You should have never come
Chapter 1
Gerard’s POV
I'm sat on a stiff, old, shabby piece of furniture they also like to call “a plane seat”, trying to find at least a remotely comfortable pose to spend the next two hours in. No matter how I sit or turn, something sharp still sticks into my spine. After some uncomfortable shuffling, I look back, trying to find the cause of the annoying bump. Ah, there it is. That old man’s legs are apparently too long for him to contain in the space he was given, and his bony knees are stuck into the back of my seat. I hesitate for a second, trying to decide what to do. I can probably just deal with it, it's not too painful anyways… Plus, he looks exhausted, I should let him have his way...
No, actually. If I am to be here, I am to at least feel comfortable.
“Hey,” I start weakly, and the old man’s eyes instantly shoot up at me, angrily glaring at me from behind his big framed glasses. I’ve never been good at talking to people, and the smallest talk got me nervous, especially if I have to be the one to say something first. You know your social anxiety is pretty bad when you can’t even ask someone to move their legs. I feel my face heat up in a blush of embarassment.
Keep it cool, Gerard.
I mentally slapped myself once again before continuing.
“Um, could you- could you please move your legs somewhere else? Your knees are sticking into my back and it’s sorta painful,” I blurt out.
“What?” the man asks croakly, leaning closer towards me. I mumble a lot, and he probably didn’t hear a thing I just said.
“Never mind,” I groan in dispair and turn to face the seat in front of me, rolling my eyes. I get out my phone and plug my broken earphones in. I planned to get new ones right before the plane since one earbud doesn't work, but I kind of forgot about it.
I shuffle through the playlist, but none of the songs seem to fit my mood, which can be defined as shit. Actually, it's not all shit- it's just this general pissed-offness which is almost always there, plus madness at my mom, and a bit happiness and excitedness, if that’s even a word.
I am a 17 year old guy, going to a fucking summer camp. Against my fucking will.
From what I can tell, my mom can’t see how much shit I get at school already, and in her opinion it’s a great idea to send me to a summer camp to “wind off”. Great parenting mom, I’d much rather eat a live cockroach than spend any more time with those heartless assholes than I already do.
I wonder if I can just run away from the airport as soon as the plane lands- maybe I could like, get a job at a supermarket or something and live in a motel… That would be pretty nice, I wish I could actually do that.
I dig through my bag and pull out a sketchbook and a pencil case. I carefully lay everything out on my lap and start drawing. To be honest, right now I'm kind of doing it for attention. I want peope to aknowledge how good I am. I flip the page to my best drawing and look around, trying to see if anyone is interested in complimenting me, but everyone looks completely indifferent.
I don't really know what I'm drawing, it just calms my nerves really well, and they really need to be calmed right now. I'm excited and nervous about meeting new people, and I want to make a good impression on them. And in my case, that usually means lying, because I just so happen to be the lamest person to ever walk on the face of Earth.
I wonder what I will tell them about my non-existent interests: I could tell them I'm on a basketball team, or that I play football. Yeah, basketball is good enough, I am pretty tall, so it's believeable. I'd tell them that I'm good at guitar, too, but the possibility of them asking me to play and me getting busted is be too big.
So, I am on a professional basketball team. At least as professional as it gets in my imagination.
God I hate camps.
I'm sat on a stiff, old, shabby piece of furniture they also like to call “a plane seat”, trying to find at least a remotely comfortable pose to spend the next two hours in. No matter how I sit or turn, something sharp still sticks into my spine. After some uncomfortable shuffling, I look back, trying to find the cause of the annoying bump. Ah, there it is. That old man’s legs are apparently too long for him to contain in the space he was given, and his bony knees are stuck into the back of my seat. I hesitate for a second, trying to decide what to do. I can probably just deal with it, it's not too painful anyways… Plus, he looks exhausted, I should let him have his way...
No, actually. If I am to be here, I am to at least feel comfortable.
“Hey,” I start weakly, and the old man’s eyes instantly shoot up at me, angrily glaring at me from behind his big framed glasses. I’ve never been good at talking to people, and the smallest talk got me nervous, especially if I have to be the one to say something first. You know your social anxiety is pretty bad when you can’t even ask someone to move their legs. I feel my face heat up in a blush of embarassment.
Keep it cool, Gerard.
I mentally slapped myself once again before continuing.
“Um, could you- could you please move your legs somewhere else? Your knees are sticking into my back and it’s sorta painful,” I blurt out.
“What?” the man asks croakly, leaning closer towards me. I mumble a lot, and he probably didn’t hear a thing I just said.
“Never mind,” I groan in dispair and turn to face the seat in front of me, rolling my eyes. I get out my phone and plug my broken earphones in. I planned to get new ones right before the plane since one earbud doesn't work, but I kind of forgot about it.
I shuffle through the playlist, but none of the songs seem to fit my mood, which can be defined as shit. Actually, it's not all shit- it's just this general pissed-offness which is almost always there, plus madness at my mom, and a bit happiness and excitedness, if that’s even a word.
I am a 17 year old guy, going to a fucking summer camp. Against my fucking will.
From what I can tell, my mom can’t see how much shit I get at school already, and in her opinion it’s a great idea to send me to a summer camp to “wind off”. Great parenting mom, I’d much rather eat a live cockroach than spend any more time with those heartless assholes than I already do.
I wonder if I can just run away from the airport as soon as the plane lands- maybe I could like, get a job at a supermarket or something and live in a motel… That would be pretty nice, I wish I could actually do that.
I dig through my bag and pull out a sketchbook and a pencil case. I carefully lay everything out on my lap and start drawing. To be honest, right now I'm kind of doing it for attention. I want peope to aknowledge how good I am. I flip the page to my best drawing and look around, trying to see if anyone is interested in complimenting me, but everyone looks completely indifferent.
I don't really know what I'm drawing, it just calms my nerves really well, and they really need to be calmed right now. I'm excited and nervous about meeting new people, and I want to make a good impression on them. And in my case, that usually means lying, because I just so happen to be the lamest person to ever walk on the face of Earth.
I wonder what I will tell them about my non-existent interests: I could tell them I'm on a basketball team, or that I play football. Yeah, basketball is good enough, I am pretty tall, so it's believeable. I'd tell them that I'm good at guitar, too, but the possibility of them asking me to play and me getting busted is be too big.
So, I am on a professional basketball team. At least as professional as it gets in my imagination.
God I hate camps.
Notes
Sooo a new fanfic! I promise you it's going to be great ♡
Tell me what you think, I'll consider all feedback))
Gerard_needs_to_chill
This was actually the first fanfiction I ever read. (Hence that was like a year and a half ago)
5/1/17