirk, "just wondering."
"People I've actually fucked or whatever, or just casual dick encounters, and
do so drunk I can't remember encounter count?"
"How many guys have you fucked, or been fucked by, do specify actually." Jimmy
let out a giddy kind of laugh as he looked Gerard up and down.
"Uhh... I've done both, but I think... eight, maybe nine... guys? Nine...
definitely nine, there was that guy with the dreads, yeah, I remember now."
"Nice." Jimmy nodded, watching as Gerard considered asking him a similar
question in return, before deciding to perhaps turn things up a notch. "Do you
want to make it ten? You know, just so it's a round number....?"
Gerard’s eyes widened as they met Jimmy's: the guy deadly sincere in his words,
yet grinning like an idiot. "I... I... here?"
"We have a bathroom." Jimmy reminded him, stepping closer. "Gonna have to fuck
you up against the wall like that though. Would you mind? It's gonna be quick,
and rough, and fucking needy, because you're pretty, kid, I lied when I said I
wasn't interested in your dick."
"Please." Gerard's face lit up, his brain finally occupied with something other
than Frank for the first time in forever, and more than delighted to be so.
"Just one thing, though," Gerard nodded as Jimmy let out a chuckle, "what's
your name? You never told me your name, I've known you what? Three minutes and
I'm going to fuck you, Jesus, you don't have a problem with this at all... this
is fantastic, I tell you that."
"Yeah, I like things casual." Gerard brushed his hair away from his face, "I'm
Gerard, by the way, hey."
-
Frank and Jamia were drowning in teenage homosexual angst, but they were
drowning together, and it was certainly a wonderful friendship building kind of
thing, as the two sat in Jamia's room: Jamia curled up with her laptop,
groaning as she looked through every picture that Lindsey had uploaded to her
Facebook ever, and Frank sat beside her, attempting to make some process on the
history homework that was due first thing tomorrow.
Frank had gotten distracted from the homework, as it was indeed easy to do,
because come on, World War Two was perhaps interesting the first time, but
after the seventieth time, it did indeed get exceedingly dull. He found himself
watching Jamia flick through the photos, and soon found himself wondering if
Jamia did indeed enjoy hating Lindsey more than she would enjoy the possibly of
actually dating her.
It did spark Frank's curiosity, because sure, with being Lindsey Ballato's
'friend', you did get a lot of built up inner jealousy and hatred, but Jamia
hadn't shut up about how amazing Lindsey was until recently, and now, fuck,
Frank had no idea what the hell was going on; he didn't understand teenage
girls at all, and he probably should be extremely grateful that he wasn't
attracted to them.
But Frank was just pissed, fucking pissed, because Gerard Way was all kinds of
wonderful and all kinds of horrible, and he was going to tell Mikey about this,
and Mikey was going to hate him, and Frank was going to be stuck with Jamia on
the angsty homosexual lovestruck emo squad, not that that wasn't where he
belonged, of course.
Because Frank totally low-key belonged there, but he totally low-key didn't
want to, because he totally low-key wanted some miracle occur and for Jamia to
be happy with Lindsey, and for him to be happy with Gerard, and for Gerard to
get over Bert, and of course, himself, because the main thing standing between
Frank and Gerard was Gerard's ego.
Frank wondered if Gerard's ego was bigger than his dick, because it was most
certainly a big ego, but Gerard got laid a lot, so he must have something worth
people's time down there. Frank hated how this was the kind of question he
could probably text Gerard and get a serious answer for if things hadn't fucked
up.
And Frank blushed like hell as he thought about getting off because Gerard had
told him to over the phone, and goddamn, fuck, just what would Mikey do to him
when Gerard inevitably relayed this information to him, and of course blamed it
all on him, because Gerard could never do any wrong, of course.
"Frank..." Jamia looked up from her laptop, all wide eyes, and uncomfortable,
motioning for Frank to glance at the screen too. "Look at this... I... don't
even know what to think..."
The screen displayed a status posted by someone Frank didn't know: 'Jimmy
Urine', but Gerard was tagged in the status, which read in such an eloquent
manner: 'best fuck in a long time, he's got a beautiful cock... - with Gerard
Way.'
And Frank just took a moment to pray that neither Gerard nor this Jimmy had any
of their family members on Facebook, especially their moms, or grandmothers,
Jesus Christ, Frank cringed as he looked away - it wasn't a big deal, but it
was.
Because Frank was just going to have to accept that Gerard was Gerard and
Gerard was going to fuck boys Frank didn't know... boys who called his cock...
'beautiful'... Frank wondered if he should have called Gerard's cock beautiful,
and he was indeed glad he'd deleted Gerard's number, because if he hadn't, he
reckoned it would have taken an awful lot of restraint for him not to text
Gerard right then and right there, and just to tell him that he did indeed
think his cock was beautiful too.
"My question is just how the fuck can a cock be beautiful?" Jamia exclaimed,
shaking her head as she scrolled down, releasing another gasp as she did so.
"It's Gerard, everything about him is fucking perfect-what?" He followed
Jamia's gaze and found his eyes widening a certain set of comments on the
aforementioned status, posted mainly by a certain Lindsey Ballato.
"She's pissed, she likes him or something, and then Jimmy told her to fuck off
and stop being jealous, and then Lindsey put 'what the fuck, his cock is even
that great'." Jamia shook her head in disbelief, leaning back against the bed
in a fit of laughter, "seriously make a bet, Frank, how long now until Lindsey
realises she's fucked up and comes running back to me, and then everything's
just 'normal' again."
"Are you going to? If she asks you to come back, are you going to?" Frank
asked, raising his eyebrows at Jamia in confusion, because seriously, he
reckoned that not a single thing she'd said made sentence in response to
another.
"I don't know." Jamia closed her laptop and put it at the end of her bed, the
two sharing a glance as her phone vibrated against her pillow. She picked up
and glanced at it, before shaking her head, and uttering a, "Lindsey," before
throwing it back down, and turning back to Frank. "So, do you even know this
Jimmy guy because I don’t?"
"No, I've never heard of him." Frank let out a sigh, "I'm not bothered though,
because that's just Gerard: fucking people he barely knows, and there's nothing
I can do about that, and in fact, I should just be nothing more than relieved
that I got out of that mess before he managed to fuck me up really bad, but I'm
not relived: I miss him - his stupid face, his fucking whore ass, and his
fucking 'beautiful cock'."
"If you say 'beautiful cock' once more I'm going to vomit, and I fucking mean
it-"
"Or are you going to choke.... on Gerard's beautiful cock?"
-
And Mikey reckoned he was made entirely out of self-told lies and self-taught
coping mechanisms: a tower, unsteady and able to tumble at any point. A brain
clouded with smoke of all kinds, and a tongue that words seemed to freeze upon,
and a heart that ached with every dull thud against his ribcage, and of course
a stomach with an awful habit of tying itself into knots.
Because he felt like dying more often than he'd ever care to admit, not anyone,
not even himself, and especially not Gerard, but perhaps he had uttered it
aloud, to the bag of pills or the joint once in a while.
Because he was a self-medicated mess of pills and predicaments, and he was
about to keel over at the sight of himself, because his head was a mess and he
couldn't quite exhale properly in the darkness of his bedroom; he couldn't
quite inhale either, he couldn't breathe, period, but still he wasn't dying,
because still he didn't quite want to.
And every time he got like this, he swore to himself that he'd just grab a
jacket and go: to the woods, and then keep walking, and just walk until he was
lost and his feet didn't work anymore, and just lay down somewhere in the
middle of a forest, in the middle of this mess, and cry, fucking cry, because
Mikey didn't let himself cry, and like then, he'd curl up, and he wait, he'd
curse to himself and wait for himself to die.
And he'd gotten close before: about six months ago he'd gotten to the woods,
but he'd turned back because of a man with a dog who'd smiled at him, and
somehow it had meant the world: not just the gesture, but Mikey's stream of
thoughts and the way it seemed to smooth out the mess in his side.
And perhaps he needed that again, but there wasn't that, there wasn't any easy
option and there wasn't an escape because his head just got like this
sometimes, and it just didn't stop sometimes, and this was one of those
sometimes, and it seemed like it would last forever, but it would pass, but
Mikey was stuck in the present and he couldn’t quite escape his own head.
And he was alone, and Gerard was god knows where, and he was so close to making
it out that door once again, and this time never to return, but he just
couldn't quite do it; he couldn't escape himself, he couldn't escape his head,
but still he was drowning, still he was dying, but not really, not enough,
because he wanted this to end, just then and there, and perhaps it was the
pills, or perhaps it was just the emptiness of his head.
Or the catastrophes that were simple emotions, or the way his heart hammered in
his chest when he thought about the boy that smiled like an idiot and meant the
whole world.
Mikey couldn't leave him behind.
But he would and he had to.
Because perhaps this time he wouldn't stop himself, because even if he did,
he'd find himself in exactly the same frame of mind come a few months time, so
what was the point in tying himself down to this hell of a circle; he just
wanted out, he just wanted the end.
And suddenly banging on his door; Gerard was home early, and forcing the door
open, and pulling his brother into a tight hug as his gaze fell upon him.
"Mikey’s what going on? Please tell me you’re okay, I love you-" Gerard shook
his head in disbelief, as he squeezed his brother tightly.
"I... I... I... what?" Mikey pulled away: confused, and half sobbing, and
barely aware of himself with the amount of pills he'd taken.
"You left the medicine cabinet open and your laptop open, and the house smells
of coke, and you get fucked up when you snort it, and you know it but you do it
anyway, and maybe that's because I only tell you not to when you're fucked up,
maybe I should tell you every morning, but I... are you alright? Why are you
crying? Where are the pills... did you take them-"
"Some." Mikey bit his lip, shaking his head a little. "I took someof them.
Maybe a big some."
"Fuck." Gerard shook his head, slamming his hand against the light switch and
illuminating the room. "Can you throw up for me? Mikey... just... go puke...
stick your fingers down your throat, you need to puke-"
"No." Mikey shook his head, leaning back against the wall.
"Well it's either that or you go to the hospital and mum finds out and you have
to explain what the fuck's going through your head right now, because I'm not
really asking and I'm not judging, I just want you to be okay, and you have to
throw that shit up, Mikey, please."
And as Mikey made his way to the bathroom, Gerard turned to his brother's phone
laying upon the bed, and curiosity took the better of him as he picked it up
and took more of a glance at the notifications on the home screen than he
should have done.
'Mikey please we need to talk.' 
Pete, roughly ten minutes ago.
'Mikey please I'm so sorry.'
Pete, roughly nine minutes ago.
'Mikey please forgive me.'
Pete, roughly eight minutes ago.
'Mikey please I forgive you.'
Pete, roughly seven minutes ago.
'Mikey please I can't cope with this.'
Pete, roughly six minutes ago.
'Mikey please don't make me do this.'
Pete, roughly five minutes ago.
'Mikey please you can't do this.'
Pete, roughly four minutes ago.
'Mikey please this is my fault.'
Pete, roughly three minutes ago.
'Mikey please I'm so, so, so sorry.'
Pete, roughly two minutes ago.
'Mikey please I need you to listen to me.'
Pete, roughly one minute ago.
"Put my phone the fuck down." Mikey stumbled back into his room, his face pale,
and his pace uneven, looking almost as if he was about to pass out. "Gerard,
put my phone the fuck down."
"Did you throw up-"
Mikey didn't answer Gerard's question, only moving forward to snatch the phone
from his brother's grips, leaving it to fall onto the floor, the screen
illuminating as it lay at their feet, displaying yet another message, this time
for both of the two brothers to see.
'Mikey please don't kill yourself I love you.'
Pete, roughly a few seconds ago.
-
***** I Stopped Watching Orange Is The New Black To Update This *****
The next morning, Mikey's head was like the morning after a tornado: the whole
place wrecked, but not gone, and he knew he had to fix this all, put the pieces
back together, and he knew it would be hard, and damn near even impossible, but
he had little choice in it, and he knew that for certain as he glanced across
his bedroom and saw Gerard curled up at the other end of his bed.
Gerard hadn't trusted him alone that night; Mikey wouldn't have trusted himself
alone, but still he yearned for loneliness and a world with the pills and a
night where everything made sense, but he had to face reality and more
importantly, his brother.
Because Gerard had seen it all and still said nothing, and perhaps that was
worse, because now as he slept, his mind was clicking away and making
assumptions that meant very little, and still all too much, but would never
adhere to the truth, and perhaps Mikey preferred it that way, but perhaps he
didn’t.
In fact, Mikey's head was in nowhere near the right place to be making
assumptions, or any kind of decision for that matter, and he knew that as he
lay there in bed, his eyes fixated upon the white ceiling, clear above, and the
mess in his head that was simply nowhere near as clear.
He wanted out.
He wanted out of his own fucking head, and perhaps the pills and the ending
could have accomplished that, but still, Mikey reckoned he didn't want to do
that.
He didn't want to do that to boy curled up at the end of his bed, his brother
who loved him so much, perhaps too much even; the brother who'd tried so hard
time and time again, and the brother that was by no means perfect, but easily
the best brother in the world.
And as he turned his attention away from Gerard, he realised that he didn't
want the same for Pete either, who was all smiles and promises he kept, and
stupid ideas, and the capability to make Mikey smile like an idiot regardless
of the circumstances. Pete was the worst person in the world, and the absolute
best person at the same time, but regardless as to where he stood in Mikey's
head, Mikey knew that he absolutely needed Pete.
And he needed Gerard.
And his mother, and Frank, and everyone else that had even mattered for just a
moment.
And like that, motivation came, and Mikey Way sat up in bed, and somehow, the
world managed to present itself so differently from this angle, because it was
so less white ceiling and simplicities that Mikey was little but jealous of,
and so much more sunlight, and familiar walls, and a familiar room, and a
familiar room.
He glanced between his cellphone and his brother; he glanced between Pete and
Gerard, and a decision couldn't be made, but it had to be, and after all, he
could only tell Gerard that he was awake, whereas Pete needed to know that he
was alive.
And fuck.
Fuck, what must Pete have thought?
God, Mikey's mind certainly didn't work well in that state at all, and perhaps
that was his biggest flaw, and god, he wasn't even glancing much at Pete's
other messages, simply typing out a quick:
'I'm sorry, I'm okay, I got fucked up but I'm fine now.'
And putting his phone back down, before turning to Gerard and wondering where
they could possibly start, because they had to, and they would, start
somewhere, and Mikey was all nerves and false assumptions that Gerard could do
little about when he lay there asleep and unaware.
And he'd have to break this tension in his head soon enough, but he didn't
quite have the courage, and after all, Gerard looked so peaceful sleeping, and
he wouldn't be anywhere near as peaceful once he was thrown back into the awful
reality of what his brother was about to do last night.
Perhaps Mikey shouldn't wake him up at all.
But as he moved in the sheets, Gerard turned over, his eyes opening to meet
Mikey's, and like that, the younger boy knew he had little left for him there
anymore.
"Morning." Gerard let out a sigh, sitting up in bed and leaning back against
the wall: his gaze never leaving Mikey as he did so.
"M-morning." Mikey added, stuttering a little, as he sat there frozen, and
fixated upon his brother and what he could possibly say next.
"I'm sorry, Mikey, I'm so sorry, but please don't, fucking don't... it gets
better, your head sorts itself out, the problems don't seem so much like
mountains anymore with time, and-"
"But right now I can't deal with them: I can't deal with myself, and I'm sorry,
but I don't fucking know what to do, Gerard." Mikey threw his head back against
the wall, tears soon making their way onto his cheeks.
"I know what to do, Mikey." Gerard paused, meeting his brother's gaze, "don't
let your mind get into places like that - don't take pills, don't get drunk,
because those all do make it worse, I promise you, now, look you don't have to
face everything at once, we can go step by step if you want, and you can be six
again, and you can hold my hand if you want-"
"Fuck off, Gerard." Mikey rolled his eyes, laughing it off.
"I'm just saying, Mikey, I'm here for you. I'm your brother, I'm always here
for you, and I'm not going to give up on you, you got that?" And Gerard meant
so much, and fuck, Mikey didn't know how to express that at all.
"So what do I do first?" Mikey asked, letting out a desperate kind of fucked up
sigh.
"Well, it's nine in the morning, and you don't have to go to school today - I
already told mum you're ill, and thankfullyI don't have work today-"
"You have a job?" Mikey exclaimed, genuinely shocked by that simple fact.
"God, Mikey, don't sound so fucking surprised, but for your information, I do,
I work in a record store, and mum got me it, and it sounds really shitty, but
actually, there's this guy called J-"
"Yeah, okay, you got laid at work, moving on." Mikey shook his head in
disbelief, because Gerard was most certainly something else entirely, but he
was still the best kind of brother Mikey could ask for here, because he was
here right now, and that was what really mattered, after all.
"Let's get breakfast, and coffee, and then we can take it from there, and one
fucking thing, Mikey?"
"Yeah?" Mikey let out a sigh, meeting Gerard's gaze with slightly narrowed and
skeptical eyes.
"Fucking smile." Gerard grinned, stumbling out of bed, and gesturing for Mikey
to follow. "You don't smile enough, you idiot."
"Well since when did you become the fucking smile police?" Mikey rolled his
eyes, groaning a little as he crawled out of bed, Gerard throwing him a middle
finger as he did so.
-
Lindsey had been fifteen, and there hadn't been all that much difference in the
past two years beside the fact that she reckoned that she most definitely had a
much better taste in guys, however, just about the rest of the damn world would
still argue that she couldn't see a person for who they really were for the
life of her.
And Jimmy Urine was proof of that.
Because he'd been the absolute fucking love of her goddamn life for something
like three weeks when she was fifteen, and now, now he was just that kid, with
the mohawk, and the kind of bendy dick and the stupid jokes - the boy you
looked back on and regretted with a passion, and well, she had indeed been
having such a wonderful time with forgetting about his fucking ass and the fact
that he'd cheated on her for a fucking cigarette, until Gerard just had to make
another fucking stupid decision.
The guy made have been older than her, but she was definitely the one with some
common sense here, because Gerard was utterly lacking in that department, but
he was indeed totally fantastic in bed, so she could see how it all balanced
out.
Perhaps Gerard was just really fifteen year old her, and perhaps come two years
time, he'd be the Lindsey who sat in her room staring at Jimmy's Facebook
profile and shaking her head.
She didn't quite know what to do about this, but she knew for sure that she
didn't want Gerard to get into this mess with someone like Jimmy, because he
was all kinds of asshole, and all kinds of fucked up, and Gerard had really
quite perfected romantic apathy, but Jimmy Urine was something else and Lindsey
knew that first-hand.
But of course, the likelihood lay in the matter that Gerard wouldn't believe a
single word she said, because Jimmy was just that good; he was the straight to
your face liar, the kind of guy that would fucking set his nose on fire just to
prove to you that he had the guts, and Lindsey knew like hell that was the kind
of person she least wanted to associate with, but her fifteen year old self
would of course disagree.
Because fifteen year old Lindsey was a little shit, not that Jimmy was all that
much better.
And that was how Lindsey found herself burying her fucking dignity as she typed
in a number she knew too well, but fucking loathed, because the actual
relationship had been three weeks long, but the aftermath had been something
like three months long, and hardcore kind of jealousy warfare for the both of
them, and she really did not want Gerard to get caught up in that kind of shit,
because Gerard was a nice guy, and he didn't deserve this shit, and Lindsey
really should have been calling Gerard, but she was one for confrontation and
bitching on the phone at stupid times in the morning.
"Hey?" His voice was kind of drawled out: stoned, and Lindsey rolled her
fucking eyes, but really what had she been expecting? Perhaps it was easier
this way, because stoned Jimmy was most certainly just a little bit easier to
brush off than sober Jimmy, not that sober Jimmy was much of a regular
occurrence, of course.
"We need to talk-"
"Lindsey!" He gasped, his smirk audible down the phone line, and god she was
about to fucking slap herself. "It's been too long, honey, do you want to fuck
again, come on,I know you do-"
"No, this is about Gerard and that fucking status and you're talking about him
like he's a prize or something, some sort of achievement, some sort of fucking
medal for you to wear, and no, no he's not, because unlike you, Gerard is
actually a nice person, and he deserves so much fucking more than you do,
okay?"
"God, Lindsey, are you being jealous here, come on, this is deja vu to the
extreme, don't you think?" Jimmy let out a pathetic kind of giggly laughter,
that Lindsey did little but shake her head at, not that Jimmy could see her
through the phone, of course, but somehow it was the thought that counted.
"I'm not jealous, Gerard is my friend, and in fact, he should be dating my
other friend Frank, and they just fucked up, and we just fucked once, because
that's what kind of people we are, and that was that, and where the fuck did
you come from, Jimmy? I want you to get the fuck out of his life before you
fuck it up completely-"
"I didn't know you were his mum, Lindsey, Jesus, does he know that you're
calling to get me to fuck off?"
"No, but I'm gonna tell him what kind of trash you are, Jimmy, you got that?"
"Shut up, Lindsey, you're such a bitch when you're jealous." He laughed a
little, before continuing, "but seriously, are you sure that you don't want a
fuck, because I'm so ready right now, and we don't live that far away, do we? I
could even come over to yours, climb through your window like we're little
again if you want, hey, what do you think?"
"Jimmy, I fucking think you're out of your fucking mind-"
"I'll leave Gerard alone if we can fuck, because you're always gonna be better
than him, aren't you, Lindsey, you know that, don't you, babe? You're the
fucking best, best fucking fuck, and we ended too fast, and I'm stubborn and
you're a bitch, and let's just see how this goes, huh?"
"You'll leave Gerard alone?" Lindsey shook her head in disbelief, because dear
god, she was considering this fucking shit.
"Of course I will, I keep to my word, don't I? Now, come on, baby, your place
or mine?"
"Mine."
And a click, as the called ended, and what felt like somewhat of a life ending
blood pact was sealed.
-
"What's up with Pete?"
"What isn't up with Pete?"
Ray narrowed his eyes, and glanced across the room at the particularly emo
looking scene queen once more - there was something off, Pete hadn't try to
make some stupid pun even once today, and that was some serious fucking shit
right there.
"No but seriously, he looks really upset." Ray insisted, even going as far as
to tug on Frank's arm to further capture his attention.
"Hmm... maybe MySpace is down, I don't fucking know, Ray, I'm not his mother."
Frank rolled his eyes, avoiding both Pete and Ray with what was an undeniable
force.
"But you are his friend-"
Frank met Ray's gaze, and fucking laughed at him for that, "no, Ray, no I'm
fucking not."
Ray didn't seem nearly as amused, "that's fucking horrible, Frank, what the
hell is up with you?"
"I don’t know, why don't you go and bother Pete about it and then snap at him
because he doesn't know and doesn't care, because that's what you're doing with
me."
"No, but seriously, Frank, what's up?" Ray grabbed Frank by the arm, forcing
him to look him in the eye, as if that might have some sort of affect upon the
shorter boy's stubborn nature at all.
"Some shit - it's not important." Frank shook his head and turned away,
continuing to focus on just how damn fascinating this maths problem obviously
was.
"Well, if it's not important, why is it botheringyou?" And fucking Rayalways
knew what 'not' to say, and Frank was so fucking fucked, and he just wished
that Mikey was here today and the two could have snuck off and smoked something
in the toilets or something, because that was seriously what Frank needed right
then.
"It's just this guy, Ray, it's stupid, and I shouldn't be upset because he's a
dick, but I am, and that fucking sucks, and I'm just trying not to think about
it, you know?"
"Yeah, well, honestly, Frank with the way you're acting, you're not doing much
of a great job." And Frank was never quite aware that Ray could really be that
blunt, and he even began to wonder if something was bothering him too. "Just go
and talk to Pete, it's upsetting me, he really isn't okay - anyone can see
that."
"Why the fuck don't you do it?" Frank snapped, glaring at Ray in a way that the
taller boy really should have slapped him for.
"Because I don't need to take my mind off something with Pete's mess of
problems, do I? Now go," and with that, Ray gave Frank a gentle shove in Pete's
direction, and Frank tapped him on the back, before beckoning him over to their
table, because he seriously needed some fucking moral support in this one, even
if the moral support was getting all fucking passive aggressive with him.
"You okay, Pete?" Ray asked, raising his eyebrows a little as Pete Wentz,
everyone's favourite scene queen sat down opposite them.
"I... I guess..." Pete stuttered out, his words shaky, and fuck, Frank was
really so fucking clueless, and somehow still Ray was convinced that he was
Pete's designated counsellor here.
"Well, that means no, doesn't it?" Ray shot a glance in Frank's direction,
before turning back to the absolutely fascinating maths problems in front of
them.
"I guess..." And one hell of a blush, and fuck, Frank had absolutely no fucking
idea what he was doing and he was totally going to unintentionally morally
wreck Pete here, but it was actually one hundred percent Pete's fault, so at
the very least, that was in his favour.
"Then explain?" Frank nodded in his direction, because at the very least he
wasn't thinking about Gerard, or Lindsey, or even the fucking maths problems
for that matter, because they fucking sucked too.
"It's Mikey - he's not here today, and I'm worried about him." Pete admitted,
his voice quavering a little as he spoke, and Frank reckoned that it was either
the most heart wrenching or most pathetic thing he'd ever fucking seen.
"He's probably just ill, Pete, or I don't know, maybe he even overslept, he's
probably fine, he's probably just in bed right now, and he'll probably be back
tomorrow, and you don't need to get so upset over it, like-"
"No, Frank, it's not like that!" And with the power in Pete’s voice as he
slammed his fist down against the table, quite a few people looked up, but as
the conflict seemed to fizzle out like a faulty electrical current, people soon
lost interest, bar Ray and Frank, of course, who still sat there completely at
a lack for what to say or how to continue.
"O-oh... h-how?" Frank stuttered out, blushing a goddamn horrible shade of red
as he did so.
"It doesn't... I can't tell you, because it's a secret and I'm going to keep
Mikey's secrets, but something happened last night and I'm really worried about
him."
Frank glanced at Ray, all wide eyed and suddenly regretting ever thinking of
Pete as pathetic, because perhaps there was more to this than he had ever
thought.
"Pete, what kind of thing was it?" Ray asked, turning to face Pete, and
thankfully taking over, because Frank was doing absolutely nothing besides
grasping at straws here.
"I can't tell you, it's a secret-"
"Be vague then, please, it's important. We're worried about Mikey too." Ray
added, even going as far as to put down his motherfucking pen, like seriously,
those maths problems must have been feeling uber fucking rejected.
"It's a bad thing, and it was last night and he texted me about it, but my
phone died, so I don't know what else he's said, and I kind of don't want to
know, but I have to know, but I-" Pete shook his head, his breathing increasing
a little, and Frank was so fucking out of his depth here.
"Pete, is Mikey in danger?" Ray continued, his words spoken with entirely too
much caution and unease, but it wasn't like anyone could blame him, considering
the state Pete was in.
"No one's like... I don't know... it's himself, and I'm worried, and I-"
"Pete, is he going to hurt himself, like do something stupid-"
"I... I... I think he already has." And there was little more they could get
out of him, as Pete fell into a fit of fucking tears, and dear fucking god,
Frank knew far too little, but still far too much, and he just needed Mikey to
be okay, and not just for his stupid fucking smoke in the toilets, but for
Pete, for the boy who was crying, for the boy who cared, so fucking much.
-
***** Threesomes Solve Everything! *****
She knew it was just sex, and strictly so, but somehow that didn't seem to make
the situation any better at all, not that Lindsey had really expected it to,
because she knew all too well that Gerard had feelings for Jimmy, and she knew
all too well that she was fucking him over, in quite a literal sense, as she
sat in bed with Jimmy in the aftermath of what she'd done.
Jimmy didn't seem very fussed by the whole ordeal, leaning over to the bedside
table and lighting a joint, as if there was nothing wrong with this, not that
there would be, in his mind, that was. Lindsey knew far too much about Jimmy
Urine for her own liking, but evidently not enough, because she still found
herself in his bed, even after all these fucking years, even after she reckoned
she'd sorted this mess of hers out.
"You want a smoke?" Jimmy asked, gesturing towards the bag of weed on his
bedside table, "pot, I mean, but whatever, I have cigs too. I have a lot of
other drugs too - you can have anything you want, Lindsey."
"I want you to shut the fuck up." She snapped, turning away, and biting her
lip, because fuck, fuck, fuck.
"Babe... what's wrong?" He let out a sigh, moving in the sheets to sit beside
her, and again offering her his joint - this time she accepted,
because fuck it.
"You're wrong, this is wrong: I feel guilty, because apparently, unlike you, I
actually give a fuck about Gerard and how he's going to feel about this-"
"He doesn't have to know, and what he doesn't know can't hurt him, can it?"
Jimmy grinned, taking his joint back, but Lindsey simply shook her head in
response.
"It can, because he will find out. Gerard's not stupid... stupid enough to
sleep with you, but not stupid enough to keep doing it, or at least I hope not,
for his own sake, that is." She let out a sigh, meeting Jimmy's gaze in
something like defeat.
"And you are?" He raised his eyebrows at that.
"It seems so."
"I wouldn't call you stupid, Lindsey." He added, and he did actually seem to
mean it for once, which seemed to shock the both of them, "I'm
just irresistible, but, yeah, this was probably a bad decision on your part,
because you get too attached and I don't do commitment, and I prefer guys to
girls, and Gerard has a prettier ass than you, I'm sorry, but it's true."
"I know," Lindsey let out a sigh, "I've seen his ass - me and
Gerard have fucked."
"I see a very simple conclusion to this mess, you know?" Jimmy's face fell into
a grin - the kind of grin that made Lindsey want to punch him in the face
instantaneously, but with Jimmy Urine, that was the only kind of grin.
"Yeah?" Lindsey seemed apprehensive and she had plenty reason to be.
"Threesome. Threesomes solve everything! We have a threesome: you, me, Gerard,
and then we can all love each other, and it'll be great!" And Jimmy just
sounded far too much like he wasn't joking for Lindsey's liking, or sanity, for
that matter.
"Yeah, I'd rather not. Jimmy you're just getting in the way here: Gerard has
Frank, and I'm pretty sure that they're going to get back together soon, and
Frank’s like three feet tall but he will punch you in the face if you make a
move on Gerard... Frank kind of loves him, even, I reckon, but I don't know
recently, because he went off with Jamia who's like the epitome of hatred and
depression in the universe, like I don't even know if she physically possesses
the capacity to smile anymore, and like... we used to be best friends, and
then... I don't even know what happened really, but there was one hell of a
mess of an argument and now she hates my guts."
"Isn't that just what girls do on a regular basis?" Jimmy asked, raising his
eyebrows.
"Don't be a sexist asshole, Jimmy, you're already an asshole, you don't want to
be a sexist one too." Lindsey let out a sigh, and dragged her gaze away from
the fuckboy beside her. "Why the fuck do I keep sleeping with assholes?"
"Because you love ass." Jimmy finished for her, laughing a little, "you should
try anal if you love assholes so much-"
"Fuck off." She shook her head in disbelief, and seriously considered killing
the guy, but talking to Jimmy was better than talking to herself, even if only
slightly, it was still something. "I want to fix things with Jamia but I don't
know how."
"Literally just text her and tell her that you're sorry and that you'll always
be best friends and make some sort of soppy dramatic Facebook post about how
much you love her with some weird throwback and some cheesy photo of the two of
you from like a year ago - that always works with girls." He continued, leaning
back onto the bed, and groaning aloud, "hey, if my advice gets you your best
friend back will you have sex with me again?"
"How about no?" Lindsey shook her head, grabbing her phone from her jeans on
the floor, "it's not like you've ruined things enough already, is it?"
"I'm not ruining things, Lindsey, you just need someone to pin the blame on,
don't you, come on, now, don't lie to me about this." He grinned, watching as
she tapped something into her phone. "If this does work, you do actually owe me
one, and the easiest way to settle that debt would be a fuck, because otherwise
I'll get you drug smuggling or something, and I really doubt that that's
something you want to do."
"Jimmy, do you seriously not have anyone else to fuck? Anything better to do
with your time?" She let out a sigh, as she hit send on the message she'd typed
to Jamia.
"Well yeah, but you're here, like close, and I really don't want to get out of
bed right now, so, you know, convenience?"
Lindsey shook her head: unconvinced, "I'll give you a blowjob if you shut the
fuck up, permanently, like get the fuck out of my life."
Jimmy's lips turned up into a grin, "deal."
-
Frank knew exactly what was going to come of this, and still, he agreed to it,
perhaps just because he wanted to prove to himself that he
was especially stupid, because this certainly highlighted that fact.
The thing Frank most wanted to avoid in life was seeing Gerard again, and
exactly how was he planning to do that? Oh yes, by agreeing to go to Gerard's
house with Pete and Ray.
Well, technically, he'd rather say it was Mikey's house, because it was Mikey's
too, and it wasn't like he was going to see Gerard; he wasn't even going to see
Mikey, he was just providing some emotional support for Pete, because Ray had
glared at him in a way that signified that he would indeed blackmail him if he
didn't just fucking do this.
And Frank had as much of a backbone as he had common sense, so, fuck, there he
was, waiting with the two boys on Gerard's- Mikey's doorstep, but it would
be Gerard who would answer the door, because from what he'd picked up from the
other two, Mikey wasn't exactly in the best of states at that very moment in
time.
There'd been this whole mess where he'd tried to kill himself, and then Pete
thought he actually had, which was mess all around, as you can imagine, but
now, he's just kind of emotionally fucked up, and confined to his house or
something of the like, because Gerard told their mother, and from what Pete had
said, apparently Mikey hadn't spoke to his brother since, and Frank couldn't
blame him, because he was very much in the same position with Gerard himself.
Frank seriously could not face Gerard again, though, because he most definitely
would try and get him on his own again and try and talk some 'sense' into him,
and Frank knew that today wasn't the best of days, and therefore he was already
prone to a few violent urges, and he was beginning to worry for that pretty
face of Gerard's, and just what his fist could do to it.
Frank knew for sure that he actually hated Ray for this, because he
didn't have to be here, Ray had just dragged him into it, and yeah, okay, it
was kind of the right thing to do, and Mikey was actually his friend too, but
he reckoned that Mikey might be able to understand the circumstances once Frank
had explained them to him, and anyway, it wasn't like Mikey was a big supporter
of his and Gerard's 'thing' in the first place.
'Thing', because 'relationship' was no fucking word for it, and in fact, there
was no fucking word for it at all, and Frank didn't even know why he cared so
much; it was simply a matter of walking straight past the guy when he let them
in, and talking to Mikey, and watching Pete gush over Mikey for a while, and
then leaving, again while ignoring Gerard.
But even now, Frank already know that it was going to be far from that simple,
and as the door finally opened and the nineteen year old faced the three of
them with an awkward kind of smile, Frank's beliefs were little but reinforced.
"Hey, Mikey's up in his room," Gerard muttered, avoiding Frank's gaze as he did
so, and stepping aside to let the three inside, and of course, Frank had to be
the last of the three, and of course, Pete had to be wearing a pair of shoes
that took twelve years to unlace, so they were stood there awkwardly, Frank and
Gerard just trying not to acknowledge one another's existence, as Ray stood
beside them awkwardly.
"These shoes fucking suck." Pete groaned, as he finally pulled them off.
"You don't say." Frank let out a groan, his tone absolutely anything but
enthusiastic and it showed, and Gerard was chuckling to himself before common
sense kicked in, and there was a part of Frank's mind that deemed it socially
acceptable to glare him down for that.
"Jesus Christ..." Ray exclaimed, shaking his head a little, as he looked
between the two of them, "you need to sort this out, like seriously, I feel
uncomfortable with you two just glaring at each other beside me."
"I don't need to do anything-" Frank protested like the stroppy little teenager
he was.
"Frank, we're going to go see Mikey, and you and Gerard are going to sort this
mess out by yourselves, okay?" Ray began, Pete making his way upstairs a
little.
"Fuck, no that's not okay, I want to see Mikey-"
"You didn't even want to come in the first place, you're talking to Gerard."
Ray continued, meeting Gerard's gaze this time, and the older boy didn’t seem
entirely so opposed to the idea, which gave Ray just a little bit of hope.
"I wonder the fuck why I didn't want to come." Frank groaned, but watched in
disbelief as Ray and Mikey made their way upstairs, and he was left with the
actual spawn of Satan, or Gerard, as he was most often referred to.
"So... Frank, how's your life been?" Gerard dragged his words out awkwardly,
swallowing hard, as Frank turned around, intent upon continuing to glare at
him.
"Shit, how was fucking Jimmy Urine?" Frank decided being blunt was the best way
to go about this, and it most definitely seemed to be the way that gave him the
greatest reaction from Gerard.
"Alright..." Gerard shrugged off, making his way into the kitchen; Frank
followed him, and without a single clue as to why he did so. "He's just another
fuck, though, you know?"
"No, Gerard, I don't know," Frank shook his head in disbelief, "I have a
conscience, and I don't make a hobby out of breaking people's hearts and
fucking with their heads, unlike some people."
Gerard paused, simply heading to the backdoor and towards the garden in the
place of responding, and yet again, Frank followed him, and seriously, fuck
knows why he did that. Fuck knows why he even agreed to come here in the first
place either.
"Things with Bert are complicated," Gerard began, taking a seat on the grass,
leaving Frank, to once again mimic his actions, "I met him like four years ago,
we've been on and off dating for four years, and it's always been a weird kind
of thing, an open kind of thing, and the only thing I'm used to, and I'm kind
of nervous and freaked out about everything else, and yeah, Bert's an asshole,
but he's just comforting, in a way, like... when fifteen year old me need a
confidence boost he was there, when sixteen year old me needed a relationship
he was there, when seventeen year old me needed every drug on the fucking
planet he was there, when eighteen year old me needed help with personal issues
he was there, and when nineteen year old me needed someone to talk to in the
early hours of the morning when I was slightly drunk and you were asleep and
I'd fucked up... he was there."
"And I'm just the kid who you barely know, but isn't an asshole, but is just
a kid... and yet, you'll fuck Lindsey, because despite the fact that we're the
same age, she's not a kid and I am..." Frank trailed off, shaking his head.
"Is that all this is about to you? Fucking?" Gerard raised his eyebrows, not
having quite expected that.
"Isn't that what everything is about with you?" Frank avoided the question, but
Gerard already knew his answer.
"Not necessarily." He let out a sigh, pulling a packet of cigarettes from his
pocket, and lighting one, before offering one to Frank.
"I can't imagine you doing a 'relationship' thing, I can't imagine you even
possessing any kind of positive emotions." Frank decided blunt, brutal honest
was the best idea here, and it seemed like Gerard was something like stuck with
it.
"Neither can I..." Gerard laughed a little, "I can do emotions though, I
promise, look this is me smiling right now, because I'm happy-"
"Why the fuck are you happy?" Frank snapped, genuinely curious.
"I'm not happy."
"I wanted to see you again, and you're actually listening to me, and you
haven't even punched me in the face yet." Gerard admitted, leaving Frank
blushing, just a little, not that he'd ever admit that to anyone, of course.
"Yeah, I was planning on doing that later." Frank shrugged it off, still
blushing, and doing a terrible job of hiding his face indeed.
"Jesus, Frankie, do you not care about my pretty face? I've got to protect it -
it's my only asset, you know, like what am I without the pretty face?" Gerard
laughed it off nervously.
"You're so much more than just a pretty face, Gerard," Frank admitted, and he
meant it so much more than he'd ever care to admit. "You're... you, I mean... I
don't quite know what to say, I mean, I'm supposed to hate you, but I'm doing a
pretty shitty job of that right now, and I think that says a lot."
"Does it now?" Gerard raised an eyebrow, and Frank nodded, leaving the two in
an odd kind of complacent silence for the next few minutes.
Frank was the first to speak and break the aforementioned silence. "What
happened with Mikey? I didn't get much from Pete, and I'm pretty sure I wasn't
even listening to the majority of it... not that I don't care about Mikey, it's
just Pete... he cares too much about Mikey, if you know what I mean?"
Gerard let out an odd kind of nervous giggle, inhaling sharply as he did so,
"yeah, kind of... well... I came back home on a Friday night, and I called out
to Mikey just to say I'm home, but there was no response, and that was a bit
odd, but I thought maybe he just had headphones in, so I didn't think much of
it, until I saw the empty pill bottles on the cabinet, and I reckon I had about
seven heart attacks then and there, and I stormed upstairs, and started banging
on his door, and I... fuck, I made him throw up, and he turned out okay, and I
ended up yelling a him, which I probably shouldn't have in consideration of the
circumstances, but I was panicking, you know? And... I didn't ask much, just to
respect his privacy, but I was the text from Pete on his phone, and he'd told
Pete about how he was planning to kill himself, and Mikey saw me with his
phone, and we argued a little, but I just told him I loved him, and I think he
was pretty tired already so we just went to sleep, and I didn't think about the
pill bottles until mum asked me about them, and of course blamed me, because
I'm of course the horrible child here, but I had to tell her the truth, because
she's heard every pill related excuse I've got before, and Mikey didn't like
that, and he hasn't spoken to me since, and... and... with both you and him not
talking to me, I made some stupid decisions, and I lashed out at Bert via text,
and now he's not talking to me either, and even Lindsey hasn't replied to my
messages in a few days, but I don't know if that's incidental or not, so all I
had was Jimmy... and with Jimmy it was a lot of sex, and he's a good guy, but
he's more of a good fuck than a good guy. I miss you, Frank, I miss everyone,
and my head's a mess too. It fucking sucks, you know?"
"I'm sorry." Frank exhaled loudly, leaning closer to Gerard as he did so, "I'm
really fucking sorry, I shouldn't have done that thing with Bert, and I don't
like Bert, I'm sorry, but there's no way around that, but he means a lot to you
whether you're together or not, like... some people, you just know them so
well, that there's kind of no escaping them, is it like that?"
"Yeah," Gerard nodded, "I guess, you're more important than Bert, though, I
actually feel like I can talk to you, you know? Because with Bert, I can at
first, but then he has this awful habit of throwing everything back in your
face when he's drunk, and Mikey doesn't want to see me at all, and ugh... I
just... I wish I wasn't such a fuck up."
"You're not a fuck up, Gerard."
"Then what the fuck am I, because it looks an awful lot like a massive fuck
up?"
"You're... you're... you're..." And that was when Frank kissed Gerard, because
he reckoned that was a hell of a lot better than saying 'I don't know', which
was kind of Frank's only other option there.
-
***** In Which Lindsey Ballato Is Compared To Regina George *****
Pete knew he shouldn't have sneaked Mikey out, especially with the state he was
in, and what Mrs Way had threatened, but he couldn't shake the feeling he got
when he looked the taller boy in the eye; the feeling that although he was
alive, Mikey was nowhere near living.
And that sounded awfully poetic, and perhaps even borderline nonsensical, but
Pete knew he had to put a smile on Mikey's face, and this was the first thing
that had sprung to mind, because after all, he was pretty sure that Mrs Way had
been keeping her youngest son locked in the house over the past week.
It wasn't like she didn't have her reasons, of course, but Pete was with Mikey
now, so it'd be okay, and Pete promised himself that he'd look after him and
not let one single fucking thing happen to the slightly giddy seventeen year
old climbing over the fence of his back garden.
Mikey was like a child: over excited, and high on the adrenaline rush of doing
something you weren't supposed to, and Pete overlooked how unnerving it was for
the simple fact that he was smiling, because that had been what he was trying
to achieve here in the first place, wasn't it?
"I swear that fence fucking hates me!" Mikey exclaimed as he finally made his
way over it, brushing himself down a little, as he flashed Pete a smile, "thank
you for busting me out, you're like a rogue prince charming or something."
Pete laughed at that, blushing like hell too, because it was apparent that
Mikey had simply neglected to turn on the no homo switch this morning, which
was having the most wonderful consequences, in Pete's mind, at the very least.
"You're welcome." He added, beginning to walk down the alley at the back of
Mikey's house, leaving the taller boy following him through the darkness, and
to a destination that only Pete knew.
Like seriously, Pete could be kidnapping and killing him, or at least planning
to, and still, Mikey would have followed him and listened to every word without
a single question, and that was either the best or the worst thing in the
entire world.
"I've missed this..." Mikey began, catching up with Pete, "you know? Just...
the world, and... like walking, and you, and the air, and I... I don't know...
I really don't, I just fucked up, didn't I?"
"I guess." Pete shrugged it off, a blush hugging his cheeks.
"I didn't really mean to kill myself, it was all an in the moment thing, and
too many pills and that was just what it came down to, and I don't think I'm
ready to live with the consequences, but I have to, don't I?"
Pete nodded, pausing to just look at Mikey for a moment, "I'm seriously glad
you didn't - so is your mum and Gerard, and everyone, so many people, Mikey,
you matter so much."
"Yeah... look... it was just a... thing... like a brief thing, and I...
pills... I'm going to blame it on the pills, Pete." And then a pause, "let me."
"What?" Pete met him with a puzzled expression.
"I don't want to face up to responsibility and consequence, I just.... I want
to pretend that it isn't my fault, and I want someone to believe me. You can do
that for me, can't you?"
"I... I could try..." Pete wasn't entirely sure what to make of this, and just
kept walking, this time in silence, as Mikey seemed to shake a little beside
him, and Pete wanted to ask: everything, but he didn't dare, because he didn’t
dare know, and he didn't dare imagine, and maybe, just maybe, he wanted to
pretend that it was all okay too. "Okay." He added, perhaps several minutes
later, catching Mikey by surprise as he did so.
"Huh?" Mikey's eyes widened a little, having zoned out until Pete had spoken.
"I can believe you: I want to, I do. It isn't your fault, Mikey, it's okay,
everything’s okay, I just want everything to be okay." He let out a sigh, and
quickened his pace: the two nearing the spot at the edge of town by the lake
now: the place he was taking Mikey too.
"Thank you." Mikey responded a few moments later, having at first being
dumbfounded with the brutality and heartfelt nature of Pete's response, and
Pete in general, and his heart started to pound in his chest, and at some
point, common sense had begun to kick in, and things had started to make just a
little more sense.
Not that it'd mattered, of course.
Who needed common sense anyway?
Not Mikey Way it seemed.
"I think this place is beautiful." Pete began, as they made their way through
the trees and out to the lake, "it's like you, I guess, and... it's just
calming, I think it'll make you feel better, and I really want it to - I just
want you and everything to be okay? And I lay awake at night because I feel
like I can't do that."
"Pete, I... I... you shouldn't, you-" Mikey's words stumbled through his lips,
finding himself at a loss for what to say, as Pete sat down on the bank, and
Mikey followed his actions. "I don't even know what to say, Pete, I'm just
sorry, and I'm trying best to be okay, and thank you so much, but you have to
put yourself first, you know?"
"I know." Pete nodded, although it really wasn't the most convincing of nods.
"I just care about you, Mikey, a lot."
Mikey's face turned up into a smile at that, "thank you, seriously... I know
I'm not the best person in the world, but that really means a lot, and I'm
going to try to believe you, because I want to be happy so you can be."
And silence, as Pete worked on swallowing the millions of lumps in his throat.
"This place is beautiful as well, thank you... it's... serene, I guess... and
the water looks amazing in the moonlight, it's like the world can't touch us
when we're here - that's what I feel." Mikey's lips turned up into a smile, as
Pete nodded.
"Yeah, that's this place, it's like a bubble, and I feel like I could stay here
for a million years and nothing in this town, or in the rest of the world for
that matter, could hurt me. I feel safe, and I feel safe here with you."
"Do I not make you feel safe usually?" Mikey asked, raising his eyebrows a
little.
"You... I don't...I don't know how to explain it, I just... I feel like I have
to impress you, like I have to be a certain way, and like that one day you'll
suddenly forget about me or hate me, but when we're here I don't feel like that
anymore."
"Why on earth would you think that?" Mikey exclaimed, his eyes widening a
little, because Pete did quite honestly mean one hell of a lot.
"Because you're Mikey Way, and you're cool, and you're beautiful, and people
like you, and I'm just the weird kid, and I... I don't know, I feel like you're
better than me, and I feel like you're tired of me, because you were tired of
me before, and I'm scared that it's going to happen again. I'm always scared: I
think I'm scared of everything, Mikey." Pete admitted, his words seeming to
echo around the lake as well.
"That’s not true, Pete." Mikey shook his head, his voice quiet, and his gaze
elsewhere. "But you're not scared of what my mum's going to say, and how much
she's going to scream at you if she finds out that you've snuck me out, and
she'll say you're a bad influence, Pete, she really will-"
"I want to make sure you're happy, Mikey, that's more important, because okay,
yeah, I'm kind of scared of your mum and what she'll say, but I needed to put
that aside for this, and for tonight, because it's worth it, because you're
smiling, and I think that's all I've ever wanted to see."
And Mikey reckoned that in the darkness, by the lake, alone with the boy that
meant so much in all the wrong ways, he really reckoned he was going to cry.
"I'm sorry: I'm so fucking sorry, Pete," and tears were streaming down his face
at this point, "I'm so fucking sorry. I can't keep pretending anymore: I fucked
up, and I shouldn't have, and I'm so sorry, and I can’t believe I'd hurt you
like this, and I hate it, because I feel guilty, I really fucking do, and I
just don't know what to do about that, and what to do about you, and how you
always seem to care so much no matter how much I fuck up, because I would tell
you not to, in fact, I should, but I don't think I could handle not having you
here. You mean a lot to me, Pete."
"You mean a lot to me too." Pete answered instantly, moving closer to the boy,
and somewhat tentatively, pulling him into a hug, "please don't cry: I don't
want you to cry, because I don't know what to do - I just want you to be happy,
but I'm failing, aren't I? Because I always fuck up everything, don't I?"
"That's not true!" Mikey exclaimed, pulling away from Pete a little, and
grabbing him by the shoulders as he held him just a few centimetres away. "You
don't see how important you are, do you? Thank you so much, I'd have none of
this without you, I reckon perhaps without you I may have even gone through
with it, but I don't imagine you want to think about that, and well, really
neither do I. I want to forget, but I can't, and I want everything to be okay,
but it's not going to be, is it?"
"What makes you say that?" Pete asked, the two now sat so close they were
touching.
"Reality, logic, the world, reason, common sense: everything." Mikey shook his
head, his gaze fixated upon the ripples of the lake, and the serenity of the
atmosphere; it really did feel like a whole other world out here.
"That's bullshit, Mikey." Pete shook his head firmly, "everything will be okay,
and I want to make sure of that, and I am going to, because I won't let you
down, Mikey, and don't you even dare think I will."
"You can't always just fix things, Pete, like I get that you want to, but
you're not God, and the world doesn't listen to you, and what you want: the
world doesn't listen to anyone, not really." Mikey let out a sigh, his gaze
flickering up to the night sky, and the stars and whole other worlds up there;
he wondered what it'd be like to live somewhere else completely, or just to
float up there in space, detached from this all, because that's what he wanted,
but he wouldn't even dare to consider it if it meant leaving Pete back down
here, not anymore anyway.
"I can try." Pete spoke up after what felt like several minutes, "I can try my
best because that's the best that I can do, and I can hope and I can pray that
it will all work out, and maybe, just maybe it will. Maybe your mum won't catch
us, maybe you'll get better, maybe things will get normal again, maybe I won't
be so nervous around you anymore, maybe Gerard and Frank will get back
together, maybe things will work out."
"Or maybe not?" Mikey continued, like the poster boy for negativity that he
was.
"But we have to try, don't we? Because if we don't then things can only go
wrong, but if we do, then there's hope, isn't there?" Pete smiled, meeting
Mikey's gaze, "and I promise you that I'm not going to give up on you, Mikey."
"Hope's a false concept, Pete." Mikey let out a sigh, avoiding the shorter
boy's gaze.
"You're a false concept." Pete countered, before bursting into laughing, and
perhaps Mikey even looked up to offer him somewhat of a smile.
"What is that even supposed to mean?" Mikey asked, his eyebrows raised a
little.
"I have no idea: it can mean whatever you like, I guess."
"I want it to mean, 'you're amazing.'." Mikey grinned, shaking his head a
little, because he knew he was being ridiculous.
"Okay then, because you are."
"Why do you keep being nice to me, Pete?" He laughed it off, "are you in love
with me or something?"
"You deserve it, Mikey... but yeah... that too..."
And perhaps then had Mikey never been quite so silent.
-
Because perhaps Jamia was never as okay as she made herself out to be, and
perhaps there was a reason behind that.
And perhaps not even walks long enough to lose yourself, in woods deep enough
to lose you could render that. Perhaps it had worked for a while, perhaps it
had worked for a time, for a time when she didn't have to be happy, or at least
pretend, but now with Frank happy again, she had no one to mellow in sadness
with, and she was well and truly alone.
And perhaps that was how things would stay, and perhaps that was even how
thing should stay, but even Jamia herself deemed that unlikely as she finally
reached the clearing, her clearing, where her mind could perhaps finally could
stop for a moment.
However the aforementioned clearing was perhaps not as empty as she had wished
for it to be, and perhaps there was just very little a slightly tipsy, more
than fucked up, more than heartbroken Jamia Nestor could do about that.
The emptiness of the clearing was obstructed by a girl, sat down against a tree
trunk: all dyed black hair, and al black clothing like some sort of emo reject,
and Jamia wasn't in the mood, and was perhaps even considering turning and
running, until the very moment that the figure took notice of her, and did
indeed nothing more and nothing less than raise her eyebrows in Jamia's
direction for a good few minutes.
"Hey." Jamia ended up being the first to speak, and she wasn't particularly
happy about it; it was just a better alternative to the silence and painful
atmosphere.
"Hey." The girl mimicked, her lips contorting into an odd kind of smile, "you
okay? You look kind of taken aback, or something..." She trailed off, bringing
a cigarette to her lips, and smiling into the distance.
"I wasn't expecting to see anyone here... that's it..." Jamia let out a sigh,
blushing a little: embarrassed, more than anything. "Do you mind if I sit down
with you?"
"Go ahead." She gestured to the space beside her, and Jamia sat beside the
stranger, perhaps only now thinking it appropriate to ask her name.
"I'm Jamia, by the way, what about you?" She asked, avoiding the girl's gaze as
she did so, because this girl had been friendly so far, but there was still
something vaguely intimidating about her demeanour and appearance.
"Alicia." She asked, moments later, "so, what's up with you? because you look
upset, you know?" She turned to face Jamia now, the two sharing an odd look
that they'd perhaps never speak of, but still meant an awful lot; it was a look
of understanding, trust, even perhaps, and in that moment Jamia did really
reckon herself foolish enough to tell this girl everything about Lindsey and
everything about her own pathetic little existence.
"I have this crush on this straight girl who was my best friend but we had this
horrible argument and she keeps fucking boys, so many boys, and that's all she
does, but somehow it's worse when she doesn't laugh about how bad it was with
you afterwards." Jamia admitted, perhaps now bracing herself for the worst of
responses, because if she was prepared for the worst then she could never be
disappointed, and that, in Jamia's mind, was a sure fire solution.
"Stop giving a fuck about her: straight girls have come straight from hell
itself and they're nothing but actual demons, get the fuck out of that mess."
Alicia's face gave way to a small smile. "I know this from personal experience,
except me and the said straight girl did make out, but she's gross as fuck...
she uses the term 'gay best friend', and fuck, if you're going to put anything
like that before best friend then it invalidates the term completely: I'm
either your friend or I'm nothing to you."
"I know what you mean, god, this girl, Lindsey's her name, by the way, she had
this weird obsession with this gay dude called Frank and she like took him
under her wing and tried to set him up with gay guys, and I just... she's all
over him for being gay, because that makes him interesting to her, but god,
she'd never want to be friends with me the massive lesbian. Frank, that's the
guy, is my friend too though, and he agrees that she's a bit over the top at
times, but he's still her friend, and everyone else fucking loves her because
she'll sleep with anyone who even looks at her, and she's just so fucking
attractive that it's impossible, I want to kill her, I just-"
"Come straight from hell." Alicia giggled a little, "I told you so. Seriously
just forget all about her, just punch her in the face or something so she looks
a little uglier if that helps - I reckon it'll probably be quite therapeutic
too, also slap her if you feel like it. Anything goes."
Jamia laughed it off, shaking her head in disbelief, "I really doubt I'd ever
have the guts to do that."
"Why on earth not?"
"Because she's Lindsey Ballato." Jamia let out a sigh, shaking her head, "you
just don't understand, it's like she's a goddess, or the actual queen of the
school-"
"Sounds a bit more like Regina George." Alicia grinned, "and you're like
Gretchen or something."
"And what? You're Cady or something?" Jamia raised her eyebrows at that.
"No, I'm Janis as fuck - goth and gay, and that's actually me." Alicia grinned,
really seeming to warm to the whole Mean Girls aesthetic.
"And I'm Damian, too gay to function, of course." Jamia added, grinning a
little as she did so. "I am very gay, though, and it is causing me severe
problems here, and... ugh... I hate straight girls."
"I really do feel you there." Alicia smiled off into the distance, putting her
cigarette to her lips, as the two shared a look: again one that meant
something, but something else entirely.
-
***** Jamia's Horrific Attraction To Satanic Beings *****
"I'm not particularly a fan of coke."
"The drink... or...?" Jamia's face lit up into a grin as Alicia shook her head
in mock disbelief.
"And I thought you were a good girl." Alicia giggled a little, genuinely unable
to take herself seriously, as the two sat in Jamia's bedroom, some feminist
angry lesbian punk band playing in the background as the two lay on their backs
on her bed, as Alicia smoked some sort of substance that Jamia reckoned it was
better if she didn't ask too much about.
"Whatever gave you that impression?" Jamia asked, raising her eyebrows.
"You know the whole... cheer squad, popular girl, my best friend is the most
popular girl in school vibe-"
"Ex-best friend." Jamia corrected her, as she was of course very insistent
about the fact that she most definitely did not like Lindsey anymore.
"Of course, sorry." Alicia rolled her eyes, giggling a little, before
continuing, "but yeah, both, actually, I prefer Pepsi, and cocaine is super
bad, like white powder, that shit isn't goth enough, goddamn!"
"Pepsi?" Jamia screeched, sitting up in true horror. "Do I need to exorcise
you?"
"Go ahead." Alicia smirked, "I wonder how well you'll get, because I
am actually Satan, after all, as we all know."
"Yeah, I really do know." Jamia shook her head, falling back down behind her.
"You're kinda cute for the antichrist, though. I didn't know I could be
attracted to horrific satanic beings."
"You had a crush on Lindsey, did you not?"
And let's just say Jamia Nestor may or may not have fallen off the bed with
laughter at that point.
"Fuck off." She groaned out, climbing back onto the bed and shaking her head in
disbelief. "You're horrible."
"I am Satan after all." Alicia added, grinning like the Satanic being she was.
"Of course." Jamia let out a sigh, jumping a little as her cellphone began to
vibrate, she rolled her eyes at Alicia, before picking it up and making a
disgusted face, which Alicia laughed enthusiastically at, despite its
ridiculous nature.
"Jamia, help me, seriously, I-"
"Frank?" She asked, her eyes widening a little; the two hadn't really spoken in
a few weeks now and she'd been unsure as to whether they were even friends
anymore.
"Yeah, I... I need to talk, like seriously... I'm also kind of outside your
house, and like, let me in, please-"
"Frank, I.. I'm kinda busy, what's happening?" She let out a defeated sigh,
meeting Alicia's gaze as she did so.
"It's fucking Gerard, you won't believe what he's fucking done, I just- I need
emotional support, I'm sorry, I-"
"Frank, I have a friend over, and like- I can't dedicate all my time to sorting
your shit with your boyfriend-"
"He's not my boyfriend-"
"Sorry, fuck buddy then-"
"He's not that either, that fucking sounds worse, please, just let me in: five
minutes?" He pleaded, his voice even going all high pitched and whiny because
that totally wasn't annoying at all.
Jamia moved the phone away from her face and glanced at Alicia, "he needs
emotional support, says it'll only take five minutes, he's outside, I'm sorry,
I'll be back-"
"Oh, it's fine, I wanna come to, I wanna meet your friends, you know? His
name's Frank, right? I'm totally great at advice." Somehow Jamia just wasn't
convinced, but Alicia was unfairly beautiful and soon won her over.
"Fucking fine, and yeah, it's Frank." She let out a sigh, before putting the
phone back to her ear, "look, fine, I'm fucking coming."
And with that, she hung up, and the two made their way downstairs, with Alicia
perhaps more than eager to meet the small angsty homosexual emo outside.
Jamia unlocked the door, not quite prepared for Frank to barge inside
instantly, but yeah, okay, it was raining outside, and in turn, Frank was not
quite prepared to see that Jamia had other friends than him, especially not
intimidating goth girls that were taller than him, not that it took much to
intimidate Frank at all, and not that it took much to be taller than him
either.
"Oh, this is Alicia, she's the friend I mentioned yeah, and yeah, this is
Frank, he's having relationship issues-"
"Gerard is not my fucking boyfriend, I..." Frank let out a sigh, appearing to
have some sort of emotional breakdown as Jamia locked the door behind him.
"So what's the deal then?" Alicia asked, her eyebrows raised.
"He's... he's unfairly attractive and an asshole and we sort of had a thing but
sort of not and I think he's slept with everyone on the planet besides me, and
I genuinely like him or something, and I just... he doesn't do relationships,
and we kind of hated each other, but Ray forced us to make friends again
because it was just awkward when we went to see Mikey, and then... well we made
up... and then... then I fucking kissed him and oh dear lord Jesus why the fuck
did I do that I want to stab myself, help me..."
"Don't stab yourself, especially not in my house." Jamia interjected, narrowing
her eyes a little.
"I have some pot upstairs, do you think that would help?" Alicia asked,
grinning a little at him.
Frank's face seemed to genuinely light up, his eyes widening as a wide grin
took over his jaw, as he uttered a definite and perhaps over enthusiastic,
"yes!"
Alicia turned to Jamia, smirking, "told you, fucking great at advice."
Jamia just rolled her eyes, knowing that a stoned Frank was easier to deal with
than a stressed one, and fuck it, because she was tired, and Alicia was
insanely beautiful, and Frank was insanely stupid.
"I'll go bring it downstairs," Alicia gestured upstairs, before making her way
back to Jamia's bedroom.
"So..." Frank let out a sigh, turning to Jamia after Alicia disappeared, "is
that Lindsey point two or something?"
"No," Jamia laughed, blushing a little, "she's nothing like Lindsey, she's
amazing, also we're just friends-"
"You and Lindsey were 'just friends'." Frank pointed out: skeptical through and
through.
"So were you and Gerard." She added, but Frank wasn't in the mood, simply
flipping her off in response.
"Whatever, she has pot, I like her already."
"Of course you do."
-
At the fault of a late night text, the two had found themselves sat in silence
for the first time in forever: just the clearing by the river, the sounds of
flowing water, the smell of cigarettes, and the occasional sound as Gerard dug
the heel of his shoe into the dirt as he stubbed yet another cigarette out.
The older boy was leaned up against a tree trunk with one side of his body,
facing the river at an odd sort of angle, with one knee pulled up to his chest,
and one leg dangling precariously over the edge of the bank, and kicking at the
odd root on occasion. His gaze was fixated upon the water: flowing and bubbling
below, but his mind seemed to be elsewhere, his hands stuck in a recurring
cycle of smoke a cigarette, stub it out, light another cigarette, and so on.
But he hadn't said a single word.
Frank was sat with his back to a tree barely a couple of centimetres from where
Gerard's foot lay on the dirt, his legs too dangling over the ledge, but with
one balanced on top of an odd branch protruding from the bank in some sort of
false pretence of support. His hands were pressed against the ground behind
him: perhaps too focused, and too nervous to ask the boy beside him for even a
cigarette, or something, nevermind a conversation.
Because the two had come out here to talk, and they'd perhaps done everything
but that, and it bothered the both of them immensely, but there wasn't the
slightest chance that either would consider admitting it, and especially not
aloud, because despite the familiarity they had with one another, they reckoned
they'd still always be nervous.
Because there'd just always be something about Frank, and there'd
just always be something about Gerard, and there'd just always be some stupid
reason as to why the two couldn't go together, or even talk for that matter.
Because Frank was just sprouting excuses in his head, and Gerard was trying to
focus on anything but the matter of conversation, and had perhaps even resorted
to watch smoke drift out into the summer air.
It wasn't as if they didn't have what to talk about; they had everything -
that kiss for starters, and awkward conversation and avoiding one another in
excess for what felt like years now, whereas in reality had been little more
than a week.
In fact, Gerard was even surprised that he'd had the nerves to text Frank and
ask him to meet him. Okay, admittedly, it had been at three in the morning and
he had been very drunk, but Frank had agreed, and he wasn’t about to back down,
because it wasn't like he didn't want to see Frank, he just... he didn't know,
he really didn't know at all.
Because this wasn't how things usually were, and Gerard wasn't sure quite what
to make of that, and in turn, he wondered if they'd ever make anything of it,
or whether they'd just have a hundred other afternoons sat like this in silence
by the river, wasting their time and lives away, until one of them moved on and
forgot all about the other.
Gerard winced at the notion of the alternative, stubbing his cigarette out, and
feeling an odd unsettling sensation in his chest; he glanced across at Frank,
and imagined that one he might not be there, and that it might just be Gerard’s
fault, because he'd been too awkward and too arrogant, and too goddamn scared.
And soon enough, Frank had noticed the nineteen year old's gaze, but was still
hesitant to say anything, but even opening his mouth to speak, but of course,
nothing came out.
"Fuck." Gerard began the first way he could, almost making Frank jump enough to
send him falling down into the river. "Don't you die on me, Frank." He let out
an awkward sigh, his mind stuck in a loop of the possibility of somehow
suddenly losing this odd guy with the hair and the smile and the way of fucking
with his head.
"I'll try my best." Frank muttered, somewhat unenthusiastically, as he pulled
his knees up to his chest.
"Oh, come on, just sit here..." Gerard let out a sigh, gesturing to the space
beside him.
"There's even less space beside you, Gerard." Frank raised his eyebrows,
looking up into the older boy's eyes.
"Yeah..." He shook his head, blushing a little, "I... I just want to be close
to you, okay? Is that really so bad?" He let out an awkward laugh, looking
down, and perhaps even jumping himself as Fran sat down between his legs,
leaning his back against Gerard's chest.
"This better?" Frank asked, even daring to look up a little.
Gerard blushed, smiling a little as he did so, "yeah, I guess so. But if you
fall into that river, don't you dare drag me down with you-"
"I'm fucking gonna, that's not fair - why should you get special privileges?"
Frank asked, raising his eyebrows a little.
"Well..." Gerard let out a sigh, running a hand back through his hair, "I can't
actually swim..." He added, before quickly rushing into a, "don't you fucking
dare laugh at me I-"
"Oh my god, Gee... I..." Frank shook his head in disbelief, giggling like a
motherfucking idiot. "That's the best thing I've ever heard... you can suck
dick but can't swim?"
"Yeah..." Gerard let out a slightly embarrassed sigh, "no wonder my mum doesn't
like me, huh?"
"Oh shut up. Of course she likes you." Frank shook his head in disbelief.
"She's your mother."
"That means nothing... I don't see why anyone who doesn't want to just fuck me
should like me..." Gerard let out a sigh, "I'm just a slut, aren't I? I'm just
someone to fuck, and I get that now, suddenly I understand everything-"
"I don't think that. I like you, I wouldn't mind fucking you, of course, but I
like you for you." Frank added, meeting Gerard's eyes to emphasise his point.
"Yeah, I know." Gerard groaned, leaning back against the tree. "That's what's
fucking with my head so much. I'm not used to this, I'm not used to you, and
I'm not used to the way you think, I'm used to dating and hanging around with
assholes, not gonna lie, Frankie, and you're like this really nice, really cute
guy, and I-... I don't have to act around you, and it feels weird, I don't like
this, but I do, perhaps I'm not used to it, perhaps I'm just better at fucking
that I am having normal conversations. But I want to try with you, and I want
to kiss again... if that’s okay....?"
"Please kiss me, you idiot." Frank let out a sigh, looking up to meet Gerard's
gaze, and then a few moments later, his lips. "You really are something, you
know that?"
"And what does that mean?" Gerard asked, slightly apprehensive.
"I'm not entirely sure, honestly." Frank added, reaching for Gerard’s hand and
putting it into his, "but it's a compliment, I'm sure of that."
"You better be." Gerard shook his head.
"Why would I ever insult you, come on, I'm not pissed at you, I really like
you, okay you're being an idiot, but so am I, so I'm not going to be a
hypocrite, I really just want to spend time with you, because I do honestly
just like being with you."
"God, stop being so soppy, Frank, I think I'm going to die." Gerard groaned,
making a cut throat gesture, which Frank, of course, rolled his eyes at, but
smiled nonetheless, because maybe, even if just for now, things could be okay.
-
Things were however less than okay when Gerard arrived back home: smile still
on his face until the very moment he closed the front door behind him, and the
sound of yelling filled his ears.
"Fuck." He muttered to himself, kicking his shoes off, and just leaning back
against the front door for a moment, wishing he'd stayed with Frank longer, or
perhaps even gone home with Frank, because he couldn't deal with whatever
argument his mother and Mikey were in, and he most certainly couldn't deal with
whatever kind of bad mood they both would be in.
And it all just had to happen at the very moment that Gerard was being to think
that everything might just work out okay, but no, things could just never be
that easy, and like he couldn't sit there beside the river with Frank forever,
he couldn't stand in the hallway forever, he had to face them and whatever
shitstorm they'd caused eventually.
And perhaps Gerard's one true weakness was standing up to responsibility and
the inevitable, and perhaps today was already too much, but perhaps Gerard was
just realising that he didn't have much in the way of a choice, as his mother
made her way into the hallway and stared him down with one fucking hell of a
look.
"What?" He asked, as she continued to stare him down in silence, which
certainly succeeded in making him just a little uncomfortable.
"Nothing." She let out a sigh, turning and glancing back into the living room
at Mikey. "You can talk to him, seeing as you decided to sneak out." And with
that, she made her way upstairs to do god knows what, leaving Gerard to make
his way almost tentatively into the living room, to meet his brother's gaze.
"What's going on?" He asked, making his way towards the sofa and sitting down
beside Mikey. "Are you okay?" He continued, putting a hand on Mikey's shoulder.
Mikey let out a sigh, leaning back against the wall, and shaking his head a
little, "it's just some shit: I snuck out last night to go to this lake with
Pete and I reckon it's the happiest I've been in a while, but she's all on my
ass about it, and I just want to tell her to go fuck herself, and ugh..."
"I'm sorry." Gerard let out a sigh, "what did she mean when she said you can
tell me?"
Mikey shook his head in a way that definitely succeeded in making Gerard
uncomfortably anxious. "You really... just... Bert called the house phone
today, asking for you, saying he misses you, and he wants you to go back and
stay with him, and that he's sorry- and don't you fucking dare even think about
it, but mum got really pissed off, and yeah... I'm not going to go into
detail."
"I think I’ve finally sorted things with Frank now, actually, I really like
him, and I'm sorry that he's your friend or whatever, but-"
"It's fine." Mikey cut him off, smiling a little, "I'm just over the moon that
you're not even considering Bert's offer, which you're not, of course, because
you're with Frank, and you're all happy and Frank is a decent human being and
Bert is a literal garbage can-"
"I don't think he's a literal garbage can-" Gerard protested, shaking his head
a little.
"He is." Mikey insisted, narrowing his eyes. "Say it: Bert McCracken is a
literal garbage can, or I'm going to change my mind about being so nice about
you and Frank, like I'm totally going to get on his ass about it at school, but
that's justified because I’m an overprotective younger brother."
"You're an over annoying younger brother." Gerard corrected him, smirking a
little as he did so.
"Say it!" Mikey exclaimed, his eyes widening a little.
"Okay, fine, god, Mikey, Bert McCracken is a literal garbage can, there you go.
Look I deleted his number, it's fine, I promise." Gerard smiled, meeting
Mikey's gaze with a newfound kind of sincerity.
"You know that would be perfect, if that wasn't exactly what you said like
seven times before, you know? Seven times when you took him back, because
you're not exactly the most resilient of people, and I'm not going to let him
back into your life, and I fucking mean that.... I... I told mum what kind of
an asshole he is... just so she knew... but she took it weirdly..." Mikey let
out a sigh, looking away from his brother, "she's getting all weirdly passive
aggressive and she's pissed that you let him walk all over you, but it's not
your fault, it's his fault, and I'm trying to tell her that, but she won't
listen to anything I say after she found out about me sneaking out because
apparently that invalidates every point I have..."
"Exactly how much did you tell her?" Gerard asked, biting his lip a little.
"Not everything, but I did go into detail-"
"Oh for fuck's sake, Mikey!" And just like that, it seemed like that facade of
happiness had been broken within an instant.
- 
***** Things Get A Bit Gay *****
Not that Mikey had ever felt all that alive in the first place, but still, he
reckoned that there should have been something more, even just from Pete, even
just from the boy sat beside him with very little to say for himself.
But it wasn't like Mikey had ever expected Pete to explain this at all.
Fuck, this was nothing more than a sudden slap in the face reminder as to just
how horrific school was, and needless to say, Mikey was much less than
appreciative of the 'gesture'.
In fact, more than anything, he was just resentful of Pete's silence, not that
he held it against him, of course, because Pete's entire purpose in life most
certainly wasn't to provide Mikey with emotional support, and as distraught as
he may have been, Mikey still knew that, and he knew it like he knew that there
was and at this point, perhaps had to be something more between them, and it
had taken the lake and Mikey's mother to ensure that.
Of course, Mikey had absolutely no fucking idea in the world as how on earth he
was supposed to process the aforementioned information, and as with all
dilemmas in his life, he'd taken to nicotine and the constant decaying of his
lungs.
He even considered apologising to them every time he clicked his lighter,
because they definitely were in need of some form of an apology at this point,
and perhaps even several, because Mikey had frequent fuck ups, and terrible
decisions that were little short of even more terrible, and his lungs were most
certainly paying the price for it.
And he knew right then that he needed to get out of school: to ditch again,
regardless of whether the shorter boy followed him or not, because surprisingly
enough, not everything revolved around Pete, and Mikey needed his life back,
and he needed to smoke weed and grumble and stare at stormy skies and leave his
mind devoid of any emotion or feeling at all.
And the school building and the boy beside him: all wide eyes and smiles
certainly wasn't helping with that.
He couldn't even bring himself to utter a single word before getting to his
feet, and doing his best to avoid Pete's gaze even as he did so, not a clue as
to how he'd accomplish this, and where the hell he'd even go, he just knew he
had to go, and he had to clear his head and he could most definitely deal with
the consequences later.
Or perhaps that was just the irrational part of his brain talking.
Or perhaps the entirety of Mikey's brain was the irrational part.
It was likely.
Very fucking likely.
"Where are you going?" Pete eventually seemed to notice the boy before him
getting to his feet and making some attempt at an exit, and Mikey couldn't help
but turn, because he couldn't help but care, because Pete couldn't help but
matter, and it really wasn't his fault, but perhaps Mikey just needed someone
to pin the blame upon - someone that wasn't himself, for a change.
"I... I... I just... away, outside, you know? For air, for a smoke, for
something else, I need space, and I hate this... the silence that demands
words, and I have nothing to say and neither do you, but it feels like
we should say something, and I hate that, I really fucking do, you know?"
"I thought you hated everything." Pete added, a trace of a smile at his lips as
he climbed to his feet: the gesture making his plans to follow Mikey evident.
"Well, I don't, not exactly, but... most things... like ninety nine percent of
things, or something. You're definitely exempt: I could never hate you, and
like cigarettes, I hate them, but I need them, and Gerard, I don't hate him,
and Frank, because he's a good friend-"
"Where are we going?" Pete asked, interrupting and stepping closer to Mikey as
he did so.
"We?" Mikey raised his eyebrows a little, taken aback, despite the fact that
he'd known this was coming all along.
"Yeah, because I need you and you need me, and we need to talk, and maybe with
time, we'll think of something to say, and truth be told, I can't deal with
school either."
"Who can?" Mikey let out a sigh, gesturing for Pete to follow him as he made
his way towards the gate he frequented as an exit, because this school was
seriously fucking terrible when it came to security. "This place kinda makes me
wish I had killed myself, you know?" And Mikey tried to laugh it off, as a
joke, even a bad one, but he knew instantly, from the look on Pete's face, that
it just wasn't going to slide.
"Don't say that. Don't fucking say that." He raised his voice, unnecessarily,
perhaps, but it was a matter of perspective, perhaps it wasn't.
"I'll say what I like." Mikey rolled his eyes, not ready to deal with anyone at
all, and perhaps on the very path to running his life, and fucking up the heart
of everyone he even vaguely cared about. "Fuck, sorry, I just... I don't know,
my head's all weird, you get that right? And us, because I... I need to talk,
we need to talk... things need to be said, you know? They do, don't they?"
"I guess?" Pete frowned, the confusion upon his face making it evident that
he'd missed the point; Mikey didn’t fret over it.
"Yeah... do you think we could go to the lake again, like now? You'd have to
find our way there, of course, but like, is it even an option in the day time,
like of course it is, but it feels magical, like a dream, like it wasn't even
real, you know?"
"I know." Pete nodded. He kind of didn't. He kind of did. He was unsure. He
just wanted to make Mikey smile. To make him feel better. Or something like
that. He meant well at least. At least. What did that even mean? What did any
of this mean?
"Good." Mikey let out a sigh, moving just a little closer to Pete as he did so,
"I need you, you know? You get me, and that's important, because we work, and
you matter, and you make me feel like I matter, you know?"
"How do I? You should know you matter already... shouldn't you?"
"Of course I should, I'm just an idiot, Pete: leave it, please."
"Okay."
And then silence as the two made their way to the lake.
-
"I am sorry."
And despite how much Lindsey could mean it, it would never be enough, and she'd
known that from the very moment she'd even considered fucking this all up, but
still she found herself trying, because she was all kinds of pathetic and
apologetic rolled into one.
It had been something Jimmy had said at two in the morning the previous night.
Jimmy Urine was hardly the kind of company she found herself desiring at two in
the morning, but she was running out of options, and perhaps she had been just
about drunk enough to let it slide, and even to let Jimmy talk, to listen, to
let everything happen, no matter how fucked up things would get, because with
Jimmy they did, and in fact, there'd be cause for concern if they didn't.
Not that Lindsey reckoned she'd be first in line to raise alarm bells at all.
But that was irrelevant, and Lindsey Ballato had found herself listening to the
world's most horrific idiot at two in the morning, with perhaps a little too
much alcohol in her system, and perhaps she was just insanely grateful that she
was certain that nothing had happened between the two of them.
Because this wasn't how it was going to be, and although she was in quite a
mess, she knew enough to know that she couldn't let things fuck up like that
again.
And at two in the morning, Jimmy Urine had turned to her, and they'd made an
odd kind of sincere eye contact that only seemed to exist in the moment; it was
sentimental and most certainly unexpected, especially on Jimmy's part, because
Lindsey hadn't reckoned that he was even all that capable of emotion, and
showing it in such a way, but perhaps that all changed come two in the morning
and a little too much beer.
Because nothing ever lasted: there was nothing you could rely on, and truth be
told, Lindsey had become almost overly comfortable with the fact that Jimmy
Urine would just be an asshole and someone not to listen to, but, it wasn't
like that at all.
"You should talk to her again."
Lindsey had hated how she instantly knew what Jimmy was referring to, and who
'her' was, and why she'd even mentioned Jamia Nestor to him in the first place,
but she had, and perhaps now it would prove its worth.
"You should say you're sorry, because you are sorry and you miss her, and you
look sad, and it's... weird, Lindsey, it's weird."
And then Jimmy had rolled over, breaking the eye contact like a spell: a trance
fading, as Lindsey began to tremble a little, unsure of how to continue, or
what to say, or what to do, because Jimmy was right, for once in his entire
fucking life, Jimmy Urine was right, and it mattered so much, but it was two in
the morning and Lindsey Ballato was drunk, and she didn't know what to say at
all.
She didn't know what to do either, and soon, seconds and minutes ticked by
before irrationality finally set in: a last response, the most obvious one - a
slap to Jimmy's face, and a string of cruse words afterwards as he got to his
feet and looked at her in despise, muttering something Lindsey hadn't cared to
remember, before making his way out and make one hell of a point of slamming
the door behind him.
"I am sorry." Lindsey repeated once more, facing the present and the hazel
eyes, filled with confusion, sorrow, and something Lindsey couldn't place. "You
don't look like you believe me- why the fuck is that? I'm not lying, I-"
"I don't look like anything." He ran a hand back through his black hair,
shrugging his shoulders a little. "I'm not saying anything, and that's not what
I meant, Lindsey. I'm thinking, and this is good, because you're right, you are
right, and you should apologise to her-"
"Yeah, I've already figured that out, thanks, Gerard." Lindsey rolled her eyes,
groaning a little and making one hell of a scene out of her own existence, but
since having known Lindsey for more than five seconds, Gerard was already more
than accustomed to it.
"Why are you angry?" He let out a sigh, watching as Lindsey got up from the
bed: his bed, and not like that, because Gerard and Frank were okay, sort of,
now, but Lindsey needed help, and she seemed to have herself convinced that she
could only feel good about herself whilst sat in Gerard Way's bed - with or
without clothes, or sex, or kissing, or whatever.
It was odd, and Gerard had begun to notice, but he reckoned that now was
anything but the time to question it.
"I'm angry at myself: I'm sorry." She let out a sigh as she made her way to the
window, looking out into the garden, and groaning internally. "I'm a shit
friend to you - you must think I only want to fuck you, because that's what it
seems like, but it's not like that. I care about you, Gerard, and I'm very
honoured that you seem to care about me too."
"You're not a shit friend to me." Gerard let out a sigh, preparing himself for
what he was about to say, and just what Lindsey could possibly find to respond
with, but it was of course the truth, and there was no way around that. "You
were a shit friend to Jamia. Everyone knows that - Frank told me about that, in
detail, actually."
"I didn't mean to be, I just-" Lindsey stammered out, her eyes widening in
shock as she turned to face Gerard once more.
"You were a shit friend to Frank to - not that he thinks any less of you,
that's just my opinion from what he's mentioned of you." Gerard let out another
comment: all too nonchalant, and Lindsey had this terrible urge to slap him
too, but then she'd most definitely have no one to turn to, and she wasn't
quite that stupid.
"What do you mean?" She went for perhaps the more rational approach, gathering
her strength and sitting down at the end of Gerard's bed once again.
"For a start, you used the phrase 'gay best friend', and well... you seem...
you're not good with people, are you? It's not your fault, you do appreciate
people but just not in the way people want you to. It's just different for you,
because you see sex and romantic affection as what matters the most, and words
as very little, but I think you need to realise that Jamia most certainly
thinks differently to you." He let out a sigh, "I think a bit like you, not
quite as much, but, I get where you're coming from and I get where Jamia is
too."
"So what do I do? Because one simple sorry doesn't feel like enough, truth be
told." She brushed her hair from her face, letting out a sigh as she did so.
"Explain. Explain it all to her, and bare in mind how she feels about you, and
what there is, and could be between you, because Jamia probably thinks about it
all the time-"
"What do you mean?" Lindsey's expression contorted into one of confusion. "How
she feels? What are you talking about?"
"No one told you?" Gerard exclaimed, taking a moment to just reassess the
situation. "Frank told me. Maybe even I wasn't supposed to know... I don't even
know what to say; this isn't my thing to say, or mine to know either, but I
think it'd help clear things up in your head, but... you can't let anyone know
you know, and especially not that I told you, but I guess this isn't something
you can just easily ignore, but I guess you could try, but I don't know... I
really don't fucking know, Lindsey, you know? I don't know what to do, stop
putting me in charge of your life and your problems, because I don't want to be
to blame when things fuck up, because I hate to say it, but I feel like this
isn't going to end well, because you're going to find out eventually, and
you're not going to like it."
"Just tell me, Gerard." Her words were something like devoid of emotional, and
impatient in nature, and Gerard didn't quite know what to think or what to do,
or what this could all mean, and just what Jamia and Frank would make of him
when it came around that he'd told her.
But it'd get out in the end.
And she would react explosively, and perhaps it was better in his bedroom than
with Jamia's, because Lindsey wouldn't think rationally, and she couldn't
chance really fucking things up with Jamia, because despite this all, she
cared, and she always would care about Jamia Nestor, because Jamia was so much
more than the best friend, and Lindsey Ballato was so much more than a cliché.
"She has this crush on you." Gerard reckoned it better to not allow Lindsey to
butt in, and just keep talking: forcing the words out, perhaps, "and it's been
for a long time, and despite all the shit you give her, she cares so much for
you, and you might not even like girls, and that's why she hates all these
boyfriends, and she's tired of everything, because maybe she's tired of being
treated like shit and like nothing, and it's not entirely your fault, because
you didn’t know she liked you, but you did know she was a human being with
feelings - you've always known that."
And silence: the loudest fucking silence that rang in your ears, and Gerard
wanted to scream just to rid himself of it, and it wasn't even working against
him; he was just the messenger, who perhaps shouldn’t have spoken, but he had
now, and there was little left to do in regards to the aforementioned.
Lindsey finally seemed to come to realise what was happening, though, her eyes
blinking rapidly as she seemed to plummet back into reality with one hell of an
impact, but still very little to say for herself, as she resorted to meeting
Gerard's gaze with wide, near teary eyes, and lips that trembled, as if there
were a million words behind them, just begging to be let out into reality, but
she refused them that privilege, she refused herself speech, and confined
herself to the silence.
"Say something." Gerard finally concluded it with what came out as perhaps more
of a demand than he had previously intended. "Please, Lindsey, come on, I need
to hear something, because I feel like I've fucked everything up, and I haven't
even done anything, have I- fuck, that doesn't matter, you matter, what the
fuck is going on in your head, tell me, come on."
"I'm an asshole." Lindsey uttered, falling back onto the bed, and leaving
Gerard frozen in place for a good few minutes before he moved to join her. "I'm
the world's worst person, I'm practically the fucking antichrist," she turned
to face Gerard, "aren't I?"
"That's not true." He insisted, in an attempt to reassure her, although, truth
be told, he wasn't exactly all that sure himself.
"It is." She let out a sigh. "You don't understand, you didn't know me when I
was thirteen, and I had this stupid idea that maybe things would-... I had this
stupid crush too, I just beat her by four years."
"You..." Gerard let out a confused noise, "I... I don't..."
"Understand." Lindsey finished for him. "Neither did I. Neither do I, because I
still fucking don't, but whatever, I never told anyone, and I started getting
with boys, I don't know to forget it, and it didn't mean much, nothing meant
much in my love life, but I was okay, and straight, because somehow that was
imperative and Jamia was just my best friend, and by the time I turned fifteen
I was content with forgetting about it completely."
"You suppressed it?" Gerard shook his head in disbelief. "That's the absolute
fucking worst thing you can do."
"I... I was thirteen, I didn't fucking know how to deal with it, and anyway...
it didn't matter, but it does now, and I-" She shook her head, "can you forget
I even told you? Because I don't- I don't want this, I... I just... I'm Lindsey
Ballato and I fuck boys, and everything’s fine in my life, and I just want my
best friend back, and she's just my best friend, and that's that, and
that will be that."
"You can fuck boys and girls- not at the same time- well maybe at the same time
if you want to, you can do whatever. The worst thing you can do with sexuality,
or anything about yourself is pushing yourself into a box and closing the lid
behind you, because you don't fir into the 'straight box', I can fucking see
that."
"And what if I want to, because it's been years and I'm here just fine, I'm
just fine, Gerard, you fucking- you don't know me, you don't know me at all!"
She stumbled to her feet and made her way to the front door, slamming it shut
behind her, as tears started to roll down her cheeks and the whole world began
to fall apart - right then and right there.
-
***** Things Get Even More Gay *****
Lindsey Ballato had been thirteen, well, of course she had been thirteen,
considering that she was seventeen, it was highly unlikely that she had just
gone straight from twelve to fourteen, but Lindsey had been thirteen when all
kinds of vaguely homosexual hell had broken lose.
In fact the fact that she was thirteen was kind of irrelevant, that was just
how old she was.
Four years ago, Lindsey Ballato's heart had done the most stupid thing in the
world, because Lindsey Ballato from four years ago was possibly even more
stupid than present day Lindsey, of course, many speculated as to whether that
was even physically possible, but past Lindsey was indeed all kinds of stupid
and irrational, but it did seem that thirteen year old Lindsey had certainly
outdone her seventeen year old counterpart on the friendship front, considering
that four years ago, Lindsey had actually had a friend.
And that four years ago, Lindsey hadn't fucked it up with everyone, and hadn't
found herself curled up in bed, grabbing the box from the corner of her
wardrobe: a box not intended to be opened until she'd forgotten the contents -
part of some bullshit idea her and Jamia had had when they were like fourteen,
but the contents of the box included many items abandoned throughout the years,
that had in the past meant so much to her.
However seventeen year old Lindsey felt little to nothing as she looked over
the shoe box: containing three diaries, each with a different coloured cover, a
couple of printed photographs of her and Jamia from when they were younger, and
what appeared to be a handwritten letter to herself, and a bag of chocolate
buttons that were three years out of date, ultimately proving that younger
Lindsey had indeed been more stupid, and that it was indeed possible.
She discarded the chocolate buttons, straight into her trashcan, because she
simply wasn't interested in the kinds of prehistoric bacterial life growing on
them, and with good reason. She soon turned her attention to the diaries,
flickering through and letting herself drown in her younger idiocy, which the
most bullshit entries about a plethora of ridiculous and insignificant things
that had somehow managed to matter so much in her head at one point.
But it was only when Lindsey opened the last diary that she really found what
she had been looking for all this time, not that she dared to admit it to
herself, of course: a certain diary entry which she'd made four years ago,
aged thirteen.
'Dear Diary,
Today is a Sunday and I stayed with Jamia last night, and, I'm not entirely
sure what happened, but something did...'
-
Four years ago, at some point, it was a Sunday, and thirteen year old Lindsey
Ballato was sat in the corner of her best friend, Jamia Nestor's bedroom, with
Jamia still asleep and Lindsey still trapped inside her own head, stuck in the
realisations that had befallen her: the very realisations which focused so
strongly upon the girl just a few metres away from her.
Lindsey had just wished she could have stopped this all, because it was
ridiculous, it wasn't going to get anywhere, and it was just giving her a hell
of a lot of heart attack, but she was soon finding out that things just didn't
work that way, and that perhaps her best friend would always look beautiful to
her, and perhaps in a different way than she was supposed to.
Sure, she could suppress it all she liked, and she would, of course she would,
but that would never do much to change the truth and the reality of things, but
of course, Lindsey was, and would always be stubborn, as she forced her gaze
away from Jamia, and put pen back to paper, scribbling the diary entry that
would perhaps change the whole world for her come four years time.
She just didn't know what to do with herself; what this even meant, and when,
if ever, it would just go away, because she didn't know what to say, she didn't
know what to do, but she just reckoned that perhaps going up to Jamia and all
so causally mentioning just how much she wanted to kiss her wouldn't go down
well.
Anyway, thirteen year old Lindsey was certain that kissing was for boys and
girls, so she couldn't kiss Jamia - it just didn't work like that, and thirteen
year old Lindsey sat there, unable to imagine herself kissing any boy, even
anyone that wasn't Jamia, only to find herself proven so wrong in the years
that followed.
But that of course wasn't the only thing Lindsey had been wrong about.
Perhaps it was just the fact that no one had ever thought to mention the
existence of anything besides heterosexuality, for fear that it could somehow
'taint' her, but even with all the heterosexuality they'd drilled into her, she
found herself aged thirteen, and seemingly 'untainted' by it, because even
thirteen year old Lindsey had figured it that this wasn't something
she'd chosen, but something that was as much a part of her as her eye colour.
It had been the Lindsey in the years to come that had done the most damage,
that had disagreed with reason and herself, that had forced these feelings
away, and had remained adamant in her heterosexuality, such an attitude
stemming from the moment when she was fourteen that homosexuality was finally
introduced to her, but of course, only ever with negative connotations: with
words like 'faggot' and 'dyke', words that she'd grow to hate, and words that
with naivety, she'd misused.
And with time, she'd become more tolerant, she'd become somewhat more of a
decent person, but she'd hidden the very thing that it had all stemmed from
deep down and away from sight, even to the extent where she was close to
forgetting of its very existence, but it had been Gerard and a secret he
shouldn't have shared, but did regardless, that had brought it all coming back
to her like a slap in the face.
And sat on Gerard's bed just an hour or so ago, Lindsey had felt very much the
same as she had four years prior, sat in the corner on that Sunday morning with
the diary entry that finally seemed to click everything into place.
It was like deja vu, and it hurt her head, because she didn't want it this time
either, but she was determined not to make the same mistake twice, because no
good had come of her suppressing it, which left the logical option to be the
opposite, to accept herself, and this mess that was all coming back to her
suddenly like a slap in the face.
And it suddenly it was simple: all she had to do was explain - she had to find
Jamia and she had to find the words, and they'd come to an understanding, and
Lindsey could be thirteen again, trying it all over again, and maybe this time
she wouldn't lose both a friend and herself.
-
"I wish I could just like wave a fucking magic wand and you'd be happy."
"Me too." Mikey admitted: his tone less enthusiastic, but by no means less
sincere.
"So you want to get better? You want to be happy, see Mikey, it's simple, you
just-"
"I don't... I just want you to be happy." He pulled his knees up to his chest.
"If I ever get better it's always going to be just to keep a smile on your face
- it breaks my heart when you don't smile, you know, for real?"
"I thought you didn't have a heart." Pete scoffed, shaking it off. "I thought
there was some bullshit like that... I thought that was your excuse-"
"What are you talking about, Pete?" Mikey asked: an expression of confusion,
and narrowed hazel eyes, that Pete was absolutely head over heels for.
"Us, or whatever..." He flushed, turning his gaze away from Mikey, and focusing
his vision upon the lake: letting it serve as a distraction, as anything he
needed, and perhaps more.
"I.. no, Pete, it's not that, it's not- it's nowhere near that, and I fucking
promise you, okay?" Mikey let out a sigh, grabbing Pete's hand, and effectively
stopping the shorter boy's heart as he continued to hold it, just casually,
like this was how things were just supposed to be.
"Then..." Pete almost forced the words out, struggling to breathe, let alone
speak with the lack of air in his chest. "Then... w-what, are you-u?"
"I'm scared." Mikey admitted, "this is just... I don't know: my head's not in
the right place and we need to talk, and here we are talking, but I'm scared
and I'm stalling, and you deserve so much more than the boy who needs to get a
grip on reality and himself, because he can't change the world. I'm a bad
influence, come on, would you be out here in school time without me?" And as
Mikey expected, Pete had to shake his head. "I know: I know you, Pete."
"Do you?" Pete asked, eyebrows raised slightly, and hand still shaking against
Mikey's: still in an odd sense of disbelief when it came to his current
situation and perhaps his existence in general.
"I think so." Mikey admitted, "I know you like me, I know you deserve better,
but I know myself too, and I know I'm selfish and fucked up, and in one hell of
a bad place right now, and I know we need to talk about this... we can't just
let it slide, let it fade away, because that'll just make it worse, won't it?"
"You sound like you know what you're doing." Pete told him, his voice hushed,
with no need to be any louder, and content like that: just like a secret, just
for the two of them to hear.
"Do I?" Mikey scoffed, giggling a little, "well, thank you, because I'm really
just fucking winging it, like everything like all the time, but I don't want to
do that with you: you matter."
"Stop it." Pete insisted: all red cheeks and stumbling over his words.
"Stop what?" Mikey asked what was a genuine question.
"Just saying things to make me feel better, to make rejection easier: tell me
it straight, well not straight, but tell me how it is, treat me like
I'm normal, because I feel like you're not, I don't want to be special, I don't
want to be different, I just want to be fucking normal, you know?" Pete raised
his voice, and of course, instantly regretted it with one hell of a blush and a
butchered apology, that Mikey accepted regardless, because Pete practically
encompassed everything good in his life.
"It's not like that." Mikey told him, and it was indeed the truth, but it hurt
far more than any kind of lie: lodging and stumbling in Mikey's throat as it
clung to him, unprepared for the outside world, for Pete to hear, for Pete to
know, and perhaps even understand.
"Then what is it like?" Pete asked, his tone more cautious this time, and Mikey
swallowed hard, finally beginning to accept the truth, even to repeat it to
himself in his head.
"I don't... I like you too Pete, but I don't know what to do with that, you
know? All I see is a million reasons why we shouldn't date." He admitted,
gripping Pete's hand tighter in a gesture that neither boy really knew the
meaning of.
"And because you're focusing so much on that million, you\'re ignoring
the billion reasons why we should." Pete added, all smiles despite the subject
and despite the words escaping Mikey's lips.
"Pete, please-"
"Please what?" Pete asked, sighing as he met Mikey's gaze, "please, just listen
to me, you know I'm right, don't you?"
And Mikey did, but he just didn't know if he was quite ready to admit it to
himself, because as always, he was one hell of a mess, and a simply spectacular
coward.
Mikey only nodded, squeezing Pete’s hand and leaning into the other boy's side.
"We were supposed to talk, but I can't, I'm sorry, can we just... later... can
you just... can we just be happy for a while now?"
"Of course." Pete smiled at him, blushing like hell as he pulled Mikey closer
into him.
And perhaps that was how easy it had always been, and perhaps that was how easy
it would always be, but Mikey, being pessimistic at best, couldn't help but
doubt that, and everything, because he just sat there, treasuring the moment as
he sat in wait for the inevitable fallout, because it would happen, he just
wasn't sure if he could bare to face it with someone like Pete, because Pete
Wentz was perhaps the most important person in the world to Mikey Way, and in
Mikey's opinion, should be the most important person to everyone else too.
"Thank you." Mikey added, a genuine smile on his lips, which was certainly a
rarity when it came to Mikey Way, needless to be said.
"For what?" Pete asked, looking at the taller boy with confusion.
"For everything."
And then a silence that had no need to be filled, because perhaps in that
moment, everything was truly perfect, even if just then.
-
Lindsey was a mess, and in such a state, she'd deemed it a perfect opportunity
to attempt to rectify the friendship she'd fucked up in the most sincerely
spectacular of ways, because Lindsey Ballato was indeed a royal fucking idiot,
and indeed royally proud of it, but within the past day or so, she'd come to
conclude that her idiocy wasn’t the only part of her she should have been proud
of.
She wasn't quite sure what label to use, or what even to say, but it was
obvious: blindingly obvious with it all laid out like this. Lindsey Ballato
liked girls, like she liked boys, but somehow this all just seemed to matter a
hell of a lot more, and she wasn't even planning to get together with Jamia:
that was irrelevant, but this had all seemed to have grounded her in a sense;
gotten her head out of the clouds, or perhaps her ass, or well, more
realistically, some dude's pants, because Jamia Nestor was one hell of a girl,
who deserved so much better than Lindsey Ballato, but that really wouldn't stop
her trying at all.
Because if this was only just going to make things worse, then so be it,
because she'd tried, hadn't she? She'd tried, and she'd meant it, and if Jamia
just didn't want to be her friend anymore, which was of course completely
understandable, then she'd just have to accept that, but if this was her
finally sorting herself out and getting her best friend back, then this was
perhaps the only good thing Lindsey had done in her lifetime, which was kind of
sad.
Because Lindsey had done lots of things, but by a vast majority,
these things were fuckboys, and not 'being a good friend' or 'showing some sort
of decency or compassion to people who cared about her ever'.
But still, she knocked at Jamia's door, and found herself, hanging there,
waiting in consequence and the hell it brought on, because she couldn't face
this: she couldn't face herself and her own mistakes, but as she stood there,
shaking all over, she came to conclude that perhaps she couldn't just change
her mind and turn around now, because she'd fucked up enough for a whole
fucking lifetime already, and she longed for one good decision amongst a
multitude of mistakes and spectacular fucks up of every kind.
And perhaps Lindsey had gotten herself so caught up in her own head and the
matters of talking herself into this, she didn't even notice as the front door
opened, and a girl stood before her: a girl who really wasn't Jamia at all.
And that wasn't even some sort of shitty, vaguely pretentious metaphor, like
this was not Jamia, this was actually someone else.
"Uhh... hello?" The girl asked, looking at Lindsey with widened eyes as she
struggled to fill the silence and find out just what the hell she actually
wanted.
"I'm... uhh... I'm looking for Jamia..." Lindsey trailed off, blushing and
suddenly losing all the confidence she'd managed to fake in the past minute or
so, "it's fine, I'll just go..."
"No, she's here, she made me get the door, though." The girl reached out,
putting her hand on Lindsey's shoulder and pulling her back. "Can I ask just
who you are, you know? I'm Alicia, by the way."
"Oh..." Lindsey blushed, wondering if she was even able to speak to Jamia at
this point, and whether it'd just be better if she left and came back later, of
course, later would soon turn into never. "I'm Lindsey-"
Alicia's eyes seemed to light up with a kind of rage that Lindsey had never
seen before, which certainly set her off, to say the least. "Lindsey..." Alicia
repeated, stepping forwards a little, as if to make certain that Lindsey didn't
get inside.
"I... uhh... yeah?" Lindsey was all kinds of confused, and even just ready to
leave and admit defeat and her own fuck up.
"I've heard a fucking lot about what kind of a bitch you are, you got that? You
fucking leave and you fucking don't ever come back; she doesn't want you, and
she especially doesn't want you here-" And Alicia was about to slam the door in
Lindsey's face, before footsteps and a familiar voice filled the hall behind
her.
"Who is it? Why are you taking so long?" She asked, making her way to the front
door.
"It's nothing, it's no one-" However, Alicia wasn't quite quick enough, as
Jamia peered out side at her ex-best friend before Alicia could quite manage to
close the front door.
"Lindsey?" She exclaimed, even pushing Alicia aside to meet her ex-bestfriend,
"what are you doing here?" She met Lindsey's eyes with an odd kind of
disbelief, like she was still largely certain that this was some kind of fucked
up dream and couldn't possibly be real, but she wasn't awarded such a 'luxury'.
"I'm sorry." Lindsey began, her words sincere, but Alicia shook her head
immediately, discarding them in an instant.
"Jamia, look, just come on, you know what she's like: she doesn't mean it, just
come back inside-"
"Alicia, I'm fucking sorry, but she was my best friend, not yours, and I think
I have a fucking better idea as to what she's like than you do, or has that
never crossed your fucking mind?" Jamia shook her head, closing the front door
behind herself as she stood outside to meet Lindsey. "Fuck, I probably should
have put some shoes on," she added, glancing down at her bare feet: cold
against the concrete of her front door step.
"Yeah..." Lindsey smiled, "look..." she exhaled loudly, "I've been a stuck up
bitch, and I'm so sorry, because I'm only just realising how much you matter,
and I just... I just... please forgive me: I'd be so fucking grateful if you
could forgive me-"
"Frank said something to you, didn't he?"
"No..." Lindsey trailed off, "it was something Gerard said, actually, but it
was my decision... I'm so sorry-"
"It's okay... I forgive you, I've been a bitch too, and I just miss you, and I
just had to make out that I hated you to cope with that, and I've fed Alicia so
much bullshit about you that she's certain you're the antichrist or something,
I'm sorry too. I doubt she's going to let me back inside with you here... look,
I'll come over later, when she's gone and we can talk, properly?"
And Lindsey smiled like she was thirteen, and she'd just realised
how beautiful her best friend was.
-
***** Things Get Gayer Still *****
"So are you boyfriends now?" Gerard asked, perhaps all too casually for Mikey's
liking: the younger of the two brothers, finding himself constantly on edge in
regards to the subject, and well, perhaps, everything - perhaps that was just
Mikey, perhaps that would just always be how he was.
"Huh?" Gerard continued to ask as Mikey seemed to make a point of ignoring his
question, perhaps attempting to pretend as if he'd never heard it in the first
place; Gerard wasn't going to let him get away quite that easily though.
"Come on, Mikey, yes or no? Whatever, just talk to me, will you? Are you pissed
at me or something?"
He let out a sigh, shaking his head, "no, Gerard, I'm not pissed at you, I'm
just..." He trailed off, glancing down at his bedroom floor, "I don't know
actually, I don't know."
"You don't know if you're boyfriends or not, or you don't know if you're pissed
at me or not?" Gerard asked, raising his eyebrows, pulling his knees up to his
chest, and making it apparent that he was in no rush to get up off his
brother's bed, which he was sat on, or get out of his brother's room, which he
had 'invaded' just a few minutes prior, much to Mikey's dislike.
"I don't know!" Mikey exclaimed, sitting down on the bed besides his brother,
and reaching under the bed for a packet of cigarettes, which he'd put just a
little too much effort into hiding from Gerard to just whip out in front of
him, but right now, Mikey was prepared to do anything just to get this asshole
he had for a brother to shut the fuck up.
"Just talk, talk to me, Mikey.." Gerard trailed off, watching as his brother
put a cigarette between his lips and began to light it, "give me a cigarette
too." He added, pushing his luck with an odd, hopeful smile.
Mikey rolled his eyes, and passed the packet and his lighter to the nineteen
year old. "I'm really hungover." Mikey announced, gaining quite the eyebrow
raise from Gerard.
"How come?" He asked, putting the cigarette between his lips and clicking the
lighter as he waited for Mikey's response.
"Got drunk last night." Mikey shrugged it off: stating the obvious.
"Yeah I'd gathered that by now." Gerard let out a sigh: words muffled by the
cigarette between his lips, and spoken from the corner of his mouth, "but what
happened last night? Just talk to me."
"Went out." Mikey shrugged it off, once again, "just some people, some alcohol,
something to get my head clear, get my stomach clear: of fucking butterflies
that is - Pete's fault. He's so nice, just fucking nice and cute, you know?"
"I know enough about cute boys to last me a life time, trust me, Mikeyway."
Gerard slipped into a grin, holding his cigarette absent-mindedly in his hand,
gesturing wildly as he spoke, somehow invigorated instantly by just the mention
of cute boys, fucking Gerard Way, what a big gay.
"Yeah, I gathered." Mikey let out a sigh, "Frank is kinda cute, not that I'm
gonna steal your boyfriend, just yeah, Bert looks like he's always been punched
in the face though."
"Usually because he has." Gerard shrugged that comment off, because it was
mostly true, and Gerard knew that first-hand. "He's an asshole - gets what he's
given."
"Oh, so you're no longer in denial of Bert McCrackheadassholeface-"
"Don't be such a prick about it, Mikey, he's got a lot of shit to deal with,
he's just going to have to deal with it, without me being his boyfriend, or
even his friend, because... that's not for me anymore." Gerard smiled, and
Mikey was perhaps more proud of his brother in that moment than he'd ever been
more proud of anyone.
"So yeah, I got drunk, because Pete Wentz is ruining my life, because
I like him, so much, too much, and I'm a mess, and everything's
just... perfect, with him, like in the moment, but I come down from the highs
and I have to drown everything out in fucking cheap ass nasty vodka-"
"You don't have to." Gerard corrected him, narrowing his eyes, "you're
just choosing to, and you can stop, whenever the fuck you want: remember that,
that's important. You don't have to do anything."
"Except go to school." Mikey added, groaning at even the notion of such a
ludicrous invention.
"Of course." Gerard smirked, "how is school, anyway? I haven't been in more
than a year now, can't even really remember what it's like-"
"Fuck off." Mikey groaned, falling back onto the bed, "so do I... you know...
with Pete, do I just... what do I say? What do I do?"
"How the fuck should I know?" Gerard asked, raising his eyebrows as he mimicked
Mikey's actions, blowing smoke in his direction as he did so, because he was a
fucking spectacular asshole, and he was indeed immensely proud of himself for
it.
"You're older, you've had two more years of experience in romantic failures.
And I need the help, and I'm asking you because I'm desperate and you're in
close range, and you walked into my room and I don't want to make this a
pleasant experience for you, because I can't risk you wanting to come back."
Gerard smiled, shaking his head, "but now I know what you're doing, so I'll
come the fuck back-"
"No, no you won't." Mikey continued, his voice stern, "anyway, how do I even
approach it really, because we're like... like together, but not together, and
I just-"
"Just use words, Mikeyway." Gerard began, like it was the easiest thing in the
world, and in Mikey's head, it was really anything but. "Be like, hey Pete, I
like you, and your dick, wanna fuck-"
"Except I don't wanna fuck him because I'm asexual, Gerard." Mikey let out a
disgruntled asexual sigh.
"Yeah, you know, interpret and adjust it as you wish, be like, hey Pete, I like
you, and your... smile, wanna cuddle?-"
"I'm not fucking saying that-"
"Well from the way you're going it doesn't sound like you're saying anything,
does it?"
"Fuck, fine, I'll fucking say something, I'll say so much, come on, Gerard you
are not ready, I'll fucking fight you on this, I will say so much, I will
recite the entire fucking dictionary, I-"
It was then that Pete appeared in the doorway, very confused as to what was
occurring in Mikey's room that very moment, letting out a slightly overwhelmed
and very concerned, "your mum let me in..."
And of course, Gerard practically died of laughter.
-
Lindsey was all nerves and anxieties: a mess, to put things as they were,
however, she was of course, nowhere near comfortable admitting such a thing to
herself, even it was the blatant truth, and even if there was absolutely no way
around it, which there wasn't, until Jamia finally came over and they finally
spoke, but still then Lindsey would be fucked up as hell, so perhaps after the
conversation - if Lindsey survived it, that was.
The aforementioned was still a matter of question in her mind, because she
couldn't quite believe that she'd actually convinced herself that she was going
to do this... properly, for real, with words, and explanations, not fucks up
and everything that made no sense at all - not with boys that meant nothing at
all, but the one girl that mattered more than the rest of the world combined:
she was special Jamia Nestor was, and she always would be.
Jamia was special, truly special, in her nature, in her person: a permanent
state, whereas Lindsey's appeal, and valued existence stemmed solely from her
appearance, the way she acted, who she fucked, and Brendon Urie, who she'd
kicked in the balls last summer, but those things wouldn't last forever, and
one day she'd find a crowd to impress, when she didn't look as pretty as she
did now, when she was nervous as hell, and with no of whom she'd slept with,
and with no convenient Brendon Urie to kick in the balls, and in that very
moment, Lindsey Ballato would be dragged by millions of eager hands right down
from her pedestal and into the kind of hell she belonged it.
But then, Jamia would still be special, she'd still matter: she always would,
and one day, perhaps five years down the line, it would be Jamia in the
spotlight, and Lindsey as that almost not quite friend, who you knew the face
of, but couldn't quite put a name to, and that wasn't necessarily a bad thing,
sure, for Lindsey’s ego, it was, but Lindsey was soon coming to the earth
shattering realisation that her own ego wasn't the most important thing in the
world, and that over people did indeed matter more, perhaps Jamia Nestor
specifically.
She missed her already: she'd had little more than a short conversation with
her. She needed to see her, she needed to set this straight, just before she
had time to chicken out, and freak the fuck out and run over to Jimmy fucking
Urine, or someone equally as disgusting, and lie her way back down to the hell
she'd locked herself into.
Lindsey was scared, scared both of Jamia and what she could possibly say, but
of herself too, and what she could possibly do to fuck this up further: the
ways her mind could twist and wreck everything even further - it didn't seem
possible, but it was: so fucking possible, so fucking real, and she didn't
quite trust herself.
She didn't deserve this opportunity, this forgiveness, Jamia entirely, at all,
and she knew that, but still, she knew even more that she wasn't about to give
it up for the sake of the way things 'should' be, and what she did or didn't
'deserve'; Lindsey wasn't that kind of person, Lindsey would never be that kind
of person.
She wasn't sure if she even wanted to be.
She just wanted to be herself, to set things straight- okay, straight was a bad
word, given the circumstances, but set things bisexual didn't make all that
much sense, or pansexual, or fucking anything, honestly there were more
varieties in sexuality than people Lindsey had slept with, and seriously, that
was a lot.
However, she didn't quite have the time to fully ponder her sexuality and all
the boys she'd fucked: anything really, just to keep her mind of Jamia, and
just how badly everything could, and undoubtedly would go, however, there soon
came a knock at her door, and Lindsey's whole body tensed up immediately,
because there was no question about what this was: who this was, and just what
kind of a mess she could make, effectively completely wrecking her friendship,
or whatever was left of it, with the girl on the other side of the door.
But still, she felt like she didn't have much choice or control in the matter,
and found her legs even moving for her: to the door, to Jamia, to the worst
kind of confrontation, to perhaps the one thing that really mattered, because
this was either a spectacular hit, or a spectacular miss - there was no
inbetween - there wouldn't be inbetween anymore, and perhaps it was better off
that way.
Lindsey couldn't quite figure that one out: perhaps it was something to do with
the lack of oxygen going to her head, as she found her hand shaking around the
door handle, and every breath a struggle: pathetic, it was, after all, but this
was Lindsey caring, this was sincerity, and that counted for something. She
could make it out to count for more than it ever would, of course, and she
would, because that was the kind of train wreck Lindsey was, but that was
besides the point, as her whole existence seemed to focus in on the door handle
and the act of opening it, and the girl on the other side, now growing
impatient and offering another knock.
Her knock followed, a few moments later by a hesitant, and somewhat awkward,
"Lindsey?" It was evident in her voice, even in just that one word, that she
didn't know what to think, what to make of this, what to do, and perhaps she
was just as clueless and fucked up as Lindsey was in that moment, but Lindsey
brushed even the notion of that off, because there was no way she deserved
something like that, something along the lines of forgiveness; she'd fucked up,
and Jamia needed to accept that.
Perhaps Jamia already had, and perhaps this was the forgiveness that followed:
perhaps it was something completely different, perhaps Lindsey was just
overthinking things, or perhaps Lindsey was just racking her brains for every
excuse not to open that door.
However, the excuses soon came to a halt, and her palm grew sweaty around the
handle, and pushed, opening the door, and letting everything fall apart as she
met Jamia Nestor's eyes, suddenly finding the whole world: the meaning of this
all, why it all mattered, and what she had to say, and god, how fucking
beautiful Jamia was.
Perhaps she'd been wrong.
She'd been wrong many times, of course, although she had trouble admitting it,
pretty much always, but this particular time was suddenly so fucking important
and so fucking terrifying: it had Lindsey's heart pounding in her chest, but it
was good, in the most fucked up way this was the best thing she'd ever had, and
she found herself perhaps overly aware of that.
She'd been wrong when Gerard had told her about Jamia's feelings, starting this
all in the first place. She'd been wrong when she said that she had no feelings
for Jamia anymore, because the look in her eyes, and the way her heart thudded
in her chest made the lie so fucking apparent, in fact, Lindsey wouldn't be all
that surprised if Jamia could just read it off her, in fact she wanted her to,
she wanted all the talking and explaining to be done for her, but that just
wasn't how things worked.
Lindsey wasn't that lucky, and Jamia was once again growing confused and
impatient, and Lindsey's palms continued to sweat, in fact, she was sweating a
little all over, as gross as it was, it was kind of a hot day too anyway, but
she was just that nervous. Too nervous. More nervous than she should ever be,
regarding a girl she had been so comfortable with, a girl she would have still
been so comfortable with, if she hadn't been the one to fuck it all up
completely.
But she couldn't change that now.
And she hated that, more than she'd hated anything ever: this was a new hatred,
a true ten out of ten, reserved for so long, and with good intentions, now to
be put to good use, by the 'confident' girl who couldn't even force out a
single word to her best friend, of so many fucking years.
But of course, it was all so different like this: with her heart pounding in
her chest, and everything mattering.
Lindsey wondered if it had been like this for Jamia all along.
She wondered how Jamia had coped; she’d been such a bitch, and perhaps she
would always be a bitch, even in silence, even in shaky breaths, and a world
and feelings that didn't make sense. It was permanent: perhaps the only
permanent thing about her, and Lindsey wasn't exactly ecstatic to accept it,
but she had little choice in the matter.
And if this mess she felt for Jamia had been worth something, it was worth the
knowledge that acceptance was always the fucking answer, and perhaps the only
thing she could do.
"You should probably say something." Jamia was the first to break the silence:
her words delayed, of course, but still enough to make Lindsey even more
uncomfortable than she already was, but Lindsey didn’t, and
perhaps couldn't take it personally, perhaps she needed Jamia to insult her,
perhaps she needed to feel this, perhaps she needed to feel anything, because
this was so different, this was falling for someone... properly.
This was fluttering heartbeats, and dilated pupils, and smiles, and a lack of
breath, and everything she'd never experienced before, because she'd fucked
perhaps every guy she knew, and not a single one of them had ever made her feel
anything like Jamia Nestor had, and all in such a short space of time.
She was special: Lindsey had been right about that, at least, but of course,
that was never anything but an undoubtable fact.
"I don't know what to say." Lindsey finally conjured up something in the way of
a response, avoiding Jamia's gaze as she did so, for fear of judgement, for
fear of everything, for fear of Jamia, for fear of herself, for fear of the
world, and what she could possibly make of it, what she could make of this.
"Just tell me what's on your mind." Jamia let out a sigh, her tone sort of
dull, oddly expressionless, and perhaps Lindsey would have picked up upon it if
she wasn't finding it just so insanely difficult to think right then.
"You." Lindsey said, and it was the truth: it was the abbreviated truth, but
the truth nonetheless.
"How so? Please just... you're lucky at me different, I don't get it: I don't
know why, what have I done? I'm sorry, I just want-..." She trailed off,
letting out a sigh as she did so, "I don't know what I want, Lindsey, I just
want us to be happy, I just want to know you again: I'm fucking tired, tired of
pretending to hate you, and pretending to care about every fucking stupid thing
you've ever done, and Frank's problems with Gerard, and fucking boys, and the
whole damn world, and your 'boyfriends' and who you sleep with, and just... we
could start this all over again, we could, we could make it right: it could
work."
"It could work." Lindsey repeated the words aloud, her heart thumping in her
chest, perhaps even to the extent that it was beginning to hurt.
"It could, and it would, and I just, I just want to understand you, Lindsey,
because right now, with your silence and your looks, I feel like that's
something I can't do, and I hate that, not you - I don't hate you, and I want
to make that explicitly clear. Things need to be clear, this time around, so
just tell me your feelings, what's on your mind, make everything fucking clear,
I... I... need that..."
And as Jamia trailed off: cheeks ruby red, Lindsey had a fucking stupid idea,
and of course, she couldn't manage to think for herself before just acting on
it, because Lindsey was perhaps just as stupid as the idea itself.
The idea, of course, was based on the saying: 'actions speak louder than
words', and okay, the silence was still deafening, but Lindsey could perhaps
have spoken and rambled for hours, and her feelings still wouldn't be as clear
as she'd just made them with a kiss to Jamia's lips.
-
***** Things Get Hella Gay *****
They went for a walk, because yes, it was kind of awkward when Gerard couldn't
stop laughing his motherfucking gay ass head off when Mikey was trying to grow
the balls to tell Pete how he felt, and perhaps finally do something worthwhile
with his pathetic existence for the first time ever.
Because this mattered, and it mattered a hell of a lot more than it should,
well realistically, in the terms of reality, but in the terms of Mikey's head,
and how cute Pete was, especially when he smiled, then yes, this mattered just
as much as it should, however, not everybody in the world had the same outlook
as Mikey did, and unfortunately, Gerard was one of them.
But at the very least, this walk gave them time alone, which meant time alone
from Gerard, however time alone ensured there would be no distractions - no way
to change the subject, no way out of it, and no way Mikey could just give up
entirely, and perhaps, when he looked back, that would appear as a good thing,
but truth be told, in that moment, for Mikey, it seriously wasn't, and there
was no avoiding that.
And Pete was starting to grow uncomfortable in the silence: eager to find out
just what the fuck was going on and get some answers and some explanation from
Mikey, however, Mikey was just about prepared to do anything but that, but of
course, he could never face Gerard without just sitting it out and setting it
straight- well, really not straight, but setting it gay didn't quite have the
same ring to it at all, or homoromantic, god that sounded worse, perhaps even
worse than his situation, and Mikey would even argue that the aforementioned
wasn't an overstatement.
"Mikey?" Pete was of course the first to break the silence, punching the air
with his words as the two stopped for a moment, on their walk out Mikey's
backdoor, and well, to the middle of fucking nowhere, judging by the field
they'd found themselves in, but at least like this there was no one around to
judge them, because Mikey cared far too much about what other people thought -
it had even been like that from the first day, and the major impression he'd
made with his shirt, and neither Pete nor Mikey could ever forget that day.
"Yeah?" It took Mikey embarrassingly long to answer: to even just get his brain
to functioning correctly and to stop himself from dying inside. "Fuck, I..." He
let out a sigh, brushing his fringe from his face as he did so. "This is really
awkward and you don't know what the fuck is going on, but- hey, what did you
even come to talk to me about? Like why did you even come over? Let's talk
about that, let's talk about fucking anything-"
"Besides the thing you need to say." And it seemed that Pete had seriously just
read his fucking mind. "It's obvious; you need to say something, maybe Gerard
told you that you needed to, or he just convinced you of it... whatever, Mikey,
you need to say it."
"Just tell me something bullshit, just say why you came over, just talk
bullshit at me first, I'm... I’m still nervous." Mikey cursed, choosing that
spot in the field as the perfect one to stop and sit down on. "I think I'll
always be nervous, fuck."
"Yeah, you will." Pete added, "that's why it's probably better just to say it
now: I'm not gonna hate you, I could never hate you, I care a lot about you,
Mikey."
"It's not, it's just..." Mikey let out a sigh, "why did you come over?"
"No real reason, I just wanted to see you." Mikey met him with a look of
disbelief, "oh come on, is that really that bad? Am I not allowed to
just want to see you, because I like you, because we're friends, come on,
Mikey, we're friends, we're best friends, and we even- fuck... that’s what it's
about, isn't it?"
"What?" Mikey stuttered out, his cheeks burning up as he spoke.
"'Us' or whatever that could possibly mean. You don't- is this you finally
getting the guts to reject me, because I've seen that coming and it's fine,
just, just tell it to me straight so I can move on and we can just be normal
friends again, and everything can be okay again, because I want it to be like
that too, Mikey, I just want us to be normal again, I just want. I just like
you, you're my best friend, and I just, it was from the very moment I saw you,
but I care more for you as a person and our friendship than stupid crush
feelings-"
"It's not like that." Mikey let out a sigh. "Maybe I'd prefer it like that -
it'd be easier, come on, Pete, don't lie, it'd be easier for me to look you in
the eye and say I want us just to be friends, that I don't love you, but
I can't."
"Why not?" Pete found himself daring to ask; his voice shaking like hell
itself.
"Because I can't lie to you, Pete, and that would be a lie. I thought you'd
gathered that now, but fuck it, whatever. I like you... you know what I mean, I
just... I-"
"You want to date?" Pete exclaimed, his eyes widening in pure disbelief. "You
like me too?"
"Of course I do." Mikey stuttered out, "I'm just- I'm scared, but this is me
accepting that I'm no better off fucking myself over in denial and trying to
cope with this, so fuck it, here we go. Pete fucking Wentz, I have no idea what
your middle name is, I-"
"My full name is Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III-"
Mikey looked at him in disbelief, "I don't know if I can believe that, but I
really want it to be true, Jesus Christ-"
"Mikey, just say it, you asshole." Pete let out a giggle, "I know how you feel,
you know I feel the same, you know I'm going to say yes, just say it: make this
real, stop fucking everything over because you're scared, just this once?"
"Pete Wentz, will you...." Mikey let out a sigh, getting ready to stab himself
through the head, because fuck, this was so hard, why the fuck was this so
hard? "Be my boyfriend?"
"No." Pete snapped, before turning to Mikey with a grin, "I'm just kidding, of
course. Yes. You're my boyfriend now - no turning back now, motherfucker."
"I hate you."
-
"Wow, fucking wow, Jamia." Alicia let out a sigh, losing all of her shit right
then and there as she met Jamia's eyes and regretted perhaps ever even meeting
the girl, because there was no way around the fact that very little good had
come of this mess of a 'relationship', because even Alicia knew that it was
always about Lindsey, and it had always been about, and of course, it would
always be about Lindsey.
To Jamia, Lindsey was the sun, and Alicia was the moon.
And Alicia had to accept that, and dear god, she was fucking trying, but she
couldn't help but hate her, Lindsey especially, because all that Jamia had said
couldn't have had absolutely no origin whatsoever, could it? It didn't settle
right in her stomach, but she knew that look in Jamia's eyes and she knew it
was for Lindsey and never for her.
She'd only come to speak in the silence; the two sat beside one another on
Alicia's bed, Jamia having come over with the intentions of talking this out,
and setting things straight with some sort of explanation, but instead, it was
like someone had stolen her car radio, because they'd just sat in silence.
However, Alicia had only come to speak as she'd noticed Jamia's cellphone in
her hands, of course, she was fucking texting Lindsey, fucking kisses and
fucking shitty ass cute emojis, and Alicia was supposed to just sit there, just
let it happen, just fucking deal with it, and just fucking pretend that she
never had any feelings for Jamia Nestor at all.
It was ridiculous.
And so was the amount of time it had taken Jamia to figure out some sort of
response, because despite the fact that she'd came over with the intentions of
talking things out, she was in no mental state to say anything worthwhile.
"What?" Was the best she could come up with, and her tone was rather half-
hearted and pathetic to boot, leaving Alicia to wonder why she was even trying
with the girl who'd done nothing but make a mess out of everything, because
Alicia never had to know Jamia, and they never had to get this close - that had
been Jamia's decision, much in the same way that it had been Jamia's decision
to throw that all back in her face and fall back in love with Lindsey Ballato
the very moment she said as much as a simple 'hello' to her.
"This is fucking ridiculous." Alicia let out a sigh, unsure what to even say
for herself anymore - this was a perpetual mess, it was, always would be, and
always had been, even from the word go, even from when they were strangers, and
Alicia Simmons lived in the innocent ignorance as to just who the fuck Lindsey
Ballato was.
"Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do about it?" Jamia's voice came out
snappy, and with a lack of patience, but fuck, Alicia couldn't exactly blame
her - this was something like one of the worst situations, because Alicia still
cared, but Jamia didn't. It was obvious, Jamia was only here for the apology
and the karma points it brought - she didn't care at all.
"Stop being such... such a..." Alicia trailed off, her words weighted and heavy
in her throat, "such a fucking conceited bitch," she snapped, losing all sense
of dignity, because fuck Jamia Nestor, seriously.
"How am I being like that?" Jamia exclaimed, getting to her feet in a state of
offense, but through and through, it was still evident that every word from
Alicia's mouth, no matter how weak, no matter how powerful, would still mean
nothing at all.
"You hate her. She says one word to you. You hate me." Alicia cursed under her
breath as she pulled her gaze away from Jamia's, "doesn't fucking make sense,
does it?"
"It's not like that - you just don't understand." Jamia exclaimed, brushing her
hair out of her face, and just wishing she could have Lindsey here, because
Lindsey just always knew what to do, and she was coming off apathetic, painting
herself as the bitch here, when really, she had just never been sure of
herself, and she needed someone, Lindsey more than anything, and perhaps Alicia
had just served her purpose for a short time. That perhaps sounded just as
heartless, but from where Jamia was standing it made perfect sense.
"Then tell me how it is, come on, it was you who came here to talk. Not me."
Alicia did a good job of reminding her as such, leaving Jamia cursing under her
breath, because fuck this, fuck her dignity, fuck manners, fuck being kind,
fuck Alicia's feelings, fuck what was going on in her head, fuck it all.
"I'm in love with Lindsey!" Jamia exclaimed, her voice perhaps just a little
too loud, but perhaps she just couldn’t give much in the way of a fuck about
that.
Alicia was dead silent for a moment, her gaze perhaps anywhere but Jamia's.
"Even when you swore you hated her?"
"I had trouble accepting it, you know, I just- I don't want to be in love with
my thought straight best friend, do it? And then I thought I could suppress it,
and-"
"Even when you swore you fell for me?" Alicia met Jamia's eyes this time,
because she wanted the truth; she needed the truth, or she doubted she'd be
able to live with herself for all that much longer - she just needed this to
end, she just needed Jamia Nestor to be another name on a photograph she'd find
ten years down the line, she just needed this girl to be nothing more than
someone she was perhaps friends with a couple of years ago, but now it was the
present, and Jamia Nestor was the girl who didn't love her back.
"Yes... I just-... I was desperate for something else, for someone else, for
something that might work out and not drive me insane, because yes, fuck,
Lindsey was driving me insane, come on, that's obvious, isn't it?"
Alicia just laughed at that, "I was the back up plan, wasn't I?
Fucking touching, isn't it, Jamia?"
"I've always loved her, I just... I didn't know what to do about that, I don't
know what to do about it still, I just love her, and maybe for the first time
in forever, she's returning those feelings, and I can't just run away from
this, because I never really loved you... you were-"
"A distraction." Alicia choked out, "to forget, to lie to yourself."
Jamia nodded.
"You're heartless."
And part of Jamia just wished Alicia’s words could be true.
Because Lindsey would always be the sun, and Alicia would always be the moon.
-
Lindsey was perhaps too concerned, perhaps too nervous, and still perhaps not
nervous enough, not really, because here she was, holding Jamia Nestor's hand
in public, being publically more than heterosexual, because fuck if she knew
what label to define herself with, and she indeed far more concerned with Jamia
and this mess of a perhaps relationship than what word she'd used to describe
who she was attracted to, because right now it was just: Jamia... (and a few
fuckboys).
"You're shaking." Jamia pointed out, a small smile at her lips, "it's fine,
Lindsey, I promise you, and come on, we're just going to the park, it's like
ten at night, no one's out anyway, barely anyone can even see in the dark."
"It's more of the way it feels, to me, personally, than how it actually is, if
you get what I mean?" Lindsey blushed a little. "I've spent so long holding
this in, hiding it even for myself, because this was always the worst thing in
the world to me, this was always the part of myself I couldn't be, and now,
it's just... it's just this - it's nothing to everything in like four point
five seconds and, yes, I'm fucking shaking."
Jamia laughed a little at that, "you're cute." She noted, not like Lindsey
didn't already know, but whatever. "You don't have to hide anymore, you
shouldn't have ever had to hide."
"I've always been scared of who I am." Lindsey admitted in the night time
silence as the two approached the park, "just in different ways, just like... I
had to be confident and loud, and bold, and I had to, I had to be the badass
hot girl who'd fuck anyone, because it hides the me I'm scared of showing."
"You hid yourself, even with me?" Jamia exclaimed, standing still for a moment
as she came ton understand all that Lindsey was telling her, "that's, fuck, I'm
sorry, I wish you felt like you could trust me. I'm not pissed at you, don't
even think that, it's just... I wish I could have been the kind of person you
felt like you could trust-"
"It wasn't you. It's never been you." Lindsey smiled, stopping and pulling
Jamia closer to her; the two hidden in the treeline in the corner of the park,
"it's just me, and my stupid head and the irrational thoughts, and bullshit
expectations and what people, and what I, thought I should be. You never
really... you just wanted to be there, with me, you just-"
"Lindsey, I was a bitch to you too, don't lie here. We were both bitches to
each other, but that's fine now, because now we're over that, and you're
so fucking beautiful, and it's been forever of me saying that, and you making
some stupid straight girl remark in response, and I've spent my whole life just
wanting to scream at you that I meant it in a fucking gay way."
"Dear god, Jamia Nestor, you are such a lesbian." Lindsey cursed in disbelief,
laughing a little as she shook her head. "You're so fucking beautiful too."
"Shut up, I'm-"
"And what were you saying about stupid straight girl remarks?" Lindsey
exclaimed, taking absolutely zero bullshit from Jamia right then and there, or
even anymore, because perhaps that moment was symbolic, because perhaps, right
then and right there, a different Lindsey was born, one that was proud and
comfortable with herself, one that didn't have to fuck straight boys to prove
something to the world and herself.
"Okay, fuck, fine, what would you deem an appropriate response then, Lindsey
Ballato?" Jamia giggled as she spoke, looking up at Lindsey with the most
endearing look in her eyes, like she had absolutely everything right then and
right there, in that one simple moment, when a beautiful girl meant the whole
world, especially when she would say 'I love you back'.
Because Jamia had loved Lindsey from day one, she hadn't perhaps known it, and
she'd spent perhaps forever trying to hide it from herself, because she was
much like Lindsey in that way, because everyone in this world was scared of
nothing more than they were scared of truly being themself.
"Tell me you want me to kiss you, because I want to kiss you." Lindsey blushed,
brushing her hair from her face as Jamia giggled a little.
"Just kiss me then, you asshole."
"No, I'm fucking- I'm nervous." Lindsey insisted, continuing to blush like
hell, her cheeks perhaps burning up in the moonlight and the look in Jamia's
eyes.
"Okay, fine, you piece of shit," Jamia laughed the most beautiful laugh in the
world, or at least that was how Lindsey saw it, "will you kiss me?"
And let's just say that Lindsey did, and without a moment's thought.
Being herself and nothing more, nothing less, for perhaps the first time in her
life, and really kissing Jamia Nestor was not what she'd imagined as her point
of self revelation, but fuck, Jamia was fucking beautiful, and she couldn't
care less.
She couldn't even care less if everyone she knew appeared out of what seemed to
be nowhere and stared at the two of them, kissing, and being themselves,
because fuck it, Lindsey wasn't scared, not this time, not anymore.
-
 
 
***** Things Get So Gay The Story Combusts And Ends *****
"Hold my hand, you fucking idiot." Jamia looked at Lindsey, and perhaps in that
moment, the two knew everything would be okay.
And thirteen year old Lindsey Ballato smiled, as seventeen year old Lindsey
Ballato took Jamia Nestor's hand, and in that moment, the school hallways
didn't seem so forsaken anymore, because fuck what people said, fuck everyone
who cared, because no one should, because this was just the same as Lindsey
holding the hand of a boyfriend, but it wasn't - it wouldn't be that simple,
and Lindsey hated that like she hated herself for ever thinking that this
wasn't what she wanted.
She hated herself for lying, when lying was practically all she had ever done.
But she wasn't afraid anymore, and that was Jamia Nestor at work, in her
mysterious lesbian ways, and Lindsey was back in her own mind: memory lane,
when Jamia was always just there, always just telling her no, trying to get her
out of trouble, because Lindsey's whole life was a great big string of mistake
after mistake, and Lindsey had never once listened.
This was the payback, this was her listening and trusting her ex-best friend
with everything she had.
Because the thing was that Lindsey and Jamia had ever become best friends
again, and Jamia was still as much her ex-bestfriend as she'd always been,
because they'd become girlfriends instead, and Lindsey was happier than she'd
ever been.
It all made sense, and she couldn't care less what the world could make of it,
what she could make of herself, what manner of second guessing could ruin this
all, because for the first time, everything wasn't just about her, but about
Jamia.
Everything in the world revolved around Jamia Nestor, and Lindsey Ballato quite
honestly could not be happier.
"Wait, are you two-" All of a sudden, the fuckboy alert alarm bells were going
off in their minds as a certain Brendon Urie came into view, with a certain 'oh
my god lesbians exist' expression upon his face, and really Lindsey couldn't
help but laugh at him, because he was the biggest fuck up in the existence of
the world that she almost fell sorry for him, but from now on, she was making a
point of not sympathising with fuckboys.
"Are we what?" Lindsey snapped, narrowing her eyes at him, watching as Brendon
seemed to relive the events of last summer in his mind: events regarding the
kick to the balls, and just how much of a dickbag he was.
"Are you..." He began once more, glancing to Jamia, who was only glaring at him
with slightly less disgust, and that was only because Jamia had just a little
more patience than her girlfriend, and absolutely nothing to do with Brendon
Urie or any kind of hope anyone might have in him, because he was Brendon
fucking Urie, and if you had hope in him, you didn't have hope in yourself.
"Are we what?" Lindsey repeated, growing only furthermore impatient and
disgusted with his existence and that big fuckboy forehead. "Come on, fucking
talk, say something or fuck right off!" she found herself shouting at him now,
and Jamia couldn't help but giggle in disbelief, still holding on tight to her
girlfriend’s hand.
"Y-you... you're... you've been converted!" Brendon shrieked, turning around
and looking for someone to give a fuck about him; he had struggle in doing so,
much to everyone's great 'surprise'. "You're a lesbian!" He shrieked at
Lindsey, clearly unable to take the fact that two girls might want to date each
other as opposed to him and his far too big forehead and nowhere near big
enough cock.
"No." She shook her head at him, raising her eyebrows as she did so, "not a
lesbian, try again."
"You're holding hands!" He gestured to Lindsey and Jamia's hands, "why are you
doing that if you're not a lesbian! It's a gay thing, why are you gay- you're
not supposed to be gay! You have sex with dudes, and I was-"
"I'd rather kill myself than go near your tiny little dick, Brendon Urie." She
continued to yell, gaining lesbian power as she continued to smite the fuckboy,
soon she'd have enough lesbian power to pull off the move to finally defeat
Brendon: the lesbian kiss.
"What turned you gay, Lindsey? I can help change your mind-"
"For fuck's sake, I'm not a lesbian-"
"So you're not dating Jamia?" Brendon looked between the two of them with that
kind of fuckboy suspicion, but he evidently still hadn't quite gotten it yet.
"Yes, I'm dating Jamia." Lindsey continued, glancing at Jamia for some sort of
help here.
"Brendon," Jamia began, having preferred slapping herself to conversing with
the king of the fuckboys, but she did a lot for Lindsey Ballato, that was
already obvious. "What's it called when someone likes boys and girls? Two
genders? The thing with the prefix that means two?"
"Oh my god! You're a bisector!"
"No, Brendon, that's that thing from maths, with the angles." Jamia tried to
explain, but no, it had already gone to Brendon Urie's massive fucking
forehead.
"Lindsey Ballato is a bisector!" He turned around, yelling into the corridor,
and leaving everyone confused more than intrigued.
"Do you mean bisexual?" Someone shouted back, and the corridor fell into
silence, because oh my god, no homo.
"No, I said bisector, that's what I mean, are you stupid?" Brendon yelled back,
and Jesus Christ, Lindsey couldn't stop herself, before she landed a fucking
kick to that guy's balls, still holding onto Jamia's hand as she did so.
And in that moment, it was last summer again, just a whole load more gay. It
wasn't the gayest summer in existence, of course, like this wasn't 2005 and
they weren't on Warped Tour, but it was getting pretty close.
"So Lindsey," Jamia began as people rushed to see Brendon Urie curled up on the
floor, crying his fuckboy tears onto the floor, "are you a bisector?"
"Are you, Jamia Nestor? Or should I say Jamia Bisector?" Lindsey giggled a
little.
"Don't be stupid, I'm a logarithm."
-
He found himself perplexed entirely by the message and just what those simple
three words could possibly mean, they were, of course, what they were at face
value, but this was so much more, with Bert, it had always been so much more.
But not anymore it seemed: reduced to three words in a text message, the first
text message in months, and the only text messages in months that really had
Gerard stopping and thinking, just holding his cellphone in his hands, and
staring at the message on his screen, as if it might disappear the very moment
he did so much as look away, although Gerard wasn't entirely sure as to why he
didn't encourage the disappearance of it, because he wanted to forget all about
Bert McCracken.
But this was different.
The three words were different.
And Gerard looked over them at least a thousand times as he stood in his
bedroom, letting the world tick by around him, because in that moment, he'd
allowed Bert McCracken to be the center of his universe, to matter the most,
and he hated that, he hated it with all he had, because he wasn't sixteen
anymore; he wasn't scared anymore, he wasn't the kid who was discovering a
whole new world, and he didn't need to hold some asshole's hand to guide him
through life.
He reckoned he could do alright on his own, but still, the three words
remained, and still Gerard remained fixated: sympathetic, bordering empathetic,
understanding, words he'd never dream of associating with Bert McCracken, but
he stood there, feeling everything Mikey would hate him too, because perhaps
suppression of feelings, good or bad, was the worst thing he could do.
This meant something, and there was no way around that; this meant something
and it would always mean something, it was perhaps even the most important
moment Bert and Gerard would ever share, and it all lay within three words
written over text message.
And in the silence, towns away, impatient fingers typed out another: 'Gerard?'
The younger man let out a sigh, because they both knew he'd seen it: both
messages, totally to four words now, and a not entirely necessary piece of
punctuation, but Gerard wasn't exactly one to complain about a lack or an
abundance of grammar, it was just everything he could possibly do to stop
thinking about the first message and how he was supposed to respond, what he
was supposed to think, and whether he was even supposed to believe him or not.
Because did Bert ever mean what he said? Did he ever mean anything? Did
anything ever matter when it came from him? To Gerard's sixteen year old self,
it certainly had, to a younger, more naive, more trusting version of himself,
it had, but to the man who stood and struggled to believe anything, those three
words, were just that: three words.
Three fucking words and it didn't matter if Gerard believed them or not.
And then, a third text: 'you don't believe me, do you?'.
And Gerard thought for a moment, because he was still unsure, and Bert seemed
relatively uninvasively, like he'd said the words for the matter of saying
them, and for nothing else, to gain nothing else, and Gerard stood there,
thinking for a moment, unable to comprehend what this could possibly all mean.
'I believe you, but I'm confused.' He responded, Bert seeing his message
instantly, and beginning to type out a response just as fast.
'Confused? I mean it.'
'Why?' And Gerard didn't know how Bert was at all supposed to answer that one,
fuck, he didn't even know what he wanted to hear, he just wanted this to be all
okay.
'I took advantage of you. I'm so sorry.'
And the second time, those three words seemed to mean all that much more, and
Gerard began to consider forgiveness, began to consider the three words that
constituted Bert's apology, and perhaps the only apology Bert would ever make
in his life that held any meaning.
'It's okay. I'm with Frank now, though.' Gerard found himself brushing over the
matter of whether it was really okay or not, because he had plenty of nights to
keep himself awake and think of that, whereas now, now was about acceptance and
moving on, because maybe this was necessary, because maybe Mikey Way wasn't
always right.
'I know. I just want you to be happy. You deserve that.' And that was probably
the first time Bert McCracken had put a genuine, sober smile on Gerard Way's
face, and he wasn't even there in person to do it, although that was probably
helping matters, truth be told.
'Thank you.' And with that, Gerard put his cellphone down, locking it and
placing it back on his bedside table, because that was that, and he reckoned he
was okay now, really okay, because that was that, and it would always just be
that; Bert was a matter of the past, and Gerard needed to start living in the
present, because recently, it hadn't felt like he was living at all.
Frank mattered a lot, Frank mattered so much, and the boy was slowly becoming
the center of Gerard’s universe, and the nineteen year old had very few
complaints in regards to that, because Frank Iero was fucking amazing and
fucking beautiful, and just as fucking in love with him as he was. They worked,
and that was that, and he just hoped that three years down the line, Frank
wouldn't be apologising in the same way Bert had, he doubted such a situation
possible even in his dreams, though, Frank was a good guy, and even Mikey
thought so, and Gerard reckoned that it was Mikey's true mission in life to
despise everyone Gerard fell in love with.
Gerard wasn't entirely sure what love felt like though, but Frank had this
awful habit of being the first thing he thought of when he woke up, and the
last thing on his mind when he went to sleep, and Gerard wasn't quite sure what
to make of that at all.
-
Frank had this awfully habit of disregarding his boyfriend's personal space, or
remembering what Mikey Way did and most certainly didn't want to see Frank
doing to his older brother, and it was with that habit that Frank found himself
sat between Gerard's legs and leaning back into his chest, Gerard even kissing
the back of his neck on occasion, as Mikey wondered just how long he could take
it before being horrifically sick everywhere.
"You two need to fucking learn about personal space." Mikey groaned, just
trying to sit at the other side of the living room and watch some bullshit on
TV, and have a nice time, without having to witness whatever the fuck his
brother and his best friend were doing.
"I'm not the one still in school, Mikey." Gerard piped up, shooting his brother
an 'I hate you' glance from across the room.
"That doesn't fucking mean anything." Mikey let out a sigh, "I'm fucking
going." He announced, getting to his feet, and glaring at the both of them.
"To go and ignore Pete's personal space?" Frank asked, smirking a little, and
Mikey was seriously reconsidering his friendship with that asshole.
"Something like that." He mumbled, letting out a sigh, before slamming the door
behind him.
"He's being a total hypocrite." Gerard giggled a little, leaning back into the
sofa, and leaving Frank to move so he was leaning into his side instead. "You
do seem to act like we're magnetically attached, though, just say-"
"It's not like you don't love it though, come on, you can't get your hands off
me, can you?" Frank smirked, getting up and meeting Gerard with a more than
suggestive gaze.
"I haven't left you, I can still hear you!" Mikey yelled out from the next
room, leaving the two in a fit of laughter.
"It's not like you don't love it though." Gerard mimicked Frank's earlier
words, still laughing his fucking head off as he did so.
"You're fucking gross!" Mikey yelled out, slamming the front door behind him,
and beginning his angsty homosexual walk to Pete Wentz's house for some intense
asexual cuddling, or well, perhaps a little more than that.
"He's jealous because you're so hot." Gerard continued, pulling Frank down into
his lap, "so fucking hot," he continued, pressing his lips against Frank's,
"you should be illegal, I swear to God-"
"Well, I am technically a minor, therefore sex with me is technically illegal.
Therefore, I am illegal. technically. Not that it makes much sense, considering
the fact that you're like two years older than me, but whatever." Frank totally
killed the mood there, leaving Gerard laughing at him like a fucking idiot, but
neither of them really cared, because for the first time in Gerard's life since
Bert, this was more than sex, this was everything becoming okay again.
"So you're saying we shouldn't fuck? Because I was thinking about that right
now, you know, with an empty house, and you looking at me like that, but-"
"Don't you fucking dare." Frank gasped, kissing Gerard just a little violently,
and making a mess out of it for real, "are you serious, for real?"
"Why would I be joking about fucking you, Frankie?" Gerard let out a laugh,
"I'm not fucking stupid."
"You're not fucking me either." Frank narrowed his eyes, "I want to fuck you."
"We'll see about that." Gerard laughed once more, "come on, get your lips off
mine for about five seconds and we can go upstairs, unless you want to have sex
on a sofa- actually, Mikey is going to sit here at some point and the face he
would make when I tell him what the stains are-"
"Gerard." Frank let out a sigh of disbelief, "stop being such an ass to Mikey,"
He got up, gesturing for Gerard to follow him, "come on, let's go upstairs."
"You wanna know how many people I've fucked in that bed?" Gerard asked, in the
most Gerard like manner ever as they made their way upstairs.
"Gerard, talking about your exes when we're about to have sex-"
"Me and Lindsey fucked in that bed, you know? God, don't you think Lindsey's
hot? Think you're hotter, though. How would you feel about a threesome-"
"Gerard!" Frank exclaimed, closing the door behind them, and just pushing
Gerard down onto the bed, "shut the fuck up," he let out a sigh, pressing his
lips against his boyfriend's.
"Shut me the fuck up." Gerard let out a giggle, looking up at Frank with a
grin, "imagine a threesome, though, Frankie, like me fucking you, and Lindsey
fucking herself on your dick-"
"Gerard, you know, Lindsey's dating Jamia now?" Frank looked at his boyfriend
in a state of perpetual disbelief.
"Oh, she can join in too if she wants. I've never had a foursome, before
though-"
"Gerard, I think I'm going to have to shove my cock down your throat to shut
you the fuck up." Frank admitted, unzipping his jeans.
"I think we'd have to be naked first, come on, Frankie, give me a show." He
giggled a little, leaning back against the bed, before pulling his own shirt
and jeans off. "So fucking hot, you know?"
"It's like you never shut up about it, you know?" Frank pulled his shirt off as
he spoke.
"Mmm, yeah, you don't want me to ever shut up, though, do you?" He giggled,
sitting up and leaning forward, "you want me to tell you how hot you are
forever, don't you? You totally get off on it, come on, look at you, all
flushed," Gerard smirked, "really wanna suck your cock, really want you to
choke me on it-"
"You need to stop." Frank pushed Gerard back down onto the bed, "you're such a
fucking slut."
"Yeah, that's right." Gerard smirked, pulling his boxers off, and grabbing his
cock. "I'm a fucking slut."
And it was in that moment, that Frank found himself dying, as he stared at
Gerard Way's cock, but at the very least he could die happy, as he finally
found himself to be a member of the elite club of people who've seen Gerard Way
naked.
But speaking of members... Frank really needed to get his cock inside Gerard,
like now, and for the first time, it wasn't like there was anything stopping
him.
-
END
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