Gloves

True to Mikey's word, the red-eyed boy was in third period art class. He was sitting in the back, four rows behind Frank, with his head bent over the sketchpad on his desk, blue tinted hair obstructing his view to the outside world, but it did not seem to be bothering him.
Frank sat down in his desk, putting Gerard out of his mind and taking his own sketchbook from the rack in class, starting on the assignment written on the board. The class went by quickly with the odd groups of chatter and consistent scratching of graphite on paper.
When the bell rang, the entire student body suddenly appeared in the hallway, the classrooms vacant. As Frank followed, he noticed the other Way brother hanging back, probably so he did not get crushed by the swarms of juvenile delinquents and evil masterminds. Frank shook the thoughts from his head and left the room, determined to get to history in one peace.
By the end of the day, Frank longed to go home with Bob and Ray and sit around in the basement, bantering and playing video games and watching old horror movies that make modern ones look like a flip book made by a five year old; weak attempts at horror that is blatantly laughable. He figured Ray would bring Mikey, and Mikey, more than likely, would probably want to bring his loner brother. Frank decided he was okay with that, as long as the touch exterior Mikey mentioned would not rub anyone the wrong way.
"My friend!" Frank was almost pushed down from the force of his stoner friend tackling him playfully. "To your house, right?"
The shorter boy laughed. "Of course, Mr.Bryar! Just remember to open the window when you smoke; Mom was pissed when I got that contact high."
He received an embarrassed smile. "Yeah, sorry 'bout that one."
A rough slap on the back (which sent him flying into Bob) was greeting enough from Ray. "We need to wait for Mikey; he's going to find Gerard again and bring him with. That's okay with you, right?" He gave a hopeful grin.
Frank rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. As long as he doesn't cramp our style."
Silence.
"No, just-- no. Never again."
"Sorry..."
The boys waited in a comfortable silence for the Way brothers, who have yet to reveal who was older. Frank and Bob were entertaining themselves by poking a frog that had gotten stepped on earlier in the day with stick. It was all froggy blood and guts and gross squishy sounds when gas was released from the bowels. Ray just looked on, seemingly very unimpressed with their short giggles and 'ew's. Bob, because he probably smoked one at lunch and Frank, because he was an immature little shit.
"Oh, there they are. Mikey! Over here!" called Ray, waving his hands around and making his 'fro bounce. Bob smirked and proceeded to poke his friend's hair with the stick, eliciting a very angry noise from Ray.
The two figures speeding over to them looked like polar opposites. One with black hair, one with sandy blonde. One with red eyes, one with hazel. One with deathly pale skin, one with a slight tan. One dressed in several different colors, the other dressed in not as many. Okay, maybe that was not such a huge difference; Gerard just had a little less color in his ensemble than Mikey. But do to the nature of the brother's proximity, it was definitely noticeable.
A smile found it's way to Mikey's face. "Hey guys. I'd like you to meet my older brother," Well, that answers that question, "Gerard. Gerard, this is--"
"I know," interrupted the red-eyed boy, giving them all the once-over with a cold stare. "Frank Iero, Bob Bryar, and Ray Toro."
"Holy shit," gasped Bob, "you have red eyes!" He moved closer to Gerard, getting in his face, to close for anyone's comfort, especially Gerard's, if the look of great alarm on his face. But then he composed himself.
"Holy shit," Gerard mock-gasped, widening his eyes dramatically, slapping his glove-clad hands to the sides of his face. "You're right!"
So he was a sarcastic one, huh? Frank could work with that.
"Don't be a bitch, Gerard. Let's go," Mikey said, shooting his brother a reprimanding look. The five boys started the trek back to Frank's house, discussing anything that came to. Well, most did. Gerard hung back a few steps, his eyes narrowed on the chattering group. They seemed like okay guys, and they made Mikey happy, so he decided it might be worth it to make an effort to get along with his little brother's friends.
But only for his brother.
Not for himself.
Never for himself.

Notes

I'm on a roll today, huh? Two chapters before noon, I'm proud of myself.
And there's a writer I want to direct you guys to, if you haven't found her already. Her name is teapartypoison. She's a good writer and someone I call a good friend. She's actually given me a little inspiration to the plot of this story, so there's a big thank you for her.
Comment and subscribe and shit.
-Stitches