Not Enough, I'm Never Enough

I wake up to a gloomy Tuesday morning, weary from the drama and inner conflicts that occurred last night. Yawning, I stand up and stretch, country music from the radio downstairs enveloping my ears in a woozy embrace. It's a great way to start a day, but I'm just not in the mood for now. I need to talk things out with Frank today. I absolutely have to. Not just for the sake of my own well-being, but for his too. I'm not a selfish person, but it's too risky when you have to get stuff done with popular's. For all you know, they might have a couple friends who stay faithfully by their side when you have to make an embarrassing statement or confession (which happens pretty much all the time from what I've observed). They always seem to laugh about it with them once you've left. So far I've never been caught up in this mess, but it looks like my time has finally arrived.

"Gee?" Mikey peeps in from the side of the open door. He looks calm-showing no traces of the incident from yesterday. I still remember those words he told me before Mom called us to dinner, and they're sprinting round the dome-shaped stadium that is my brain. Leaving specks of dust behind to cover the emptiness.

Not that it's surprising. Mikey's always been supportive of me, helping me up every time I fall and pushing me past the torture and cruelty of this world. He is my belayer of life, and will ever continue to be. In fact, I can't imagine a world where Mikey and I never know each other. That would be a nightmare that isn't even possible to dream.
Mikey's always been good with words. Like yesterday, when he was telling me his honest thoughts. I think they were the sweetest and most beautiful thing ever, but he looked indifferent about them. They just come naturally to him.

And this, the thought that Mikey is so caring and so talented at the same time bothers me a lot. There just seem to be some people in the world who are perfect at everything and have absolutely no flaws, making you sit there and hate on them. But that simultaneously makes you feel bad, because they've always been nice to you. I guess things are just meant to be. I was meant to be a demon who didn't belong. A murderer of the darkness. The one who kissed the serpent. Full of resentment and hatred. And it's almost paradoxical that I hate myself for it.

"Yeah, Mikes?" I answer after a few seconds, my mind still recovering from the thought chain. I tend to think and daydream a lot, and it's seriously affecting my social life. I'm worried that one day at a job interview (if I even get into one) I'll just completely stone out and let the interviewer drone on and on about workplace crap. Yeah, it's crap, but I'd lose a thousand bucks if that ever happens.

"Mom's calling you for breakfast. I gotta head off now to help some Geography teacher. The bitch asked me to do something for her lesson today. You're gonna say sorry to this guy, Frank, right? Sort things out?"

I shrug. "Yeah, I probably am."

"Make sure you do," he says sternly, wagging his finger. "Or you'll get it from the archangel Michael."

I roll my eyes. "That's like the fucking lamest thing I've heard from you."

He pouts in response, earning a laugh from me. He grins at this, though; he likes to see me smile. Another excellent quality of his that I love. "Whatever. Anyways, bye!"

He disappears, and I groan as I think about what might potentially happen in the next hour. About whether Frank's gonna hate me for life or not.

"Gerard!" My mom's shrill voice rings out, bringing me back to reality. "Get your ass in here, you gay shit."

Fuck, did she really say that? How dare she. Muttering under my breath, I stomp down to breakfast to face my Mom. Who knows what will happen in school later?
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Location: School hallways
Time: 7.39 am
Situation: Gerard is in grave trouble.

"You're not supposed to wear eyeliner." Menacing brown eyes of a human hawk and an obnoxiously twisted pair of lips are what I find staring back at me while I gaze at the creature, hopeless. Whatever have I done this time? It's my second day and I'm already getting caught. I look around me, and I observe many familiar faces from the party last night walking around with their books and chatting wholeheartedly with their friends. How the fuck did they even get over the booze in just a few hours...

"I-I have no idea what you're talking about," I stammer on impulse, slamming his eyeballs back as forcefully as I can. I may be afraid of people, but I ain't scared of looking them in the eye. Which is a pretty rare talent.

His frown grows deeper and he shifts slightly, his gold and green Student Councillor badge glinting in the sunlight. "Rule #79 in the books. Boys are not allowed to wear makeup."

I gape at him, horrified. What the absolute hell? "But why? It's not meant for just girls!"

He shakes his head firmly, looking me up and down in contempt. Who does he think he is? "I'm sorry. Male students are expected to be of a masculine and sturdy character in this school, which..." he purses his lips, oozing his terrible false sympathy, "you're clearly not."

I don't know how much saliva I've swallowed by now, but my throat feels pretty dry. I watch him nervously, anticipating the worst. And the worst happens.

"I'm afraid I'll have to send you off to Frank to get the detention and demerit slip. Please follow me." Turning on his heels, he disappears round the crescent-shaped bend that our school seems to be full of. I'm contemplating whether I should just make a run for it, but a second later, he swivels his head round and raises an eyebrow. Under the pressure of eyes that imply a fatal threat, my feet take off towards him.

.................................................................................................................................................

"Hey, Mark, what's up?" A laughing face greets my companion, as we emerge into the Councillor's Office. I know the Council System well enough to tell that Student Councillors are to take shifts in the Office, thus obtaining full and reasonable excuses to skip lessons. They do make up the work for it, though, and always score the highest grades in examinations. I wonder how they even find the time to sleep; I admit I'm jealous of them that way.

"Frank," my new acquaintance, Mark, greets the person sitting at the desk before us, stonily. What, Frank?! I turn my head towards the guy, and there he is. Frank Anthony Iero, in all his wondrous glory. His jet black hair is tousled, as if he's just gotten out of bed, and he's wearing a red T-shirt with tattered blue jeans today. His eyes boast huge purple rings under the lids, though, which show of the sleep deprivation he's had last night. His hazel eyes land on me once Mark finishes speaking, and I hold my breath.

"New kid already in detention?" He sneers, his eyes glinting with something I cannot fathom. I know he was drunk the night before, but there's a good chance that he still remembers the horrific incident that happened yesterday.

Mark snickers. "Yeah." The both of them share sly looks, and my heart involuntarily starts pumping faster. I'm not that good at reading disguises and habits, but this time, I think I smell a rat. Well, I really can't take this bullshit anymore.

"What the fuck?" I snap, causing both heads to turn to me in a mixture of shock and astonishment. Well, guess they didn't expect the new, shy kid to suddenly bare his fangs out, did they? But I'm a human, and I have my own limits.

"What the fuck," I snarl again. "First off, Iero, you're wearing tattoos, multiple piercings, death metal band T-shirts and ripped jeans, and you call yourself a Head Councillor? You're the epitome of everything evil. You simply control everyone in this school, from what I've observed!" His mouth opens, aghast. "I know myself that I've only been in this school for, what? Two days? But I can see what you're up to, Frank."

"Now hold on a minute-" Mark interrupts, but oh no, we're not gonna have that.

"-Do you know why I'm saying all of this? Think about it. You do all those stuff to your appearance, get booze when your parents are not around and you have a freaking party for people? I mean, what kind of a school leader does that? And aren't you supposed to give a good example?" I ramble on and on, not caring about what either of the motherfuckers think. My fury is in full form now. "And that's not even the main reason. You haul me in because I'm wearing makeup? Look at yourselves, bastards. Just-turn to the mirror behind and look at yourselves. You get all the privileges to yourselves, but don't allow others to have it? Do you think you are worthy of a leadership position? Tell me!" I'm screaming at the top of my lungs. All the hopelessness, depression, misery, desolateness, terror and hatred I've harbored throughout my whole life-now springing out, jumping off hard brick walls and terrorizing anyone within a three mile radius. I'm pretty sure the nearby classrooms have heard me now. But I don't care. I've begun to despise this school for its leaders, and I don't mind if I get shipped off to my eighth school. All that occurred in my first six schools are happening all over again, I guess I won't ever have Frank now, and I guess I won't become the exemplary student and everything, but at least I'm saving my own pride.

I bang restlessly on the table in front of me, tears streaming relentlessly down my face. I'm just waiting for the Principal, the teachers and the nurse to ship me away to mental hospital right now. I don't care. I just want to die.

Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I get the feeling that I'm overreacting by a huge amount, but...this was the last straw. And I couldn't find the right moment to release it till now.

Frank is standing now, and I'm shocked to see that his eyes are brimming with tears, his face twisted in pain. I continue to pound on the desk with never-ending force, until he gets out of his chair and catches my hands in mid-air. He clasps onto them tightly, and I feel the stinging agony I receive from them. For a moment, we just look at each other, our eyes staring straight into the other person's soul.

"Please don't cry," he whispers at last. I stare at him, dumbfounded, as he lets go of my hands and instead uses his to wipe my tears away. Through my blurry eyesight, I observe him turn to Mark, who's backed away from us. The little shit is probably scared of me now.

"Mark," he says quietly. "Tell Mrs. Ardent I'll be back for Chemistry in the afternoon, alright? I-I need to do something."

The latter's eyes swivel side to side, taking in the sight of both of us. Although he's a prick, I do feel kind of sorry for him. He didn't need to witness my anger breakout, even if it was meant for him as well. It must have been terrifying as hell.

"Okay," his voice comes out in a raspy whisper. He takes a few steps back, and then dashes out of the room. Meanwhile, Frank turns to me with sad, longing eyes.

"Gerard," he says softly. "I'm so, very sorry about last night. I know you're terribly confused about it." I raise my eyebrows. So he does remember. "I was drunk, and didn't know what I was saying. Hell, I even forgot that I have a girlfriend," he says the last sentence quickly, as if he didn't think of it earlier. "Poor Nat. I wonder if she saw it or not. I'm so sorry for leading you on. I'm not gay or anything."

This did it. I swear my heart has just snapped. My emotions transform from confusion to fury to sadness to everything, and I instinctively take a spare blade out of my pocket. Frank's eyes widen as he sees this.

"I don't know who the fuck you are, and what you've done to my life in a matter of two days. So, fuck off," I whisper and drag the razor across my pale skin, feeling the sweet, thrilling and burning sensation. Off I go to hell. To nothingness. To a place where this demon doesn't exist.

"Gerard!" is what I hear last, a horrified cry, before I dissolve into blankness.

Notes

Hey, sorry if it's so crappy but it's the best I can do :( If you've actually read this shit as far as this, I just want to say thank you so much. It's just that when I was writing this chapter, I delved into my own emotions way too much and found that, well, I'm pretty dark and twisted myself. It was this character that I have that made me attached to MCR in the first place. They came for us, they understood us, and now they're just gone. Happy. Abandoning us in the darkness. I feel gratitude for them, but at the same time I feel a burning sense of anger rising deep within. I don't deserve to belong in this world, and I'm definitely not destined to be someone great. Looks like my hopes are crushed. I'm so sorry for being a terrible person, guys.