The whispers only increase as the red hand slowly ticks towards 12, and the minute hand to 3. Mrs. Parker is giving a lesson, but no one cares to listen. Who would, it's the last day of school? The murmurs get louder and louder every second.
3...
2...
1...
RRRRRRRRING!
The class erupts into laughter, screams, even sobs. Those not being melodramatic and running out of class. One kid throws his worksheets into the air, yelling something along the lines of, "FUCK SCHOOL!"
I wait until the screaming dies down and most of my classmates have left to start packing my stuff. I smile at Mrs. Parker as I get up from my seat. "Have a good summer, Mrs. P."
"And to you too, Gerard," she replies, smiling.
I sling my backpack over my shoulder and walk through the now empty halls to my locker. Before I can reach it, however, I hear the clearing of a throat behind me. I don't turn around. I know who it is.
"Where ya' goin', punk?" Jack teased in his booming voice and stressed accent. I didn't want to deal with this right now. Well, not ever, but especially not right now.
"Leave me alone," I mutter. I quicken my pace, as the doors are just mere feet away, but he grabs me by my shoulder and slams me into a locker. I wince a bit in pain; the bruise from when he hit me in the back with a baseball bat has had yet to heal.
"Ya tryna stick up fa' yaself?" he asks, looking me straight in the eyes. He had bright blue eyes, and whenever he so dared to look at you it seemed like a death stare. I'd been through this process a million times before however, and knew he liked to look me in the eyes as he kicked and punched my brains out, so his gaze wasn't as piercing to me. He chuckled, before his expression turned serious and his fist was brought to my face. I clenched my teeth to keep myself from making any noise, but that seemed to annoy him, and he brought his fist to my nose. I fell to the floor and lightly touched my nose. Blood. Probably broken too. I backed against the locker, looking up at him and his smug smile. God, Gerard, you know how to defend yourself, why don't you throw a punch back? I thought to myself. Before I could answer my own mind, Jack kicked me in my stomach. Hard. I gripped my torso and groaned. Jack was about to give another blow when a girl stepped out of the room across from me. Her long, (bottle) blonde hair was pulled into a side ponytail and she donned the school cheerleading uniform. Jessica, I think her name was. She's the captain of the cheerleading team. May I say Jessica is the most stereotypical cheerleader name ever. Anyways...
She wrapped her arms around Jack, who was a good foot taller than her, and gave him a peck on the lips. She looked at his now slightly bloodied hands with bleeding knuckles and pouted at him. "Jackie-Jack, you promised me you'd stop hitting people. You don't want your football scholarship to be taken away, do you?" she whined. God, pet names made me sick. Before he could say anything, she turned her head to me. "Oh. It's you," she said in a condescending voice, scowling. She scoffed and turned back to Jack. "What did he do to you?" she asked him.
"He called ya a slut, babe, and I just-- I lost ma temper," he replied in the most gentle voice I had ever heard some from him. That little fucking liar. "But it's all okay now," he turned to me, "righ', Gerard?"
"R-Right..." I groaned. Gerard, you little shit.
Jessica smiled and fixed the strap on her purse. "Now, c'mon, you promised you'd take me shopping!" She skipped away, towards the door. Why hadn't I just ran out when he called my name? I sighed.
"Right, sugar," Jack said to her. Before he actually followed her, however, he brought his foot to my stomach again. He made sure she wasn't looking before he spit on me. And then he followed her out the door.

Almost every day of school has been like this for the past three years, since my freshman year. Why the hell does Jack hate me? No fucking idea. Since day fuckin' one, period one, minute one, he's berated and hated and attacked me on a daily basis. Emo and faggot are some of the nicest insults he's figuratively thrown at me. Books and lamps are some of the less dangerous things he's literally thrown at me. Most of my afterschool showers involve scrubbing blood off myself. I waited until him and his girlfriend were out of sight before forcing myself up. I tightly gripped my stomach as I limped towards the door. Let's hope I'm not late.

My name is Gerard Way. I'm 17 and a junior in high school. My brother, Michael, is a year younger than me, a sophomore. We've lived at our quaint little house in Summit our entire lives. I don't have many friends. Mikey is, to be honest, pretty much my only friends. I'm acquainted with most of his friends, too. The only person I talk to other than Mikey (or Mikes, as I've come to call him) would be Patrick. We met via Mikey, but Mikes and Pat don't actually have a lot in common. I haven't spoken to Patrick in a while though, not since he started dating some guy. Pete, I think his name was? I find myself feeling empty whenever I think about the fact Patrick's dating. I don't like him in that way, at all. It's just-- I don't think I'll ever find someone who loves me as much as Pat loves Pete. I don't think I'll find someone who loves me, period. Having a boyfriend would be nice.
Yes, boyfriend.
Yes, I am gay. Some of Jack's insults are absolutely correct.
Anyways, I don't think anyone could ever really love me. I mean, I'm a pale, lanky fucker who's extremely awkward. Plus my voice is just. Ew. And that's just me being nice about my self-loathing.

I sigh as my blue two-story house comes into view. Surrounding our bright green lawn is a white picket fence. The caricature of a stereotypical family living the American dream. I pulled my keys out of my bag and quickly shut and locked the door so I wouldn't have to face Mikey while I'm bloody. I told him I would go with him to some concert that was at 7, and it's 5 now. I put the bolt back on the door and turned around to see Mikey.
"Dude, I was super worried!" he groaned. "Hurry up an--" he looked up to see my bloodied face. He set his coffee cup down and put a hand up to my face. "Oh, god, are you okay?" he asked, obviously worried.
"I'm fine. I just... I ran into a door." I chuckled. "Fuckin' stupid." It was apparent Mikes didn't believe me, but he nodded anyways.
"Get cleaned up, 'n then we'll go."

---

My head was pounding, my eyes burned, and my feet ached. As the band started an interlude of thanking the crowd, I turned to Mikey. "I'm gonna go smoke," I whispered to him. I could tell he was a bit sad I was gonna go, but smiled in response. I made my way through the crowd and let out a long sigh when I finally got outside. The sky was dark and starless. I actually quite liked skies with no stars. I sat down on a bench and lit a cigarette, bringing my little stick of death to my mouth. I don't know why I smoke. I absolutely fear death. But everytime I take a drag, I feel a sense of relief. Like all my problems have completely gone away. I stared into the distance for a bit before hearing the opening of a door, some shuffling, and someone sitting next to me. I didn't look at them, I didn't care for conversations with strangers as they give me extreme anxiety, and I knew even a glance might start a conversation.
"Hi," a masculine voice said. I felt my heart stop for a second. Goddamn, that voice was attractive. And I don't call just any voice attractive. My thoughts went from the attractive voice to the increased rate of my heartbeat as I realized I had to talk to them.
"H-Hi..." I replied, looking at my feet. I could feel heat swirling in my cheeks. I hated talking to people. I was so awkward.
"You could at least look at me when I talk to you," the voice replied. Embarrassed, I looked to my right to the person sitting next to me.

Holy fucking shit was he attractive. He had black hair that went just below his ears and, despite the dimness of the lights outside, I could see he had hazel eyes, like mine. He had a nose and a lip piercing. My heart was still racing, but now at the sight of him. He was hot. Really hot. His lips were curled into a smirk and I suddenly wondered what they would feel like against mine. Dammit Gerard, this is a man who you just encountered less than a minute ago, you can't think of them like that! I mentally slapped myself. This actually happens a lot with attractive people. I stared at him for a few seconds before he started chuckling. "Sorry, that was rude, wasn't it?" he asked.
"No, no. It's courtesy to look at someone when they speak," I replied. I smiled back and shook his hand. "Gerard."
"Frank," he said. He motioned to my cigarette that was loosely hanging between my index and middle finger. "Got any more?"
I nodded and pulled out my lighter and a cigarette and handed it to him. He cupped his hand around the lighter as he sparked it a few times, until he lit the cigarette. He took a long drag, his jaw clenching up, and glanced at me through the corner of his eye. I realized I was staring and suddenly that trashcan a few feet away was extremely interesting. He laughed. Oh god, that laugh. "It's fine if you were staring."
"No, it's rude. Sorry."
"You don't have to apologize," he replied.
"Sorry-- Sorry for saying sorry. Sorry. FUCK I'm sorry--" I was interrupted by him poking my arm with his phone.
"Calm down, sweetheart," he told me, smiling. "Now, can I get your number?" He waved his phone around a bit. I nodded and quickly typed in my number. I put my name as "Gee Bear," a nickname Mikey lovingly teased me with a few years ago. I handed his phone back to him and he snickered when he saw my name. "Gee Bear?" he questioned.
"It's a nickname my brother gave me," I explained. I glanced at the time on my own phone before continuing. "Speaking of him, the concert should be over soon..."

As if on cue, the doors to the building swung open, hordes of people running out. Mikey slinked out at the end of the crowd, texting on his phone. I turned back to Frank. "Well, there he is. I gotta go." I felt moderately upset I had to leave my newfound hottie that I could at least call an acquaintance.
"So soon?" he asked, frowning a bit. I smiled. I stood up to leave but he pulled me back down by my arm and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I pulled away, blushing. I wanted to say something, but couldn't form any words. This random hot guy just kissed me? Well, on the cheek, but still? HE KISSED ME? I smiled and yelled a farewell to him as I joined Mikey on the side of the building.

"What's gotten you so worked up?" Mikes asked when he looked up from his phone.
"What?"
"Your face. It's bright red."
I chuckled and tried to think of a lie. "I-- um, I got soda and I ran into some guy and spilled it all over him."
Mikey raised an eyebrow, obviously not believing me, but he didn't point it out. "Can we go now?" he asked. I nodded and started walking over to the car.

---

The second we got home, I went up to my room, and plopped down onto my bed. I couldn't stop thinking about Frank. I had just met him and I already had thoughts about making out with him. Teenage hormone stuff, more than likely. He was really hot though. I touched my hand to where he kissed me, the skin still tingly. I would probably never see him again, and that made my heart sink down to my stomach, but still. I was just kissed on the cheek by possibly one of the most attractive people I've encountered and that's something I feel is more than worthy to be put on my resume. I sighed and drifted off to sleep with the sounds of chirping birds and wind.

---

My eyes shot open, my black popcorn ceiling the only thing in my sight. I couldn't move, it felt like someone was holding all my limbs down, no matter how hard I tried. I tried to take a breath, but it got caught in my throat. I panicked and thrashed my head about, trying to make some sort of noise, to breathe, to move. I eventually made a sound, a scream. Something between a "help" and a "please". This isn't the first time this has happened. In fact, it was the 3rd time this week. But I was never breathless. Someone was gripping at my throat, but I didn't have the willpower to claw and grab at their hands. The edge of my vision was going black when I heard my door swing open. "Oh my god!" my mom yelled. Someone came running behind her. By the slow pace, despite sprinting, I could tell it was Mikes. "Call the ambulance!"
My vision was fading to black, my head still thrashing around trying to do something, and my body jerking about. I didn't have the power to fight anymore. I took one last look at my ceiling before sucumbing to the darkness.

Notes

hi hi hi!! so my friend should be uploading this chapter for me. um, sorry i haven't updated any of my other stories in a while? i've been so busy with school. the 29th is my last day and i have finals the day before that so i've been studying non-stop. here's a new story, frerard this time! i think this is the very first time i've written male/male before, so please bear with me.

xo