Not Enough, I'm Never Enough

I can't help but smile as I grasp onto the handle of the car door, memories of my first day at Belleville High whizzing past my head like motorbikes going on a hundred miles per hour. I have to admit that it didn't go too bad. Sure, I'm not popular as fuck, but at least the people there don't notice me that much, and even if they do, they only ever talk politely. It's a wonder they're able to do that, considering the average EQ level of kids our age to be about ninety at the most. They simply don't give a damn about you-they're nice to you if you're worth it, or they treat you like a scumbag if you prove to them that you can't survive. They don't want an actual relationship, they just want to use you. I know this, because I've been used and tossed away like dirt too many times. This time, though, I'm not going to trust people. I'm going to be perfectly all right on my own, friendless and lonely.

At least, that's what I first thought when I was taking my first step into the school building. Another hell house, probably. But Belleville is definitely one of a kind. I could see it in the cafeteria, where the mood was generally a lot brighter and cheerful than the canteens of other schools. In ordinary public schools, it's literally a wet market of sorts with boisterous hawker stall holders (the students there) hitting others on parts of the body you're never supposed to touch, arguing, seducing, making out, taking selfies and applying makeup. My head starts turning dizzy, causing me to cower down involuntarily as I think of all this, and I think Mikey has noticed. Clenching the car wheel tightly, he stares at me for a moment through the front car mirror in a queer way.

"Gee, you alright?" He asks, his brows furrowed. His concerned voice causes me to shake my head and come back to my senses once again.

"Um, yeah, I sure as hell am. Um," I try to think of something else to say in order to fill the awkward after-silence. "Uh... Teenagers scare the living shit out of me."

"Huh, what?" Mikey exclaims in both amusement and surprise, chuckling a bit. "That's random." Smiling slightly, he shakes his head and continues driving in the darkness to my destination. I had earlier on pleaded with him at first to take me to Frank's place since he's the only one who has a car, but it turns out I didn't even need to beg. According to Mikey, it's good that I want to go to a party and get to know more people.

"Have fun, you know? You only live once," he adds a little while later. I shrug and stare out the window.

"I guess so, yeah."

"I'm sure it'll be great. You had a good day today, didn't you? Any hiccups on the first day itself?"

"Nah." It actually did go pretty well. Sure, I think my Math teacher is an ancient old bitch, Mr. Moss is a cannibalistic grump and my History teacher Mr. Sawyer is menacing, but I still had Art. The only non-living thing in this world I will ever love. The vivid expression of emotions, thoughts and colours in the form of visual artistry is just the right thing for me. Earlier today, I had impressed my teacher, Miss. Glenn, with my sketching of a comic book character I've recently created. I'm naming him The Monocle, and he's going to be a main character in the story I've just begun to write. I have an inkling that I should name it The Umbrella Academy, because the name sounds really cool. Hopefully I'll get to publish it sometime in the future, when I'm older and out of school for good. I'll lead a peaceful and quiet artful career, and die without a significance in life. That's my plan.

In addition to that, the people there seem okay as well. Let's hope they're not acting like they are or anything, because if they are, I'll be caught in very clever intricate web with no chance of escape. The people here, I think, through their niceness and courtesy, will conveniently have me fooled. That's how friendly they are as a whole.

And finally, Frank. The best part of it all. My heart starts pumping faster, in sheer excitement, as I try to recall that one moment I shared with Frank this morning. His dazzling, evergreen smile that had meant only for me. The soft touch that had passed between us when he handed me the timetable. His sexy, husky voice. His strong build. Everything. He's just absolutely perfect. The only thing that ruined it all was that he had his girlfriend by his side.

My head starts throbbing for no reason as we pull up into Frank's backyard that's already littered with a gazillion cars. Somehow, the images of him hugging his girlfriend, kissing her, caressing her, fucking her, have become my living nightmare. 'How can I do this to myself?' I think in bewilderment. It's just so stupid. It's impossible to fall for anyone in just a few hours.

Or is it?

Our car screeches to a stop. We look at the light grey mansion that's standing before us. Surrounding it is a circle of blue orchids and white daisies-a beautiful combination, and quaint white windows that are at least half a room large staring straight down. The crystal-clear glass glitters in the pale streetlight. A shiny black postbox is implanted in the front with a golden 'Iero' imprinted on it. The Ieros obviously have their pockets overflowing, and they're using them to their residential advantage damn well.

Mikey looks back down to the slip of paper I gave him earlier. It's the address that Jeremy had written for me in class after visiting the nurse.

"Is this really the right place?" He wonders.

"It should be. After all, it's the Head Co. Aren't they all supposed to be rich and well-off?" I answer dryly. You can't blame me; they really do have good lives. All the elitists in schools generally come from a good family background, and because of that they act real-snobbish, you know, and 'pretend-nice'. They're so kind to you that you just want to stick a knife up in their asses. Frank seems okay, but I'm not going to change my opinion about him just because he's really hot. And beautiful.

"Eh, probably," Mikey shrugs in response. Don't give a fuck. I'll see you-when do you want me to pick you up? You'll be drunk, for sure."

I huffed. "Yeah, yeah, 'course I will, Mikes! I don't know. If I think I can trust this dude, then I'll drink. I'll see first."

"Are you actually gonna talk to him?" He inquired, raising his eyebrows.

Now that I think about it, I actually do want to talk to Frank again. It was such a surreal experience this morning, and I don't want to let the feeling dissolve. Maybe I can get to know him and be his friend, even if he is straight and has a girlfriend. Who knows? Anything can happen.

However, a sudden thought invades my hopeful mind like a soldier barging in. "It's hard to befriend populars, you know?" Jerry's words echo in my head like catching fire. My heart drops in disappointment. Of course. How can a dark and bitter reject like me, who eats lunch in the toilet cubicle and acts dumb all the time, make friends with a school elitist who's an all-rounder, is destined for scholarships, millions of friendships, a high-class job and in overall a happy life? We're like opposite ends of a pole. Not a magnet. Just a long, five-mile plastic pole that stretches out into hell.

"I don't think so," I say softly to Mikey. He purses his lips.

"Just have fun, okay? This is your first party. People don't know about you yet. Make a good impression on them. Talk to them. Dance with them. Go fuck someone if you want to. Just...loosen up, man." He gives me a final pat on the shoulder, opens the car door for me and pushes me out.

I emerge out into the late evening darkness, an whole hour of just sitting in the car and not moving having dulled my senses. I blink a few times. Oh. That's right. I'm in the backyard. Walk ten feet and I'll be at the front door.

With great trepidation, I trudge slowly towards the house and knock on the classy black wooden door. It opens by God-knows-how a minute later.

Let me just tell you something-parties. Just parties. They're a mystery. No one can ever know how people even plan it, the full craziness it beholds and the haywire atmosphere that can never be recreated anywhere else. So I feel like I'm in a different world as I stumble through the doorway in a haze. The entire living room is dark as hell with a blood red disco light dancing round on the ceiling, the entire house is booming with heavy metal and just about everyone is moving to the beat, drinking, playing and laughing. There is the occasional couple making out here and there, one even proceeding to fuck, and other people are gathered in small groups just having a chill. With an increasing heartbeat, I look around for Frank. But I can't see where he is.

Sighing, I decide to search for Jerry instead. I push through the jostling crowd that's emanating alcohol and sweat, and find him throwing up on the staircase that leads to the second floor.

"Hey...man?" I say softly, patting his back to let him ease himself completely. When he's finally done, he stands back up in full posture and wipes his mouth with his shirt sleeve, causing me to cringe slightly.

"Hey, Gerard," he slurs, throwing his head back and laughing like a maniac. "This part is great, yeah? Told you so. Frank Iero is so..." His eyes suddenly roll back and he falls on the wooden floor with a thud, like someone who's just been shot dead. I shake my head and quickly walk away, disgusted. Is this what really happens in parties? People Frank probably doesn't even know passed out in his house till well after midnight? A whole load of shit to clean just for a few hours intended for fun? I'm really starting to feel sorry for him.

Just as I bang into God-knows-what, I feel someone grab my waist and pull me harshly in their direction. Startled, I lose my footing and the both of us crash into a sweaty heap on the floor.

"What the-" My mouth stops functioning when my eyes meet warm, wondrous, hazel ones just an inch away from me. Eyes that I recognise. Eyes that I know only too well, even if it was just in a short period of time that I managed to memorise the way it looks like.

We gaze at each other as I gape, wild thoughts instantly racing through my mind. About how I'm the arms of the one and only Frank Iero.

Notes

Hmm... What would Frank want from Gee? ;) Thanks for reading anyways, I appreciate it a lot. And see you guys later.

(Fun fact: Mikey's favourited my tweet once. :O)