He's The Prettiest Boy At The Party (Frerard)

The Hot Boy And The Hole In The Roof (Prologue)

As if moving into a new house in a new town wasn't weird enough, there was now a hot boy sitting in my room after he fell through the ceiling.

Now, plenty of strange things spontaneously happen in my life. Nothing, though, compares to this.

It was a normal Sunday afternoon, I was sitting in my bed sketching, surrounded by boxes from the recent move, when out of nowhere, CRASH! A guy with piercings and a fucked up haircut lands in my room on his ass.

Well, more on boxes of my things.

"Ow! Jesus, fuck!" He exclaimed, rubbing his elbow. He wore an old black hoodie over a Nirvana shirt and jeans with giant holes in his knees. His hands were covered with worn skeleton gloves that were cut off at the ends.

That's when he finally noticed he wasn't alone in the room. "Oh, hey," he said rather casually in my direction. "Sorry about that. I didn't know that would happen."

I was shocked. My jaw was practically on the floor. Which, to be honest, is the appropriate response here.

"W-what the hell was that?!" I stuttered.

The strange boy stood up and dusted himself off. "I think you have a weak roof, that's what."

"Well, no shit! Are you okay? What happened?" I asked frantically.

He walked to the window and looked out, keeping his head ducked slightly. "Old Ms. Drake was after me with a shovel. I climbed the tree next to this house and got up on the roof, and well, I guess you know what happened next."

I sigh and mumble "Mom's gonna kill me."

He walked over to me and yanked my sketchbook from my hands. "Hey! Give that back!" I shout, grabbing at his arm. Apparently, I'm not very strong because he blocked me with his free arm easily.

"Well whaddaya know, I fell through the roof of a guy with some talent. These aren't bad." He said, eventually handing it back to me. I yanked it from his hand and hugged it to my chest.

"Looking through a person's sketchbook is like looking through their diary. You just don't do that." I grumble.

He laughed at me. "So you have a diary, too? Can I take a peek?"

My face flushed red. "No! I don't have a diary! Who even are you? Why are you still in my house?"

The strange boy shrugged. "I'll tell you my name if you tell me yours first."

"Ge-"

"Your name's Gee? Cool. Well, I'd better be off. Ms. Drake might've called the cops, maybe not, she's unpredictable." He gave me a two-fingered salute and opened the window.

"My name isn't Gee, it's Gerard. Gerard Way. And you never told me who you are!" I exclaimed, walking to where the boy perched on my windowsill.

He turned and gave me a crooked smirk, his lip ring bobbing slightly. "I'm Frank Iero. And, if I were you, I'd fix that hole in your roof quickly. It's supposed to rain tonight."

Then, winking in my direction, he jumped out the second-story window.

Did I mention I'm gay?

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So this is the prologue to the story, I guess. I kinda know where I'm going with this. I got this idea the other night and just had to write it. I'm pretty proud of this tbh. Anyway, thanks for reading and commenting.

Have a lovely day, killjoys.
~sidonia