Misery Loved Me

Frank P.O.V
"Hey, faggot!", I heard a voice sneer at me from behind. I hid my smirk, wrong person to fuck with pal. I turned to the mystery person and allowed my eyes to rake over him and take in his appearance. Shame, that pretty face would soon be like a Picasso painting.

"You called?", I asked, batting my eyelashes at the guy mockingly. His lips twisted into a frown of disgust and discomfort. Good, I chuckled inwardly.

"Yeah I did, you fucking queer", he spat at me, and the saliva hit my battered converse shoes. Well, fuck the pleasantries then. My fist lunged out of its own accord, and it hit pretty-boys nose with a satisfying crunching noise. My assault didnt stop, and the pain became too much for him, leading to him falling unconscious. Fucking pussy. I yanked him up by his letterman jacket collar and dragged him to the nearest storage closet, tossing him in carelessly.

"Next time you shouldn't call people names. It's rude", I smiled at him toothily as he stirred, aware of how utterly insane I must have looked with the blood splattered on my knuckles and jacket, before slamming the door and ignoring his moan of pain.

What a great way to start the new school year. Oh well, people shouldn't try to start shit they couldn't finish. I hummed happily and returned to my locker, throwing my jacket off and using it to wipe the putrid blood off of my hands.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't my favorite little psychopath", I spun around and grinned widely, not bothering to hold back my excitement at the prospect of seeing my best friend. He'd spent the summer visiting his grandma in Chicago, while I'd been stuck at home by myself the entire time. Lucky fucker.

"Pete, you crazy fuck. Good to see you", I laughed, throwing my arms around the dark haired teen. He hugged me back just as tight, and smirked knowingly as he saw the stained black jacket in my grip.

"You too man. Who was it this time?", he asked lazily, not batting an eye at the collosal amount of blood and the fume of metal wafting from the material.

"No fucking clue. All I know is, spit on my shoes and you're gonna get it", I snarled at the thought, scuffing my shoes against the corridor tiles in disgust.

"Ah. So, tell me about your summer. Who you fucked, what drugs you did, how much destruction of property you caused", I flipped him off and he laughed again, the sound loud and almost obnoxious.

"Don't remember, a lot, and fuck you I'm totally respectful of property!", I protested, and he raised an eyebrow at me in disbelief. I let out an indignant huff and leaned against my lockers, fumbling for my cigarettes in my pocket.

"Oh yeah? What about that time you picked up the tv at Alex Gaskarth's end of year party and threw it at poor Bob Bryar?", his smirk grew wider, if possible.

"He was pissing me off!", was my only defense, and I rolled my eyes at his snicker.

"Oh fuck you man. Are you coming outside to smoke these babies and tell me all about your summer, or are you gonna stand there looking like your smiles gonna break your stupid face in half?", I sneered good-naturedly and stalked outside to our spot under the bleachers without waiting for an answer.

"Hey!", he jogged to catch up to me, and I cursed him for being a few inches taller than myself, not that that was hard to achieve. I was short, but I liked it that way. Nobody ever suspected the short, innocent-looking one. Well, they wouldn't if the innocent short one didnt have tattoos covering his body and a lip ring adorning his face. Judgemental pricks.

I lit my cigarette and listened to Pete babble on and on about how he met this cute, tall kid in the year below us and described in oddly graphic detail exactly how he wanted the guys legs to bend for him. I chuckled at him, Pete was always on the hunt for fresh-dick, and I felt a twinge of pity for this kid.

You see, Pete and I, to put it nicely, are players. We don't put any emotion into the people we target, whether it be guys or girls. Even though we were both gayer than the forth of July, any holes a goal right?

"So fucking hot man, I swear. Ill have to point him out to you, cutest glasses and everything. Fuck, now I'm horny", he pouted at me. I suppressed a snicker.

"Don't look at me, I made out with you once and you didn't meet the standards, Petey", I mocked and he flicked ash at me, scowling playfully. That was the kind of friendship Pete and I had, we were like brothers. We even lived together, due to our parents being ignorant homophobes. Fucking cocks. I'd spit on them if I ever saw them again.

"Whatever, I have little Mikey to make out with anyways. Well, I will", he added, smirking at the thought. Huh, he must've been referring to Mikey Way. Mikey was hot, a little shy and awkward for my tastes, but hey, whatever floats your cock Pete.

"Excuse me?", I froze, as did Pete, and we spun towards the direction the new voice had come from. My jaw dropped, what the fuck, who was this and why had I never seen him before?
He was dressed in a white dress shirt, with a tie loosely hanging off of his neck. He also had the tightest black skinny jeans on known to man, and I could make out every inch of his crotch, obviously he was well-endowed. What really got me was his face. He was pale, like really pale, skin smooth as marble. His hair was a flaming red, hanging down to his chin in a messy fashion. His nose was tiny, upturned at the end and his lips thin yet full. His eyes though, that green shade, clashing with the eyeliner ringed underneath brilliantly. Again, whoa.

"Who the fuck are you?", I blurted out, and Pete giggled at me. The guy frowned at me, obviously he was one of those goody-two-shoes, holier than thou types. Y'know, the polar opposite of me and Pete.

"I won't be addressed like that. Try again", I gaped at the audacity, before letting a giggle overtake me.

"Ill address whoever I want to in whatever way I want to, asshole", I sneered, taking a long drag of my cigarette and blowing the smoke in the guys direction. Petes eyes widened, clearly impressed with how I was handling myself with the hot dude.

"Hmm. That won't do. I think a weeks worth of detention will serve you well, Mr...Frank, was it?", the guy, no teacher- what the fuck?- chuckled, handing me a yellow slip. Dumbfounded, I turned to Pete, who was trying to repress his giggles. Asshole.

"Whatever, fuck you." I snapped, gathering my stuff and stalking off to get ready for next period. Art, I think.

"See you this afternoon, Frank", I ignored the thrill his words gave me and grabbed Pete by the arm, who was still guffawing at this unfortunate chain of events.

Notes

:)