Action Cat
Thnks Fr Th Mmrs
A friendly smile spread across the child's face. "Hi, I'm Frank." Gerard blushed lightly and turned his attention to the stranger. His dark brown hair fell at his brow, he put an effort on brushing it to the side, before talking again. "Um, what's your name?"
"G-Gerard," he spoke, hazel-green eyes directing themselves to Frank's chocolate ones.
"G-Gerard Way." He looked down to his feet, and began swinging in the swing he had been on for the last ten minutes.
Frank reluctantly joined him, an eternally grinning. "You don't talk much." His red converse was a lot more interesting than this Frank stranger, but he found himself speaking again.
"N-n-not real-l-ly. I'm m-more of a l-lisssstener." Frank swung higher, a crank-like noise escaping his swing. "I guess you must like music, aye?"
Gerard did like music. In fact, he loved it more than anything in the world, besides art and coffee(those three things tied at number one). The Smiths, Siouxie And The Banshees, Black Sabbath, Joy Division, Black Flag, and so much more. He lived for it. "
Y-yeah," was all he could say.
"I like music too," the boy said. " A lot, but stuff like Sabbath. Not pop shit like Madonna."
The bell rang. And with this, Frank said goodbye. "Well, second grade is a pain in the ass. See you later maybe?" Gerard smiled lightly.
"Y-yeah. I'd like thatssss."
*A year passed.**
" I asked the science teacher about your disease," Joel chuckled, a fist ready to ram into my stomach. It disturbed Gerard the way his condition was described as a 'disease'. It wasn't contagious, and he didn't get it from someone else. Before he could finish the thought, the gang had already been kicking at his spinal cord. Gerard groaned.
"And she said if someone like you is hit hard enough, blood will come gushing out from your throat." He didn't respond. After experience, he knew a response only made things worse. "Let's see some blood," Joel finished, throwing another fist into his chest. Gerard hated this, hated it more than anything. Every single day had been like this, repetitive.
Wake up. Go to school. Hide in the girl's bathroom. Get found and dragged out by assholes. Get in trouble by officials for hiding in the girl's bathroom. Get beat up. Come home. Parent over and over reminds you that you can't be in a girl's bathroom. Rinse and fucking repeat.
But today seemed slightly different.
A familiar face came and pushed the gang away from Gerard and helped him walk home. But why? "W-who are y-you?" Gerard felt at his arms and legs for numerous bruises. His condition made bruises darker and appear quickly, from his lack of whatever-the-fuck-they're-called blood cells. He moaned in pain and held at his stomach.
The boy next to him slipped out of his black guns and roses sweatshirt and handed it to Gerard. "Here, wear this. It'll hide those nasty bruises."
"Th-thankssss," is all Gerard had wanted to say. "The name's Frank, by the way," he said.
The same Frank from last year.
Gerard nodded slowly.
Frank smirked. "You don't talk much, do you?"
He shook his head. He frowned slightly, wondering if he remembered him. That's something he feared, to be forgotten. Gerard acted cool until he reached his home, in which he fled. While running home, he heard Frank yell one last thing.
"By 'see you later', I didn't mean a whole year! Maybe we can hang out sometime!"
"G-Gerard," he spoke, hazel-green eyes directing themselves to Frank's chocolate ones.
"G-Gerard Way." He looked down to his feet, and began swinging in the swing he had been on for the last ten minutes.
Frank reluctantly joined him, an eternally grinning. "You don't talk much." His red converse was a lot more interesting than this Frank stranger, but he found himself speaking again.
"N-n-not real-l-ly. I'm m-more of a l-lisssstener." Frank swung higher, a crank-like noise escaping his swing. "I guess you must like music, aye?"
Gerard did like music. In fact, he loved it more than anything in the world, besides art and coffee(those three things tied at number one). The Smiths, Siouxie And The Banshees, Black Sabbath, Joy Division, Black Flag, and so much more. He lived for it. "
Y-yeah," was all he could say.
"I like music too," the boy said. " A lot, but stuff like Sabbath. Not pop shit like Madonna."
The bell rang. And with this, Frank said goodbye. "Well, second grade is a pain in the ass. See you later maybe?" Gerard smiled lightly.
"Y-yeah. I'd like thatssss."
*A year passed.**
" I asked the science teacher about your disease," Joel chuckled, a fist ready to ram into my stomach. It disturbed Gerard the way his condition was described as a 'disease'. It wasn't contagious, and he didn't get it from someone else. Before he could finish the thought, the gang had already been kicking at his spinal cord. Gerard groaned.
"And she said if someone like you is hit hard enough, blood will come gushing out from your throat." He didn't respond. After experience, he knew a response only made things worse. "Let's see some blood," Joel finished, throwing another fist into his chest. Gerard hated this, hated it more than anything. Every single day had been like this, repetitive.
Wake up. Go to school. Hide in the girl's bathroom. Get found and dragged out by assholes. Get in trouble by officials for hiding in the girl's bathroom. Get beat up. Come home. Parent over and over reminds you that you can't be in a girl's bathroom. Rinse and fucking repeat.
But today seemed slightly different.
A familiar face came and pushed the gang away from Gerard and helped him walk home. But why? "W-who are y-you?" Gerard felt at his arms and legs for numerous bruises. His condition made bruises darker and appear quickly, from his lack of whatever-the-fuck-they're-called blood cells. He moaned in pain and held at his stomach.
The boy next to him slipped out of his black guns and roses sweatshirt and handed it to Gerard. "Here, wear this. It'll hide those nasty bruises."
"Th-thankssss," is all Gerard had wanted to say. "The name's Frank, by the way," he said.
The same Frank from last year.
Gerard nodded slowly.
Frank smirked. "You don't talk much, do you?"
He shook his head. He frowned slightly, wondering if he remembered him. That's something he feared, to be forgotten. Gerard acted cool until he reached his home, in which he fled. While running home, he heard Frank yell one last thing.
"By 'see you later', I didn't mean a whole year! Maybe we can hang out sometime!"
Notes
another chapter c:
MY PREVIOUS COMMENT WAS INSIGHTFUL
7/8/14