25 Reasons Why I Hate You

Frank hates January. He hates parties, he hates Bert, he hates Ray for inviting Bert to this one, he hates Lindsey for thinking that Bert is 'sort of cool, you just gotta give him a chance, Frank', he hates his friends, he hates Truth or Dare and he hates the lukewarm beer he is drinking right now but he can't stop pouring it down his throat in a way that would not make his mother proud.

"You know you're gonna have to spit it out eventually, Iero," Bert smirks into his drink. He would mentally kill Bert if he wasn't too busy repressing memories. Bad, bad memories that no teenager should have to deal with. Well, maybe Bert, but he's a dick anyway, so it's not like he wouldn't have it coming. Can you tell Frank holds a grudge against Bert yet? Good.

"It's not a hard question, Frankie, who took away your lip virginity?" Jamia all but slurs, leaning on Frank's shoulder and probably drooling all over him.
She's a sleepy drunk; she once fell asleep on Frank's kitchen counter in freshman year. All he has to say, is his mom isn't very fond of her anymore.

Everybody laughs at that; well, the drunk ones laugh with her, the sober ones laugh at her.

"It was Gerard. Uh, Way." Frank admits, thinking about that damn night and trying to imagine how things would have worked out if it didn't happen like that. Probably wouldn't have been depressed for fucking years and wouldn't have to hide it from his parents. Fuck.

"Gerard Way? The creepy emo kid that moved away in middle of seventh grade?" Jamia snorts, still drooling on Frank. He's not emo and he's not creepy, for fuck's sake, Frank thinks before moving his head in a way that could resemble a nod. Or a tiny seizure. Both very fitting for the situation.

"How come I am only finding out about this now?" Ray raises an eyebrow at Frank. He's one of the only people who are still sober. Mostly anyway. Frank shrugs innocently at him while Lindsey eyes him carefully.

"Never came up in conversation. Who's next?"

Whilst everyone is busy laughing about Ray admitting to losing his virginity to Bob Bryar The Blond College Kid, Frank can't ignore the nasty looks Bert is shooting his way, but pretends he does anyway.

Sometimes Frank feels like Bert is his arch enemy, his evil nemesis, his... whatever. Except for that one time in eight grade when he bought Frank a pack of cigarettes. That was very nice of him. But shoving Frank into a locker first year of high school wasn't so cool. Neither was continuing shoving him into lockers for the rest of high school. But other than when he isn't pissed at Frank for no fucking apparent reason, he's kind of okay.

-

This is a bad time for these feelings to come back. He was doing so good, he forgot everything about that fucker and now it's all coming back to him like a shit ton of bricks in his face. That fucking day and that fucking bed and that fucking video game they were playing and his mom shouting at them because they were laughing so hard.And Frank honestly thinks he couldn't get more miserable right now.
He's lying in bed, listening to Three Days Grace's I Hate Everything About You and crying. At least he threw away his razors long ago. This would have ended badly if he hadn't.

He reaches into the drawer of his night stand and pulls out the letter he wrote a long time ago, back when he just wished he could tell his mom or dad or someone, anyone who doesn't call themselves 'Lyn-Z' and is actually older than him. Never a therapist, though. Frank swore to himself he would never actually get treatment for anything he might or might not develop later in life.
He was 15 when he made that promise, but he still sticks to it.

„Hello, my friend.

I think that it's best for us to part ways. Do not misunderstand, my friend, memories of you still make me smile, but memories of you also make me cry. This is the end of the road for us, I think, but please be kind and don't forget all of the times we laughed and we cried, and we shared secrets and promised to hide them.
Forever is such a strong word, and one that, I believe, we should not use in this mad, mad world. But alas, my friend, that was the promise we both made, and the promise we both broke.
I hope that one day you can look back at our friendship and think about me in the brightest light that is possible, because that is something I will not be able to do, for my mind is a mess and my floor is blood stained, and I'm sad to say it's because of you. I hope you can find someone that understands you better than I could, because at this point I would honestly rather die than see you.

This is, hopefully, the last time you will hear me say the 'forever' word, the one that I never thought I would use in this mad, mad world; goodbye forever, my friend.“

He still remembers writing this and planning to send this to Gerard, somehow, one day, but he never got around to it. He probably never will. He's not strong enough.
Frank drags himself back to the bed, telling himself he's not gonna cry anymore, he's not going to fucking cry about this, man up, Frank, stop thinking.

As soon as his head hits the pillow, a tear falls down his cheek and he closes his eyes, hoping tomorrow will be better and he won't feel this shitty.

-

Tomorrow, as it turns out, is not better. At all. Frank wakes up with his hand down his pants, practically fucking glued to his dick with the stickiness that is either his come or super glue.

He brings his hand out and licks it. No, really. Then his brain catches up with what he is doing. Huh. It isn't glue after all.
He's not even that pissed at himself for having a wet dream- sure, he grumbles about it on his way to the bathroom, because, c'mon, only 14 year olds have wet dreams- no, he's pissed at himself because it was about, well... someone he's not that fond of. Or shouldn't be, anyway.

On the way to school, he remembers the dream and how realistic it was, how he swore he could almost feel the warmth of the mouth on his- he then mentally slaps himself and tries to look like he wasn't just mentally reliving a sex dream. Nobody stares at him, not more than they usually would (the mohawk earns him a lot of stares) so he counts it as a win.

The first thing he says when he sees Lindsey is, "I dreamed about him.“

She just stares for a few seconds, before blurting out a, "Who? Bert?“ and that does earn them a few stares from Bert's clique, but he rolls his eyes and pulls her to the side.

"No, the other him. Tell you all about it during Lunch.“ Then she kisses him on the cheek and goes to get her books or a bobby pin or maybe her leather jacker; Lord knows, she keeps everything in her locker.

Frank spends two extremely boring periods doodling and listening to music, waving his English teacher off when she tells him to turn the music down a bit; he's done with the assignment and the other students could use a little Motörhead; he's doing them a favor, honestly.

"Spill, Iero.“ He sighs as Lindsey sets her tray before him.

"So, uh. Okay. It was a sex dream. An extremely hot sex dream.“ Frank mutters and looks down at his lap.

"Do you honestly think that's enough? Details, sweetie.“ Lindsey raises an eyebrow and apparently expects him to pour his heart out. So he does.

"Hum. Okay. Well, it started out in my room. The day it happened, you know? So we kissed. And then we kept doing things. We weren't that age though, we were like now, I had the mohawk and all. Gerard looked pretty much the same because fuck if I know what puberty has done to him, but he was definitely older. Anyway, so we take our clothes off, yadda yadda. That's where it gets heated; dream Gerard is extremely good with his hands. And mouth. And ow, man, the way he swirled his tongue around- could have sworn it was all actually real, I don't know, it was all so vivid. Then he pulls out some lube out of his pants, and it was something like, cherry? I think. So we went all the way, he fucked me, I came, and then he jerked me off again. I felt like a chick, having multiple orgasms in a row and all that. Do you get exhausted after doing that?“ Either Lindsey was ignoring him because she kept things like that to herself, or because she was in gay heaven, picturing everything Frank just described. Knowing Lindsey, probably the second one.

"Earth to Lindsey?“ He waves a hand in front of her face and she sighs.

"Lover boy, you're neck deep.“ She says as she takes a bite of her apple and Frank considers slamming his head onto the table.

"Not helpful, at all,“ he grumbles, and then looks up to find Jamia grinning to herself and running off somewhere. Weird, he thinks to himself as he takes a sip of the Vodka he poured in the water bottle.

"You're not fooling anyone,“ Lindsey raises an eyebrow, and when Frank feigns innocence, she stage whispers, "Alcoholic,“ to no one in particular and it gets a smile out of Frank, because, seriously, she has no right to call out anyone on their drinking habits.

When he tells her so, he gets hit by the half eaten apple and a nasty look from the teacher that passes by.

-

"A sex dream? About Gerard Way? Huh.“ Jamia nods as Bert processes the information. He half wonders why she presented this information to him and half thinks about what he could do with it.

"Use it wisely,“ she winks and kisses him on the cheek. He waits until she bounces off, out of his eyesight and wipes his cheek with his hand. His eyes then light up in a way that could probably be best described as sinister.

"Oh, I will most certainly do so,“ he whispers to himself as he shuts his locker.

-

Frank walks into the classroom 5 minutes late and the teacher isn't there yet, so he thanks all the gods (who may or may not be there) that they decided to be nice to him for a change.
He sits at the back because it is the only fucking place left, pulling his books out and mentally preparing himself for another boring fucking lesson.
He also takes notice of the new kid sitting in the second row; long black hair, eyeliner and a Misfits hoodie. Frank digs him instantly. He wonders if maybe the kid isn't new, maybe he just went under Frank's radar; he looks like someone who could pull that off and Frank hasn't paid that much attention to people in his school last semester, so he could have easily slipped his attention.

Frank is already somewhere in his own world by the time the teacher walks in, apologizing for being late and blah blah- boring. Frank hums to himself; a beat that calms him but he doesn't even recognize, as he doodles a tiny little zombie holding a zombie teddy bear.

He's working on the doodle when he sees the Eyeliner Kid raise his hand, mumbling something about being new and thinking about how he should probably introduce himself.

"Oh, right! Sorry, slipped my mind,“ the professor chuckles quietly. "Okay, so guys, we obviously have a new person in our class! Now, I know it's the second semester, but he just moved here recently, and from what I've heard, this is not his first time here, so some of you may even remember him.“

Frank's blood freezes in his veins when the teacher addresses the new kid by name.

Notes

Eh, hi. So, this is 'the our fic', something that started out as an idea on facebook and then turned into a phone conversation at 3 AM. Sigh.

I'm not a big fan of A/N's because I literally never know what to write, but Milo is a control freak and likes to tell me what to do (they threaten to hurt my kidneys) so, here it is.

This chapter was written by moi, which you can probably tell by how much it sucks. The next chapter will be written by Milo, then me, then Milo, then me, ad infinitum.

So, 'till next next time, fellow shippers.

Rogue