[Gerard's P.O.V]

Swings my legs back and forth as I wait for Grandma to bring my coffee, staring thoughtlessly at the kitchen table. Reaches forward, taking the pencil and scrap piece of paper, sliding it forwards and towards me; beginning to sketch out the side mirror of his face. See, it is weird. This crush is blowing out of my control, who would've thought that it's possible to be so indulged and engaged in one human. People describe him as a mystery but I think he's just misunderstood. I've seen bruises on his face, neck, jaw or any other part of his flesh that's visible. I've heard him brush it off when teachers ask him what's happened but you can tell from his body posture: he slightly stiffens up, his hands look like they're shaking and when I get to see from a face angle he brushes his long, greasy hair into his busted up face. I've always been concerned but yet again I'm not allowed to be because damn - the only exchanged words we've had are either nasty comments or small talk about music.

It's awful because every-time it happens I stutter, It's like air has been physically taken away from me. I feel less confident than always and lose my words when I know and love so much about the subjects we exchange about. Even though the conversations are short we always trade glances, gawk, ogles - the whole fucking lot. Sometimes it's me catching his orbs or him catching mine (either that or I'm just imagining it). I release a sigh and the smell of thick, black coffee brings me back. My grandma in the kitchen still - not noticing her bring my drink over; I stretch across and grab the mug, slides it close to me, slurping at the hot liquid. Ignoring as it burns my tongue.
"Gee, sweetie, you know how much I adore having you here but what time are you leaving? I don't want to throw you out so quickly but I've got to go to work."
Brings the pencil back between my fingers, carrying on with the shitty sketch while sipping the coffee every now and again.
"Uhm, I'll go once I've finished this drink. I'm sorry Nana, I forgot you've change your schedule around.. I thought you still had Fridays off."
I look up and watch her dust off the tea towel, neatly folding it and setting down on the dark, marbled surface.
"Oh, no Gerard. It's okay just finish up the drink and go get your bike because you've been meaning to take that home, as well it's been getting dark earlier." I nod while starting to gulp down the liquid.

I say a goodbye to my grandma, shoving the crumpled little drawing into my jeans pocket and taking the old, black chipped, rusty bike like she said: home. Once I reach the house I park up the vehicle in the crevice. Shrugs the bag off my back and wanders into the warm, cozy setting. Hangs it up the brown leather jacket as well as my school bag, walking into the living room as I hear mixture of voices. I peer through the door seeing my mother at the closest end to me, glances around and notices Mikey and Frank sitting on the red leather couch.
My stomach sinks slightly, my sweaty fingers tighten around the metal handle of the door, swallowing hard as I notice a small smirk submerge onto his lips. Oh shit- I probably shouldn't be looking there.
"Gerard, these boys are ordering pizza."
Tips head towards the female voice, weakly smiling at my mother.
"Would you like me to order two or?"
I swallow a little while stuttering and whispering out.
"N-No thanks, I think I'll make a sandwich or whatever."
I notice her lips curl into a frown, she shifts closer to me and I smell her perfume. Leaning down she whispers almost inaudibly.
"You are eating right?"
Her false nails gently graze my cheek skin which causes a shiver to run down my spine, glancing in the direction of Frank. I nod quickly, her finger tucking away the lock of hair.
"Of course Ma'. I'm just too tired to cooperate, I think I'll go nap."
I speak almost hurriedly. I watch her nod, her dyed blonde curls bouncing as she does.
"Right.. maybe I could make you a drink instead? I don't want you to nap in case you don't sleep properly tonight."
She smiles softly before heading out and motioning for me to follow; I sigh out, already knowing what it's about.

Following her out into the kitchen.
I sit at on the spinning stool as my mom gives me a lecture about how I should be going to classes and all of that jazz.
This is not fair, what would she expect? Plus, she's never told me off before, so why now?
"Okay mom! I fucking get it."
I climb off the stool and walk off in the lounge, hearing her heels click as she follows me. That noise seriously does drive me crazy.. I hear her yelling but I try to ignore her words. Stopping the center of the room, I glare at her.
"Are you fucking surprised, Ma'?! I can't go into P.E if I'm as 'chubby' as I am!"
I quote franks words, purposely. My hand accidentially throwing into his direction, already getting so worked up and irritated.
"So yeah, I'm sorry that my insecurities get in the way of school work. I'm sorry the bullying hasn't stopped. I'm ashamed of myself but i seriously don't need grief from my own fucking flesh and blood! Just leave it be, stop trying to act like a responsible parent just because there's a fucking house guest."
I grind my teeth together trying to control every ounce of anger that bubbles through me, I walk to my basement door, glancing at the two boys and slamming the wooden door shut as I walk down the squeaky steps.

Once collapsed onto my bed I begin to cry. Not out of sadness but anger, I seriously despise myself. It's understandable that people hate me; I hate me. There's nothing to like about myself, I've practically stalk a guy, who clearly doesn't like me back. I'm an awkward nerd who tries to hard but not hard enough. I'm a piss take.

---

I sit up and clutch the bed sheets to my body, hugging the soft fabric, I hide my face.
As I wake up; the room is dull and boring. I use two hands to rub my tired eyes and I climb to my feet, quickly bringing a palm to my forehead. After I cry for a long period of time I always gain a headache out of it, It's happened so many times I've became immune to it but it's good thing I guess because afterwards I always feel numb, no feelings course through whats so ever and it's solely peaceful.

I head up stairs and to the kitchen, all eyes fall onto me. Awkwardly looks around, pulling my sleeves over my hands self consciously; mine and Mikey's eyes connect and he gives me a sympathetic look. So many regrets now, I wish I kept my trap shut. I clear my throat before walking towards the coffee machine, turning it on, reaching for the headache tablets from the cupboard.
"Are you hungry, sweetie?"
I look back at my mom while popping two into my mouth, swallowing them dry, shaking my head a little at her question.
"No, I kinda feel sick."
I smile weakly at her and she faintly nods.
"Alright, well.. I'm off to work, I'll be back around eleven, twelve-ish tomorrow."
I listen to her and Mikey climbs from his chair, as always, walking mom out to her car.

As the other chair is pulled out from the table, I hear small footsteps and the smell of cologne linger besides me. He sets the dish into the sink and I notice the small ink around his wrist as the sleeve of his shirt rises up, his eyes burn into me, causing me to look towards him. I already feel my cheeks become heated, my stomach churning at the small distance between us.
"I.. I'm sorry, Gerard."
He speaks softly, becoming light headed as he's voice is calm and sincere.
"U-uhm, i-it's okay Frank."
I stutter while looking down trying to avoid his gorgeous eyes; my fingers interlocking together, my palms sweating and skin burning with nerves.
"It's not-"
Objection applies from his vocal chords and I nod, lifting my head.
"I shouldn't of said what I said, I understand you go through enough shit - I was just having a bad day."
Our eyes fasten together in a pool of mixed emotions.
"You can't change what happened-"
He cuts me off, myself not minding.
"But if I could, I would."
Drops my look to his thin lips, watching them curl into a smile. God, how I just want to taste those lips.. I bet they're soft and gentle. Wishing I could show him how much I care, love, desire and want him. My instinct kicks in and I almost lean forward but stop myself, breath caught in my throat.

I quickly twist on my heal as the coffee machine saves me from the perplexing situation desperately not wanting to see his reaction.
I prepare my cup before heading back to my bedroom, getting lost in my art work as I attempt to carry on with unfinished pieces.

~

Notes

~ agh.

-E